> The Monster Below: Sunfall
>  by Greenback
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Gift
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


“We will be known forever by the tracks we leave”
-Dakota proverb

































***


Once, many years ago, I was bound to the earth. As an earth pony, I was gifted with strength and endurance greater than unicorns and pegasi, but denied the ability to tap into the unseen, primordial energies that surround us all, and the ability to fly through the heavens. Earth ponies are forever tethered to the ground, and every one of my kind dream of flying through the sky or casting magic. But as the years pass, we grow, we adapt, and we learn to leave those dreams behind.

Except me.

It wasn’t easy bringing my dreams of flight and magic to life. It was a path of struggle, suffering, and death. But time heals all wounds; I worked to undo the damage and pain I have caused to others, and all that suffering and misery is a memory I am content to leave in the past.

After all, we cannot soar if we let our regrets hold us down.

City-sized clouds pass me by as metal wings keep me aloft, powered by crystals and miniature engines instead of muscle and sinew. Artificial lungs extract oxygen from the thin atmosphere, and goggles protect my eyes as I fly over Equestria, watching as the cities and towns below me glow like bulbs bunched together on a Hearth's Warming Tree. I smile at the sight; It’s tempting to stay up here and watch Equestria light up as night falls. But alas, such a sight shall have to wait, for I have somewhere to be. A little town in the center of Equestria, to be exact.

I fly down with the falling snow and reach Ponyville. The streets are lined with wreaths, festive lights, and holiday cheer as I touch down next to town hall, joining the ponies, yaks, dragons, and changelings heading out for dinner or an evening stroll.

My smile grows as I look around. Everyone waves at seeing me, and I return the gesture, grateful that no one's awestruck at seeing Equestria’s most famous cyborg. The town's residents see me not as a celebrity, but someone as deserving of holiday cheer as everyone else.

My wings fold themselves shut as I trot down the street. The Castle of Friendship isn't far, and it'd be hard to miss, seeing how brightly lit and decorated it is. There’s already a large crowd gathering at its base, eager to hear Twilight's holiday proclamation. Last year’s ceremony was moving, and I look forward to seeing what words she’ll have for us this year. But more importantly, I’m hoping to meet the princess herself; within my coat is a very important object, one that I hope Twilight Sparkle can personalize for me.

The others around me pick up the pace, and I do the same, making my way towards the castle, taking a seat under a tree when it's clear I won't get through this crowd. It's already crammed full of beings eager to hear our princess speak, but to also indulge themselves in the feast afterwards. Even from out here, I can smell the food being cooked inside the castle, chefs no doubt rushing to get it ready. I chuckle at the thought of horns glowing and chefs shouting as they furiously ready cakes, pies, muffins, and other culinary concoctions.

I wish my parents were here to see all this. Gatherings of former enemies who are now our friends, a nation changed by technology... I'm sure they would have loved it.

There’s movement on the castle’s balcony and everyone looks up, myself included. Princess Twilight’s about to come out, and I'm ready to hear the woods of cheer that the princess-

Strange... the sky's getting brighter. Not above us, but towards the horizon, as if the sun's coming up. But that can't be; it's supposed to be going down, not coming up.

I turn to a changeling and her two children. "Excuse me," I say, "but does something seem wrong with the sky?"

She doesn’t answer, starting at the castle with a contented smile.

“Hello?” I carefully touch her shoulder. Maybe she’s just too caught up in the magic of the moment to realize what’s happening. But she still doesn’t react. I wave a hoof in front of her, but she still doesn't move.

I nervously turn to a pony next to me. “Sir, do you see anything that’s-”

He doesn’t react, wearing a smile as big as the mother.

“Sir?” I take his shoulders. “Sir, can you hear me?”

He still doesn’t react.

What on earth? I let go and look around. Everyone’s looking towards the castle, eager for the proclamation. They don’t even seem to notice the sky.

Something’s wrong.

Leaving the tree, I hover in the air just above the branches. Has everyone been hit with some spell?

A breeze caresses me, pleasant and warm. 

A bit too warm...

I don’t want to be seen as a fool or paranoid, but I can’t stay silent. “Everyone!” I call out. “I think something’s wrong!”

No one moves. No one answers me. No one even looks up.

I float down. “Can anyone hear me? Why are you all–”

The breeze suddenly becomes a strong gust of wind, momentarily knocking me off balance. I quickly adjust and look towards the horizon. What's-

There’s something on the horizon. What it is it? I can’t tell. I squint, trying to...

Oh... oh Celestia. 

It’s a wall of rock, stone, and debris. Massive chunks of the earth are being uprooted and sent skywards, tearing everything asunder, only to then be consumed by fire.

It’s coming towards us!

“Run!” I scream. “Everyone, run!

Nobody moves.

“Move! Everyone, ru–”

The wall of devastation engulfs everything in its path, growing taller than the tallest mountains. Canterlot vanishes, and then the mountains themselves, tons of rock and earth ripped up like weeds being pulled from the ground.

I can’t wait for the others! I take off, beating my wings harder and faster than ever before. Celestia, I’ve got to get to Beakbreaker! I need to fly her away before we–

A new sound hits my ears, even louder than the sound of the world coming to an end.

Laughter.

A shadow drapes itself across the land. 

I risk a glance back, and immediately wish I hadn't.

There’s something standing behind the destruction, towering so high into the sky that its head vanishes into the clouds. I can’t tell if it’s a dragon, a minotaur, or some other abomination from Tartarus, only that it's an abomination that could crush Equestria itself.

Turning away, I go even faster, pushing my wings to the breaking point. I’ve got to get Beakbreaker! I won’t let her die! I won’t lose her again! I won’t! I–

Gears break. My left wing crumples.

No!

I spin, my wing tearing itself free, sending me helplessly out of control as the fire rushes forward. 

My skin! My skin’s on fire! 

Celestia, no! I can’t end like this! Not like this!

The thing... it's laughing. It's laughing at me, the sound drowning out the roar of the fire, of the destruction of everything I know.

Beakbreaker, I’m sorry! I tried! Beakbreaker! 

"Beakbreaker!"

I scream my wife’s name as loudly as I can. Even if I’m going to die, I want her to hear me, to...

Wait. Wait, what happened? Where’s the fire? The destruction? 

My wing, it... it’s still on my back. But how? I felt it get ripped off. But it’s there, moving. I look down. My skin is intact, with no burn marks to be seen.

Ponyville is gone, replaced by dark walls illuminated by dim moonlight streaming through a window.

A nightmare. That’s all it was. A nightmare. A twisted mockery of my trip only a day–

The door bangs as it’s thrown open, a lantern forcing me to squint. “Silverspeak?!” The candle's almost blown out as the lantern is shoved onto a side table, its bearer rushing to me, her hooves pressing against my cheeks. “Silverspeak?! Are you alright?”

I nod, still breathing deeply. “Just a nightmare,” I whisper.

“You want me to make you something?” Beakbreaker asks.

“I just need a minute,” I say. But that's a lie; I haven’t had a nightmare in years, let alone one that vivid.

“Maybe some fresh air will help,” Beakbreaker suggests.

That would do the trick. The cold air would help me focus on something else. I slide out of bed, pulling on my jacket, and following Beakbreaker through the cabin to the front porch. As I thought, it's brutally cold. Far away, the lights surrounding the western edge of Luna Bay twinkle like stars. The slightest gust of wind is all I hear as we both take a seat on the swinging bench.

"Better?” Beakbreaker asks.

I manage a chuckle. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“My mother used to say nightmares make even the strongest of us feel like frightened children... Do you want to talk about it?”

I look out to the twinkling lights. Normally, I wouldn’t want to recount a nightmare; best to let such things fade into well-deserved oblivion. But for Beakbreaker, I’ll grant an exception.

“It... It was like I was watching the end of the world.” I say, trying to approach my nightmare like a scientist, emotionally detached and unaffected. “There was fire, and the earth was being destroyed. I tried to fly to you, but I wasn’t fast enough.” 

I take a moment to calm myself.

Beakbreaker listens, making no move to interrupt or offer an interpretation of what I saw.

"There... There was something else," I continue. "A... A monster. It was so enormous that it vanished into the clouds. And it was laughing... It loved seeing me so afraid.”

“Was it Mangus?” Beakbreaker asks.

Mangus... if I never hear that name again, I would die happy. I've done my best to cast it from my mind, to forget that the pony it belonged to ever existed. Yet, I know I shouldn't. I should forgive the pony who murdered my parents and move on, to let go of all the pain and the hurt he caused me. That's what Celestia would want. I've tried; heaven help me, I've tried, but I can't. 

All these years later, the pain still stings.

"Silverspeak?"

I shake my head. “No. It wasn't."

My wife gently touches my leg. "He's dead, Silverspeak. He can't hurt you anymore."

"I know. It's just... I can't forgive him. Even all these years later."

She squeezes my hoof once more.

I do the same to her.

We sit together in silence for a while.

"Maybe the nightmare was caused by something else," Beakbreaker suggests. "A mid-life crisis, maybe?"

I chuckle. Bless her, Beakbreaker's trying to make me feel better by changing the subject. “Who, me? Never... What about you? Have you been having your own crisis?”

She laughs. “Are you kidding? I’m too busy to have one.”

“As I can attest.” Sighing, I look out towards the vista of the snow-covered forest. While beautiful during the day, its beauty is amplified when illuminated by the moon and the twinkling stars. It's a sight I normally don't see, usually being deep in sleep. Besides, seeing such beauty comes at a cost; only the hardiest and bravest would dare come out here at this time of night, when it's brutally cold and-

Wait...

"Beakbreaker? What were you doing outside?"

“What do you mean?”

“You were dressed in a coat when you came inside."

"Oh, I couldn't sleep," Beakbreaker adjusts her glasses. "That’s all.”

She doesn't fool me. “There’s something on your mind,” I say.

“Hmm?”

“You just adjusted your glasses.”

“So?”

“It's what you do when you're nervous.”

Sighing, Beakbreaker adjusts them again. "Nothing escapes you, I see. I... I just have a lot on my mind.”

I scoot closer to her. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“Maybe later.” Beakbreaker slides up against me, putting a leg around the back of my neck. “Let’s just enjoy the view.”

I want to press the matter, to find out what's wrong so I can fix it, but if she wants to wait, I'll wait.

We sit on the bench as it sways in a gentle breeze.

The first of the sun’s rays appear in the distance, slowly sliding over the peak of the distant mountains.

I glance at Beakbreaker to ask if she's looking forward to the day, but she's uneasy. She's trying to hide it, but whatever’s troubling her is more serious than she’s letting on. I can’t have the last day of our trip start this way; she needs something to cheer her up.

“Hey,” I say. “You interested in an early present?”

“Oh? Hearth’s Warming isn’t for another two days.”

“You could use a little holiday cheer.” I reach into the pocket of my jacket and pull out a small, wrapped package. “Here.” As I hope, Beakbreaker's unease gives way to curiosity as she looks the package over, then carefully pulls the wrapping paper away until the gift is revealed.

She's stunned at what she finds.

“Silverspeak... Oh my...”

The small, golden photo frame in her hooves contains a photo of us sitting side by side, beaming for the camera. It's a moment captured just after we took our wedding vows, when we were so happy, and so full of hope for the future. The picture's sat upon our fireplace for man years, but now bears a new message written in the corner: “To many happy years of friendship and love! - Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

"Silverspeak... I... I don't know what to say."

"Do you like it?" I ask. "Please say you do."

Beakbreaker laughs. "Of course I do!" She gulps, wiping away a tear. "You actually got the princess to sign this? How'd you do that?"

"Oh, I snuck into her castle, crept past her guards, disabled security, infiltrated her bedroom, and asked nicely."

"You did not!" 

"Okay... I asked at her holiday party."

Beakbreaker chuckles. "I love it." She slides a hoof across the glass. "Twenty five years... Has it really been that long?"

My younger self in the picture would have been horrified at all those years going by in what feels like the blink of an eye. But if I could talk to him, I would assure him that there were so many good times in those years: trips to foreign lands, seeing Beakbreaker's work helps so many, and the experience of becoming the most famous cyborg in Equestria. Still, not all the memories are pleasant.; there have been arguments between Beakbreaker and myself, and a few shouting matches (very few, thank Celestia), but when I look at the wider picture, the good far outweigh the bad.

“Happy early anniversary,” I whisper.

My wife leans in close, wrapping both legs around me. “Thank you.”

I don’t know how long we sit there on that bench in the cold, but I don’t care. 

I never want this moment to end.

The sun’s rays finally cross the top of the mountains, stretching down to illuminate the snow surrounding Luna Bay. But the light isn’t the only thing creeping over the mountains; the shadow of a large zeppelin drifts over it, too. It’s Medicomp’s flagship, the one they send out across Equestria to promote their latest products, or just spread awareness of the company brand. Within an hour or two, Gusty’s going to be flying his ship out to pick us up. As lovely as our annual stay at this cabin has been, it’s time to head back home.

“I guess we’d better pack,” I say.

“We already did,” Beakbreaker says. “Remember?”

Oh yes, we did. “Right, right.” I look to the freshly fallen snow blanketing the earth and the trees. “We’ve still got an hour or two before Gusty gets here. Fancy building a snowpony?“

Beakbreaker lovingly slides the photo into a pocket of her coat. “How about a walk? You know how much I love an early-morning stroll.”

“In this cold?”

“Cold or no cold, the stroll must be taken." Slipping from my embrace, she hops off the porch and into the snow, sinking in it up to her knees and immediately shivering.

“I’ve got a better idea.” I say, glad that my artificial legs are immune to the chill. “How about you take that stroll on my back?”

“Oh, Silverspeak, don’t be silly. I can walk just fine.”

“And have my beloved wife catch pnemonia? Never!” A flick of magic, and Beakbreaker's plucked from the snow before landing on my back.

“Silverspeak!” Beakbreaker laughs. “Come on, I’m not a filly! And don’t you dare think about flying! We should really–”

My wings pop out, the crystals engage, and I take off with a strong beat.

“Silverspeak!” Beakbreaker's legs wrap around my neck, and her laugh fills my ears as I soar into the morning air. My nightmare is fading away, my gift to Beakbreaker was accepted as I had hoped, and Beakbreaker’s worries are nowhere to be found. She's happy, and that makes me happy, too.

It's the perfect moment.

I fly into the bright, blue morning sky with my wife upon my back, and everything is as it should be.
> Endings and Beginnings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I fly for a good half-hour, taking it easy so Beakbreaker can enjoy her ride through the crisp morning air, closing her eyes and letting the wind dance through her hair. I’d gladly fly all day if it would keep that smile going. But, alas, it’s not to be, for a familiar form flies towards us from Luna Bay.

Right on time, I muse.

Gusty’s shuttle comes to a stop over the cabin. I fly to the cockpit as Gusty pokes his head from the window like a gopher emerging from his burrow. “Well, good morning you two!” he calls out. “You want a ride? Or shall I just turn around, head back to the good ol’ mothership, and do nothing to justify my continued employment?”

“Of course we’ll ride with you!” Beakbreaker calls back. “Silverspeak here just needs to get our bags.” She leans over and looks me with the pouting face of a tired child. “After all, my poor, poor stomach is too woozy from all that flying to carry anything.”

“Oh, you enjoyed it,” I laugh.

She chuckles. “Yes I did. But it’s still faster for you to fly down, get our things, and fly back up.”

Once the side gate on the gondola slides open, I slide Beakbreaker off my back, fly down, gather our things, lock the door for another year, and fly back up. When I’m inside the ship’s cabin, the door shuts, the engines hum, and we fly off, soundlessly gliding over the snow-covered forests.

“The ship’s quieter than usual,” Beakbreaker says to Gusty as she plops into the copilot’s seat.

“Oh, you know me, lass,” Gusty says as he flips a switch. “Always adjusting and upgradin’ my bird.” He gives his control console a playful knock. “Have to so it can keep up with me creakin’ limbs.”

Beakbreaker chuckles. “Gusty, you’re not that old.”

“To you, maybe. But I can’t react like I did when I was young and dashing and saving damsels and all that jazz. Not to mention that I occasionally forget things out of the blue.”

“That’s a normal part of aging,” Beakbreaker assures him. “It’s only when things don’t come back that it’s a problem.”

“Like where I’m flying you two.”

“And where’s that?”

“I... I... uhh...”

“Gusty?”

Gusty’s blank quickly gives way to a grin. “Just kiddin’. I’m taking you two to the Eagle.”

The console beeps.

“Ah, speakin' of which, there she is... the pride of the Medicomp fleet.”

‘Pride’ is an understatement. Aside from advances in materials, engines, and safety, airship design hasn’t changed much over the decades, save in size. Twice as big as the Goliath-class zeppelins from long ago, The Eagle is a floating city capable of carrying a few thousand passengers (and company executives) in the lap of luxury within its multiple hulls. 

The floor hums as Gusty’s shuttle flies towards the hanger perched beneath the Eagle’s fins. Two giant doors swing open to swallow us up, closing as Gusty guides us past transports, security craft, and other shuttles before carefully touching down into a giant mechanical cradle. The process is so smooth and gentle that I barely notice the slight bump as the craft comes to a stop.

“And what were you saying about slow reflexes?” Beakbreaker asks.

“Said it yourself, Lass,” Gusty says, flipping switches to power everything down. “I’m not that old. Yet.”

There’s a small reception waiting for us as I walk down the gantry onto the hanger’s walkways, led by Medicomp's leader himself. 

“Beakbreaker, Silverspeak; glad to have you on board.” Coin Counter comes forward and shakes our hooves. “I trust you had an enjoyable time down there.”

“We always do,” Beakbreaker says. “You ever thought of joining us? Getting away from the hustle and bustle of running a company?”

Coin Counter chuckles. “I’m a creature of comfort. If I’m going to watch snow, it’ll be from inside a heated room. Now, I imagine the two of you would like to settle into your room, but could I bother for your a quick trip to–”

“The lab?” I say. “Of course not.”

“Wonderful!” With a clap of the hooves, Coin Counter gestures to his attendants. Their horns glow, and our luggage floats to their side as I follow Coin Counter, leaving Gusty to refuel and touch up the shuttle for its next mission. Beakbreaker trots after me; ever the medically-minded zebra, she always accompanies on these checkups, wanting to see for herself that nothing’s falling apart.

Ever eager to research some new project, Medicomp installed a state-of-the-art lab aboard the Eagle. It’s smaller than most, but still packed with advanced equipment and technicians, who are hard at work as the three of us enter. Spotting me, they gesture to an examination table. Having done this many times before, I lie down, sliding into the moulded grooves as the technicians pop open a small hatch on my right thigh and connect some cables into a diagnostics machine.

“So, how’s the new skin working out?” Coin Counter asks.

“The sensation of touch is about fifteen percent better than the last version.” Knowing that the scientists and technicians work in a world of numbers and percentages, I figure it’s best to speak their language. “It’s almost to the point where it feels like my original skin.”

Coin Counter nods, impressed. So are the techs, who quickly tap notes into their datapads. “And what about pain? Have you... umm...”

"I haven't gotten into any accidents, if that's what you mean."

The techs fidget a little. The pursuit of knowledge and science isn’t always an easy one, and at times some unpleasant tests need to be conducted. They’re probably trying to figure out if I’ll consent to being cut so they can record the results.

Sighing, I motion for one of the techs to bring me a nearby scalpel. He does so; taking hold with my magic, I... Oh, ow!

Beakbreaker rushes forward. “Silverspeak?”

My head... it was like someone had thrust a blade under my horn.

“Silverspeak, what’s wrong?”

“I just had a headache,” I say, grateful that it left as quickly as it appeared.

“You need anything?” Coin Counter asks.

“An aspirin would probably help.”

Coin Counter’s back with a pill in moments. I gulp it down, hoping there won’t be any more unexpected headaches. Reaching out, I take the scalpel with my hoof and carefully make a small, fast cut. The resulting sensation is akin to an unpleasant ache, just uncomfortable enough that I can't ignore it."

“It’s not painful,” I say. “But I can tell something's wrong.”

The techs and their boss nod, glad for the information. This little scene has happened many times over the years, and will no doubt continue far into the future. As the oldest cyborg in Equestria – and the only full-bodied one – I’m a guinea pig for researchers eager to learn about the long-term effects of such a drastic transformation. I don’t mind, though. It’s an honor to know that I’m helping advance the field of cybernetics.

“So,” I ask Coin Counter as hooves tap away at screens. “Do you have any new implants or gizmos for me to try?”

“Actually, I do. It's an upgraded leg with a new attachment.” Coin Counter’s grin betrays his controlled voice; whatever this new implant is, he must be eager to see in action.

I extend my leg. Like a pit crew on a race track, the technicians carefully slice away the skin just below the shoulder, twist the metal, and pop the leg off. carrying it to a nearby table.

The diagnostic machine beeps and spits out a piece of paper. With the technicians busy, Coin Counter puts on his glasses and moves to take the readout, but Beakbreaker’s faster. She yanks it out and looks it over, searching for anything that would be cause for alarm. Relieved, she hands it to Coin Counter, who quickly reads it.

“Well, Silverspeak, looks like you’re fitter than the finest fiddle. Everything’s in top shape; crystals won’t need to be replaced for another fifty years, and all your systems are running at peak efficiency.” He chuckles. “I wish I were as healthy as you.”

“Have you ever thought of becoming a cyborg?”

A quick shake of the head. “Oh, it's not for me. Still can't see how you do it.”

“Do what?” I ask as a technician disconnects the cables and closes the panel on my thigh.

“Well, walk around as a... a...”

“A head on a machine?”

He nods.

I’ve gotten this question before on talk shows and interviews with newspapers and magazines: Just how can I live as a cyborg whose only organic part is my head? I’ve always said I didn’t have any choice in the matter. The hardest part was overcoming the feeling of floating around on top of a metallic body, but I got used to it as time went on. But while I may be used to being a cyborg, I wouldn’t want anyone to go through what I did. Few have: full-body replacements are so dangerous and fraught with risk that only a few attempts have been tried over the years. For whatever reason, I’m the only one who has lived longer than a year. The only other pony who lasted that long eventually went mad, leaving a note that he couldn’t live as a freak before magically crushing his heart.

“You get used to it,” I say, flexing my wings.

“Becoming what you’ve always wanted played a part, too.”

I nod. No point in denying the truth.

“Well, it’ll be a long time before I become a cyborg like you,” Coin Counter says. He chuckles. “Strange, isn’t it? The head a company famous for turning ponies, griffons, changelings, and others into cyborgs doesn’t want to become one himself.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Beakbreaker says.

“Quite right.”

The technicians come back with my new leg. It doesn’t look any different than before, but I feel something new as it’s popped into place and connected. There’s a slight heaviness near the bottom of my hoof. Not uncomfortable, and it won’t affect my day to day activities, but it’s impossible not to notice.

“What’s this?” I ask. “A built-in knuckleduster?”

Coin Counter points to a table. “See that metal tray over there? Hold your leg up and contract your hoof muscles... Er, pistons.”

Raising my leg, I point my hoof, brace myself for whatever’s about to happen, and pull the synthetic muscle closest to the implant.

The tray flies across the room and slams into my hoof with a loud clang.

“Say hello to the localized magnetic implant,” Coin Counter says. “It’s something I thought up a year go: If someone doesn’t have magic and needs to get something just out of reach, they can pull it to them. Only works on metal right now, but R&D and figures it can eventually attract other things, too.”

It'll do so with incredible strength, if this tray is any indication. I'm waving it around to try and dislodge it, but this tray isn't going anywhere. 

Chuckling, Beakbreaker takes hold and pulls, only to frown when it remains in place.

“So? What do you think?” Coin Counter asks. “You want to keep it? Maybe try it out for a while?”

I’m not sure; this could be useful for snatching my keys from across the room on my way out the door, but magic could do the same. Still, if this is one of Coin Counter’s pet projects, nothing would make him happier than to see it being used.

“Oh, why not?” I say. “And if you have three more, I'll be able to walk on metal walls.”

“Not before you learn how to let go,” Beakbreaker grunts, still yanking at the tray.

“Oh, sorry,” Coin Counter says. “Silverspeak, flex your musc–piston again.”

I do, and the tray pops loose.

“It may take some time getting used to it,” Coin Counter says, “but I think you’ll find it to be handy.” He motions for the two of us to follow him from the lab as he leaves, beaming at seeing his pet project working out.

“Just watch where you point that thing,” Beakbreaker says to me on the way out.


***


It’s a lengthy walk from the laboratory as Coin Counter guides us from one end of the Eagle to the other. As the flagship of Medicomp, no expense was spared in making it as luxurious as possible: thick carpets absorb our hoofsteps, while warm, golden-yellow lights illuminate the laminated, cream-colored wood. Elegant chandeliers give off even more light as we head closer to the bow of the ship, and come to a stop before an ornate set of double doors.

“Here we are.” Coin Counter turns a key in a lock. “Your room for the flight back to Canterlot.”

Beakbreaker’s puzzled. “Coin Counter? This is the–”

“Executive suite. Most luxurious room we have, and reserved for the princesses, royalty, and other VIP’s. And now it’s yours.”

My eyes go wide. “Coin Counter, you’re... you’re serious?”

With a smile and a push from his hoof, Coin Counter pushes the doors open to reveal the room beyond. No... chamber is a more accurate description. It reminds me of something from a palace: Elaborately crafted pillars line the marble walls, resting upon a carpet of the finest blue fabric. And as we head inside and through a small lobby, we’re greeted by an enormous chandelier three stories above our heads, and a massive glass wall that goes from floor to ceiling, giving us an unparalleled view of the sky beyond.

“Bulletproof, several inches thick, and magically reinforced as well as enchanted to allow one-way viewing for maximum privacy,” Coin Counter explains. “Anyone looking in would only see their own reflection. You also have a jacuzzi, massage suite, and room service available twenty-four seven at no charge to you.”

I can’t believe it... we get to stay here? In the very room the princesses themselves have slept in? If I had fingers, I’d pinch myself.

“Coin Counter...” Beakbreaker tries to find the words to describe her surprise, bafflement, and awe. “It’s... it’s...”

“Consider it my holiday gift to you both.”

Beakbreaker hurries to the windows. The glass is so clean and clear that it’s as if there isn’t a wall between us and the open sky, clouds lazily drifting over the waters of Luna Bay.

“Speaking of the holidays, will the two of you be joining us for our holiday dinner tonight?” Coin Counter asks.

“Of course we will!” Beakbreaker says. “Why wouldn’t we?” Every year, Medicomp holds a grand gala to commemorate the season, and to celebrate the ending of another productive year. This one has been especially profitable, so Medicomp will no doubt work hard to make this dinner extra special.

“What about you, Silverspeak?” Coin Counter asks. “Will you join us?”

“Of course,” I say.

“Splendid! And could I possibly persuade you to give a short speech at tonight's meeting, perhaps? A holiday message for all our guests?”

Ah, sneaky. Coin Counter's probably hoping that letting us stay here will make me feel obligated to indulge him. He need not fear, for I can come up with something quickly and easily.

“Of course,” I say.

Coin Counter beams. “Wonderful! I'll see you in the auditorium at five.”


***


Like the creature it was named after, the Eagle soars through the skies as it heads for Vanhoover. The lights of Vanhoover appear mid-afternoon, towers sparkling like a multifaceted diamond in the sunlight. Like many cities in Equestria, Vanhoover has grown substantially over the years, technology helping to create a skyline that towers over the landscape, glass, bright colors, and elegant marble ensuring that every structure is in tune with nature.

Unseen engines slow as the Eagle drifts down to Vanhoover’s airport. Cables and tethers are attached, and passengers disembark to stretch their legs, meet loved ones, or travel onwards to their final destinations.

“Want to get out and stretch your hooves?” I ask Beakbreaker as we reach the boarding room.

“I was planning to,” Beakbreaker says. “I'm meeting up with some coworkers at a lounge below. Catching up on how we've been doing.”

“Ladies only?”

She gives a sly smile. “Something like that.”

I wave her on. “Go, then. Enjoy catching up on the latest gossip.”

With a playful wag of the tongue, Beakbreaker trots off down the walkway.

Chuckling, I sit down in a thick waiting chair, drawing my coat tighter around myself. Not to protect against the cold air sneaking in through the walkway, but to disguise myself. While it’s an honor to be the unofficial spokespony for cyborgs, the position also brings a level of public recognition. Not on the same level as movie stars, or authors as famous as A.K. Yearling was, but when you’re the first and only full-body cyborg in history, you attract a lot of attention. And while I don’t mind giving autographs or listening to an admirer, sometimes I like to blend in and be like everyone else.

I watch as passengers come aboard for the next half-hour, none of them giving me a second glance. They're a mixed group: young, old, and from all walks of life. Some have soft faces from a lifetime of leisure, and others with hardened skin from daily labor, but they all jumble together, with no one face standing out. The exception comes from a large group of athletic earth ponies, each with artificial limbs. They're probably part of the show tonight, or here to give a talk.

The trickle of passengers slows, and then stops, leaving me alone in the boarding room. Beakbreaker had better hurry; while swooping down and flying her back to the departing Eagle would be an enjoyable dash of romantic daring, I'd rather not do so. Wouldn't look good for Beakbreaker if she's the only passenger who missed–

Someone comes up the walkway.

Sitting up in my chair, I watch as... Oh, it's not Beakbreaker. It's an earth pony about my age, perhaps slightly younger. Unlike those who came aboard earlier, this pony wouldn't be able to hide in a crowd, courtesy of a large scar over his right eye and a particularly nasty burn wound on his neck. Long-healed, but still noticeable. A younger pony would probably want to hide it from the public, but this fellow doesn’t seem to care.

The pony walks to a map on the wall, studies it, and then sets off for the stairs. He glances around, eyes taking everything in, but not out of wonderment. This is a pony who wants to know where everything is at all times. Perhaps he was in the military, which would explain the scar and burns.

The pony notices me.

He stops.

I look away, pretending not to notice him. Then I look back. He’s still there.

He’s still staring.

I've learned to recognize the sight of a fan star-struck at meeting their idol. This isn't that look. I turn away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. When enough time has passed, I look back.

The pony’s gone.

In all my years of traveling and speaking, I’ve met my share of those who don’t like me, or object to what I do. Nowhere near as many as the Guardians of Tradition, but it’s public record that I was blackmailed by Queen Chrysalis, allowing her to murder so many during the Second Battle of Canterlot. Some of those who survived feel that I wasn’t punished for what I did; was that pony one of them?

The ship's horn blasts, a signal for passengers to either hurry onboard or rush to get off. A familiar form rushes on moments later.

"That was close,” Beakbreaker says, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She glances around, recognizes my disguise, and hurries over. “Well, you missed quite a party! We... Silverspeak? You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Oh, I'm... I'm fine,” I say, searching for the scarred pony. But he's nowhere in sight.

Why, then, do I feel so uneasy?


***


With all its passengers aboard, the Eagle departs Vanhoover, resuming its journey westward. It isn’t long before the hallways are lit up with colored lights and decorated with garland and tinsel while holiday music plays over the speakers. The staff are doing their best to make the festivities onboard match the mood of the season, and soon the worry and unease vanish as I gladly get caught up in the festivities with Beakbreaker.

We head to the Eagle’s massive auditorium at a quarter to five, where holiday decorations are still going up. Guests soon trickle in as five draws closer, ponies, griffons, changelings, and many other species taking their seats.

With Beakbreaker taking one of our reserved seats on a balcony above, I head backstage, where Coin Counter waits near the edge of the curtains, watching both the large group of earth ponies readies themselves for their upcoming performance.

“Nervous?” I ask.

“Who, me? Of course not.”

Even for a CEO, Coin Counter isn't a very good fibber. “Do you want a little boost?”

He thinks for a moment, and then gives an embarrassed nod.

“You’ll do fine,” I say, turning on the charm. “All you need to do is say hello, and then introduce me, and then your duties will be finished for the evening.”

That did the trick, if Coin’s sudden confidence is any indication. “Thank you, Silverspeak.” He chuckles. “Strange, isn’t it? You can give hundreds, even thousands of speeches throughout the years, and yet you can still get the jitters.” He shakes, psyching himself up. “And what about you? Is your speech ready to go?”

I nod. I don’t know how long Coin Counter is planning to speak, but my speech will only be a few minutes long, if even that.

The lights darken, and a microphone rises from the stage floor.

“Your audience awaits,” I say.

Not one to keep them waiting, Coin Counter brushes his mane back, takes a deep breath, and waltzes onstage, all smiles as he reaches the microphone. “Good evening, mares and gentlecolts. My name is Coin Counter, CEO of Medicomp, and thank you for joining us this evening.”

Polite applause fills the air.

“Once again, the holiday season is upon us, and the end of another successful year for us all. Normally I would talk about how I hope you and your families have a wonderful time and hope that none of you ever need our services, but you probably didn’t come here to hear me speak. You already know what our technology can do. You’ve seen it work wonders on so many, including our most famous patient, Silverspeak, who just so happens to be with us tonight.”

That’s my cue. I walk onstage, smiling to the audience and enjoying their surprised faces. Some recognized me when I was walking around with Beakbreaker, but most didn't, and applause from both sides fills the air like thunder, everyone excited to see Equestria’s most famous cyborg walking before them.

As Coin Counter steps aside, I stand before the microphone and focus my charm to its maximum strength. “Good evening, everyone. Like Coin Counter, I thank you for joining us here tonight. I also thank Coin Counter for inviting me, though he probably only did so I could give a speech instead of him.”

The audience chuckles. Beside me, Coin Counter playfully rolls his eyes.

“Still, you’re here to relax and enjoy a show, so I'll keep this brief. I’ve been around for a while and seen many things in my time. For all you youngsters in the audience, I remember when we used peg legs to replace limbs, changelings were our enemies, and computers were powered by magic instead of electricity. You could say some things have changed over the years, but many things remain the same. We work, we play, and we all desire to share and receive love. This season should remind us that for all our technology and advances, the greatest gifts in life aren’t created in a lab or a factory, and aren't wrapped and bunched together under a tree. They’re right here, sitting next to you. Our greatest gifts are each other.”

Scanning the audience, I find a family close to the stage, with a unicorn mother and father, and a young earth pony with a light blue coat.

“This year, enjoy your gifts.” I gesture to the family. “But remember that everything in a box eventually loses its luster. The warmth and love we share with each other never does.” I look back to the audience. “May all of you have a wonderful, safe, and happy Hearth’s Warming.”

The audience claps. Taking a bow, I walk offstage, taking some stairs back up to our booth, where Beakbreaker waits for me. 

“So,” I ask. “How was it?”

“Short and sweet,” Beakbreaker says. “The speech of someone who knows not to waste words.”

Strange... My wife's smiling, but I sense she's trying to hide something. It's like when I asked her what was on her mind last night.

Before I can ask what's wrong, the auditorium fades into darkness as the stage lights up, and the curtains pull themselves back. Beakbreaker turns to the stage, focusing on what's about to happen. Should I ask her what's wrong? No... This isn't the right time. I'll ask her later tonight, when the show is over, and everything is quiet.


***


Medicomp may not be in the show buisness, but they know how to show off their wares: The earth pony performers I saw earlier are acrobats, masters of their craft as they hurl each other through the air and onto pyramids formed from their own bodies, their metallic limbs decorated with precious gems and stones. Their feats could easily be reproduced with magic, but that’s not the point: these ponies have never had magic, and yet, here they are, stronger, faster, and more flexible than they were before. And as I watch, it dawns on me that they’re almost like my children. Not through flesh and blood, but in that they’ve inherited the fruits of my labors.

I smile at the thought. If Glasseye were here, I think he’d be smiling, too.

When the performers take a bow, the curtains drop, and the applause dies down, the crowd trickles out of the auditorium, heading into the Eagle’s ballroom for dinner. Beakbreaker and I join them, my nose going into overdrive at the luxurious aromas of cinnamon, allspice, and all manner of gravy and succulent vegetables set out on platters among the tables, the finest food the Eagle’s chefs have to offer. It isn’t long before the tables are filled with attendees enjoying dinner, and with dinner comes socializing.

“Uhm... excuse me? Mr. Silverspeak?”

I turn to see one of the performers from the show. On stage she was confident and fearless, but now she’s shy, almost painfully so.

“I, uh... Can I have an...” She trusts out a piece of paper and a pen. “... an autograph?”

I do my best to put her at ease as I give her the autograph and listen to her story: she always wanted to be an acrobat since she was a filly, but losing her leg in an accident sent her into a depression that lasted for years. But when she learned about me and what I had done, she was inspired to get a new leg and work hard to learn how to use it. I never tire of hearing these stories, for there’s nothing as satisfying as knowing that you affected someone’s life for the better. No amount of bits or fame can ever match that feeling.

More autograph seekers come by, until I’m surrounded by at least twenty of them. It’s nothing I can’t handle, and it's worth signing so many autographs and inscribing messages on prosthetic limbs just to see their smiles.

As the evening goes on, the admirers drift away to the warmth of their rooms, and the other guests do the same. It isn’t long until only a few remain in the ballroom. Beakbreaker’s still talking with her friends and coworkers while I sit at a table next to the windows and a giant tree, nursing a glass of fruit punch as I look out to the falling snow.

“Your speeches never disappoint.”

I look over as Coin Counter walks up and eases himself into a chair, drowsy from a long day and having too much food and drink.

“Perhaps you should head to bed,” I say.

“It can wait,” Coin Counter says, taking another drink of his fruit punch.

“Hey, Boss. This a private party, or can I join in?”

I turn to see Gusty coming up, a drink in hoof. “Of course you can.” I pull out a chair with my magi – Ow!

“Silverspeak?” Coin Counter asks. “You okay?”

I rub my forehead, biting my lip as the pain fades. “I’m fine,” I say. “Just another headache.” 

Strange; two headaches in one day...

“Age creeping up you, old-timer?” Gusty jokes as he takes a seat.

“Of course,” I say. “But I’m not over the hill yet.”

Sighing, Coin Counter swirls his drink. “Wish I could say the same.”

“You? Over the hill? Nah,” Gusty says. “You’re the respected CEO of the most famous, profitable, and charitable corporation in the world.”

“And feeling age creeping through his bones.” Coin Counter takes a sip of his drink. “It’s getting harder to do these parties and early board meetings. And I’ve got a bulge that’s been creeping up on me.” He pokes his belly, which is noticeably rounder than it was back when I first came to Medicomp. “You’re lucky, Silverspeak: you don’t have any fat to put on.”

I must admit, that’s one advantage of being a cyborg. My artificial stomach uses magic to send nutrients to my neck and head, while any waste products get vented or incinerated.

“I’ve been getting’ the bulge too,” Gusty says, jabbing his own belly. “Face it, gents: we’re getting old.”

It’s quiet around the table for a while.

What would Celestia do in this situation? She’d try to lighten the mood, or point out that things aren’t as bad as they seem.

“Getting older isn’t all that bad,” I say.

“Says the pony who can get new skin whenever too many wrinkles shows up,” Gusty jokes.

“I’ll take accomplishments over beauty and youth any day.” I look to Coin Counter. “Your company’s the most successful business in history, thanks to you.” Then, to Gusty, “You helped save my life, Beakbreaker’s life, and the lives of so many – ”

Gusty waves his hoof, blushing. “Now, don’t exaggerate-”

“If you hadn’t helped us during the Battle of Canterlot, who knows if any of us would be sitting here? Or if thousands of others would still be alive.” I sip my drink. “Beauty and youth fade, but accomplishments remain. And when we’re in our beds on our last day of life, we can be proud that we’ve helped so many.”

The bulge in Coin Counter’s belly is forgotten as he looks to his drink. “That’s a good way of looking at things.” He’s quiet for a long moment, contemplating the ripples and swirls in the liquid. “I suppose it’s for the best, then.”

“Best of what?” Gusty asks.

“That next year will be my last as CEO.”

I look over, surprised. “What?”

Saying the words seems to have put Coin Counter in a better mood, as if he’s finally revealing some long-held secret. “I’ve been thinking about retirement for a while now. My predecessor left when he felt he had done everything he could, and wanted to leave on a high note. At the time I thought there was so much more he could do, but now I see where he was coming from.” He swirls his drink again. “What about you, Gusty? Have you thought –”

“I’m not going to hang up my flight goggles any time soon,” Gusty says. “I’d rather meet my end in a cockpit instead of taking my last breath a hospital bed. Or worse, sittin’ in an old folk’s home.”

“As long as you aren’t taking others with you,” I say.

“That’s a given. Don’t want any deaths on my hooves. But I think you two all lookin’ at this all wrong.” A fast gulp, and half of Gusty’s drink vanishes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, accomplishments are great, but who cares what anyone else thinks? Way I look at it, it doesn’t matter if you’re famous or past your prime. If you love what you’re doing, keep doin’ it. And if you are too old to do it, find something that’s close to it.”

“Wise advice,” Coin Counter says.

“From a scruffy old pilot, no less.”

Coin Counter turns to me. “And what about you, Silverspeak? Any plans on calling it a day?”

“This is what I was born to do,” I say. “And I have no intention of stopping.” The thought of leaving this all behind is absurd; it’s almost enough to make me laugh.

“But you won’t be top-of-the-line forever,” Coin Counter says. “No matter how hard you try, there will always be someone stronger, faster, and newer than you.” He lowers his gaze. “Onyx learned that the hard way.”

“But he’s still around,” Gusty points out. “At least, I think he is.” He glances around. “Where is he?”

“In Las Pegasus. He insisted on spending the holidays with me, but I told him to enjoy himself for once.” Coin Counter sighs. “I hope he can. He still longs for when he could run, jump, and fight with the best of them. He doesn’t say it, but I see it in his eyes. Office work just isn’t for him. He wants to be on the field again.”

Perhaps more than any of us, Onyx Shield has undergone the greatest change. Once Coin Counter’s personal bodyguard, he eventually aged out of being able to fight as well as younger, stronger ponies, and took up a manager’s position. I thought he'd be satisfied as the head of Coin Counter’s security, but apparently that isn’t the case. In time, I'll probably face the same challenge; despite what Coin Counter thinks, I’m not blind to the reality of growth, progress, and the new eventually surpassing the old. And while I may joke about it, I do feel older. My body is fine, but there’s no hiding the beginnings of wrinkles in my cheeks, or that my neck has been starting to sag; won’t be long before it starts to look like a wizard’s sleeve.

Yet, I don’t feel gripped by sadness or grief, as someone would be whose livelihood or self-esteem is dependent on good looks. My mission, my sole purpose for existing, is unaffected by age and is only enriched by experience. The only way I could possibly become an old, depressed pony is if I were to suddenly be ignored or cast aside as an outdated, unwanted relic. And that is a thought that has sometimes crept into my mind in the darkest hours of the night, when nightmares and existential terrors rear their heads.

But that won’t happen. History shows that game-changers and those who shake society are remembered long after they’re gone. Starswirl the Bearded. Princess Twilight Sparkle. King Thorax... They’ve all done great things that have affected our world. I, the first cyborg, the one who ushered in the age of technology, will be like them. Granted, I will never be as great or important as the unicorn who expanded our understanding of magic, the Princess of Friendship, or a ruler who helped unite two former enemies, but my mark will remain in this world.

“Onyx will adapt,” I say. “And when the time comes, I’ll adapt too."

"Thinkin' of becoming a traveling museum piece?" Gusty jokes.

I shake my head. "I might take up teaching."

"You? A professor? Hate to say it, but I can't see you wearin' tweed and discussing the finer points of philosophy."

"No, no," I say. "Nothing like that. It's great to go to talks and show what can be done with all our tech, but I want to die knowing that I helped someone out there."

"You have," Coin Counter says.

"With the limbs, I know. But it's more... personal than that. I want to know that I helped someone avoid making the same mistakes I did." I nurse my drink. "Can't think of a better legacy than to save someone from the pain you went through."

Coin Counter's surprised at my admission. Touched, even. 

Gusty, on the other hoof, takes a chug from his drink. “Now that’s the spirit! See what we have here, gents? A pony that knows exactly what he wants, and refuses to settle for anything less. That’s how you live a life without regrets.” He takes another chug. “What about you two? Any regrets? Because if we’re gonna be baring our souls for all to see, might as well let it all out.”

Coin Counter and I glance at each other.

“Come on, everyone has regrets,” Gusty says. “Me? I wish I had gotten to flyin' sooner. Shoulda soared through the skies as a lad instead of an adult. Could have gotten a few more years in the big old blue.”

Sighing, Coin Counter reaches up and rubs the artificial horn on his head. “I should have never employed Mangus Bluehorn."

Those are legitimate regrets, but mine are worse than all of those. I could say that I regret having hurt so many getting my body, or that I've taken lives in the process, but I'm not up for dredging those memories back up. 

“I’ve never met Princess Celestia to say how much I admire her,” I say.

“Really?” Coin Counter asks, flabbergasted. “You, the emissary and representative of Princess Luna, have never met Celestia?”

I shake my head. It hasn’t been for a lack of trying. For the past twenty five years, Princess Celestia - shaken at the attack by both Chrysalis and the Arch-dragons - has hurried around the world, doing everything she can to ensure that we or anyone else will ever be attacked by the beasts again. None have been seen since the battle so long ago, but our princess didn’t dare let her guard down. She still comes to Canterlot, but I’m either dispatched on official business, an errand, or a trip. She remains a ghost: a powerful presence, but one I’ve never seen.

“Are you seriously telling me that in all this time, you have never even seen Celestia?” Coin Counter asks, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea.

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” I say. “But it just never works out.” I chuckle. “It’s almost as if the universe doesn’t want me to meet her.”

Coin Counter grins. “Perhaps not for much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I checked in with some of my sources earlier today. They informed me that Celestia is currently en-route to Canterlot. She’ll be there tomorrow for the Hearth’s Warming party in the Royal Palace.”

“You... You’re serious?”

He nods, beaming. “She arrived in Manehattan last night, and left earlier today. It looks like the universe is giving you a big present this year.”

Celestia in Canterlot? While I’m there? As an agent of the Princesses, I’m always invited to royal gatherings, and this one was no different. But Celestia herself is going to be there? That means I’m... I’m... I’m actually going to meet her!

I may no longer be a young, starstruck pony, but my heart races at the news. Coin Counter and Beakbreaker alike can see my excitement, but I don’t care. Let them see that I still adore the chance of meeting my idol, whose ideals have guided me through the years.

The last of the guests leave, with only Beakbreaker and her friends remaining. And then they, too, take their leave, with only my wife remaining, waiting for me to finish up.

“Well,” Coin Counter says. “I didn’t expect to talk about life, death, and old age tonight, but I feel much better. And if I may say so, it seems this coming year will be a big one for us all.” He raises his glass. “May it be the best one of our lives.”

I eagerly raise my glass, and Gusty does the same, both of us happy to share in the toast.


***


With dinner over, and the hour getting late, Beakbreaker and I head through the now-empty hallways of the Eagle, accompanied by the quiet holiday music coming from the speakers. We reach our suite in no time, and I’m in such a good mood that I could pick Beakbreaker up and carry her through the door like we just got married... oh, why the heck not?!

“What a day,” Beakbreaker says, sagging slightly as she unlocks and opens the door. “Isn’t it strange? You don’t do all that much, but you – Hey!”

Scooping Beakbreaker off her hooves, I rush through the door, shoving it closed behind us.

“Silverspeak!” Beakbreaker laughs. “What’s gotten into you?”

“The holiday spirit. What else? And learning that Celestia herself is going to be in Canterlot tomorrow!”

Beakbreaker’s as surprised as I was when I first heard the news. “Wait, really? But I thought she was in–”

“Coin Counter confirmed it: she’s heading to Canterot right now!” I beam, letting my smile brighten the room more than the chandelier above us.

“Why, Silverspeak, that’s... that’s wonderful.” Reaching out, Beakbreaker caresses my face. “You’ll finally be able to see her.”

“I know! I’ll...” Wait. Something isn’t right. Beakbreaker isn’t happy. She’s smiling, but there’s something wrong about it. It’s forced, the kind ponies put up when they want others to think they’re happy. “Beakbreaker? Is everything alright?”

The smile remains for a moment longer. It wavers, drops, and then vanishes.

“Beakbreaker?”

She opens her mouth to answer, but the words don’t come. She turns away, ashamed.

I hurry upstairs to the king-sized bed, where I lower Beakbreaker onto the edge, taking a seat beside her. “Beakbreaker, what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer.

I slide a leg around Beakbreaker’s shoulders. “Please, tell me.”

She bites her lip. “Silverspeak, I’ve... I’ve...”

I draw her close. Gently, so as not to bruise her. “Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me,” I assure her, turning on the charm and keeping it at a low level. “I promise, I won’t mock or berate you for–”

“You’re using your charm, aren’t you?”

How does she do that? No matter how many times I try, she can always tell when I’m using my talent on her. 

“Well... yes. But only a little.”

She gives a nervous laugh, and it breaks the tension that hangs heavy in the air. Taking a deep breath, Beakbreaker works up the courage to speak. “For a while now, I’ve been thinking about my life, and where it’s going. I’ve gotten everything someone like me could want: awards, honors, knowing I’ve helped change the world... but it felt like something was missing, like I wasn’t doing what I’m meant to do.”

“I don’t think there’s any other body parts you can grow in a lab,” I say.

Beakbreaker shakes her head. “No, it’s not that. It took me a while before I figured out what it was, and... well, Silverspeak, I...”

I see the conflict in her. The desire to reveal something, but knowing that there’s no turning back once it comes out. I squeeze her a little tighter. “Yes?”

Biting her lip, Beakbreaker wipes sweat from her brow. “Silverspeak... I want to retire.”

Wait... That’s it? That’s what’s been eating away at her? What she was thinking about last night, and talking to her friends about at dinner? I almost laugh; I feared she was getting sick, or having an existential crisis.

“I’ve done almost everything I’ve wanted to do,” Beakbreaker continues. “But I’ve passed my peak. I’m old now – ”

“Older. Not old,” I tell her.

She smiles. “You’re sweet. But medical innovations happen early on in careers, when the brain is still flexible and young. There are so many other, younger doctors and researchers coming in, full of ideas... and the fortitude to stay up all night.” She chuckles; Beakbreaker often comes home from work more tired than she was even ten years ago. Where we used to stay up almost all night if we wanted, she now is usually passed out in bed in under an hour.

“If I had to work the hours you do for decades on end, I’d want to retire, too,” I joke.

“So... you’re okay with this?”

I nod. “If this makes you happy, then yes, I am. We have more than enough bits stored up, and this means more time for us. We can do all the things you’ve wanted: Go on vacations. See the world.” I point my leg towards an invisible horizon of endless possibilities. “Just the two of us, together, as it should be.”

I look to Beakbreaker. No doubt she’ll be beaming at the idea.

She’s not.

“Beakbreaker?”

If Beakbreaker was nervous before, she’s clamping up.

“Beakbreaker? What’s wrong?”

“Silverspeak... I don’t want to retire because of the workload, or the hours. There’s something else I want to do, something just as important as the legs, the wings, and the horns... maybe even more so.” Beakbreaker breathes deeply, almost hyperventilating as she tries to build up her courage. “When I was little, Silverspeak, my mother devoted her life to me. She spent all her time with me, teaching me, instructing me, and encouraging me to follow my studies. I once asked her why she was so obsessed with me. And she said it was because I was her life’s work. Seeing me happy meant more to her than anything.”

Wait...

“I didn’t understand it at the time. I thought she was just being silly. But now that I’m older, I understand how she felt.”

My stomach twists itself into a knot. She can’t mean...

“Silverspeak...” Beakbreaker takes the deepest breath I’ve ever seen. “I want to have a child.”

Everything goes silent.

Neither of us speaks.

“It’s one thing to receive awards or be written into history books,” Beakbreaker says quietly, “but it’s more important to share your gifts with those who come after you. That’s what zebras believe. That we are all called to create and improve life.” She takes my hoof in hers. “I helped make life better for everyone, and now it’s my responsibility to do as my mother did, and her mother before her.”

I can’t think. My thoughts are swirling, waves of a turbulent sea battered by a storm. 

A child... my wife wants to have a... a child...

“This is what kept me up last night,” Beakbreaker says. “That’s what’s been worrying me for months. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you.” She takes my hoof in hers. “While I want a child, it’s your decision, too. I don’t want you to make it right now, or even in a few months. I just want you to think about it. Can you do that?”

To be a parent to a child, to be there for him or her every day, raising him or her from birth to adulthood... I... I don’t know what to think.

“Like I said, I don’t want you to make a decision now,” Beakbreaker assures me.

“Beakbreaker...”

“Yes?”

“You know I don’t have the...” I glance down. “...‘equipment’ to have a child.”

“I know. But there are other ways.” She pokes my cheek. “We can use your cells. Do in vito fertilization.”

“Doesn’t sound very romantic, though.”

For a long moment Beakbreaker looks to me, and then the worry and tension of her face vanish as she laughs.

“Beakbreaker?”

Beakbreaker’s giggling. “I just had the silliest thought!” After a few deep breaths, she calms down enough to speak. “We were in an elegant bedroom, stripping down and getting on the sheets while romantic music played. You had a rose between your teeth, I got on top of you... and then I leaned in very close, looked deep into your eyes, and romantically scraped a few skin samples from your cheek and put them in a test tube.”

I try to stifle a giggle, and fail. That... that’s actually pretty funny.

Both of us giggle like naughty schoolchildren for several minutes. And when the giggling and guffaws finally settle, I feel much better. From the looks of things, so does Beakbreaker.

“Well...” Beakbreaker says. “What do you think?”

It’ll probably be several days, or maybe a month before I can come to any conclusions; as I told Beakbreaker, we have enough bits saved up to live off of, but if we're going to have a child, we’ll have to research if we’ll need a new home, where that child would go to school, and saving for his or her education, among other things... assuming I even want a child. No other decision in life is as important, and it’s not to be taken lightly. If I say yes, there’s no going back, and no changing my mind.

“I’ll need some time to think about it,” I say.

Beakbreaker nods. She was expecting that answer, but perhaps she was hoping I’d jump wholeheartedly into being a father. I can’t give her that, but I can give her something close.

There’s a music player embedded in the wall. I go over and turn it on, playing some relaxing classical tunes. The ache comes back, but it’s so small I barely notice it as I lean in close, looking deep into Beakbreaker's eyes.

“Want some practice scraping those samples?” I whisper.

Beakbreaker giggles. “That’s one of the worst pickup lines I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I only–”

Her hoof goes to my lips. “But I like it.”

A gentle push sends me onto the sheets. Grinning, I use my magic to dim the lights. There’s another headache, but it lasts only a moment, and is easy to ignore as I gaze into the face of my wife. She’s beaming, positively radiant, as she leans down and presses her lips to mine. She kisses me, and I kiss her in return, once more feeling so much younger than I am.

It’s amazing, really, how much things can change in a single day: Coin Counter’s retiring. Learning that I’ll meet Princess Celestia by this time tomorrow. Beakbreaker retiring and wanting to be a mother. Others would be afraid of changes so big and meaningful. But not me, for I’m with Beakbreaker.

Together, there’s nothing she and I can’t face.

Beakbreaker and I lie together in the dim twilight, safe in each other’s embrace as the Eagle carries us into the night.
> Falling From the Sky
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A bright light pierces the darkness. I blink; It’s... oh. It’s coming from a crack between the curtains.

Groaning, I look to a clock beside the bed. It's not even seven yet.

There's movement under the sheets as Beakbreaker shifts. I look down to find her pressed up against me, her legs wrapped around my frame. She's still deep in sleep, lulled by the warmth of the blankets and the residual heat from the crystals within my body.

Hmmm... It’d be a nice Hearths Warming treat for Beakbreaker to wake up and find a tray on the bed, one overflowing with her favorite breakfast treats.

It isn't easy to release my hold on Beakbreaker and slip from the bed without waking her, but I've had plenty of practice over the years. I go slowly, using my magic to pull the blankets around her. It would spoil the fun if she were to wake and find me–

Ow! 

I barely manage to hold back a yelp as I grab my forehead. But as quickly as it comes, the headache vanishes.  

What in heaven’s name... I check my hoof; no sign of blood. Rubbing my forehead reveals no bumps, bruises, or signs of disease or injury. It's not even painful to touch my horn.

Beakbreaker groans as she turns over, her legs searching for the warm body that was there a few moments ago. 

I'd better get moving if I want to be back with breakfast before she wakes up. As for the headaches... Well, no more magic today. I’ll have to call my doctor to schedule an appointment to have this investigated.

The last of the pain fades as I sneak downstairs and out the doors. The lights in the hallway are dimmed as I make my way towards the kitchens.

A pony in a nice business suit walks into the next intersection, only to pause at spotting me. 

“Good morning,” I say as I hurry along.

I don’t run into anyone else as I reach the kitchens, where chefs are already hard at work cooking and prepping for the day. I place an order for Beakbreaker’s favorites (toast with jam, sweet potatoes, plenty of eggs, muffins, and hot sauce), making sure to request extra-sized portions so we can share. She’ll probably chuckle and joke about how her metabolism isn’t the same as when she was younger, but what’s a holiday without a little overeating?

With breakfast ordered, I have some time to kill before it’s ready, and head to the ballroom. The cavernous room is draped with tinsel and garland, all glowing with lights. The tree’s lights reflect off shiny ribbons tied around the hundreds of small boxes at its base, ready for the young and the young at heart to open them up. That probably won’t be for another hour or two; only one other pony is here besides myself, standing before the windows as he sips hot chocolate from a mug.

“Silverspeak,” Coin Counter says as I walk over. “You’re up early.”

“The sun decided I wasn’t going to sleep in. ”

Taking another sip from his mug, Coin Counter looks out to the clear, cloudless sky beyond the windows. “Maybe it wanted you to enjoy such a beautiful the morning.”

Below us, Equestria’s blanketed by a light morning fog that’s already retreating, the sun’s morning rays kissing the farms and plains. Far in the distance is a tiny mountain peak that’s slowly growing bigger.

“Canterlot,” Coin Counter says.

A smile crosses my lips. “You think–”

“That Celestia’s already there? Probably. I imagine Her Highness prefers to arrive early wherever she’s going.” He chuckles. “And no, I don't think Gusty's up to flying you there this early.”

The thought had crossed my mind, but I’ve already waited a lifetime to see the Princess; a few more hours isn’t going to hurt. Besides, I still need to enjoy breakfast with Beakbreaker.

The doors open. I glance back. If that’s a waiter or a chef bringing me my order, I’ll be... oh. It’s just that pony I met in the hall, the one in the business suit. He probably came in to see the decorations.

The doors open again. Several other ponies march inside, each muscular and wearing the business suits a bodyguard would wear.

The first pony straightens his tie. “Mr. Silverspeak, I presume?” His tone is pleasant, and his body relaxed, but his smile… it’s the smile of a bully, knowing he has a gang to back him up if his prey fights back.

Tensing up, I meet his gaze. “Who wants to know?”

“Just an admirer of yours.” 

The pony reaches into his pocket. Something clicks. 

“My employer would like to meet you, Mr. Silverspeak.”

“Who is he?”

“Someone important.”

Click.

I hear Coin Counter shifting behind me, no doubt sensing that something’s wrong. “If you want to arrange a meeting, you’ll have to do so through my office in Canterlot,” I say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my associate and I are needed elsewhere.” I gesture for Coin Counter to follow me. If these ponies have ill intent, they’re less likely to act if there’s another pony around, especially someone who has a panic button with him at all times.

“My employer would like to see you today, Mr. Silverspeak,” the pony says. “To be specific, right now.”

He reaches back into his pocket.

Click.

“I’m on vacation,” I say firmly as I start towards the exit. “I’ll be happy to talk after it’s over.”

The other ponies bunch together, blocking my path.

“You’re going to meet my employer, Mr. Silverspeak, whether you want to or not.”

"What is thi-"

“You have a lovely wife, Mr. Silverspeak. It’d be a mighty big shame if something were to happen to her.”

A chill rushes through me, followed by anger. I almost heed it's call to grab this pony and snap his neck, but I managed to hold myself back... Barely.

Reaching once again into his pocket, the business pony pulls out a small remote. “This tells my friends that I’m talking to you," he says. "If I don’t send them a signal every fifteen seconds... Well, your poor wife would have a most unfortunate accident”

Click.

“Would be a mighty big shame to have some broken glass accidentally fall into those pretty little eyes of hers, don’t you think?”

His hoof hovers over the button.

“Now, you going to come along quietly?”

For a moment it’s like I’m a foal again, standing before Mangus once more, unable to defend myself. I want to lash out with my hooves and smash this pony’s face in, to break that smile like I broke Mangus. But I’m outnumbered, and I can tell he's not bluffing. He's not resorting to boasts or trying to be intimidating; he's just telling the truth, nothing more.

No matter how angry I get, or how much I want this pony dead, I can’t risk hurting Beakbreaker.

Biting my lip, I nod.

The pony’s smile grows bigger. “Smart choice.”

Click.

“Now, come along like a good little pony. Oh, and you too, Coin Counter. Can’t have you running around now.”

I force myself to slowly walk towards the door, the guards staying close. The business pony trots past me as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“If anything happens to my wife,” I growl, “I’ll kill you.”

He smiles. “Open that mouth of yours again and your wife will pay the price.”

Click.

We leave the ballroom and head down the still-empty halls. Soft holiday music plays over the speakers. The bodyguards keep up a quick pace. Coin Counter follows behind me, no doubt wishing Onyx Shield was here to protect him. That, or any members of his security team. He probably felt safe enough on his company’s flagship to walk about without an escort.

“W... where are we going?” Coin Counter asks.

“Never you mind now,” the pony singsongs as if he’s a teacher instructing a foal. “Just stay quiet now, and don’t make a fuss.”

Gulping, Coin Counter adjusts the collar of his robe... Wait. Was that a button I just saw? Before I can get a second look, one of the bodyguards smacks him behind the head, urging him onwards.

Oh please, Celestia, let that have been a panic button.

We reach some stairs and head down, towards the hangers. That’s what their plan must be: these ponies want us to get on a ship and then fly away to some secret location.

The guards pick up speed. We’re probably close to our goal, and they want to get going before anything happens to mess it up.

The suited pony whistles as he waltzes along.

Click.

Okay, Silverspeak, think: What would Celestia do in this situation? She would want to protect innocent lives: in this case, Beakbreaker. The best way to keep her safe is to play along. But these are professionals, not a ragtag group of zealots. They’ve obviously planned this operation, and no doubt have backup plans. That includes knowing that I’ll likely resist once I’m off the ship, which means they’ll probably bring Beakbreaker along to force me to cooperate with whatever plan they have in mind.

Forcing someone to act by threatening their loved ones... it’s an old tactic, but effective. Even the most driven individuals will break at seeing a loved one hurt or tortured.

Click.

I have to get that remote, but how? The bodyguards are on edge, ready to attack at the slightest sign of trouble. My strength could probably take all of them out, but that would take a few seconds, during which the suited pony could flee. Using magic would be effective, but any potent spell would take a few moments to charge and unleash, giving my captors ample time to react. And if I get another headache, I won’t be to cast magic at all.

Blast it all, what do I do?!

We reach an intersection and continue on. Our surroundings have changed from elegant carpet and wood paneling to industrial steel and pain. We must almost be at the hanger. If I’m going to act, I have to do so now.

Click.

I’ll go for the business pony. Tackle him, then use my magic to grab the remote, and use my legs to smash the skulls of anyone piling on top of me. Dangerous, but it’s my only chance.

I get closer to the business pony, but not so close that the bodyguards will suspect anything. They can’t see my internal gears and machinery readying for a leap.

Oh Celestia, please let this work...

One... two...

A bang fills the air. Doors shoot open, and from them leap out several ponies in uniforms, shotguns raised.

“FREEZE!”

Everyone around me does so, caught off guard, trying to figure out what’s going on, and for an instant everything is still.

That instant is all I need.

I leap into the business pony, knocking him to the ground. The bodyguards spin, but the uniformed ponies open fire. Screams and shouts fill the hall as I smash the remote from the pony’s hoof and grab it.

A click. I look up to see the barrel of a gun in my face.

“It’s alright!” Coin Counter rushes forward, pushing the barrel aside. “He’s not with them!”

The uniformed pony immediately stands down, as do the others, still keeping their guns pointed at the bodyguards, who are all moaning and clutching themselves. Yet, there’s no blood soaking into the carpet, or viscera on the walls.

“Beanbags and rubber slugs,” Coin Counter says, seeing my confusion. “Painful, but non-lethal.”

The suited pony tries to get up, hissing from the pain. The fury I’ve repressed yells to be unleashed, and I indulge it, smashing the pony’s face into the wall, wood cracking from the impact. He cries out in pain. Good.

There’s few things I enjoy more than watching bullies get their comeuppance.

I click the remote with my free hoof, pressing the other into the pony’s cheekbone. “Your goons,” I growl, “how many are there?”

The pony screams as his cheekbone cracks.

“How many?!”

“Five!” the pony pleads, his bravado and smugness gone like dew under a torch. “There’s five of them! In the hall outside your penthouse!”

Coin Counter gestures to his guards. Three of them take off.

I slow, but don’t stop, the pressure from my leg. “Do you have any other backup plans in case I escaped?”

“Yes!” the suited pony gasps, trying to hold back tears. “We’d... We’d... We’d kill your wife! We were told to make it slow!”

I want to crush his face in... but that’s not what Celestia would do. Besides,  if he’s alive, this pony can talk. If he’s dead, he can’t.

“Who told you?” I demand. “Who?”

Through his panic and the pain, the pony somehow manages to keep his mouth shut.

I press harder. Bone cracks.

The pony screams.

“Who told you to murder my wife?!”

The suited pony finally reaches his breaking point, and he opens his mouth to scream his answer. 

A boom comes out, faint, but unmistakable.

Wait... that didn't come from the pony.

The security guards look around, gripping their weapons tightly.

“What was that?” Coin Counter asks.

Another muffled boom. 

The floor shakes beneath us. Garland sways from the ceiling.

I turn back to the pony. “What’s going on?”

Another shake.

“I said, what’s–”

A thunderous explosion rockets through the air and I’m thrown into the ceiling, as is everyone else, and we slam back to the floor.

What in tartarus is going–

Something grabs my throat. It’s the suited pony, his eyes wild with pain and hate as he tries to put me in a headlock, yanking out a syringe and plunging it towards my neck.

I throw myself into the closest wall, wood and plaster caving in from impact. My assailant cries out. Grabbing him, I throw the pony down the hall as hard as I can, where he smashes into the railing of a stairwell. A loud clang, and he tumbles from sight.

“Silverspeak!”

Turning, I find Coin Counter rising, badly bruised and banged up, but alive. He’s thrown back down as the hall rocks again, tearing decorations from their mounts. Chunks of wood fall onto the security guards and thugs. Where there wasn’t any blood before, it's now getting soaked into the carpet.

Wait! The remote! Where is it?! I spin, but it’s nowhere to be seen, lost among the rubble. It’s... oh Celestia, it’s been longer than fifteen seconds!

I grab a shotgun from one of Coin Counter’s unconscious guards and tear down the hall. Coin Counter shouts something. I ignore him. I don’t have time to talk, to help him, to do anything but run.

The halls are quickly filled as guests burst from their rooms, shocked and frightened by the muffled explosions and the screams of sirens and flashing alarms. An automated voice calmly tells everyone to proceed to their emergency stations. I have to shove my way through the crowd, ignoring shouts of protest as I finally reach the intersection leading up to the penthouse. I tear it up, shotgun at the ready.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I leap out to see five thugs outside the penthouse doors, all armed and dressed like their fellows. There’s no sign of the security guards dispatched here, but I won’t need them. The five haven’t noticed me and aren’t trying to break in, confused and uncertain about what to do or what’s going on.

Their confusion is my gain as I blast the closest one into a wall. His fellows turn to me, but I’m barreling into them like a bull, firing again and again, taking out the ponies that were sent here to torture my wife, and in moments they’re sprawled on the floor like a pile of ragdolls.

I rush to the doors leading into the penthouse and kick them off their hinges as I run inside.

“Beakbreaker?!”

“Silverspeak?!”

I run up the stairs to the bed, where Beakbreaker’s crouched next to it, clutching a dinner knife and scared out of her mind. Is she hurt?! No, thank Celestia, she’s okay! 

Dropping the gun, I run to her. “Beakbreaker, are you okay?!”

She doesn’t answer, grabbing onto me as tightly as she can, the knife falling from her hoof.

“Beakbreaker, are you okay? Are you hurt?!”

“N... No.” She wipes the hair from her eyes, trying to steady herself. “I... I heard an explosion, and then the ship shook, and then I heard a gunfight outside the doors... What’s going on?!”

“I don’t know, but we’re getting out of here.” Forget the lifeboats, I’ll blast the windows open and fly out with Beakbreaker on my–

“Silverspeak? Beakbreaker?!”

I run to the balcony. “Coin Counter?”

My former boss is below, wielding a shotgun and accompanied by two of his security guards. “Silverspeak!” He hurries up the stairs, panting from the effort. “Is Beakbreaker alright?!”

Beakbreaker rushes to my side, surprised at seeing her boss wielding a shotgun while wearing a bathrobe.

“Warning: Ship integrity compromised," the ship's automatic voice announces. "Proceed to your assigned lifeboat.”

“Coin Counter, what’s going on?” Beakbreaker asks, still trying to comprehend what has to be the worst Hearths Warming morning ever.

“I don’t know!” Coin Counter says. “We've got to move! There’s a lifeboat nearby that we can–”

An ear-splitting roar shakes the room.

Beakbreaker goes pale. “What was–”

The roar comes again, and I realize that I’ve heard this roar before, long ago.

No...

Darting past Coin Counter, I rush to the curtains and yank down on the tassel. Light floods into the penthouse as the curtains part, and I’m forced to squint against the brightness. But when my eyes adjust, I get a clear view of the Canterlot mountains before us, and the capital perched upon its side. 

Both ares engulfed in flames.

An enormous shadow flies overhead.

I see the shadow’s owner. I’ve only seen it once, and uncountable times in my nightmares, but there’s no mistaking the monstrosity I hoped never to see again.

An Arch-dragon plunges towards Canterlot, engulfing the city in fire, its four massive wings sending it upwards as a spike-covered tail effortlessly rips through buildings. And then another dragon joins it, and then another. Dozens more are diving from the clouds, swarming down like locusts, attacking the capital of Equestria and all the craft surrounding it, whether passenger craft trying to escape, or warships engaged in suicidal counterattacks.

“Arch-dragons?!” Coin Counter rushes to my side, rubbing his eyes as if trying to awaken from a nightmare. “But that's impossible! They're gone!”

The roars from a dozen of the beasts convinces him otherwise.

“The lifeboat!” I run back to Beakbreaker. “We have to get to the lifeboat!”

Another roar hits me, this one far louder than the others. I spin, and have a horrifying glimpse of three dragons breaking away and going after airships fleeing the mountain, bathing each one in flames or raking them with their bus-sized talons.

One turns towards us, fire rushing forth from its maw.

“RUN!” I scream.

The sky vanishes as the windows are enveloped with flames, the air growing stiflingly hot. But before I can run, yell, or do anything, the room rolls, giant cracks spiderwebbing through the floor and walls.

Beakbreaker screams. So does Coin Counter and his guards. I try to grab them, but the five of us are thrown against the walls, glued in place as the penthouse spins wildly, pillars and furnishings torn from their mounts. I try to move, but the g-force is too strong as the Eagle spins out of control.

There’s a scream, but not from a living creature. It’s coming from the ship as metal and steel break apart, and the room jerks sharply to the left, sending us crashing to the floor, accompanied by falling furniture and breaking chairs.

“What’s happening?!” Coin Counter calls out.

We’re still spinning... sweet Celestia, the dragon must have hit the ship and torn it in two! And if we're torn in two, the gas inside the hull is going to keep venting until the wreck becomes too heavy and crashes to the ground!

“All of you, grab on!” I turn to the window, readying a blast. “We’ve got to–”

Another explosion, and the floor tilts with frightening speed. I fall, sliding with the others towards the door leading into the hall. One guard hits a bookcase on the wall. The other grabs onto what remains of a pillar. He tries to grab us, but we’re sliding too fast and shoot into the hallway. It’s chaos as broken furniture, chunks of walls, and holiday decorations slide towards a gaping hole where the rest of the ship used to be, sliding out into the open air towards the plains far below.

“Grab onto something!” I yell. But we’re going too fast! the tilt is increasing as the Eagle’s bow goes up. I’ve only got a few seconds to act; Coin Counter is closest to me, hooves scraping against wood as he tries to grab the walls. I grab him in one leg and shove myself towards Beakbreaker. But she’s further down and speeding up.

“Beakbreaker!” I scream. “Hang on!”

She tries, grabbing at anything she can to stop her slide. But the walls are too smooth, and the door handles shoot by too quickly. Her eyes are wild, almost feral, instinct taking over as terror consumes her.

“Silverspeak!” she screams.

“Hold on!”

The hallway tilts, and the rest of the rubble shoots into the void, taking Beakbreaker with her.

There’s no time to think, no time to come up with a plan. I jump, plunging from the hall into the ice-cold sky.

Beakbreaker’s below me, screaming hysterically as she lashes out, trying to grab onto something.

Coin Counter yells something at me. I shove him onto my back. How I do so without him falling away, I don’t know, and I don’t care as I shoot down towards Beakbreaker, spinning as chunks of airship debris fall around us.

Beakbreaker’s still screaming, eyes wild as she spins and twists. She doesn’t even see me catching up to her or my legs as I stretch them out. And then I hit her, locking my legs around her body, spinning from the impact.

Through the nausea, I see Beakbreaker locking eyes with me, amazed, relieved, and surprised at her sudden rescue.

A flaming piece of metal nearly takes my ear off as it races past us.

My wings snap into place and beat as fast as they can, hammering the air as I pull up, my artificial heart pounding faster than ever before, pistons and gears furiously pumping as more debris falls around us. The wind’s whipping into my ears, making it all but impossible to hear anything, but I catch a voice. It’s Coin Counter. He’s screaming about something, but what–

A shadow falls on us. I look up and... 

Oh buck!

An airship falls from the sky. It’s too big to go around, and I’m going too fast to turn around or stop.

There’s only one thing I can do. Breathing hard and fast for the pain I know is going to come, I focus my magic.

Oh please, Celestia, let this work!

I fire, and the pain comes, thrusting unseen daggers into my skull. I scream, barely able to focus, but there’s now a large hole inside the hull of the falling ship, and I rocket inside, speeding through a tunnel it as buckles, bends, twists, and collapses around me.

Go, go, go–

Metal tears apart, giving me the briefest glimpse of rooms inside the wreckage, where ponies are crushed as their ship collapses around them.

Faster, faster, faster!

Light appears, and the darkness vanishes as I shoot from the hull like a bullet from a barrel, the ship imploding behind us.

More roars. Canterlot’s being attacked by even more of the Arch-dragons. I can’t tell how many there are through the clouds of smoke and fire. Whether there’s fifteen or fifty, I can’t tell. Tiny forms swarm around them; from here they look like gnats, but I realize they’re the Royal Guard, doing their utmost to repel the invaders.

They’re failing.

I look to Beakbreaker, checking her for wounds. There are some scratches, but she’s okay. A glance back shows that Coin Counter’s the same. That’s good enough for me, and I rocket away from Canterlot with all the speed I can muster. We’ve got to get as far away from here as possible. Tartarus, I’ll fly all the way back to Luna Bay if I have–

Brightly-colored light shoots past me. Fire?! No, it was... magic?

Another flash of light nearly hits me. I spin to see several shapes flying after me. But they’re not dragons. They’re... ponies?! Unicorns riding upon pegasi, but they’re not fleeing from the devastation. Their flight is focused and directed, not the panicked flight of desperate survivors.

They’re heading right towards us.

Coin Counter yells something as more spells shoot past me. I ignore him, shooting through the sky with all my might, trying to outrace my pursuers. A glance back reveals that it isn’t working. I’ve gotten my fair share of flying throughout the years, but my wings are artificial, and my body is heavier than flesh and blood. I can’t match the speed and agility of pegasi no matter how hard I try.

Our pursuers are catching up, and their shots are getting closer. I can’t outrun them, which leave only one option: I have to fight.

“Hang onto me!” I yell. Coin Counter does so on my back, and Beakbreaker grips me as tightly as she can as I do a sharp roll and rocket back towards Canterlot. As I hoped, my move is unexpected, and the pegasi lose their focus for a moment, granting me a second to act. I take full advantage and dive towards the earth. Specifically, a flaming field of wrecked airships.

“What are you doing?!” Coin Counter shouts.

I don’t answer him as I fly through smoke, reaching the flaming metal and support beams of a crashed ship. Landing hard, I roll behind the wreckage, hoping that the fires will provide some cover.

“Why are they shooting at us?!” Coin Counter says as he slips off my back, tossing his bathrobe aside.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, letting Beakbreaker down. “The two of you find a place to hide, and for heaven’s sake, stay out of sight!”

“What are you going to do?!” Coin Counter asks.

“Stop them,” I say, taking deep breaths to ready myself for more pain.

“Silverspeak, no!” Beakbreaker grabs my shoulders. “It’s too risky!” She glances at my horn. “Your magic! You can teleport us out of here!”

I’ve never tried a teleportation spell before. That’s advanced magic, with disastrous consequences if something goes wrong. It’s precisely that reason I’ve never tried it before, but now I–

The ground’s chewed up as magic slams around us, destroying our hiding place.

“Run!” I yell.

Beakbreaker and Coin Counter take off across the field, trying to find a path through the flaming ruins around us. 

The pegasi swoop down and focus on me, their unicorn passengers firing a rapid barrage of blasts. I conjure a shield and deflect the attack, but at the cost of another horrific headache. Hissing, I struggle to endure it as my attackers fly overhead and spin for another attack run. Dropping the shield, I return fire, hitting two of the pegasi. The first wavers, but recovers. The second crashes into the flaming guts of a ship and vanishes from sight.

My head... oh, it hurts! I can’t lose my focus, not when Beakbreaker and Coin Counter are counti–

The ground’s chewed up around me. I spin to see even more pegasi coming down. One group I could hold off, but not two. I run into the closest wreckage, bringing my shield up as magical blasts hammer down on me like rain.

Who in tartarus are these ponies?!

Three unicorns land on the ground before me, their horns glowing. I don’t have time to charge a spell, so I–

Something huge and metallic fills my vision. I blink, and find the unicorns are gone. They haven’t teleported away or been killed by my skill. Rather, the space they occupied is now occupied by a giant chunk of a crumpled gondola.

A shadow falls on me. I look up to see an enormous ship falling towards me, lit up like a torch, and another one beside it. No, they’re not two ships. It’s one that’s been split in two.

Sweet Celestia, it’s the Eagle.

Flaming wreckage the size of a house slams near me, and I bolt, running through smoke that makes it almost impossible to see. What little light provided by the fires is eclipsed by the darkness overtaking me as the rear half of the ship slams into the ground, erupting into a cascade of increasingly larger explosions that engulfs the larger half of the ship, crushing and incinerating everything beneath it.

I bolt, my legs a blur as I fight to outrace the skyscraper-sized chunk of dead metal still coming down. And then it hits, a cloud of smoke and soot throwing me into the air. A fast beat of my wings saves me from hitting the ground headfirst, but not enough to keep me from rolling through the ruined grass and mud.

I get up, coughing at the smoke. The sound of battle high above continues to rage, screams and yells and roars blending together until it sounds as if we’re in the end of days. But I don’t care. I’m alive. I can still fight and I can still get...

Wait...

“Beakbreaker?!” I spin, trying to see through the smoke. “Coin Counter?!”

No response.

Oh Celestia, did Beakbreaker escape the crash?! “Beakbreaker?!”

Only the wind and the fires answer me.

“Beakbreaker!?”

“Silverspeak!”

There! To my right! I run. Thank Celestia, she’s alive! Only a few seconds and I’ll reach–

“Silverspeak, don’t! It’s a tra–”

The smoke clears. I’m in a clearing surrounded by wreckage and ruin. Beakbreaker’s before me, scratched up, alive, and held at gunpoint by the pegasi ponies.

I skid to a stop. There’s no mistaking the message before me: come any closer, and Beakbreaker’s head will be blown apart.

A guard digs the barrel of his gun into Beakbreaker’s skull. She winces, trying to cry out.

“Stop!” I raise my hooves. “Stop! Don’t hurt her!”

The gun stops moving.

I’ve got to talk fast. “What do you all want?” I ask, trying not to show the fear gripping my very soul. “What do you want?!”

A form emerges from the smoke at the edge of the clearing. Pony-sized, yet not a pony, its shapes unnatural and angular. Wait… it’s no beast. It’s a pony, one dressed in antique armor, gear that the Equestrian military stopped wearing almost twenty years ago. Smoke obscures the pony’s face as he walks to me, his pace brisk and controlled. It’s the gait of a military pony.

The smoke clears, and I finally see the pony’s face. Wait... I know him. He’s the scarred pony from Vanhoover. 

The pony reaches me, and once again his eyes look deep into mine. I remain still, doing nothing as he studies me for several long moments.

Beakbreaker gulps, trying not to move as her guards adjust their grip on her.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“An admirer of yours,” the scarred says. His voice is empty, devoid of emotion or feeling.

“What is it you want?”

“You.”

Breathing deep, I focus my charm to its maximum strength. “I’ll do what you ask if you let my wife go.”

“She stays,” he says, “to ensure you do as you’re told.”

It’s risky, but I return the pony’s gaze. “Let. Her. Go.”

My ability to charm others is strong, and there are few who can resist its full might. Those who can posses wills stronger than the mightiest metal, unbreakable and unyielding, and my stomach sinks at realizing this pony is one of them. He doesn’t move at my command. He’s not even amused or angry at my attempt.

“You will surrender yourself to us,” the pony says. “If you do not comply, your wife’s knees will be shot out one at a time until you do. Should you continue to resist, her back will be broken, and then her neck. Do I make myself clear?”

I can’t let Beakbreaker become collateral in a kidnapping scheme. I can’t fight, and can’t blast away her captors and get to her in time. There’s only one thing I can do, the one thing I don’t want to do, but I have no choice.

“Yes,” I say, pretending to be beaten.

Oh Celestia, this is going to hurt...

“Lie down and spread your–”

Focusing all the magic I possess, I visualize Beakbreaker vanishing from this place and appearing in the fabled Diamond Plaza in Las Pegasus. And when it’s ready, I release the spell. 

Time seems to slow. I can make out the individual beams of green magic swirling around Beakbreaker. Our eyes lock as she realizes what’s going on. I want the moment to last, to look into her eyes forever... but more than that, I want her to be safe.

Beakbreaker starts to yell something, but she can’t get the words out in time as she vanishes in a flash of green light.

Pain hits me, pain so intense that it’s no longer knives hitting my head, but sledgehammers. I collapse to my knees, trying and failing not to scream at how much it hurts. I can’t think, can’t focus. Oh Celestia it hurts!

Another shadow falls across me.

I look up and see my captor standing before me. There’s no hate in his face, no rage at losing Beakbreaker. Where anyone else would be furious, there is only the unreadable face of an animal.

A unicorn comes forward, his horn charging with magic.

A flash of light, and the sky lights up as all of the Canterlot Mountains are bathed in flames.

Without a sound, Canterlot tears free from the mountain. Palaces, towers, and buildings vanish as it plunges to the plains far below.

The unicorn gets closer.

I have to fight, have to lash out, do something, anything. I won’t die helpless, barely able to see through the pain. I have to fight. I have to get to Beakbreaker, to save her, to-

The unicorn's horn flashes, and I try to rise as he fi–
> Breakout
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm dead! I... I... Wait. I can’t be. I can think. I can feel - but... 

If I’m not dead, where am I?

I open my eyes, only to blink furiously as thick, red liquid washes over them. I'm submerged in the stuff, but there’s a mask across my muzzle, allowing me to breathe. I spin; my wings are still in place. Reaching up, I feel my horn, and then shake my legs. Oh, thank Celestia, nothing’s out of place. But why am I in a tube?

I squint, managing to make out a small room beyond the tube, the walls lined with machinery and computers. Cables and tubes snake into the roof, and then drop down to the top of the tube, most likely feeding me oxygen and monitoring my vitals. There’s only one door leading in and out of the room, and looks like the thick and heavy slabs of metal used to seal bank vaults.

Someone doesn’t want anyone coming in here... or for me to get out.

I look the tube over, searching for the exit hatch- 

Wait. There’s movement from the door. The giant gears are turning, the clinking and grinding barely audible. Someone’s coming!

Going limp, I close my eyes, keeping one cracked open ever-so-slightly so I can see what’s going on.

Two ponies come in, each dressed in a black and red military uniform. One has a jet-black helmet around his head and a large shotgun slung at his side. Closing the door behind them, the two come up to the tube. Their efficiency in checking gauges and readouts suggests they’ve done this before, which means they’ll be quick to finish up and leave, locking the door behind them and leaving me back at square one.

If I’m going to get out of here, I need to act.

I twitch my legs.

The two look up, surprised. The unmasked one points to his companion, and she hurries out of sight. There’s a grinding noise above me, and the tube’s filled with light. I feel hooves going around the tubes above me, most likely checking them for leaks.

I yank on the tubes as hard as I can. A body falls into the liquid and I kick it against the tube, which wobbles, teeters, and falls over. The pony outside barely manages to get clear as the tube shatters, drenching the tiled floor in red fluid.

Choking, I yank the mask off and try to rise, my hooves slipping in the fluid. The other pony’s doing the same, trying to get to the door. Bracing my hooves against a computer tower, I throw myself into the pony, tackling him into a wall of machinery, thrusting my hoof against their jugular. It’s a trick Onyx Shield taught me in case I was attacked and couldn’t use my magic. In moments, the pony goes limp. I let go, and he falls to the floor, unconscious. Hurrying to the tube, I check the other pony and find her knocked out as well.

Okay... it won’t be long before others notice these two are missing. When that happens, this place – whatever it is – will go on alert. Security will tighten, and getting out of here will be difficult, if not impossible. I need to act, and quickly.

I strip the ponies of their uniforms, using one set to dry myself off as best I can, wiping my eyes to eliminate the blurriness, but with limited success; I must have gotten too much of the liquid in my eyes. But no matter; I can still see, even with the helmet crammed onto my head. It’s a tight fit, but I only have to wear it long enough to sneak out of here. 

Dressing in one of the uniforms, I take the shotgun and look it over. It's loaded with rubber slugs. Good for incapacitating someone without killing them. Slinging it across my back, I take the pony’s badges and drag the two behind some of the computer towers. I should tie them up and clean up the tube and the fluids, but the clock’s ticking.

With everything set, I push the door open and enter a long corridor of concrete, indistinguishable from any military base I’ve seen. Buck... I was hoping I’d be able to recognize where I am. Worse still is the lack of signs on the walls. There’s no way to know if I’m at the top of a structure or deep in the basement.

Stairs. I need to find some stairs. With any luck, they’ll lead to the roof, where I can get my bearings.

I hurry down the hall, taking care to look like I know where I’m going.

There’s noise ahead. Voices.

There’s a door to my left; I shove it open and duck inside a storage closet, closing the door behind me. It isn't long before I hear hoofsteps outside.

“You’re sure the conversion chambers are back online?”

That voice... I’ve heard it before, but where?

“Y... yes sir. They’re ready for the next batch of prisoners.”

I don't recognize this voice, but it's fast and nervous.

“Good. What about this level? Was there any damage?”

“Power was out for only a few seconds. Not enough to damage any systems.” 

“And Silverspeak? Did he wake up?”

“Two technicians are checking in on him now.”

“Good. Have them report to me when they’re done.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. Now, where’s our saboteur?”

“In the interrogation room on this level.”

“Has she talked?”

“No, but we think she was here to get Silverspeak.”

She… Are these ponies talking about Beakbreaker?!

There’s a sigh on the other side of the door. “Then our enemy is getting desperate. Go find out who she came for. Make sure the boys aren't too rough on her. She can't talk if she's in a coma.”

“Y... yes, sir.”

The conversation ends, and the two speakers part ways. I barely notice the sounds of departing hooves; that saboteur... was she Beakbreaker? It has to be; no one else would break into this place - whatever it is - to rescue me. I need to find her, and fast!

Carefully pushing the door open, I peer out. There’s a small pony hurrying away from me. Making sure no one else is watching, I leave the closet and follow him, taking care to keep my distance as he hurries through the halls. I almost lose him a few times, but at last he comes to a plain, unmarked door and slips inside.

Hurrying to the door, I press my ear to it and listen, but can’t tell what’s going on beyond it. With a chill, I realize it’s built that way. While Equestria doesn’t torture prisoners, those who run this facility might not subscribe to such an ideal, and would want an interrogation room to be soundproof.

Slipping the door open, I peer inside. There’s no hallways or torture chambers awaiting me, only a white-tiled room with a tilted floor and a large drain in the center. There are several guards standing in a circle around someone dangling from wires connected to a metal ring in the ceiling.

Pushing the door closed, I hang back, wanting to stay invisible in the room’s dim lighting. Doesn’t look like anyone’s noticed me.

One of the ponies shifts, revealing… Wait. That’s not Beakbreaker. The prisoner before me is a changeling. Looks like the guards haven't done anything to her yet: her skin's free of welts and bruises, and she doesn't have any swollen eyes. And if she's afraid, she's not showing it.

“I'll ask again, changeling," one of the guards says, "Why are you here?”

“For my husband,” the changeling says. “I sabotaged the generator to break him out.”

“Oh, now we’re gettin’ somewhere. What’s his name?”

“Black Back.”

“Black Back... Hey, fellas, anyone here know a Black Back?”

The other guards shake their heads.

“Nope. Don’t know any Black Back here.” The guard gets closer, his snout almost touching the changeling’s nose. “I think you’re lying, missy. You came here to assassinate someone, weren’t you?”

“No.”

“Was it the base commander? Or maybe Silverspeak?”

“I said, no.”

“Who was it?”

“I told you, I came here for my hus-”

A punch sends the changeling reeling. “You want to lie? Fine. We’ll just show you what happens to liars.”

The guards go to a locker embedded in the wall and take out several riot batons, taking their time as they pass them around, making sure the changeling can see them.

“What are you doing?!" the small, nervous pony asks. "We need her alive! She can't talk if she's dead!”

“Don’t worry, pencil-pusher,” the guard says. “We won’t kill her. Just soften her up a bit. Some bruises here, a few cracked ribs there, nothing that won't heal." He grins. "After that, we'll move on to broken bones. We're good at those, right, boys?”

The others nod.

"If she still doesn't talk, we'll keep breaking 'em a little more each day. No healing or painkillers for you, changeling."

Sweet Celestia...

The guard twirls his baton. "Right. Let's start with your chest." He taps the tip of his weapon to her belly. "A few ribs oughta-”

I’ve heard enough. If Celestia were here, she’d stop these ponies. She’d take them into custody and try to rehabilitate them. But I won’t. There's a difference between bullies who relish in having power over others, and then there are bullies who delight in causing pain and suffering. 

I'm going to give them a taste of their own medicine.

I run into the light, my shotgun raised. 

The head guard spots me. “Hey, what in tartarus are you–”

I yank the trigger, and the guard’s head snaps back from the slap of a rubber slug. His fellows, caught off guard at one of their own opening fire, scramble to fight back as I fire again and again, knocking them out one after another. The shotgun clicks empty. I swing it like a bat, knocking the others out and breaking limbs until only the small pony is left.

“W… wait!” he shouts, scrambling against the wall. “Wait, please! I’m not with them! I’m not a torturer! Please, don’t-”

A hit smashes the secretary to the floor, where he joins his fellows in a force-induced sleep.

My makeshift club is dropped to the ground as I hurry to the changeling. “Are you alright?” Oh, wait. She doesn’t know who I am. Grabbing the helmet, I pull it off. “It’s alright. I’m not one of them.”

The changeling stares at me, unsure whether to be shocked, terrified, or relieved.

I glance back at the door. “We don’t have much time. I don’t know where I am or how to get out of here, but I’m guessing you do.”

The changeling doesn’t answer. She’s confused.

“I overheard someone saying you were looking for me. Is that true?”

She nods.

“Well, I daresay you’ve accomplished your mission.” Grabbing the wires holding her up, I rip them apart, gently lowering her to the floor before dashing to a rack on the wall and taking a fresh shotgun and two cartridge bandoleers. “Now, can you walk?”

She’s still staring at me.

“I said, can you walk?”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, why are you helping me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Now, you know where we are?”

“Don’t you know?”

“The last thing I remember is a unicorn blasting me with a spell after Canterlot fell.”

The changeling looks at me as if I’m an idiot. But whatever questions or thoughts she has are shoved aside as she struggles to stand, finally managing to do so.

“Can you walk?” I ask once more.

“I... I think so.” She takes some weak, uneasy steps. “I can’t do any running, though.”

I hand her the shotgun. “You can pretend to be my bodyguard.” Turning, I inspect the uniforms of those lying on the ground. Only the secretary’s uniform remains clean enough to use, so I strip it off him. “Here. This should fit.” I give it to the changeling. “No helmets, I’m afraid.”

The changeling doesn’t answer as she changes. The uniform’s a bit tight, but it fits. 

I glance to the door, hoping it really is soundproof. “Now, you do know how to get out of here, correct?”

“Yes,” she says. “But we’ll probably be killed in the process.”

“We’ll manage.” I take another shotgun and a vest to hide my wings, stuffing it with fresh clips. “I’m sorry about your husband, but we’ll have to–”

“He’s not here,” the changeling says. “He’s dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to–”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.” She pumps the shotgun, and a flash of green light replaces her face with the visage of a generic, unassuming pony. “I’ll take point.”

I nod, letting her take the lead. “What’s your name?”

“Green Wing.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She hesitates and heads to the door. “Stay close.”

The hallway’s still empty when we leave. I close the door behind us and follow Green Wing as she heads down the halls. She’s doing her best to keep up a steady pace, wincing discreetly with every step. I don’t think she’ll accept any help, probably saying that it would make us stand out if I carried her on my back. She seems the type to tough out any pain or discomfort.

More soldiers appear in the halls. Whenever they do, Green Wing stands tall and marches normally, but only until the soldiers are out of sight. The moment they are, she has to pause and compose herself, wheezing from the pain. She still presses on, refusing to stop, heading down several staircases and halls, until at last she leads us into a side room and uses a spell to silently slice the glass from a window, allowing us to sneak outside.

I didn’t know what to expect once we got outside the compound, but we’re not in any base I’ve ever seen. Above us is an enormous concrete monolith; where the one in Genesis was built for elegance, this one is an enormous concrete brick surrounded by a maze-like mass of other concrete structures of varying sizes, each adored with flags and banners on the walls. There’s no markets, no booths full of merchants selling their wares, and no sounds of foals running about and playing. Everything here is concrete and steel.

This fortress, outpost, whatever it is, is contained within a cavern at least half a mile high, the walls and ceiling chiseled out of solid rock, and the front guarded by an enormous wall. Over fifty feet high, and peaked with guard towers and large spikes jutting both in and out, it’s clearly meant to keep anyone from entering or leaving. Beyond it is a jagged mass of steep, gnarled mountains bunched together, all bathed under the heat of the searing sun.

“I take it we can’t just fly out of here,” I say.

“You’d be right,” Green Wing says. “There are spells in place to keep anyone from flying and teleporting in or out.”

“Then how did you get in?”

“I pretended to be a soldier. Rode in on the supply train. And if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to sneak out on one.” Invigorated by the thought, Green Wing hurries on. I follow her into an alley, where she stops behind a dumpster, both of us listening for the sounds of alarms and pursuing guards.

All is silent.

I peek around the nearest corner and find that we’re on the edge of a plaza. There’s about twenty soldiers present, each carrying a shotgun. It appears they’re waiting for someone important, or perhaps for important cargo to arrive.

An alarm blares.

Oh Celestia, no! They’ve discovered I’m missing! Wait... this doesn’t sound like an emergency alarm. It’s more like a warning that something important is coming. Cargo, maybe?

Something heavy grinds against stone. A pair of enormous doors retracts into the walls, allowing a train to pass through. It’s not like any train I’ve ever seen: it’s hanging from cables instead of riding on rails, and the cars are covered with thick armor plates, thick bars covering the windows.

The cars sway as the train comes to a stop at an elevated platform, and the soldiers rush forward, getting into position at the platform, guns raised.

“We wait until it’s unloaded,” Green Wing whispers, “and then we sneak on.”

Keys are inserted into the car doors, which swing open with a loud clang. Soldiers rush inside and start yelling. But why? They wouldn’t dare yell at VIP guests. Maybe they’re yelling at workers to unload supplies? Doesn’t seem necessary to be so vocal or so angry.

Ponies leave the cars. Passengers who need to get off before the cargo is unloaded, perhaps... Wait. These aren’t passengers. They’ve got manacles around their legs, and their necks are chained together. But these aren't hardened criminals: they're ordinary ponies from all walks of life. They’re young, old, healthy and sick, children and parents, none of which matters to the soldiers, who keep yelling at them to move.

"What in heaven's name-"

An older pony is hit with the butt of a rifle, causing him to fall down the stairs. Instinct makes me want to rush to him, but Green Wing holds me back. 

It's not just ponies who are coming off the train, for a few gryphons are forced off, their wings bound tightly, thick muzzles over their beaks. And then they’re followed by yaks, canines, centaurs, and even a young drake, who wears heavy shackles and is accompanied by five soldiers. Where the ponies were treated roughly, these prisoners are shoved, hit, and beaten, the guards mercilessly forcing them on.

“Why are they–”

“The pones will become Iron Hoof’s soldiers,” Green Wing explains. "Everyone else... Well, I don't want to think about what's going to happen to them."

“Iron Hoof? Who's he?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“I told you, the last thing I remember was being knocked out when Canterlot was destroyed!” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down.

Green Wing shakes her head. “He’s the one behind all this. ‘The Great Liberator,’ he calls himself. He’s trying to round up every pony he can find. Like I said, they become his soldiers. Everyone who isn't a pony... Well, we don't know what happens to them. They get dragged inside fortresses like this one and don’t come back out.”

A chill goes through me. “You mean they’re exec–”

“We don’t know,” Green Wing whispers. “But whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

I don’t answer her, unable to take my gaze away as the guards divide the prisoners into two groups: ponies and everyone else. Both groups have their chains attached to giant mechanical hooks that head into the monolith we just escaped from, forcing the prisoners to march inside.

Most of the prisoners are gripped by grief and barely-contained terror. A few cry out, unable to stop the tears from falling. The little ones... oh Celestia, the little ones cry out for their parents.

I... I have to do something. I want to rush forward and help them; it’s what Celestia would do–

“You can’t help them,” Green Wing says.

“Like Tartarus I can’t!” I say. “I can use my charm and force the soldiers to–”

“There are too many of them,” she says. “And when word gets out that you’ve escaped, this place will go on red alert. You want to help these ponies? Get out of here, and Luna will figure out a way to put your skills to good use.”

I can convince all the soldiers here to let these prisoners go, pony and non-pony alike. I know I can... but confound it all, Green Wing’s right. The moment my escape is discovered, the guards here will start shooting.

The last prisoners vanish into the monolith, the giant doors clanging shut behind them. The soldiers scatter, probably setting off on another task. Only a few are left behind.

“Let’s go,” Green Wing says. She starts towards the train, but I hold her back.

“I’ll go first. My charm should be able to get us onboard.” I start towards the train. Green Wing falls in behind me.

None of the soldiers notice us as we head towards the platform.

We’re taking inventory of the cargo, I think to myself. And checking for anyone who might have hidden themselves from the soldiers.

We’re almost to the platform. The soldiers still don't see us.

“You know where to go once we get out of here?” I whisper.

“I have a contact waiting in some nearby canyons,” Green Wing whispers back. “We get to him, and he’ll be able to extract us.”

We reach the stairs. No one tries to stop us as we head up. 

Just a few more seconds and we’ll–

“Hold it!”

I stop. A pony heads towards us, flanked by four guards armed with automatic shotguns.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the pony asks. He’s an older one, getting quite along in years, but with no sign of slowing down. Something about him seems familiar... It’s his voice. It’s the one I heard outside that closet, the one talking to the smaller pony.

I turn on my charm. “We’re checking the cargo,” I say. “Making sure no one tried to hide from the others.”

“Is that so?”

Green Wing's hoof tightens on her shotgun.

The pony comes up to me. “Now, refresh my mind: What cargo was brought along with our latest guests?”

“Ammunition,” I say, guessing what a military outpost would need. “Medical supplies, weapons, the usual.”

The pony looks me over. 

The guards grip their weapons tightly.

A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead.

“What's your operating number?”

Operating number?! Oh buck! Uhh... “GB158.”

The pony studies me.

Celestia, what do I do?!

The pony relaxes, his stern look giving way to a friendly smile. He chuckles, amused. “Alright, you’re good to go.”

Wait, I actually pulled this off?!

“You go on ahead and check the cargo... won’t find any, though, as that train’s coming in tomorrow.”

Ice water rushes through my veins.

“Also, soldiers around here aren’t given operating numbers.”

A yank of red magic rips the helmet off my head.

“You’re a crafty one, Silverspeak, but you were never going to get out of here.”

The soldiers raise their guns.

“Now, be a good pony, tell your accomplice here to put down her gun, and we’ll all head–”

He’s cut off as I hit him in the chin, throwing him through the air like a bag of discarded trash. Beside me, Green Wing opens fire, knocking the guards back before joining me in running for the gates.

“Stop him!” the older pony yells.

Guns open fire, chewing up the ground around me.

“No, you idiots! Don’t kill him!”

Green Wing tries to run, but she’s too slow. I throw her onto my back as I run for the doors. They’re starting to close, but I easily make it through and onto the road beyond the wall. It heads down through the mountains, switchbacking and twisting like a snake.

“Behind us!” Green Wing shouts.

Red dots pepper the ground ahead of me. I buck Green Wing off my back and grab her, using my body as a shield as bullets rip into me. I stagger under the weight of dozens of rounds trying to force me to the ground, but I keep running, one leg holding Green Wing in place.

The shooting stops as I get out of range. I can feel my body doing emergency repairs, but nothing feels critically damaged.

“Where’s your contact?!” I ask Green Wing.

She scrambles out of my hold and onto my back, where she surveys the mountains. “About five miles from here!” She points to my left. “Down in that canyon!”

There are more shouts behind us. I look back and see several soldiers rushing after us.

“Can he take care of them?!” I yell.

“Easily!”

Pegasi soldiers take off from the fort, and I realize running won’t get us to Green Wing’s contact quickly enough. If we’re going to get out of here, we’ll have to fly out.

I spread my wings. “Hold on tight!” When Green Wing’s legs are wrapped tight around my neck, I beat my wings and jump, taking to the sky... and promptly fall back to the ground.

What?!

I jump again, and again I fall. I look back and... oh no, my wings have been damaged! I can’t fly!

The soldiers get closer.

“Hold them off!” I say. If I can get a minute, maybe my body can repair the wings enough to–

“I don’t have the guns!”

“What?!”

“I lost them when you grabbed me!”

A spell slams into the ground.

No time to wait for the repair systems. I can’t fly, but from what I can tell, I still have the ability to glide.

“Hang on tight!” Turning, I leap off the road and slide down the slope into the canyons below us. My stomach turns as I spread my wings and jump.

Please work, please work, please work!

I fall... but not as fast as if I were plunging to my death. My wings are flapping wildly, the crystals barely generating just enough lift.

A spell shoots past me. A glance back shows that the earth and unicorn soldiers have climbed onto the backs of their pegasi brethren and are giving chase. There's too many to dodge! How am I going to... Wait! There’s a thin canyon ahead; our pursuers will be forced to go in a straight line, negating their numerical advantage.

I swerve left, trying to pick up speed as spells rocket past us, kicking up clouds of ash and dust as they hit the walls.

“Here we go!”

Green Wing screams as I shoot into the canyon. I don't dare look back as the walls close in, fighting not to have the tips of my wings clip the walls.

I hear a brief scream behind us, and the sound of a body being smashed to bits.

“The walls!” Green Wing yells. They're closing in.

I keep going.

“Pull up! Pull up!”

Almost there...

The canyon narrows to only a few feet.

More screams as bodies are ripped apart.

Almost...

The canyon vanishes. We’re back in the open.

I spread my wings, slowing our fall. “You okay?” I call back.

Green Wing doesn’t answer. A glance down reveals that her hooves are bone-white.

I look back towards the canyon. There’s no sign of our pursuers. Perhaps they collided with each other and were killed trying to chase us. That gives us a few extra minutes before reinforcements arrive.

“You know where we are?”

“Y... yes,” Green Wing stammers, still shaken from our escape. “We’re... we’re close!” She looks down. “There! That waterfall! Head towards it!”

I follow her gaze. There’s a long river below us, terminating at a waterfall that’s shrouded in mist and fog.

“Alright. Down we g–”

Something hits me. I cry out as my body goes numb. My wings give out, and we fall.

Green Wing screams, clutching my neck as she floats off my back.

The waterfall rushes up towards us. I try to flap my wings, but they won’t respond. I can’t pull up! Oh Celestia, I don’t have a choice: I have to use my magic! Closing my eyes, I focus, conjuring a shield and-

Oh buck! Buck, buck, buck, it hurts! I try not to scream, and fail as I hit something cold and hard, and then I can’t breathe as water rushes around me.

Swim! I have to swim! Kick through the pain, Silverspeak! But I can’t! I can’t move! I’m... oh Celestia, I’m sinking! I’m sinking! I’m going to drown! I’m going to–

Something grabs me. Green Wing?! No, it’s not her; it’s red magic. It yanks me up, and then I’m in the air again, where I draw enough air to scream at my pounding head. The pain’s so great that I don’t feel anything as I fall onto wet rocks at the shoreline. I’m... I’m at the bottom of the waterfall, but it’s hard to see through the fog and mist.

Someone walks up. I try to raise my head. Is this... is this Green Wing’s contact? Did he save us? No... it’s the unicorn from the fortress. The old one who realized who I was.

Green Wing groans beside me.

“Ten ponies, Silverspeak,” the older pony growls. “Ten good, honorable ponies are dead because of you. You just had to run and force them to chase you. Now I have to tell their wives and children that they died chasing a pony who refused to do what he was told.”

Through the pain, I see movement at the waterfall. The water’s parting as something comes through it.

Something big.

“Their deaths lie on your hooves, Silverspeak. You’ll pay for what you’ve done here today.”

No one notices the form emerging from the waterfall. Despite its enormous size, it moves silently, partially hidden by the mist and fog.

“We’ll beat your changeling friend to within an inch of her life, and then we’ll–”

The older unicorn stops, realizing that I’m not looking at him.

A growl rumbles through the air.

The unicorn turns, as does his troops, and they spot the form coming towards them.

Its mouth glows with the embers of long-simmering flames.

“DRAGON!” A soldier screams.

The enormous beast rushes forward, bathing the water and everyone in it with searing flames. The soldiers fire back, but are quickly overcome, their screams drowned out by the thing's infernal roar.

The unicorn curses, and his horn flashes red as he teleports away.

I try to crawl away from the heat, but the pain from y head is too great; I can barely move!

Then, as quickly as it began, it’s over. The flames flicker and die out, leaving charred corpses upon the shore.

The ground shakes as the dragon wades towards us.

“Stop!” Beside me, Green Wing struggles to stand. “Stop! It’s me! Green Wing!”

The dragon stops.

I try to look up. This... this dragon is Green Wing’s contact?

It growls.

“Don’t hurt him!” Green Wing yells. “He helped me escape!”

A giant, purple hand grabs me. Before I can shout, I’m raised into the sky, and come face to face with the dragon; angry, green eyes glaring at me.

“Spike! Don’t kill–”


***


“How is he?”

“Recovering. His mechanical components have repaired themselves, but his head and brain needs more time. We’re lucky–he’s lucky–to have made it here alive.”

Voices... distant. Can’t tell where they’re coming from...

How is he?”

“Better, I’m pleased to say.”

“But when will he wake up?”

“That, I can’t say. Could be days, could be months, or years, even...”

Where... Where am I?

“...don’t think this is wise.”

“Wise or not, Doctor, we need answers. Wake him up.”

Something’s changing. Not groggy anymore. I can think. Light... There’s a light. A... A lamp. A roof. But everything’s blurry... I can’t make anything out.

“Mr. Silverspeak? Can you hear me?”

I blink. Who’s talking?

“Over here, Mr. Silverspeak.”

I move my head. My vision’s still fuzzy, but I can make out an elderly pony beside me. He wears a doctor’s uniform, and peers at me through large glasses.

“Can you hear me Mr. Silverspeak?”

I nod.

“Good. I am Silver Scalpel. I'm a doctor.” He raises a hoof. “Follow my hoof, please.”

I do so as he moves it around.

“Can you speak? If you can, tell me your name, please.”

“Silverspeak.” I say.

Silver Scalpel nods, pleased. “Good. How do you feel?”

I assess myself. “Groggy.”

“Yes, that’s the result of the drugs. You took quite a beating rescuing Green Wing, most of which came from Spike, I’m afraid.”

“Spike? You don’t mean–”

“Yes, the assistant of Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Him? That dragon was... him? “Why was he so angry at me?” I ask.

A sad smile. “I imagine you already know.”

“No, I don’t.”

The doctor leans in closer, studying my eyes. I instinctively try to back away, but I can’t. I look down; is my mechanical body still–

I freeze. There are metal straps around my torso and legs, binding me to a bed.

“It’s just a precaution, Mr. Silverspeak,” Silver Scalpel says, raising his hooves. “We couldn’t risk your mechanical limbs acting up and attacking us while we were treating you.”

I breathe deep, trying to calm myself. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe. Green Wing managed to calm Spike down, and then he brought the two of you here.”

“But where’s here?”

“Resistance headquarters. Now, there are some ponies who want to meet you. I’ll go get them and tell them you’re awake.” He starts off, then stops. “You really don’t know why Spike wanted to hurt you?”

I shake my head.

“What’s the last thing you remember? Before your escape from the fortress?”

Is this some kind of trick? “I was on the fields near Canterlot,” I say. “The city had just been destroyed, and a scarred pony shot me in the face. Then I woke up inside a tube in that fortress.”

Pondering my words, the doctor nods, but doesn’t speak as he leaves the room.

What... what was that doctor talking about? I’ve never met Spike before, much less done anything to offend him. Did he think I hurt Green Wing?

The doors open and Silver Scalpel comes back in, accompanied by six guards. They’re dressed in heavy armor and carrying large rifles. None of them look friendly.

“You need to go with these ponies, Silverspeak,” Silver Scalpel says. “I know this must be confusing for you, but they’ll take you to someone who will answer all your questions.” He goes to the bed. “I’m going to release you. Do you promise not to do anything rash or foolish?”

I can’t tell if this is some kind of trick. For all I know, this is a hospital ward inside that fortress, and this is all an elaborate scheme to deceive me. But the guards’ uniforms are different from the black and red ones I’ve seen, and the doctor’s being open and honest with me. I can tell from his tone that he’s not trying to trick me.

“Yes,” I say.

“Good.” Silver Scalpel undoes the straps tying me down.

I try my limbs and find them working. Satisfied that there’s no damage, I roll over in bed.

The guns are raised.

Silver Scalpel grabs the closest rifle and lowers it. “Guards, please. He just needs a moment to get going again. He has been out for a week, you know.”

I move again, slower this time, and step onto the floor. The guards surround me and start towards the door. I follow them, the doctor staying behind.

“Please, behave yourself, Silverspeak,” he says. “You don’t want to make anyone angry around here.”

We leave Silver Scalpel's office and enter into a short hallway of steel, the walls and ceiling crammed with pipes, tubes, and wires. The place seems jurry-rigged, as if it were put together in a hurry, and then built up over time. A hidden base, perhaps? I don’t have much time to look as the guards continue on.

A pony exits a door. Spotting the guards, he gets out of the way. But then he spots me, and his face hardens into a mask of anger and hate. As I go along, we meet other ponies and other beings who give me the same look, those with fingers tightening them into fists, and I’m suddenly glad the guards are around me.

Why are all these beings so angry at me?

Our trek through the halls ends as we enter an enormous circular shaft wide enough to hold a skyscraper, the top and bottom lost in darkness. The guards walk me onto a round platform and throw a lever, sending the platform up. It passes numerous other doorways, and countless lanterns lighting up the walls with thousands of tiny, flickering lights.

The top of the shaft comes into view, and the platform comes to a stop before a small, heavily reinforced door. Gesturing for me to hurry along, the guards walk to the door, and to four other guards, ones more heavily armored and armed than my escorts. They all submit to a magical scan, and then do the same to me, to which I offer no resistance. Satisfied with the results, the guards open the doors.

I’m shepherded into a large chamber. No, chamber isn't accurate: this is a place of worship, the ceiling towering higher than the roof of Equestria’s biggest cathedral. There are no banners, stained glass windows, or religious icons to be seen, or pews or benches, but the obsidian walls hold thousands of glowing candles. I recall a few temples having a layout similar to this, using candles to invoke a meditative stance. Perhaps the ponies here have done the same thing, wanting to create a sacred place where they can feel peaceful, if only for a little while.

There’s a pair of enormous curtains at the far end of the temple, and before them stands a single form. Hearing the guards and myself, that form turns towards us, veiled in the shadows of the candles

I squint, trying to make out who... Wait. Wait, I know who this is!

“Princess Luna!”

The Princess of the Night walks up to me, and I can’t stop myself from smiling. Finally, a friendly face! Perhaps now I can get some ans... Wait. She’s not smiling. She’s...

She’s angry.

The guards part, their weapons are close at hoof, ready to fire at me in an instant.

I bow. “Your Highness, what’s going on?”

“A great many things, Silverspeak.” Luna says, and her tone leaves no doubt that she’s not happy to see me.

“What things? Why is everyone here so angry at me?”

“You do not know?”

“No, no, I don’t know!” I shake my head, almost wanting to cry from confusion. “Your Highness, please tell me what’s going on!”

Luna studies me. In the resulting silence, I notice that she’s changed since the last time I saw her. Though she’s immortal and immune to the ravages of time, Luna now carries a multitude of battle scars across her body. Stress has etched lines in her once-flawless skin, making her appear as though she aged a century since I last saw her.

“Tell me everything that happened before you awakened in the fortress.”

“I was in the fields,” I say quickly. “The fields near Canterlot. I had just teleported my wife away from a group of pegasi and unicorns who were trying to kidnap us. And then Canterlot was destroyed, and this scarred pony had a unicorn shoot me with a spell. The next thing I know, I wake up inside this medical tube. I don’t know how I got there, or why, but I manage to break free, sneak out of the fortress, and take a changeling, Green Wing, with me. And then Spike attacks me, and I wake up in a hospital room.”

Luna’s uncertain, puzzled at my words.

“On your sister's name, I swear it’s the truth.”

Luna takes another step closer to me. “There is only one way to know if you are telling the truth, Silverspeak: to see your memories myself.”

I kneel again. “Please, do so, Your Highness.” If this will help clear up what’s going on, then I'll gladly submit.

Luna closes her eyes, and I feel a great sleepiness coming-

“Awaken, Silverspeak.”

I blink. I’m lying on the floor, and Luna’s standing above me. She’s no longer confused, instead looking like someone who has finally found answers to questions they’ve been seeking all their life. 

From her expression, it’s not the answers she expected.

Luna looks the guards. “Guards, leave us.”

The lead guard steps forward. “But your Highness–”

“He is no threat.”

The guards do as their princess commands, closing the giant doors behind them.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, if you’re convinced I’m telling the truth, I need to leave,” I say. “I’ll gladly help with whatever is going on, but right now I need to get to Las Pegasus. I need to make sure Beakbreaker is alright.”

Luna’s face drops. “No one’s told you?”

“Told me what?”

Luna sighs. “Silverspeak... Please sit down.”

I do, feeling a sudden nausea building within me.

Luna rubs her forehead, unsure of what to say. “There is no easy way to tell you this, so I shall have to be direct. That day you speak of, when Canterlot was destroyed...” She takes a deep breath. “Las Pegasus was destroyed as well.”

What? What does she mean, destroyed?

"With Canterlot gone, our attackers turned their focus on the remaining major cities in Equestria. Manehattan, Ponyville, Las Pegasus, all were reduced to rubble."

Beakbreaker.... she was in Las Pegasus. Oh no... was she there when it was destroyed?! 

"Where there any survivors?!" I ask. "M... maybe there are some hiding beneath the city!" I leap up. "I need to go and look–”

Luna gestures for me to sit. “There are none, Silverspeak. There can’t be.”

“There has to be! There are plenty of places ponies could–”

“Silverspeak, there aren’t any survivors in Las Pegasus.”

“And how do you know that?!" I scream.

Luna's not angry. She's not even upset at being screamed at. There's only pity in her face, and a sadness of a terrible truth she has to reveal.

"Silverspeak..." Luna says quietly, her voice almost inaudible. "Canterlot and Las Pegasus were destroyed twenty five years ago.”
> The Far and Shadowed Land
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stare at Luna. 

I laugh nervously, waiting for Luna to assure me that this is all some kind of horrible nightmare, and that Beakbreaker’s safe and sound.

Luna’s silent.

She’s... She’s not joking.

“Twen... Twenty five years?” I ask.

Luna nods.

“B... but that’s not possible! I was just knocked out a few days ago. How could–”

“Silverspeak, I know this is difficult for you to understand-”

“What about Beakbreaker? Where is she?! Is she dead?!”

“No.”

“But you said–”

“I said that Las Pegasus had been destroyed. I did not say your wife was among the departed. I know you want to see her, but you must understand what is going on.”

I don’t care about what Luna has to say; all I want is to see Beakbreaker. So much has happened so quickly that the thought of learning more is nauseating. But, hard as it is, I force myself to hold my tongue as Luna speaks.

“Twenty five years ago,” Luna says, “we were attacked by a pony called Iron Hoof, who was a general in the Equestrian army. Once he served our country with valor and honor, but as time went on, he began to demand that our forces subdue and eliminate other countries that could rise against us.” Luna shakes her head. “My sister and I tried to counsel him, to help him see the error of his ways, but he would not heed our words. Before we could remove him from his office, he rallied his supporters and staged a coup, launching an attack on all of Equestria.”

“Why?" I ask. "Why destroy the country he wanted to protect?”

“To demoralize its population, perhaps. Or to throw the two of us into turmoil while we tried to deal with it all. I know not why he did it, only that with the help of his followers, he was able to bring Equestria to its knees.”

“How could he do that? He’d need thousands, maybe millions to pull off such an act.”

Luna's face hardens. “He had few followers in the beginning. Some wanted power and wealth. Others joined because they had similar beliefs. But chief among his allies were the Arch-dragons. They were his hammers, destroying city after city in both fire and ice. When it was revealed that they had aligned themselves with Iron Hoof, thousands joined him, feeling free to come out and state what they truly felt and believed. Together, Iron Hoof and his allies swept across the world. Those who refused to join him were forced into his army and became cannon fodder, and all those who were not ponies, whether changeling, gryphon, dragons, or merponies, were taken.”

“Where?”

"We do not know." Anger simmers in Luna's voice. "In Iron Hoof's eyes, ponies are the only ones fit to rule. Everyone else are threats to be eliminated.”

“But why hasn’t he been stopped? Why hasn’t the army defeated him?! The Bearers, you, Celestia, Cadance, why–”

A hoof presses itself against my mouth. “We fought him, Silverspeak. No sooner had my sister and I escaped Canterlot then we rallied our forces and allies. Together we pushed Iron Hoof to the brink of defeat.” For a moment Luna’s full of life and passion, relishing memories of victories and triumphs. “We would have won... had Iron Hoof not unleashed weapons we had never seen before.”

“What kind of weapons?”

“Devices more terrible than anything we’ve ever seen,” Luna says quietly. “Weapons that can annihilate entire cities in moments. Explosives that rip the earth asunder and reduce mountains to rubble.”

That... that can’t be possible. The Equestrian army has always been at the forefront of weapons and defense technology, but we had nothing that would cause such destruction.

Luna wipes away a tear. “We had pushed Iron Hoof to his last fortress. We outnumbered him a hundred to one. My sister, Cadance, the Bearers, and I led the charge. But Iron Hoof had prepared for our attack by obtaining dark stones, the same kind that once formed Queen Chrysalis' throne. With their combined might, all our magic was useless, and what was to be our greatest victory became our greatest defeat. Iron hoof’s forces rallied and overrun us. Only my sister and I managed to escape. The Bearers, Cadance, Flurry Heart, Shining Armor, and so many others were taken prisoner. Equestria fell in a month. The rest of the world, within a year." 

Luna closes her eyes, struggling to keep her composure. “The Crystal Empire was our last stronghold. It was protected by our greatest spells and the mightiest warriors from what remained of our forces. It was there that we hoped to fight off Iron Hoof’s forces and finally turn the tide... but there were too many.” Luna sniffs, rubbing her snout. "What was left of us came here, the one place where Iron Hoof cannot find us.”

“Where, Your Majesty?”

Luna’s magic pulls the curtains aside, revealing a building-sized window. Beyond it is an endless blackness peppered with countless pinpricks of light. A cave or cavern, perhaps? Are those lights from glowing worms or iridescent... wait. There’s something in the darkness. I go to the window and squint at it.

Sweet Celestia... I’ve seen it before in pictures and photos from books. It’s a planet.

It’s Equestria.

“We’re... we’re on the...”

“The moon, Silverspeak,” Luna says, “in the same caverns where I was imprisoned as Nightmare Moon. Now they serve as a safe haven for all who oppose Iron Hoof."

The planet bears little resemblance to the images I’ve seen of it: the once-vibrant blues, greens, and grays are gone, replaced by dull, ugly browns and blacks. It’s the splitting image of a dying world. Or, more accurately, a dead world.

From here, it looks as though nothing could survive on the planet’s surface.

“How many?” I ask. “How many are up here?”

“Ten thousand,” Luna says. “I lead the resistance with Ember of the dragons and Thorax of the changelings.”

“What about Celestia?”

There’s no answer.

I turn and find Luna drooping once more.

My stomach churns.

“No one fought harder, or longer, to save Equestria than my sister,” Luna says. “Losing Equestria and so many of her subjects and allies almost destroyed her. Yet, she refused to give up, constantly searching for a new Tree of Harmony.”

“A new Tree?”

“Though the original Elements were destroyed by Sombra long ago, Celestia believed that another had survived, somewhere in the furthest reaches of our world. I begged her not to go, but she would not see anyone else fall to Iron Hoof.”

Luna walks to the windows and peers out towards the planet. “She gathered her greatest warriors and magic casters, and set out to find such a tree... That was two years ago. We haven’t heard from her since.” She bites her lip. “If my sister found the Elements of Harmony, their magic would restore everything Iron Hoof has destroyed. But our forces are too few to mount an effective campaign against his forces. We rely on hit and run tactics to slow him, but we are only delaying the inevitable. If we do not find my sister or the tree, Iron Hoof will simply overwhelm us... He will win.”

I barely hear Luna. Equestria destroyed... the Bearers and other royals captured... Celestia gone... I... I don't think I can take anymore. I need to get away for a while, to calm my nerves. Only then can I make rational decisions about what I need to–

Wait... among the rush of information, I’ve forgotten about the only question that matters.

“Princess... you said my wife didn’t die in Las Pegasus. Where is she?”

Luna’s silent.

“You said she’s not dead–”

“She was in Las Pegasus when it was attacked, but escaped... though not without injury.”

“What?!”

“One of her legs was badly injured,” Luna says. “It needed to be replaced with a prosthetic similar to your own. But once she healed, Beakbreaker joined our resistance, becoming our chief medical officer and head surgeon. It was she who healed the wounded and gave implants to those whose bodies were mangled.”

I gulp, fighting to keep from throwing up at the mental image of Beakbreaker being hurt, of whimpering and trying to move with a shredded and mangled... No. No, I can’t think of that. “Where is she? In the medical wing with Silver Scalpel?”

Once again, Luna’s silent.

“Princess-”

“When a transport went down deep in Iron Hoof’s territory, Beakbreaker went with a rescue party to evacuate the wounded. We received word a short time later that their own craft had been shot down. That was a year ago. We haven’t heard from them since.”

Oh Celestia, no! “Are you telling me that my wife–”

“Iron Hoof would have no reason to kill Beakbreaker,” Luna assures me, “for he has been constantly taking skilled researchers like her. He has been working to refine and upgrade his program for assimilating prisoners into his army. It would work against Iron Hoof’s interests to end Beakbreaker’s life.”

Beakbreaker... She's in the hooves of that maniac?!

“I’m sorry if this is too much for you to take in all at once,” Luna says softly. “But the sooner you know what’s going on, and why others despise you, the better off you’ll be.”

It’s hard, but after taking another deep breath, I force all my worries and fears aside so I can concentrate on the moment. “Is that what you meant when you told the guards I wasn’t a traitor?”

A nod.

"But why? Why would they consider me a traitor? I haven't–" 

Without a word, Luna turns to a wall, using her magic to project a screen onto the wall. She's showing me a recording. In it, an enormous crowd stands in an open stadium, thousands strong... maybe hundreds of thousands, all wearing the black and red uniform I saw at the fortress.

The recording zooms in on a podium flanked by golden statues of ponies. There's two ponies there, one of them talking into a microphone. Is that Iron Hoof? I lean in, squinting my eyes to get a better look. The pony who's speaking raises his hooves, veins bulging from his neck as he yells to the crowd.

Wait.

No... 

The pony on the podium, he's... he's...

Me.

The recording shows me continuing to shout, my black and red uniform blowing about as I gesture wildly, met by the silent cheers of thousands. And then the recording stops, only for another to appear, showing another rally inside another stadium at night, the walls illuminated by dozens of torches shining high into the darkened sky. And there I am again, speaking and shouting, and met once again by cheers. And then more appear, and still more, in a palace, a field, a town, a city.

I see myself boasting and yelling with the fury of a mindless fanatic.

“You were Iron Hoof’s voice,” Luna says quietly. “You spoke for him, telling others of a new world, and the superiority of ponykind above all others, of how the technology you embraced would take us all to utopia.”

I say nothing.

“Your wife suspected you were under magical control, forced to give those speeches and sway thousands to Iron Hoof's side. She never believed you would do such a thing willingly. Neither did your acquaintances, including my sister and I. And from what Green Wing told me after your recovery, it seems you were. You were also kept in stasis when you were not speaking, so as to slow down your aging process as much as possible. But those who lost family and friends to your words didn't care if you were speaking of your own free will or not. They wanted to see you silenced. Permanently.” 

I lean against a pillar, wishing there was a hole I could crawl into and never come out.

“We are having a council meeting momentarily,” Luna says. “I will inform the Resistance and my fellow leaders of your situation. Until then, you should remain here for your own safety.”

I don’t answer as Luna leaves, giving me one last glance over her shoulder before she departs, leaving me alone in the temple.

Celestia... The Bearers... A war the likes of which Equestria has never seen... And I helped make it all happen without knowing it.

Breathing deep, I push the thought aside. Grief will try to claim me for all I did, and for a quarter of my life that I will never get back. But all of that has to wait.

Only one thing matters now.

I look out the window and across the moon's rocky surface to our world sitting in the void.

Beakbreaker’s somewhere down there.

When I first got my horn back many years ago, I immediately wanted to learn how to use a spell so that I could find my wife in an emergency. The problem was, such magic can only be mastered by high-level unicorns, and such mastery was always beyond me. But I have to try. It's going to hurt like tartarus, but I have no choice.

If this spell helps me find Beakbreaker, I'll endure whatever pain comes my way.

I close my eyes, constructing Equestria in my mind: the landscapes, lakes and rivers, oceans and continents. Towns and cities, small outposts, all of it fill my mental map of my world. When it's done, I then mentally creating Beakbreaker. Her glasses, every stripe upon her skin, her earrings and tail. No detail is too small or too insignificant to leave out. The more detailed I am, the better my chances of finding her.

At last, Beakbreaker floats before me.

I gulp.

This is going to hurt.

Taking a deep breath, I focus.

Beakbreaker... come to me.

An ache hits me. A strong one. I try to ignore it, concentrating as I focus my magic on seeking out Beakbreaker, starting to scan an entire world for the one I seek.

Beakbreaker... show where you...

Pain... oh Celestia, pain! Oh, it hurts! It hurts! Oh Celestia, it hurts! I can't... I ca–


***


“...eak? Silverspeak, can you hear me?”

What...

“Silverspeak? Can you hear me?”

That voice. It's the doctor...

“Silverspeak? Can you-”

I groan, rubbing my eyes before opening them. I'm not in Luna's chamber. I'm not in the base's hospital either. I'm lying on a cot in a gazebo, the white lattice walls embraced with curtains of vines and greenery. Warm, green light shines through, coming from an unseen sun.

Where am I? Is this the Moon? Some chamber Luna has made for those who want a glimpse of a world that no longer exists?

I have the strangest feeling of deja vu. I've been here, but I can't remember when or where...

“Silverspeak.”

I look up to find the doctor standing beside the cot, along with... Princess Luna? Why is she here?

“Your Highness? What's going on? Where am–”

“Silverspeak, listen to me very carefully,” Silver Scalpel says. “What is the last thing you can remember?”

“I was in Luna's chamber,” I say, trying to bring the memory back. “I was... was trying to cast a spell that would help me find my wife.”

Silver Scalpel's face drops. He glances to Luna, who’s equally worried, and then back to me. “Silverspeak, please tell your full name, where you were born, who your parents were, and who your wife is.”

“Why?”

“Please. It is very important.”

“Silverspeak,” I say, the information coming easily. “I was born in Saddle Lanka to my mother and father, Brassbloom and... and...” That's odd; I know who my father was, but I can't recall his name. It's on the tip of my tongue and... Wait! I remember! “Copper Bottom! He was my father.”

The doctor tightens his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because your father wasn’t Copper Bottom. He was Goldplate.”

What? No, that can't be right. I wouldn't forget my father's–

“Let's continue,” Silver Scalpel says. “If you had to sum up your life up to this point, what would it be?” He puts his hoof to his chin.

“I... I wanted to become an alicorn, and I did, briefly, before my wings and horns were removed.” The memories are clear and easily come to me. “Then I became a cyborg during a war with Queen Chrysalis and her changelings, and married Beakbreaker. And now I just learned that I was magically mind controlled for twenty five years, helping a despot commit genocide.”

The doctor nods, relieved, but still worried. Luna’s the same.

“Doctor, what’s going on?”

“Silverspeak, did you experience any headaches just before the war? More specifically, when you cast magic?”

“Yes, I did.”

Silver Scalpel bites his lip. “On a pain scale of one to ten, how severe were they?”

“A three... seven at the worst.”

The doctor nods. “I’m told you used magic when you escaped from the outpost. How badly did it hurt then?”

“Ten,” I say.

“And when you tried to cast magic in Luna's chambers?”

“A twelve, maybe more.”

Silver Scalpel gulps.

So does Luna.

Fear rises in me as I try to sit up. “Doctor, what’s–”

“Silverspeak... please listen to me very carefully.” Silver Scalpel’s talking slowly, as if to a child. “When you were first brought to this base, I did a medical check on you. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, considering your age, but there was something that caught my attention: some kind of anomaly inside your head.”

Anomaly?

“I wanted to do more tests, but I was ordered to wake you up instead. When I came to the temple to bring in you in for those tests, I found you having a seizure on the floor. You were taken back to the infirmary, and I scanned you again.”

He pauses.

“Silverspeak... I found a tumor inside your brain.”

W... What?

“I operated immediately, hoping to cut the tumor out, but it’s spread through your brain, implanting itself like roots from a tree. I... I couldn’t remove it.” Silver Scalpel points to Luna. “Her Highness tried using her magic, but the tumor... it's too advanced.”

Silver Scalpel gets closer to me. So does Luna.

“Silverspeak, your tumor... I'm sorry. It’s terminal.”

I stare at the pony before me.

“As best as I can tell, it’s been growing for a very long time. Decades, possibly. If we had caught the tumor before Canterlot, we could have removed it, but it's too late.”

It takes me a few moments to remember how to talk. “You mean... I'm going to...”

Silver Scalpel doesn't answer. Neither does Luna.

I suddenly feel light, as if my mind and my soul is trying to leave my body.

“How... How long?”

“It’s hard to say,” Silver Scalpel says, “There are many factors, things out of our control–”

“How. Long?”

months.” Silver Scalpel rubs his face. “Three months. Four at most. If you try to use magic, less than a month.”

I stare at him.

“If you remain here, we might be able to buy you a little more time. Your body will fight the tumor best if it’s resting.”

“We are in the astral plane,” Luna says. “Silver Scalpel put you in a coma, and I am in agreement with him: it is best if you remain here.”

I look down at myself. My body looks normal. I feel normal as I ease myself off the cot and walk to the gazebo's entrance. It's in the center of a beautiful garden surrounded by endless plains of grass that stretch to the horizon, all lit by a mid-morning sun.

It should be beautiful.

It's not.

“Doctor... Your Highness... I’d... I'd like to be alone for a while.”

The two nod. A flash of light, and they're gone.

I'm alone.


***


I sit before the gazebo, looking out towards a field that's not real, to a sun that doesn't exist, and an endless sky that only exists in my mind. 

A warm breeze flows through my hair.

I am going to die.

Grass sways in the wind.

I should feel something. Anything. But I feel nothing. There's no grief, no sorrow, no fear, just an all-enveloping numbness. 

My plans, my hopes, my dreams, even the war seems so unimportant now. A cruel joke, even. 

I look out towards the horizon.

I am going to die, and there’s nothing I can do about it.


***


I don't know how long I sit outside the gazebo. The bright crispness of mid-morning slowly gives way to the faded warmth of afternoon, and then the coolness of oncoming night. Night soon falls, the sky filled with countless, shining stars, illuminating the garden. Crickets chirp.

I ignore them all.

I'm on a journey into the unknown, an unwilling traveler heading to the far and distant country from which none return. Paradise could be there, where I would be reunited with my parents, never to be separated from them again, even unto the ending of the universe and time itself. Or there could be torment, suffering that put Tartarus to shame as I'm cast inside by a god I do not know for violating laws I know nothing about.

There is another possibility: there's nothing at the end of this journey. No paradise. No perdition. No reunion with my loved ones. Only nothingness that consumes body and soul, dissolving all who come into it: families, couples, parents, children, until they are gone.

Forever.

The warm wind continues to caress me.

It’s easy to sit here and do nothing. I should be thinking, trying to figure out what to do. Do I accept the inevitable and try to face it with as much grace as I can muster? Do I take any treatment, no matter how irrational, in the hopes of buying just ten more minutes of life? But even if I obtained that ten minutes, what would I do with it?

What do I do with the time I have left? 

There's a soft glow behind me, then hoofsteps as someone walks forward.

“Silverspeak?”

Princess Luna stops beside me.

“How do you feel?”

I shrug.

“It’s shock,” Luna says. “Silver Scalpel told me it's common in situations like these. It's the brain's way of protecting you.” She sits beside me, putting a hoof on my shoulder. “Do you want to talk?” she asks gently.

“What’s there to say?”

She studies me, her eyes going towards my cheeks. “There's no shame in crying, Silverspeak,”

I haven’t felt the need, but I appreciate her concern.

We sit together under the night sky.

“Princess?”

“Yes, Silverspeak?”

“Have you ever been with those who die? Those who are in comas or unconscious?”

She nods.

“What happens when they die?”

“They fade away,” Luna says softly.

“Where do they go?”

Luna looks to the sky, studying the stars and the endless space beyond them. “I don't know.”

A star shoots through the heavens above us.

The night goes on.

“What’s going to happen?” I ask. “As the tumor progresses?”

“Diminished capacity for thinking,” Luna says quietly. “Memory loss. Personality changes. At the end, you will fall into a coma and never wake up. If you stay here, all that will be avoided. There will be no pain or suffering.”

"Is there anything Silver Scalpel can do?" I ask. "Anything at all?”

“He is looking into into treatment options. But they will not cure you, Silverspeak. At best, they could buy you a little more time, but they are much more likely to do more harm than good.”

“So there’s nothing he can do.”

Luna nods. “Even with magic, the risk of damaging your brain while trying to remove the tumor is too great. Should he or I have made a single mistake, you and I would not be talking.”

“You mean I'd be dead.”

“No. You would be a vegetable, not knowing who you are or what was going on. At worst, you would be aware of what's going on, but become paralyzed, unable to say or do anything."

That, too, should frighten me. But it doesn’t. And I have no reason to doubt Luna, but I find her explanation difficult to accept. “I mean no offense, Princess, but I thought an alicorn like yourself could easily cure a tumor.”

“In ages before ours, the most powerful alicorns could do such a thing,” Luna admits. “But I do not have the gift of healing. All I can do is keep the dying comfortable until the time comes for them to pass. It is my sister who was blessed with the gift of healing. It is not at the level of our ancestors, but–”

Wait... 

“Princess... If we were to find your sister, could she cure me?“

Luna turns to me. “Silverspeak, you know my sister–”

“Could she?”

I can tell Luna doesn't want to crush my hopes, for she takes a few moments to reply. “It is possible, yes. But it is only a chance, Silverspeak. My sister has cured many illnesses, but never anything as severe as your tumor. And her ability, while great, does not match those who came before us.”

“But it's still a chance.”

Closing her eyes, Luna tightens her hold on my shoulder. “Silverspeak, what remains of your original body is wearing out. If you did not have this disease, your passing would likely come within the next ten to fifteen years. And even if my sister can heal you, it will only delay death for a short time. No matter what we do, you will still pass. It is inevitable.” Moving before me, Luna puts her other hoof on my other shoulder as she opens her eyes. Hers is the gaze of a pony who has seen much, and wants to comfort while not sugar-coating her words. “Do you understand me?”

I nod. I know I won’t live forever. I may have wings a horn, but I do not possess the immortality that alicorns enjoy. And even if I did, the gift of eternal life would be meaningless if Beakbreaker was not there to...

Wait.

Easing her hold, Luna pulls back. “You should sleep now, Silverspeak. You need the rest.”

“Your Highness... You told me that Beakbreaker is valuable to Iron Hoof. That means he'd want to keep her close. If I were, say, to go to him, I could find out where she is. And if Iron Hoof took Celestia captive, I could find out where she is, too.”

Luna realizes what I'm saying, but I keep going, not wanting to give her a chance to interrupt me. “I can pretend to have escaped after you and the others tried to execute me. I would be pretending to join up with him, gain his trust, and use my talent on his officers, and find out what they know.”

“But your talent will not work on him.” Luna shakes her head. “Iron Hoof will see through your ruse. No one who has tried to infiltrate his inner circle has succeeded.”

“But I’m different. I’m the one who helped his army grow. If he wants to rule the world after his conquest, he needs to keep his followers in line. I’m his best chance of doing so.”

I can almost see Luna’s mind going through my words and my logic.

“Your Highness, I can't sit aside and do nothing while Beakbreaker's out there. If I can find her, and Celestia, then I can die knowing I helped bring an end to Iron Hoof. Even if I fail, I'd rather die trying, than to die knowing I did nothing."

I gently hold my princess' legs.

“Please... give me this chance.”

Luna thinks. Her face is a mix of pity and contemplation. I understand that; if I were in her position, and a pony in his mid-70’s asked to go on a military mission, my answer would be a resounding no. But I have logic backing me up. This is an opportunity for Luna to find out where her sister is, and to help bring an end to the war.

It's an opportunity impossible to pass up.

“I cannot stress how dangerous this plan is, Silverspeak,” Luna says. “I do not wish to see your life end with a gun to your head… But you speak the truth.” She sighs. “If this is what you want, then I shall do everything I can to make it a reality.”

My heart pounds. "Really?"

She nods.

I try to speak, to thank her, but the words die within me. This is what I need: not promises of a painless death, or that things will somehow work out in the end. What I need is hope, and Luna has given it to me. Not hope for myself, but in that I can save the one I love from the nightmare our world has become. And in the process, perhaps save so many others from that nightmare as well.

It's hope that will help guide me through all that's to come, no matter how difficult it may be.

Gulping, I look to Luna, wishing I could tell her all this, but I still can't find the words. Yet, as I look into Luna's eyes, I see that she understands.

I see hope in her, as well.

We sit together on the warm grass as a star shoots through the sky.

The end may be coming, but it doesn't seem so dark anymore.
> Points of View
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After our talk in the dream realm, Luna told me that I would wake up in the hospital, at which point I would have an important meeting with those in charge of her special forces. Thus, as I open my eyes, I’m not surprised to find myself in a bed inside the medical wing. Green lights glow within alcoves set in the walls, letting me see as I sit up in bed, rubbing sleep from eyes.

“Ah, Silverspeak, you’re awake.”

I look over to find Silver Scalpel coming over. From the bags under his eyes and drooping eyelids, he’s been up all night.

“How do you feel?”

How are the condemned supposed to feel when they’re at death’s door? I never gave the matter much thought, but now I know: It feels like a clock is counting down, one that I can't stop.

I have no time to waste.

I move my limbs about, testing them. “Fine.”

“Good. This should hopefully keep things that way.” He takes a bag from a nearby counter and removes a syringe filled with a blue liquid. “This is a concoction I’ve made should help negate any effects from your tumor.”

I tilt my head to expose the jugular, flinching as Silver Scalpel injects his concoction.

“That will kill any pain and slow the growth ever so slightly. But I must warn you, Silverspeak, using magic negates its effectiveness. Doing so will accelerate your tumor’s growth and amplify any side effects.”

I slide out of bed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Silver Scalpel tosses the syringe into a locked trash can. “I will create additional syringes that you can carry with you, but it will take some time.”

Nodding, I rub my eyes again, trying to get rid of the remaining blurriness. “Doctor, my vision’s been getting fuzzy lately. Do you have anything I could use for that?”

“Yes, actually. I have some extra glasses stored around here somewhere, but need to find a pair that fits you.” He gestures to a nearby nurse. “In the meantime, you have a meeting to attend. I’ll get the glasses to you before you leave.”

As Silver Scalpel heads into a side room, the nurse comes to me with three guards in tow, all of whom escort me through the dimly-lit halls. Few are awake at this early hour, mostlythose walking about to cure insomnia or uneasy thoughts that refuse to let them sleep. They freeze on seeing me; Luna must have told everyone about what happened with me, but a single briefing won’t erase the desire to see me silenced.

I’m taken to the lift, which carries me down the shaft to a single, heavily guarded door. I'm led through and into a meeting room carved out of rock, where a large, round table sits under a plain, metal chandelier anchored to the jagged, rocky ceiling.

I blink, trying to sharpen my vision and make out who's at the other side of the room. There are three of them: one's an older pony in tactical gear, with a faded coat, greying mane, and sagging skin. Despite his age, he's surprisingly stocky and well-built for someone his age. A squint helps me recognize Green Wing, and the being beside her; despite my blurry vision, there's no mistaking someone that tall and colorful.

King Thorax walks to me. He’s changed since the last time I saw him so many years ago. His colors have faded, and his chitin carries faded scars, gouges, and holes from bullets and who knows what else, but age hasn’t dimmed his famed smile.

“Silverspeak,” he says warmly.

I nod, bowing respectfully. Best to follow protocol in the presence of a king.

“I know this must be awkward for you,” Thorax says, motioning for me to rise. “It is for me, too. Princess Luna told us about what happened to you, but it’s still–”

“Awkward to be in the presence of an enemy?”

Thorax nods. “But you’re not an enemy.” He puts a reassuring hoof on my shoulder. “You’re one of us now, and Luna says you want to help us find Celestia.”

I nod. How nice it is to be greeted by someone who isn't angry or resentful at me.

“Good. And as fate has it, we have a mission that can use your talents.” Thorax gestures towards the others with a wave of his foreleg. “You’ve already met Green Wing, and this is Onyx Shield, head of our special–”

“Onyx?!”

Onyx walks forward, a slight limp in his step. “Silverspeak. It’s good to see you again.” He offers a hoof for me to shake. “Looks like the years have been kinder to you than they have been to me.”

It’s a shock to see an old friend... well, old. But I don’t have the time or the luxury to gawk. He's here to help, and that's what counts, not his age. I shake his hoof, but mine drops under an unexpected weight.

“Implants,” Onyx explains. “Lost the original during the Crystal Empire fiasco.” He shakes his leg as if getting rid of cobwebs. “And the others in the years since.”

“Oh... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Gave me a new lease on life. Not the one I would have chosen, but there’s no use in crying about it now.”

“Onyx is the leader of our special forces,” Thorax continues. “If it wasn’t for his efforts, and those of his team, this war would have ended long ago, and not in our favor.”

Onyx groans at the unwanted recognition. “Don’t be so boastful.” Then, to Green Wing, "Green Wing? The map."

With a flash of her magic, Green Wing pulls down a map of Equestria. It’s covered in red circles, X’s, and lines connecting to various locations across our world.

“Much has happened since the siege of Canterlot,” Onyx explains. “I imagine Princess Luna already filled you in, so I won't bore you with the details.” Going to the map, he taps a blank spot in the western deserts. “We need to get to Iron Hoof. Our latest intelligence puts him here, at his command center.”

“His home base?"

A shake of the head. “Only for his operations on the continent. His main base is somewhere to the north.” Onyx taps the top of the map. “Problem is, we don’t know where the bucking thing is. He’s placed top-tier spells around the complex that make it impossible to find.” He taps the desert again. “If you're up for it, your mission is to take one of our transports to his base, pretend to surrender, meet up with Iron Hoof, and use your charm to find out where Celestia is.”

“And my wife,” I say.

“Yes, but remember that Celestia comes first. We find her, and this war is over that much quicker. After you find out where the princess is, use every means at your disposal to get out of the base. We’ll have a transport on standby to pick you up. If things get out of hand, we’ll have Spike present to provide backup.”

“Without any undue roughness, I hope.”

“He’s been told what happened to you,” Green Wing says. “He won’t attack you again.”

It’s a relief to hear that as I look the map over. “Sounds simple enough. I take it I'm going in alone?”

Onyx nods. “We're stretched thin, so you'll understand that we can't risk any of our agents.”

"Including changelings?"

"The facility's enchanted with anti-changeling magic. Makes sneaking in impossible."

“What about stealth suits?” I ask.

“We've lost them over the years. You’ll have to rely on old fashioned lies, deceit, and charm.”

“That hasn’t faded with age,” I assure him. “Now, how am I going to contact you when I get out?”

“We can’t have any radios on you because the fortresses’ security will search you when you arrive. Instead, we’ll implant a transmitter inside your body. You’ll be able to hear us talking to you, but no one else can.”

“Any weapons?”

Onyx shakes his head. “Anything you have on you will be confiscated.”

Alone, without any weapons or tools, and without the use of magic... It’s going to be dangerous, but I’m not doing this because it’s easy.

“Green Wing will accompany you down to the surface, but you'll be on your own from there." Onyx says. He walks to me, his eyes furrowed. “If Iron Hoof’s in a good mood, he’ll listen to what you have to say. If he’s in a bad mood, you’ll find yourself like all the others he’s taken prisoner: conscripted into his army with an implant in your brain. You’ll be a puppet on strings, aware of everything you’ll be forced to do, but unable to do a bucking thing about it.”

Such a thought would have terrified me a few days ago, but not now. Even if such a fate is to befall me, my life would still end before the horror became too great to endure.

“That won't be a problem,” I say.


***


The four of us, plus the guards, ride the lift back up the shaft, stopping below the temple. The hallway we enter is more metal than stone, with numerous pipes and tubes threading in and out of access ports. Heading through a series of thick doors, we emerge into a towering hangar filled with ships lining the scaffolding and walkways. There aren’t many; a quick count reveals twenty, each long past its useful lifespan and held together with components taken from other craft.

“You'll be taking a cargo skiff,” Onyx says. “They're not the fastest things around, or the most durable, but they'll get you to where you need to go."

Green Wing trots forward, looking over the berths and walkways. Irritated at what she doesn’t see, she peers over the walkway and down to a large pit of of scrap and junk.

“Gusty!”

Wait... Did she say-

An older pony emerges from the metal like a gopher leaving its burrow, the pockets of his dirty jumpsuit stuffed with tools. “What?!”

“Where’s that cargo skiff? It was supposed to be ready!”

“Hold your hooves, I’m still gettin’ her ready! Just need to find the last part she needs and–”

The pony freezes as his eyes turn to me. For a moment he stands there, gobsmacked. Then, throwing a bag over his shoulder, he scrambles to a lift, rides it up, and hurries towards us. He goes with the limp of a pony whose joints have all but worn out, but ignores the pain, his eyes wide.

“Can’t be... Silverspeak?”

I can’t help but smile. “Gusty?!”

The old pony grins. “Well, bless me be... my old boss has come back!” Dropping the bag, he rushes to me and wraps his forelegs around me, squeezing me as tight as he can. “Oh, I missed you, boss! Never believed for a second that you were yapping on about superiority and degenerates and inferior races and all that claptrap of your own free will!” He lets me go. “When I heard you were on base, I wanted to come up and see you. Really, I did. But I couldn’t–”

“Gusty,” Green Wing snaps. “The skiff!”

“Oh, pipe down! Haven’t seen this bloke in twenty five years! You can spare me, what, two minutes to catch up?” Taking his bag, Gusty limps down the walkway, gesturing for me to follow him. “I take it you’ve been told of our lovely situation here?”

I try to ignore his limping. “I’m afraid so.”

“You’re probably wondering what an old bird like me is doing here. Well, ordinarily there’d be no place for an old coot like me in a war. But this ain’t no ordinary war, and we need everyone we can get.” Gusty stops before an old, beat-up airship that would have been outdated long before the war began. “I’m too old to fly, but not too old to do repairs or tweak some things. One of the perks of being a pilot for so long: You know every type of aircraft inside and out.” Reaching into his bag, Gusty takes out a spare part and goes to work on an exposed engine. “So for the past ten odd years I’ve been fixing all the birds we have, trying to keep ‘em going when they should have gone to the junkheap.”

I chuckle. “You, too old to fly?”

“Father Time did his best to knock the life out of me,” Gusty says as he continues to work. I notice that his movements are slow, and his hooves shake, but he either doesn’t notice, or is pretending not to. “I flew for a little while, but had to give it up after a crash. Broke half the bones in my body. The higher ups figured I was a liability, and at that point I had to agree with 'em.”

I can’t see Gusty doing that. Just a few days ago he was talking about... Oh. That was decades ago.

“Still, could be worse. Could have ended up like Coin Counter.”

My gut tightens. “What do you mean?”

Gusty sighs. “Bloke was killed in the Crystal Empire. He was using some of his private ships to get everyone out, but his own got caught in the crossfire. Don't know if it was intentional or not, but the thing flew itself into the face of an arch-dragon and managed to kill it. I like to think he decided to go out with a bang.”

Coin Counter... gone? He was the oldest pony I knew, but to hear that he’s dead...

A sudden shake sends a wrench from Gusty's hoof to the floor. I pick it up and hand it back.

“Thanks. Still, he was lucky in a way. Kamikaze run’s a better way to go than having your body rust out. Even got a nice little statue of him in the temple upstairs. Dedicated to the one who gave his life to save hundreds and all that.”

Assuming I come back from this mission, I’ll have to go up to the temple and pay my respects. It’s the least I can do for the pony who helped (unintentionally) make my dream of becoming an alicorn come true, if only for a little while. We may have had our differences, but at least in the end, things worked out.

I hope that wherever he is, he’s at peace.

“Wouldn’t mind a statue myself,” Gusty says, grinning at the thought. “Ah, it’d be grand to have one. Preferably the size of a building. Gusty the incredible. Gusty the Savior. Gusty the-”

“Slowpoke who takes his sweet time getting ships repaired,” Green Wing snaps.

“You want this done fast, Green Wing, or you want it done right?”

“Both.”

“Well, it ain’t gonna happen.” Gusty turns to me as he twists his wrench, not pleased at what he’s about to say. “You hear about Beakbreaker?”

“Yes.”

He sighs. “She never stopped believing in you. Not once did she think you were spewing all that claptrap of your own free will. And she still does. I’m sure of it. Is that what you’re doing? Headin’ off to save her?”

“Of course.”

He grins. “That’s the Silverspeak I know.” A twist of the wrench, and Gusty closes the engine’s cover. “There. Good as new. Or at least, as good as it’s going to get.”

“We have something else for you to install,” Onyx says. He walks over to us, pulling a small device out of his vest.

“Ah, a communicator. Won’t take a minute.” Taking the device, Gusty indicates for me to be still. I do so, and I’m rewarded with the uncomfortable sensation of my side being popped open. Even worse is feeling Gusty reaching inside and pushing tubes and equipment about.

“Don’t worry, Boss. Done this plenty of times with other cyborgs like yourselves.” Wiggling and pushing for another few seconds, Gusty pulls his legs out and slaps the panel closed. “There we go. Good as new!”

“Then you’d best be off,” Thorax says. “The sooner we get this done-”

“The sooner we can all kick back and relax,” Gusty says. “I hear that.”

“Wait!”

We all turn as another pony hurries in. It’s Silver Scalpel, and he’s carrying a small case with him. “Oh, thank goodness! I was hoping I’d catch you before you leave, Silverspeak.” He rummages in his case and pulls out a pair of glasses. “Here. These should work.”

Taking the glasses, I slide them onto my snout. The effect is immediate, for everything’s now sharp and clear again. A relief, to be sure, but another sign of my age: needing to wear glasses to compensate for eyes that are slowly failing.

“King Thorax, could you ensure these glasses don’t fall off my patient?”

Nodding, Thorax casts a spell. The frames of the glasses glow briefly. “Now they won’t come off unless you or someone physically yanks them off,” Thorax says.

I shake my head. The glasses easily stay in place. “Thank you both.”

“It’s nothing,” Silver Scalpel says. “In fact, I think you’ll like these pair: They’re one of your wife’s extras.”

They are? I take another look at them and... oh my. He's right. They look just like hers-

“No disrespect, Silverspeak, but you need to get going,” Onyx says.

Oh yes. He’s right. Nodding, I head to the skiff and climb into the driver’s compartment. Green Wing’s quick to get into the seat beside me and power everything up.

“Hey, Boss?”

I look out the window. “Yes, Gusty?”

He gives me a grin. “It’s good to have ya back.”

I smile. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“No more chitchat,” Green Wing says. “Time to go.”

Closing the window, I turn to my companion as she flicks switches into the on position. “You ever fly anything like this before?” she asks.

“Once,” I say. “A zeppelin. But most of that was just spinning the steering wheel and hitting whatever buttons I could.”

Green Wing can’t tell if I’m joking or not. “Okay... how about a car?”

I indicate my back. “Never needed one. But I did try one once for a charity event.”

“What’d you do?”

“Drive around a racetrack a few times.”

My companion’s silent for several long moments. “I can work with that.” She points to the dashboard. “This ship follows the same basic ideas: accelerator, brake, gears, and the like. These tugs were designed to be as idiot-proof as possible.” She indicates my control panel. “Give it a try. Slowly.”

My memory of that charity drive is fuzzy, but I remember the basics. Taking the steering wheel, I grab a lever and shift us in the drive position. The gentlest of taps on the accelerator sends us over the hanger’s scrap pile.

“Good,” Green Wing says, her calm voice betrayed by how tightly she’s gripping her seat. “Now, turn us to face the wall.”

There’s nothing there, not even a door, but I do as she says.

Below us, Thorax heads to a nearby control panel and taps some buttons. As he does, a glowing circle appears before us, growing until it’s covering the wall and shimmering with magical energy.

“A portal,” Green Wing says. “It’ll take us to the planet’s surface.” She points at it. “Take us through. Slowly, please.”

I oblige, gently tapping the accelerator. The engines hum as we glide through. There’s a brief moment of nausea, but then it’s gone, and we’re through. The dark and colorless confines of the hanger have vanished, replaced by a grey sky and the peaks of jagged mountains thrusting upwards like enormous fingers bursting from the earth.

“Well, you didn’t crash,” Green Wing sighs. “That’s a start.”

I look around. “Where are we?”

Green Wing checks her instruments. “Right where we need to be.” She taps the compass. “Head south. Medium speed.”

I take us through the mountains, and in minutes we’re past the peaks, flying over a desert lined with deep gouge marks, as if raked by a giant hoe.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Where Klugetown used to be.” Green Wing points to the horizon. “Iron Hoof’s fortress is at the eastern edge of the continent, past the Sea of Clouds.” She glances back, and then right and left, as if searching for something. Or perhaps making sure there’s nothing out there.

“Set us down.”

“Right... How do I do that?”

Green Wing indicates a nearby lever. I pull it towards me as gently as I can, and the tug heads down. We hit the sand a little harder than we should, judging by how my partner’s hooves have turned white. To her credit, she doesn’t berate me as she unbuckles her harness.

“I need to get off here.” Opening her door, Green Wing jumps out into the hot, dry air. “I’ll rendezvous with Spike, and we’ll get as close as we can to the fortress.” She taps her neck. “Try the communicator.”

“How do I do that?”

“Tighten the muscles in your chest. You’ll feel it.”

Green Wing walks out of sight, and I do what she said. There’s something small within my chest; a flex, and I feel it click.

“You receiving me?”

“Uhm... Yes. Yes, I do.” It’s startling to hear Green Wing’s voice; it’s almost like she’s right next to me.

“Good. Glad to know Gusty’s skills haven’t gone soft. Flex again to turn it off.”

I do so, and silence returns. So does Green Wing, who heads to the copilot’s door. “Fly south, but go slow. You don’t want to crash, or make the fortress think you’re a suicide bomber. They’ll send some fighters to intercept you. Do what they say, tell them who you are, and that you want to see Iron Hoof. And for the love of Celestia, don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“You’d better: Now, they're going to ask you why you're flying to them. Your backstory is that you were fleeing before Luna and the Resistance could execute you.”

“Makes sense.”

“It’s going to look suspicious if you managed to get away without injury.”

It takes a moment for what she’s saying to sink in.

With a sigh, I get out of the ship and circle around the cockpit. “Very well... just don’t hit too-”

My head snaps back as Green Wing hits me. A second hit sends pain down my cheek, and I can’t help but cry out as she rams a hoof into her belly. When the pain subsides, I crack my eyes open to find a trickle of blood dribbling down my forehead. The right side of my face is numb, and it hurts to breathe.

“That should do it,” Green Wing says. From the way she talks, she didn’t get any pleasure out of hitting me. “Now get going.”

The pain’s still there as I get onboard, but I can endure it if it helps my cover story.

Waving to Green Wing, I take off, keep my eye on the compass as I fly into the unknown.


***


I fly over the desert wastes for an hour, keeping an eye on the lifeless skies around me. There’s no aircraft in sight, or birds flying in the sky. The ground below is littered with rusted husks of abandoned machines and weapons of war, all broken and intertwined, as if smashed together from a long-ago cataclysm.

I continue on for another hour, flying over the endless wreckage and the rocky, barren earth.

Am I going the wrong way? I can’t be; the compass hasn’t moved since Green Wing adjusted it. Was she mistaken about where we were? Perhaps she–

“Unidentified aircraft, you are entering restricted airspace. Identify yourself immediately.”

I jump at the voice coming from the radio, yanking the microphone from the control panel. “This is Silverspeak, emissary of Iron Hoof!" I say, making my tone frantic and panicky. "I’ve escaped from Resistance custody and am coming in with a stolen cargo tug!”

Silence. 

Do they believe me?

Six forms emerge from the clouds as I release the button. Fighter craft, and they’re quick to swerve into position around me, gun turrets facing me.

I hope no one inside those cockpits can see the sweat trickling down my forehead. Still, at least they haven’t fired. I just need to play along, do what they say, and everything will turn out alright.

“We will escort you in, Silverspeak," the radio voice says. "If you attempt to flee or attack, you will be shot down.”

“Acknowledged.”

For another hour, we continue on. I spend most of that time breathing as deeply as I can, nervously eyeing the guns and telling myself that they won't fire if I do as I'm told.

We fly into a thick bank of clouds, but only for a moment; they give way, revealing Equestria’s southern coast and the sea beyond. It’s an impressive sight, one that would be beautiful if not for the enormous fortress sprawling across the shoreline, layer after layer of walls enclosing another concrete monolith and numerous smaller ones nestled at its base.

So this is Iron Hoof’s fortress... It’s scale is impressive, but there's no color, no warmth, no gardens, parks, or consideration for the comfort of those unfortunate to live within those walls.

“Silverspeak,” the voice over the radio says. “Surrender manual control of your craft. If you do not comply, you will be shot down.”

“Understood.” I take my hooves off the steering wheel and the accelerator. Unseen forces take hold of the tug and bring it towards some hangar doors in the monolith. There are many such doors, all of which are open as airships fly out, each carrying enormous containers of cargo beneath their bellies.

The doors before me swing open like the jaws of some mighty beast as the tug and my escorts fly inside, passing row upon row of state-of-the-art fighters and bombers nestled within the wall, their guns and weapons poised to rip targets to shreds. So too, are the guns held by the welcoming party. There’s twenty of them, all soldiers, and they don’t look friendly.

I breathe deep as the tug drops down onto the hangar floor. I breathe deeper as the guards surround it.

“Get out of the tug!” one of the guards calls out. He’s not going to wait long for a reply, so I’m quick to open the door and step onto the hangar floor, keeping my hooves up.

“On the floor!”

I lie down. The moment my chin touches metal, two unicorns come over and scan me with magic, while a third shoves an inhibitor ring onto my horn.

“He’s clean,” the first unicorn says.

The head guard comes up, the barrel of his gun only inches from my snout. “What’s your purpose here?”

This guard and his fellows probably suspect I’m up to no good. If I’m going to get through this, I need an edge. “My name is Silverspeak,” I say, turning on my charm. “I’ve escaped from the Resistance, and I’m here to see Iron Hoof.”

The effect, as I had hoped, is immediate. “Very well. Follow us.”

None of the other guards try to stop me as I stand and follow their leader from the hanger.

So far, so good.

I’m led through the building, going through numerous checkpoints and security scans. We reach an elevator guarded by a dozen soldiers in heavy-duty white armor, dual machine guns strapped to their sides via a shock-absorbing battle saddle. I’m scanned multiple times by each of them, both with hoof-held instruments and magic. This elevator must lead to Iron Hoof, and his guards are taking no chances when it comes to looking for bombs, magical enchantments, or any of the other myriad ways of assassinating someone.

I stay still, not moving a muscle. Need to stay calm. Don’t give anyone an excuse to shoot me.

The last guard completes a scan and stands back. Two of his fellows go to the elevator and enter a code, causing the doors to slide open. My escorts bring me inside, and we start up.

I focus on my breathing, trying to keep myself calm. It’s not easy, for I’m about to face the pony who’s kept me as a slave for twenty five years, ruined Equestria, and brought untold misery to millions. I won’t lose my temper and lash out at him, of that I’m sure. But how am I going to deal with him? He’s no doubt expecting me to be confrontational, to use my charm to force him to reveal everything he knows about Beakbreaker, Celestia, and the Bearers. But that won’t work. Dictators, despots, and sociopaths don’t bend to the will of others. If I’m going to have any chance of coming out of this conversation with the information I require, I need to do something Iron Hoof won’t expect.

What would Celestia do if she were here? Assuming she wouldn't obliterate Iron Hoof on sight, she'd probably want to understand her enemy, to know why he wants to subjugate all those he deems inferior to himself. Yes... that’s what I should do.

If you understand your enemy, you know how to defeat them.

The elevator stops. The doors slide open with a quiet hiss, revealing a hallway lined with statues of the pony race: earth, pegasi, unicorn, and alicorn, each upon pedestals tucked into the walls. Sunlight filters through a heavily-barred and enchanted window above us as my escorts guide me through a set of double doors and into a penthouse bereft of decoration, built from the same concrete as the Monolith itself. Only great chunks of black stone jutting from the walls give contrast to the endless grey.

The guards stop. I look around. Where’s the occupant of this cheerless place?

Hoofsteps break the silence.

I look up to see Iron Hoof coming down a staircase, his leather uniform creaking as he steps off. Now in his mid fifties, his face is as unreadable as it was decades ago.

He looks me over.

So do I.

“Guards,” Iron Hoof says. “Leave us.”

My escorts leave the room without a word, shutting the doors behind them, the quiet thump echoing through the penthouse.

Going to a nearby desk, Iron Hoof taps a button. Water pours from a small nozzle into two waiting glass. Taking them, Iron Hoof gestures for me to follow him. I do so as he leads me into a sparse living room. The only furniture here is two black couches sitting across from one another, faintly illuminated by light coming through a curtained window.

Taking a seat, Iron Hoof studies me as I sit across from him, as if trying to look into my soul. “You have many questions,” he says. “So do I: Is the pony who sits before me friend or foe?”

I say nothing.

“I imagine the Resistance told you what I’ve done to you.”

I nod.

“Then tell me why you came back.”

“The Resistance were going to execute me,” I say. "With them, I faced death. Here, I don't."

Iron Hoof studies me.

“I imagine you were told many things about me. That I’m a monster. A despot. A dictator who thinks only of himself.”

“I was,” I say.

Water flows from Iron Hoof’s glass as he takes a sip. “The Resistance thinks I'm a monster worse than Tirek, Chrysalis, The Storm King, and so many others. But I am not. Will you grant me the favor of hearing my words before passing judgement?”

Iron Hoof’s trying to win me over to his side with a speech he’s no doubt used to sway others to his cause. If he thinks he can persuade me, he’s deluding himself. But if he bares his soul, then perhaps I can find something I can use to my advantage.

I nod.

Iron Hoof swirls his water like a fine wine. “You want to believe that everything about me is black and white, that I am some villain and that the Resistance are the valiant heroes fighting to save the day. But life is never clear-cut, Silverspeak. What is truth to one is lies to another. To my enemies, I am a brute who tears everything apart for his own gain. But to my followers, I am a blacksmith. I’m forging a world from the remnants of the old, transforming something weak and corrupt into something refined and pure.”

“Evil does love to justify cruelty,” I point out. It’s a risk to insult Iron Hoof, but I need to test him. See how he reacts.

“Does it? Does evil not also deal in lies? You say you fled the Resistance because they were going to end your life. Tell me, then, why did one of my spies in the wastes see a changeling giving you those cuts and bruises before you flew here?”

I can’t stop myself from shuddering, and my composure cracks for a split-second.

“I do not blame you for lying,” Iron Hoof says. “If anything, you are to be commended for having the courage to come here at considerable risk to yourself. And yet, I don’t believe you’re here to assassinate me.” Iron Hoof’s quiet for a moment, deep in thought. “You came here for your wife, didn’t you?”

Disconcerting as it is, there’s no point in keeping up this charade. I may have lost the element of surprise, but Iron Hoof isn’t reacting as I thought he would. Tyrants tolerate no attempts on their lives, and yet Iron Hoof’s calm. He’s probably planning something, or perhaps has triggered a hidden panic button, but for now I'll play along.

“Yes,” I admit. “I did.”

“Then you will be pleased to know that she’s alive.”

She is?! Oh thank Celestia, I... No. Don’t get giddy. I can’t give Iron Hoof anything to work with.

“But there’s more to your visit than you’re letting on, Silverspeak. If you are hoping to find your wife, then you will not take any risks that could lead to her death. Ergo, you are here to learn something; the location of the Bearers, perhaps. Or Princess Celestia.”

I nod.

“I regret to say that your efforts are in vain. They are not here, and I will not tell you where they are, or even if they are alive.”

Blast it all… I can’t even tell if Iron Hoof is lying. Emotionless he may be, but he’s an expert at controlling his body language and tone of voice.

“In the end, it doesn’t matter. The world to come has no place for them.”

“Millions would beg to differ.”

Iron Hoof takes another sip from his glass. “Everything ends, Silverspeak. Every country, every leader, every individual, no matter how strong, inevitably falls. Equestria is no exception. Our golden age ended decades ago, and you were the one who brought it to an end.”

“Excuse me?”

“The technology you helped create started a new era, one of technology, of weapons and tools that allowed others to invade our homeland and nearly wipe us out. In ages past such an invasion was impossible. Armies could invade, yes, but they could not control our bodies or wield guns instead of swords and halberds.”

“So you’re blaming me for what happened?”

“No,” Iron Hoof says. “Such a technological advance was bound to happen. You were the match that lit the fuse, and in the aftermath we had to change with the times.”

“By enslaving everyone who wasn’t a pony?”

“Yes.”

The ease with which he admits such a thing chills me.

“Dragons, Griffons, changelings, hippogriffs... they are not us, Silverspeak. They had seen how successful we were, and jealously would inevitably take root. Jealousy would make them try to take what was not rightfully theirs.”

“That’s absurd.” I say. “We haven’t had a war with any of them in centuries.”

“Peace is always temporary. All nations are only interested in themselves, Silverspeak; alliances are forged to to keep competitors at bay until one side is stronger than the other. Do you really think Equestria promotes friendship out of altruism? We only did so to protect ourselves.”

“And that justifies war? Enslavement?”

“If one war can prevent a dozen more, it must be waged.”

“The civilized fight only when they’re attacked,” I say. “Only the cowardly, the primitive, and the paranoid see enemies where none exist.”

Iron Hoof’s face softens. It’s almost imperceptible, but it’s there. “Is that something the princesses told you?”

“It’s logic,” I say it stronger than before. I have an edge, however temporary, and I need to push it. “Even a child learns such things.”

My words affect Iron Hoof, but not the way I expect. He’s softening, and for the first time since I saw him all those years ago, he shows an emotion.

Sympathy.

“I was once like you, Silverspeak. Naive. Idealistic. Believing what the princesses taught me. But then I learned that all their words were lies.”

He takes another sip.

“Many years ago, I was a young pony from a small town on Equestria’s most distant border. It was little more than an outpost. Everyone there was poor, my family included, but what we lacked in money we made up for in love and compassion. All of us in looked out for one another. I was taught that nothing was more important than helping each other, to hurt no one. I lived by that code. I tried to become friends with everyone who came to our village... but all that changed when the changelings attacked.”

Changelings? Is he talking about Chrysalis’ second war?

“When word came that the changelings were attacking all of Equestria, I joined the armed forces to protect my family and my neighbors. I went on every mission given to me, fought harder than my fellows, and did everything I could to save our country.”

Reaching up, Iron Hoof parts his mane, revealing a faded scar upon his forehead.

“I was there the day the arch-dragon attacked Canterlot. I was forced to stand still as it incinerated my comrades, to watch as flesh was melted off bone, and to listen to them scream. And then I was burned: hair, hide, and skin.”

My host goes silent at the memory.

“I barely survived. The best surgeons, doctors, and magic casters could only partially heal my body, but I didn’t care. I would gladly be a cripple if my family was safe... But then word came to me that my town had been attacked again. Everyone had been taken... my family among them.”

Iron Hoof is a hardened pony. I can tell he’s the kind who buries his emotions deeply, refusing to let them affect him. But his defenses are cracking. Long-buried grief is seeping through.

“I had never known true fear until that day. I joined every search party, went through every hive, and did everything I could to find them. And then I did... They had been drained. They were were lifeless husks.”

For the longest moment Iron Hoof says nothing, oblivious to my presence.

“I wanted to die. I couldn’t bear the thought of living without them... But I didn’t. I gave myself a mission: to ensure that no one would ever go through what I suffered. That no pony family would ever be torn apart by parasites and degenerates.

“I stayed with the armed forces. I worked to protect our country. I watched as other nations armed themselves. I was there for secret negotiations, working to pacify our jealous neighbors and those who wanted everything we had. And then I realized that we could never turn our enemies into friends. No matter how long we had allied with them, they would inevitably turn against us. I knew we had to strike first, and ensure that we would rule, and rule alone.”

Standing, Iron Hoof walks to the fireplace beside the sofas. “I’m not enslaving the world, Silverspeak. I’m saving it. For our kind. For Equestria.”

I had expected to meet a lunatic here today, a fanatic who was about purity of blood, race, or some other fringe belief. I had expected to find someone beyond the reach of reason, enslaved to his own maniac desires, little more than a thug in a uniform.

I didn’t expect this.

It would be so easy to mock Iron Hoof, to scorn him and call him a pathetic, warmongering paranoid lunatic... but heaven help me, I can’t hate him. I can’t be furious with him. I know where he’s been.

I know what it’s like to have your family taken from you.

“I’m sorry for what you went through, Iron Hoof. But that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. It’s not right that-”

“Not right?” He glares at me. “Tell me, Silverspeak, is it right that my family died not as free ponies, but as food? Is it right that we imprison so many despots and evil beings instead of eliminating them? If Celestia and Luna had exterminated the changelings when they first showed themselves, my family would still be alive. Would yours?”

I refuse to answer. I won’t be pulled into an argument.

“Tell me, what’s fair? Ensuring that all ponies everywhere are never threatened by the barbarians at our gates, or sitting aside and letting our enemies scheme, plot, and backstab us while we hold tea parties?”

“Genocide is never justified,” I say.

“Genocide? No, Silverspeak. I am not murdering our foes. I do not chose their fate. Black Fang does.”

Black Fang?

“Oh? The Resistance hasn’t told you? Black Fang is the leader of the Arch-dragons. The oldest and most powerful of their kind, even older than Celestia. One of his emissaries came to me with an offer years ago: In return for their help in wiping out our enemies, the dragons would take half of our territory to begin their empire anew. They would have crafted a mighty realm... if there were any of them left.”

My curiosity overwhelms me. “You killed them.”

“I had planned to, yes. But Celestia took care of them for me.” Iron Hoof takes another sip and puts his empty glass on the mantle. “But that’s all in the past. What interests me now is the future.”

Leaving the fireplace, Iron Hoof goes to the window and pulls the curtains aside, revealing a vista of the fortress below us, and the wastes beyond. Dozens, if not hundreds of airships fly into the sky, each carrying enormous cargo containers beneath their hulls.

“In one week, Silverspeak, this war will end. Black Fang has crafted a plan that will destroy the Resistance once and for all. It’s quite drastic, and more destructive than I’d like, but the results will be undeniable.”

“And what plan is that?”

Iron Hoof shakes his head. “Really, Silverspeak? Do you expect me to tell you so you can return to the Resistance and inform them? Even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. The Resistance is already dead; do you really believe that a ragtag group of rebels with outdated relics could defeat an empire spanning an entire world?”

“A germ can bring down even the mightiest of dragons,” I say.

Iron Hoof pauses, then continues. “By this time next week, the Resistance will be defeated. The loss of life will be catastrophic, but it doesn’t need to be.” He turns to me. “If you help me, no one has to die.”

“And how many have died already?” I ask. “How many have lost their lives because of you?”

“Too many,” Iron Hoof says as he walks around the sofa, keeping it between me and him. “I gain nothing from the death of even a single pony, even those who oppose me. If you tell me where the Resistance is hiding, I will show them mercy. They will be pardoned and forgiven, and we will all share in building a new world.”

Others would find Iron Hoof’s offer to be too good to pass up. A chance to end the war here and now, without anyone else having to die. I must admit that a part of me wants to accept... But I won’t. Every leader who creates an empire built on conquest and blood inevitably wants more and more control until even those who swear loyalty are enslaved.

“No,” I say.

Iron Hoof stops. “I thought you’d be delighted to end this war.”

I stand, matching Iron Hoof's gaze. “I was once like you, Iron Hoof. I wanted what I believed was mine, and at any cost. But I know where that leads." I gesture to my wings and horn. "I know the suffering that these cost, and if I could go back and stop myself to save everyone from the misery I caused, I would.”

Iron Hoof’s eyes narrow in disgust. “Because you are weak.”

“And wiser than you. If you continue down this path, you will regret it forever. When you lie at death’s door, when you see the pain you have caused, you will give anything to go back and change it, but by then it will be too late.”

Silence fills the room as Iron Hoof studies me, my words heavy in his mind.

“But you haven’t reached that point," I say. "You can still make things right. The damage you’ve wrought can be repaired. Those you’ve enslaved can be freed.”

I walk towards Iron Hoof. He stands his ground.

I offer my hoof.

“The princesses are merciful. They saw what I had done and gave me another chance. They even gave Mangus Bluehorn a second chance. If you turn from this path, they will do the same to you.”

Iron Hoof looks to my hoof.

I say nothing more. I can’t risk saying something I shouldn’t.

The minutes pass, and Iron hoof doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak.

Did I get through to him?

“You truly have a silver tongue,” Iron Hoof says at last, his face unchanged. “But I will not turn from my path. Not now, and not when my dream is so close to becoming a reality.”

He snaps his hooves. In an instant, the doors swing open as six guards hurry inside.

“You were most useful in building my empire, Silverspeak. And you will help bring about utopia.”

The guards quickly surround me.

“I’ll let you consider my words overnight. I trust you’ll see reason. If you don’t, you will serve me whether you want to or not.”

I should rush Iron Hoof, grab him, and teleport him to the moon. But the guards surrounding me are packed in too tightly; I have no choice but to go with them as they march out.


***


The guards lead me down the hallway and into another penthouse, one as sparse and empty as Iron Hoof’s, but without any windows. When I’m inside, the guards leave, and the door locks behind them.

Glancing around, aware that there’s no doubt monitoring and recording devices or spells surrounding me, I take a seat in an uncomfortable chair and activate the radio inside me. “Green Wing, you there?”

Her voice is as clear as if she were right beside me. “Yes. Are you all right?”

I keep my voice as low as I can. “A spy saw the two of us land, and now I’m in a cell.”

“Buck... Are you hurt?”

“No. But I do have some information: Iron Hoof’s working in league with the leader of the Arch-dragons, someone who goes by the name, ‘Black Fang.’”

“They have a leader?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No... Luna’s not going to be happy about this.”

“I’m afraid it gets worse. The dragon’s got something big planned. I don’t know what it is, but Iron Hoof said it would end the war and wipe out the Resistance by this time next week.”

I can almost see Green Wing taking it all in. “Alright, I’ll pass the info on to Onyx and the others. Did you find out anything about Celestia?”

“Only that she apparently took care of all the Arch-dragons.”

“Really? Well, that explains why we haven’t seen any since she vanished. Do you know if she’s alive?”

“My host didn’t say.”

“And the Bearers?”

“The same.”

A long silence. “Alright... we’ll deal with that later. What’s your situation?”

“Iron Hoof’s given me a day to think about rejoining his group. If I say no... Well, he’s probably going to brainwash me again and make sure I never wake up.”

“No. I was hoping you'd have some ideas.”

"Give me a few hours and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

The line goes dead, and everything is silent once again.


***


With no windows, clocks, and lights that constantly stay on, I don’t know how long I stay in the room. It gives me plenty of time to think, and to go over everything Iron Hoof said. I don’t want to believe it, but he’s probably right in saying that the Resistance is doomed. From what both Luna and Thorax said, their situation is desperate, and against an empire that spans our world, they can only hold out for so long. Rag-tag resistances always triumph in comic books and movies, but this is real life, and there are no guarantees of a happy ending.

Truth be told, after seeing what our world is like, I’m not sure we can even have a happy ending anymore.

No. No, I can’t think about that. If Celestia is alive, there’s still hope, both for Equestria and for me. And Beakbreaker’s still alive; Iron Hoof wasn’t deceiving me there. And as long as she’s alive, I can still find her. That’s reason enough not to give up yet.

Still, I can’t help but feel the familiar pangs of regret. If I had gotten through to Iron Hoof, if I had made him reconsider his path, all that misery could have been avoided...

The radio beeps. “Silverspeak, it’s Green Wing. I’ve just finished talking with Onyx and Thorax, and... well, We’re still working on a rescue plan.”

“You mean you don’t know how you can rescue me.”

Silence.

“What about Spike?”

“Dragons are powerful, Silverspeak, but not invincible. He wouldn’t get far inside a fortress before getting cut down. Look, we’ll keep trying to figure out something.”

I glance at the door. “You don’t have to. If you don’t hear back from me in ten minutes, it probably didn’t work.”

“What are you–”

Turning the radio off, I head to the door. Iron Hoof, well aware of my talent, would no doubt assign some of his strongest-willed guards to keep watch. It’s what I’d do if I were in his position. But there’s one thing Iron Hoof doesn’t know: With my wife’s life at risk, my will to save her turbo-charges my charm.

I knock at the door and step back.

A voice comes through the speaker. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about my talk with Iron Hoof, and have made the decision to join him,” I say. “I’d like to inform him myself.”

The door opens and the guards come in, quickly forming a circle around me. They start to march, and I make my move.

“You will all put down your guns,” I say.

They stop, but their guns remain firmly in hoof.

“Be quiet-”

“You will put them down, or I will smash them into your skulls and tear your heads off,” I seethe, my skin tingling from goosebumps. My charm... it’s never been this strong before.

The guards hesitate.

“You are all intelligent ponies,” I say, deciding to try a softer approach. “You know about the suffering your master is inflicting. If you continue to support him, you will one day die knowing that you enabled a power-hungry despot to enslave millions. He will be worse than Discord, Chrysalis, the Storm King, Tirek, and every other would-be conqueror in history. But if help me, you can prevent that.” I narrow my gaze. “Will you?”

A long minute passes.

One guard puts down his gun. Then another, and then the third, the fourth, and the fifth.

The last guard grips his gun.

“The rest of you, please stop him.”

A shot from a taser, and the sixth guard goes down.

“Thank you.” I turn towards the closest guard. “Is my wife, Beakbreaker, in this fortress?”

The guard shakes his head. “Iron Hoof shipped her out somewhere a month ago.”

“Where did she go?”

“We weren’t told.”

Buck... “What about Princess Celestia? The Bearers? Are they kept here?”

“No. And we don’t know where they are, either.”

“But they’re alive?”

“Yes.”

I nod. “Then we need to find them. Now, how can we get out of here?”

“We can commandeer one of the cargo transports,” another guard says.

“Excellent.” I’m about to head for the door, but stop. “Are there any other prisoners here? Ponies Iron Hoof plans to conscript into his army?”

“There are a hundred prisoners in the dungeons, including one in high security.”

I can’t leave those prisoners here, not after knowing what’s going to happen to them. “Is there any way to get them out?”

“There’s a train used to ferry supplies and prisoners in and out of the fortress.”

I ponder my options. “What can carry more prisoners? The train, or a cargo transport?”

“The train,” the closest guard says.

“Then we’ll take it.” I indicate for the guards to get their guns. As they do so, I activate my communicator. “Green Wing?”

“Did your plan work?”

I smile. “Perfectly. I’m breaking out of here, but I’ll need some assistance; I’m bring about a hundred prisoners with me, and we need a quick way to–”

“Wait, hold on: Did you say, a hundred prisoners?”

“That’s correct.”

“Silverspeak, you can’t–”

“I’m not leaving them. Plus, one of them is apparently a VIP. He or she might know where Princess Celestia is.”

There’s a long silence on the other end. “I’m going to regret this, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Thank you.” I turn my attention back to the guards, keeping my charm at maximum. “You four will escort me to the dungeons.” Then, to the fifth, “You will prepare the train for departure. Eliminate anyone who could stop us, but non-lethally. We don’t want to kill anyone. Understood?”

All of them nod.

“Good.” I give them a warm smile. “Celestia will be proud of what you’re doing today.” I head to the door, which one of the guards opens. Once we’re outside, the fifth pony hurries off down the hall, and the rest surround me and head the other way. I keep up, hoping we can finish this quickly; it won’t be long before my absence is noticed, but with any luck we’ll be out of here before that happens.

And, if my luck holds, then this VIP prisoner, whoever he or she is, might know where to find the ones who can save Equestria.
> Shock and Awe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

My guides lead me deeper in the bowels of the monolith, marching through halls swarming with other soldiers. A few cast sideways glances at me, but a smile, some friendly words, and a quick dose of my charm sends them on their way. Still, we need to hurry; someone will inevitably realize that I'm not supposed to be wandering around.

The guards take me to an elevator, which we ride down to the entrance to the dungeons. Much like the dungeon in Genesis, the only way in is through a heavily armed, multi-gate checkpoint.

“Can we access the control rooms?” I whisper to the closest guard.

She nods towards a nearby door. “Through there.”

“Go inside and knock everyone out. No deaths or permanent injuries.”

The guard nods and indicates for two of her fellows to accompany her. They go to the door and knock. When it’s opened, they head inside.

The guard besides me remains still. I study his face; unlike the comics, TV shows, and movies told me when I was growing up, he doesn’t have the gruff, ugly faces of an evil henchpony. If it wasn’t for his gun or uniform, he’d look like any other ordinary pony I’d meet on the streets or at a party.

Why did he join up with Iron Hoof, I wonder? Was it promises he made? The beliefs he held?

Did one of my speeches convince him to join a dictator?

With a loud click, the gates swing open. The door leading to the control room does the same as the three guards emerge. One has a bruise on his face, but they’re otherwise unhurt.

“The dungeon staff have been knocked out,” the lead guard informs me. “The next shift change happens in thirty minutes. We have until then to finish our task.” She gives me a modified shotgun. “Take this. It's a stun gun used to knock out prisoners.”

“Thank you.” Slinging the gun over my back, I hurry through the gates, the guards staying close.

When we’re past the gates, I go through a heavy door and emerge into a three-tiered prison wing crammed with dozens of cells, all lit by a few dim lights in the concrete ceiling.

Prisoners come to the gates of their tiny cells, curious as to who’s entered. They’re probably expecting an unfortunate newcomer, and are caught off guard at seeing me.

They’re not happy.

I point to three guards. “You three, release the prisoners one cell at a time after telling them that they’re being freed by the Resistance.” Then, to the unicorn. “Take me to the VIP prisoner.”

Nodding, the unicorn heads off. I follow her, listening to the others getting to work behind me. 

I hope the prisoners are more interested in getting out than ripping the guards apart.


***


My escort leads me down more hallways and security doors, our path growing darker as the lights dim. This section of the dungeons appears to house prisoners Iron Hoof has no love for.

One last door is opened, and we emerge into a small block. There are only a few cells here, the walls made of thick, reinforced plexiglass. The lighting in here is almost non-existent, forcing me to squint as I’m lead to a cell at the end of the hall.

I look inside, but I can’t tell who’s inside.

“Cast a light spell,” I say.

The unicorn does so, illuminating the hall, the cell, and its occupant.

I freeze.

It... it can’t be...

The last time I saw the cell’s occupant, she had been on the cusp of defeating Equestria. Her cruelty had led to the deaths of thousands and the misery of untold others. Her name has gone down in history as someone who refused all offers of help, friendship, and redemption, instead choosing to embrace hate time and time again.

She was cunning. She was powerful, and she was filled with pride at her glory... but that was long ago.

The Chrysalis laying before me is none of those things.

Startled by the brightness of the light spell, the would-be conqueror of Equestria looks to me, her eyes straining to adjust. But it’s not just her eyes that have been strained: the queen’s iridescent hide has faded to a nearly colorless shell. Her skin has faded too, and so has her hair, now pale and gray.

It takes me a moment to realize that her wings are gone, as is most of her horn.

Her eyes finally adjusting, Chrysalis realizes who I am, and she hardens, her face a visage of malice and defiance.

“Back again?” she growls. “You come to mock me? To gloat?”

Sweet Celestia, she sounds so... old. The menacing snarl that once soaked every word is wizened and faded, a shadow of what it once was. That voice once tried to destroy me and my family. And yet... I don’t feel any anger towards Chrysalis. Nor is there hate or the desire for vengeance. I have more important things to focus on.

“Hello, Chrysalis,” I say.

“Spare me your mocking-”

“I’m here because I need your help. I’m looking for Princess Celestia and the Bearers, and I’m hoping you know where they are.”

Chrysalis doesn’t know what to make of this. She’s staring at me, head cocked, unsure if this is a trick.

“Iron Hoof has been using me as a puppet for decades with a mind-control spell,” I say, stepping closer to the plexiglass. “I finally broke free, and now I’m trying to stop him.”

I stop, waiting as Chrysalis thinks things over, unsure what to believe.

“Lies...” Lips rise, revealing still-sharp teeth. “You’re lying!”

“No, I’m not.” I don’t have time to try and convince her, so I crank up my charm to maximum. “Equestria is on the brink of ruin. By this time next week, everything will be destroyed. Both our races will be dead. Celestia is our only hope, and if you have any idea where she is, I need to know.”

Chrysalis rises, her knees cracking from the effort. “I know what you’re doing, Silverspeak, and it won’t work.”

Buck.

She reaches the plexiglass. Only an inch of it separates us. “I know where your princess is. Her and the accursed bearers... and your precious little wife.”

My eyes widen.

“I will tell you where they are," Chrysalis continues, "but only if you give me something in return.”

“What is it?” I expect her to gloat, to grin and demand all of Equestria be given to her, or some other impossible dream.

Chrysalis leans in as close as she can, her words a whisper sharper than any needle. “Set me free, so I may crush Iron Hoof like the maggot he is!”

“Because he put you in here?”

I jump back as Chrysalis slams her hooves into the glass. “He took my freedom, my wings, my horn, and tossed me in here to rot!” She’s shaking with pure, unadulterated rage. “He sent you to be my personal tormentor, to tell me that no one would miss me. That no one would mourn me, that my own kind was glad to be rid of me!”

“I was under his control,” I say. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“What a convenient excuse!” she spits.

I glare at Chrysalis.“I’m supposed to be locked up right now. Iron Hoof will inevitably realize I’m loose, send everyone he has to get me, and your only chance of escaping will be gone. Now, will you help me?”

Chrysalis doesn't answer.

“I said, will you help me?”

Chrysalis narrows her eyes. “Only if you let me out.”

“And what guarantee do I have that you won’t immediately kill me?”

“You won’t get one, save that I hate Iron Hoof more than I hate you.” Chrysalis closes her eyes, taking deep breaths. “We may be enemies, Silverspeak, but if you help me escape, get me to the Resistance, and ensure I won’t be executed, then I will tell you everything you want to know.”

Before today, I never imagined I would be making deals with the changeling who nearly killed my family and threatened to blind and mutilate my wife. But these are desperate times, and any chance to find Celestia, no matter how small, can't be tossed aside.

I nod to the unicorn. Her horn lights up and the door’s locks undo themselves, allowing me to swing the door open.

The bloodlust washes away from Chrysalis as she takes a few, uneasy steps outside the cell, as if fearing that this is only a dream.

I do nothing as she stops in the hall, where she stops, closing her eyes.

Is that... a tear rolling down her cheek?

“Freedom...” Chrysalis whispers. “I’ve forgotten what it feels like...”

I let her savor the moment. When it passes, I activate my radio. “Green Wing, do you read me?”

Static.

“Green Wing, do you read me?”

Chrysalis looks at me, irritated at having her moment ruined.

“Radio,” I explain. “There must be too much interference.” I turn to the guard. “Let’s get somewhere where I can send a message.”

The unicorn heads off. I follow her, and Chrysalis behind me. Her movements are slow and staggered, most likely from weakened muscles. It takes a few seconds, but Chrysalis picks up speed. Then her walk becomes a trot. An uneasy one, but a trot nonetheless. And when I’m convinced she can keep up the pace, I turn back to the guard. In any other situation I wouldn’t dare turn my back to Chrysalis, but she gains nothing by killing me. She needs me to vouch for her if we make it to the Resistance. I’m her insurance policy.

If she can get me to Beakbreaker and Celestia, I’ll gladly play that role.


***


I hear talking as we reach the cell block. As we pass through the last security door, I see the guards have been hard at work, for all the cells have been opened and their occupants released.

“Look!” a pony screams. “It’s Silverspeak!”

All heads swivel to look at me like a pack of hungry wolves.

“Kill him!” another pony shouts.

Oh buck!

The crowd rushes me. I try to activate my charm, but the crowd’s too fast, and they tackle me to the ground.

“Kill you! Going to kill you, you motherb-”

“Stop!” I yell. The guards are trying to get to me, but the other prisoners are holding them back. They’ll never get to me before the prisoners rip me apart! “Stop! I’m not trying to-”

A hoof hits me in the face, and then another. These ponies are crazed; they won’t listen to reason, and I’m forced to rear back and kick the closest ones off me, buying me a second to act.

Grabbing my stun gun, I get to my hooves. “Listen to me! I’m here to break you out!”

“Like tartarus you are!” a pony yells

“Kill him!” another screams.

“He speaks the truth!” Queen Chrysalis emerges from the doorway leading to the high security cell. “He has come to release all of us, so that we may all take our reve-”

“It’s Queen Chrysalis!” a pony yells.

“Kill her!”

The shouts and screams double as all the ponies charge.

Buck! I raise the gun, my hoof on the trig-

Bright lights flood my vision, and I’m forced to turn away.

A sharp crack cuts through the yells. Then more echo through the hall.

I recognize those sounds: Gunfire.

Turning, I can just make out the source of the lights: they’re coming from the far end of the hall. I raise my gun and fire. One light shatters, and then another, revealing a small squad of guards raising their guns.

Taking aim, I fire, darting between the hall’s support columns, trying not to hit the panicking crowd.

One of the guards falls. Then another. But not from my handiwork; the guards I convinced to join me now come to my defense, firing their magic and weapons on their former comrades. In moments, all but two are down. I take of those last two myself, blasting them with the stun gun. They drop like sacks of sand, electricity dancing over their armor.

My protectors study the last two and nod. They’re out cold.

Breathing deep, I turn to the crowd. Some are trying to wake their fellows who were knocked out, but the rest are confused at seeing Iron Hoof’s speaker attacking his allies.

I grab the guns from the unconscious guards and toss them into the crowd. It’s a great risk, but they all saw me attacking my so-called allies. If I arm these prisoners, they'll realize I'm serious about freeing them.

“Who wants to get out of here?” I ask.

Turning, I run for the security checkpoint, my guards falling in beside me, and then Queen Chrysalis behind them.

A moment later, and I hear the thunder of hooves following me.


***


I had hoped we could escape the fortress without being noticed, or that we wouldn’t be noticed until it was too late, but it’s not to be: Alarms scream from speakers throughout the halls as we run, and red klaxons flash from their sockets in the ceiling.

The higher up we go in the tower, the more soldiers we encounter, but my guards are good, making quick work of them as we go. What they miss, the prisoners take care of, stripping any guards of their armor and weapons like vultures, falling in line and blasting away at anyone who gets too close to us.

I activate my radio as we reach another level. “Green Wing! Can you hear me?”

The radio crackles to life.“Silverspeak? What’s going-”

“I’ve managed to break the fortress’ prisoners out. We’re on our way to a train, but we’re still going to need some airships!”

“I’ve got one on standby, but you owe me. You have no idea how hard it was to get-”

There’s the sharp crack of bullets above my head, and the concrete wall fractures an inch above my horn.

“I’ll talk later!” I sign off.

“You intend to escape with these prisoners?!” Chrysalis yells, surprised.

“I’m not leaving anyone behind!”

“They will only slow us down!”

I ignore her as the guards turn right, emerging into the fortress’ train depot. As I feared, it’s swarming with guards, at least fifty of them. Getting out of here won’t be easy. We need to figure out a strategy to-

“Kill them!” a prisoner screams. “Kill them all!”

Prisoners shoot past me, their guns lighting up the room as they fire on the guards. Iron Hoof’s minions scream as electricity jolts through their bodies, leaving them helpless as they’re tackled, clubbed, and beaten into submission by the ponies they once fought and tormented.

I should try to stop the prisoners from bashing the soldiers into bloody smears, but I just don’t have the time. Instead, I run towards the only train in the station. It’s an elevated one, held aloft by magnets that let it glide past support poles. My guards attack their fellows as I reach the engine car and climb onboard, hurrying to the door. A yank on the handle reveals that the accursed thing is lock-

The door swings open, the fifth guard looking out. “You made it,” he says casually.

“Yes,” I say, never so glad to see a friendly face. “Get this thing going!”

“Already on it.”

As he ducks back inside, I climb to the top of the car and fire at reinforcements rushing into the station who blast the prisoners with stun rounds. But even as an undisciplined rabble, the prisoners determination to gain their freedom gives them the fury to fight back twice as hard. With Chrysalis, myself, and the guards helping them out, it’s just enough to turn the tide.

With all the guards incapacitated, the prisoners rush the train and tear the doors open.

Bullets fly past us. I spin to see more guards entering the hangar.

“Get onboard!” I yell down, ducking behind a small dome before running for the engine, praying that my guards have got it working. And thank Celestia, they have; I can hear the train’s motors churning as they warm up.

Reaching an opened hatch, I duck inside, finding the guards working the controls. “We need a minute for the engine to warm up,” one of the guards tells me.

Bullets ping off the engine car.

“We won’t last a minute!” I say.

“This should help,” another guard says as she works the console. I can’t tell what she’s doing, but I hear gears and machinery activating atop the roof. Clambering back up, I find that the domes have swung open, revealing gun turrets within.

“I’ll take this one.” I turn to find Chrysalis climbing out behind me, wheezing from the effort. “You get the one at the end of the train.”

Chrysalis is all too eager to take a seat. Leaping in, she opens fire on the enemy. While the guards focus on her, I run to the end of the train and take a seat in the turret on the last car. Thankfully, the system is easy to understand: aim at your enemy, pull the trigger, and pummel them with shells powerful enough to turn steel into swiss cheese.

Taking aim at the entryway, I pivot upwards and fire, bullets peppering girders and walls. Both give way, and rubble falls, sealing the entrance, stopping more guards from coming inside.

The train jerks. I bounce in my seat as it moves forward, unseen magnetic panels humming as sunlight falls onto the turret. We’re outside the depot and picking up speed as we head through the city of concrete and steel.

I hear Chrysalis and her guns roaring behind me. Spinning the turret, I see her firing into two massive gates leading out of the city. It doesn’t seem like the shells are having any effect, but then they buckle, bend, and finally shatter as the train barrels through, racing out into the desert.

There’s a headset by my seat, and I put it on. “Nice work.”

Chrysalis’ voice comes through. “You expected anything less?”

I glance back to see if I’ll have to do any shooting of my own. Transports and other ships continue to leave the fortress; some of them are bound to come after us. Yet, they don’t. They keep flying into the sky, reminding me of bees fleeing their hive.

“Green Wing, do you read me?” I ask.

“Loud and clear.”

“We’ve made it out of the city; where’s our transport?”

“On it’s way. You being followed? We can’t risk an evac if you’re under attack.”

“No,” I say. “It’s almost like Iron Hoof’s forces are ignoring us.”

No sooner do I say it than movement catches my eyes. Three ships are flying from the Monolith, but they don’t head off with the others.

They’re coming our way.

“Green wing? Forget what I just said. We have three craft coming after us.”

“Take them out, and we’ll come get you.”

“What about Spike?”

“He's still several miles away. He won’t make it in time.”

The line goes dead as I rotate the turret. “Chrysalis!” I say into the radio. “We’ve got a ship heading our way, but we also have incoming.”

“Leave them to me.”

“I’ll handle them,” I say. “You move all the prisoners to the front of the train.”

“I don’t take orders from you!”

“I’m closer, and have a better line of sight.”

A groan. “Don’t miss.”

The line goes dead as I turn the turret upwards and peer through the targeting device. Looks like three troop transports are coming in. Soldiers lean out the hatches, carrying heavy weaponry.

Buck... if Chrysalis does know where Celestia and the Bearers are, Iron Hoof won’t want the Resistance to know such sensitive information. And judging by their weaponry, the soldiers won’t hesitate to ensure that won’t happen.

Breathing deeply, I take aim. I don’t want to kill these ponies, but if I have to choose between them and the prisoners, I’ll sacrifice those who want to take lives.

Celestia... forgive me.

I fire.

The three craft split away as my tracer rounds cut through the sky. One's hit, causing it to wobble and weave before plunging into the sand, crumpling like a tin can.

The second and third craft split apart, forcing me to choose between the two. I spin left and try to hit the engines of the craft, but the ship’s too fast, and the soldiers take aim at me.

I fire again.

Soldiers plunge from the craft without a sound, red mist marking where they were a moment earlier. I keep firing, spraying the hull until the craft disintegrates and falls into the sand, joining the other rusted husks to bake under the merciless sun.

I can only spare a quick prayer for the fallen soldiers as I spun the turret back around to the third and final craft. It’s coming in fast, the soldiers unloading everything they have. The turret’s armor dents as I fire again, trying to hit the craft’s engines. One finally explodes, forcing the craft to pull away. But as it does, a soldier leaps from the hold and lands on the edge of the car behind me.

Not wanting to take another life, I leap from the turret and draw my stun gun. A quick shot and he’ll...

I stop.

The pony before me isn’t a soldier.

It’s Iron Hoof.

Iron Hoof glares at me, his mane and coat billowing from the wind as the train races past another support pole.

“I underestimated you, Silverspeak,” he calls out. “Accept my apologies. It won’t happen again.”

I yank the trigger. If I can take Iron Hoof-

A bang, and the stun gun flies from my hooves.

Iron Hoof holds a service revolver in hoof, smoke drifting from the barrel. He walks towards me, the gun aimed at my forehead.

“Surrender, Silverspeak, and I will spare you and everyone on this train. Even Chrysalis.”

“You gain nothing by killing me,” I say, fighting to keep my voice calm and controlled. It’s not easy with a gun pointed at my face. “You lose the one pony who can help you keep control of everyone once all this is over."

Pausing, Iron Hoof studies me, considering my words.

The revolver’s slipped back into its holster.

“You're coming back with me, Silverspeak," Iron Hoof says. "Now, are you going to come quietly, or will I have to do this the hard way?”

I’m no fighter. Never have been, and never will. But there's nowhere to go, and my silver tongue won't work here.

This a battle that words cannot win.

I ready myself to leap, leaving no doubt about my answer.

Iron Hoof cracks his hooves, shaking his head in disappointment. “So be it.”

I launch myself into the air, rearing back to smash a hoof into Iron Hoof’s head. But my leg’s grabbed and twisted, tossing me aside. I hit hard and roll as Iron Hoof runs at me. Leaping up, I charge back, swinging wildly, Iron Hoof weaving back and forth like a dancer. Not a single blow hits, but I keep trying. One hit is all I need to put him down.

Spinning, Iron Hoof tries to kick me. I grab his leg and spin him overhead, slamming him into the roof so hard that it dents beneath him. Rearing back, I finally land a blow, hitting him hard enough to hear bones crunching... but it’s not bone.

It’s... metal?

I’m kicked back, and dent the roof as I land.

Standing, Iron Hoof yanks off his coat and lets it be carried away by the wind. His chest sparks, torn skin revealing a mechanical frame beneath.

A cyborg... Iron Hoof’s a cyborg!

I rise, panting and wheezing. It’s a struggle to breathe, and Iron Hoof charges, throwing blow after blow, forcing me to go on the defensive. I kick and block as fast as I can, but Iron Hoof's faster, hitting me again and again, metal crumpling beneath his blows. My artificial body lets me fight like someone half my age, but so does Iron Hoof’s.

A blow to the chest knocks the wind from me. A second throws me across the car. I reach out, but there’s nothing to grab!

Buck!

I scream as I spin head over heels, falling off the train.

No! No I’m going to- wait!

Thrusting my hooves forward, I contract the muscles within and shoot to the side of the car, the thick magnets slamming into the metal and holding fast.

Thank you, Coin Counter!

I want to hang there and recover from almost falling to my death, but I don’t have the time; disabling one hoof, I swing down and activate it again, then do the same to the other one. I reach the bottom of the car and make my way underneath the train as quickly as I can, raising my legs as rusted vehicles pass beneath me.

Keep going, Silverspeak. Don’t stop!

Reaching the other side of the car, I peer up.

No sign of Iron Hoof.

Going as quietly as I can, I make my way up the side of the car. If I can catch Iron Hoof unaware, I can-

Two hooves grab me and slam me onto the roof.

Buck!

I swing and hit Iron Hoof as hard as I can in the chest. He yells and throws me across the car, the impact denting my frame.

Blast it all, this isn’t working! I’ve gotten a few good blows in, but they’ve done little to stop my adversary. He’s not even breathing hard, while my systems are scrambling to finish emergency repairs. Iron Hoof’s cyborg body is stronger than mine, faster than mine, and three times as durable.

If I’m going to win this fight, I have to use the only advantage I have left.

I focus on Iron Hoof, gathering energy to my horn. I won’t risk a spell that could kill or knock him out; that would take too much energy. But it won’t take much to make him trip and send him off the train’s edge.

Celestia, please let this work...

I fir... oh Celestia! Buck! Oh, buck, that hurts!

I force myself to force my eyes open. Please tell it worked. Please...

Iron Hoof’s standing on the roof, and still on his hooves.

I fire again, and can’t suppress the shriek of pain that comes with it. But the spell flies true, and it...

Vanishes?

What on earth?!

Amused at my confusion, Iron Hoof rips off a chunk of his skin, revealing the reinforced frame beneath, and numerous strips of black rock interwoven with the tubes and pipes.

Black rocks... wait. Is that the magic-canceling material Onyx Shield told me about? If it is, then Iron Hoof laced his body with it, making any magical attacks useless.

No sooner does the realization sink in than Iron Hoof charges again. I kick, but he ducks and tosses me over his shoulder. Before I can rise, he’s on top of me, pinning me down.

“You fought well,” Iron Hoof says.

His legs lock around my neck and squeeze harder than any organic leg can.

I can’t breathe!

“You will serve me, Silverspeak, whether you want to or-”

A loud bang, and Iron Hoof’s gone.

Gasping for air, I look down the train to see Queen Chrysalis rushing towards me, firing a rifle as quickly as she can. Rolling clear, I look back to see Iron Hoof getting back to his hooves, his body jerking as it’s hit again and again.

Chrysalis roars with the fury of the damned seeking vengeance on their tormentor.

Iron Hoof yanks out his revolver and fires, shooting Chrysalis’ gun from her grasp. She ducks behind the turret, shrieking at the indignity of being denied her revenge as Iron Hoof fires again and again.

Something beeps on Iron Hoof’s belt. Keeping the gun up, he takes a small radio and holds it to his ear. I can’t hear much over the howling of the wind, but there is something about something empty. The fortress?

Switching frequencies on his radio, Iron Hoof presses a red button. Moments later, and another transport ship swoops down from the clouds.

Chrysalis dashes from the turret to attack, only to retreat behind it again as the transport’s own turrets open fire, pinning her down.

“This is your last chance, Silverspeak!” Iron Hoof yells.

There’s no words in any language to convey my defiance, so I settle for a disgusted glare.

Frowning, Iron Hoof takes a remote from his belt, one that holds a single button.

“If you will not serve me, Silverspeak, then you will serve no one!”

He presses the button.

The transport pulls alongside the train, and Iron Hoof leaps into the hold. Grabbing a support bar, he glares back at me as his craft flies away.

“Come back here!” Chrysalis howls, running from her hiding place. “Come back here, coward!”

The ship banks into the clouds, the engines roaring.

Why is it going so fast?

Chrysalis curses, smashing her hooves into the car’s roof. “Coward! Always fleeing to save his own skin!”

I’m in no mood to argue or agree with the queen. Being alive is enough for me. Finally able to breathe again, I activate the radio. “Green Wing, we’re clear. No fighters in sight.”

“Good. We’re en-route. ETA Five minutes.”

Chrysalis continues to stare at the sky, fuming.

“Chrysalis?”

“What?”

“That remote Iron Hoof used. What was it for?”

The queen’s anger vanishes. “What did you say?”

“Iron Hoof said that if I wouldn’t serve him, I wouldn’t serve anyone, and then pressed a button on a small remote.”

Chrysalis stares at me, and I see something I’d never thought I’d see on the Queen of the Changelings: Fear.

She’s scared out of her mind.

“Call your transport,” she says, her eyes wide. “Tell them we need to be picked up now!”

I almost ask why, but decide against it at hearing the panic in Chrysalis’ voice. “Green Wing? We need to get picked up now.”

“This thing is only so fast, Silverspeak. We’ll be there in-”

“Iron Hoof has launched his weapon!” Chrysalis shrieks. “The Empyrean bomb!”

Empyrean bomb? “Green Wing, Iron Hoof’s launched something called an Empyrean bomb.”

Silence.

“Green Wing? Did you hear-”

“Punch the engines!” Green Wing’s yelling at someone. “Maximum power!”

“Green Wing, what’s happening?!”

The voice that comes from the speakers is almost a scream. “Silverspeak, get everyone on top of that train now!”

“On it!” I want to ask what this Empyrean bomb is, but if both Chrysalis and Green Wing are scared out of their minds, they must have good reason to be. “Chrysalis, get everyone onto the roof!” I run for the control car before she can answer, jumping inside to find the guards still working the controls.

“Push the engines to maximum!” I say. “And get onto the roof!”

“Sir, what’s-”

“We have an Empyrean bomb inbound!” I hurry back to the roof and find prisoners climbing onto the top of the cars. Thank goodness; if we can get all of them-

Something glints in the sky.

Everyone looks up. One by one, they recognize it.

Ponies clutch each other. Others weep.

I’m about to ask Green Wing where she is when the thing in the sky picks up speed, racing down so fast that it’s almost like-

Light. Light so bright and painful that I have to turn away. 

Ponies scream, but the sound is drowned out by a roar.

A wave of intense heat washes over me and I’m thrown onto my side. Only a fast grip of the magnets in my hooves keeps me from falling off the train.

The light fades. 

Squinting, I turn back towards the horizon, trying to make out what’s-

I freeze.

Miles away from us, where the fortress once stood, a giant cloud of ash, smoke, and fire rises into the sky, ugly and red, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. It eclipses skyscrapers and mountains alike, rising so fast and so high that I have tilt my head back to see the top, where tendrils of smoke billow outwards like daggers.

Sweet Celestia...

A rumble makes me look back down, and I see something impossible,

The earth is breaking up, rising like a tidal wave of rocks, rubble, and stone, tons of debris carried up as if they weighed nothing.

The wave gets taller as it races towards us.

Ponies scream.

Oh Celestia.... oh Celestia, what do I do?! There’s no sign of Green Wing or any transports. I can’t fly out, and the few pegasi we have among our number can’t carry everyone, and there are too many ponies to teleport out.

“Chrysalis! Get everyone to the front of the train!” Going to the nearest hatch, I jump down, landing among boxes of cargo and supplies. “Is anyone in here?!” I yell.

Hooves thunder overhead, and I can faintly hear Chrysalis yelling something.

I run to the next car, and then the one after that. A part of me yells that I need to get to the roof, but I can’t risk leaving anyone behind. There could be a child here, a parent, or a spouse, and I couldn’t look myself in the mirror tomorrow if I knew I had left one behind.

I enter the last car. “Is anyone in here?!”

A cough. A weak one, near the back.

I rush to a back corner and find a pony lying on the floor, thin and weakened from disease, and probably incapacitated by a stun round. I slip him onto my back and run up a nearby ladder, throwing the hatch open and climbing out, using my wings to keep the pony on my back.

Reaching the roof, I glance back.

My legs almost give out beneath me.

The wall of earth and rubble towers above us, almost blocking out the sun.

“Green Wing!” I scream into my radio. “Where are you?!”

“Almost there!”

A boulder the size of a city slams into the earth.

“Hurry!”

More boulders slam down, rubble pelting the train’s side, making it sway, forcing me to engage my magnets to stay upright. The ponies ahead aren’t as lucky; I hear screams, and have a brief, but heartbreaking view of someone falling off.

The pony on my back screams. 

I spin to see another boulder coming down. It misses us by mere feet, almost scraping the paint off the car.

I run for my life, leaping from car to car, not daring to look back. I can’t stop, can’t think. If I do, I’m dead, and I am not dying today. Not here, and not now!

A boulder slams into the train, crushing the three cars behind me as if they were made of tissue paper.

The pony on my back clings to me, screaming, convinced he’s about to die.

I activate my radio once more. “Green Wing! If you don’t get here now, we are going to die!”

One of the prisoners looks up, a hoof shooting towards the sky.

I look up as something swoops down from the clouds above. It’s a transport, and a big one, racing for the train as fast as it can go. It pulls up alongside, where a hatch opens. Green Wing stands behind it, bracing herself against the frame as she throws a ramp onto the car.

“Get on!” she shouts. “Now!”

The prisoners run up the ramp as fast as they can.

Chunks of mountains slam into the earth around us as dust and debris turns day to night.

The last of the prisoners rush onto the transport. Only Chrysalis and myself are left.

“Silverspeak!” Green Wing screams. “Move it!”

Chrysalis races ahead and onto the transport. Green Wing recognizes her, but the queen is onboard before she can protest.

The train shakes, and the transport is forced to pull up.

I heave the injured pony off my back and throw him towards the ramp. Green Wing lunges forward and grabs hold, dragging him inside. When he’s gone, she reaches out.

“Silverspeak, come on!”

I don’t dare look back as I hear metal screaming, instead leaping for the transport, my hoof stretched out-

The transport lurches up, Green Wing’s hoof just missing mine.

“No!” I scream. “NO!”

Something falls from the transport and hits the train. And them I’m suddenly flying through the sky.

Green Wing grabs my hoof and somehow drags me inside. But how? What tossed me up?

I look down to see Chrysalis on the train’s roof.

The back of the train is thrown into the air as the wave slams into it.

“Go! Green Wing yells to the pilot. “Go-”

There’s no time to think. I lean down, extending my hoof as far as it will go. 

Chrysalis jumps.

We reach for each other... 

I just barely grab her hoof.

I yank, muscles of steel and motors dragging Chrysalis onboard and past the ramp as it retracts, the hatch closing behind it.

“Get us out of here!” Green Wing screams.

Unseen engines roar, and the three of us are slammed into a wall, glued in place as the transport races ahead. I can barely see through the forward windows, only catching glimpses of falling earth and rubble as the pilot spins, dives, and rises, trying to outrace death itself.

I want to help, to use my magic, to do anything, but there’s nothing I can do. No, that’s not true.

I can pray.

Please let us get out of this, I think. To who, I don’t know. The Creator of All Things, Celestia, the Universe, it doesn’t matter. I can’t die here, not yet, not like this.

Beakbreaker… please, let me see her one more time…

With a yell, the pilot hits some emergency thrusters, and the transport accelerates even faster, until breathing itself is almost impossible.

A boulder larger than Canterlot falls before us.

“Hang on!” The pilot yells. He pushes the control stick down as fast as he can, the cabin shaking so badly that glass cracks.

The boulder fills our view.

I slam my eyes shut.

Oh please, let this be quick...

Nothing happens.

“We’re clear!” the pilot yells.

The roar ceases. The engines slow, and I cautiously open my eyes. Ponies around me look to one another. Most cry. Some huddle against one another in shared shock.

I reach down and touch my limbs to make sure I can feel them, and that this isn’t a dying dream. I even bite my lip to be sure it’s real.

It is.

We made it.

My legs wobble as I stand and peer out the nearest window. Below us, the wall of rubble and the cloud continue to grow as we race away.

“Where’s Spike?” I ask Green Wing.

Shaken as she is, it takes Green Wing a moment to answer. “Back at base. Had him teleported back. Nothing he could have done against an Empyrean bomb.”

I look down to Chrysalis. Like the others, she’s shaken, amazed that she survived. No one else had a closer call than her... and it was to save my life.

“You saved me,” I say.

The queen looks to me. “Because I need you,” she says.

She didn’t save me out of friendship... I should be upset or disappointed, but if I’m honest with myself, I don’t care. Disappointment can come later.

I’m just glad to be alive.

The transport continues on, flying towards the clear sky above.
> A Brief Rest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The danger has passed. I should stop shaking, but the full impact of what happened is hitting me hard. I came within a heartbeat of dying. Had a few things gone differently, if the slightest mistake had been made, me and everyone else would all be dead.

Dead... Wait! The tumor!

I struggle to yank out one of Silver Scalpel’s syringes. It’s hard to hold onto it, but I manage to inject myself. Oh please, don’t let it be too late. I should have done this after casting those spells, but I wasn’t thinking straight. Curse me, I couldn’t take thirty seconds to inject myself!

There. The syringe is empty. The drug’s in my system, and it’ll slow the tumor. It’s not so potent that it’ll grow large enough to kill me in less than an hour. No tumor can grow that fast. I’m still safe.

Aren’t I?

No. No, don’t think like that, Silverspeak. Those thoughts won’t help you. What’s done is done. You were too focused on staying alive and trying to escape when you cast that spell. No one would blame me for forgetting to inject myself. There’s no point in panicking and fearing what may happen.

I look to my fellow passengers. Like me, they’re shaking. Whether from excitement or shock, I can’t tell. Even Chrysalis has tremors.

Inside the cockpit, the pilot works the buttons on his console. A small vortex of energy appears before us, and then grows larger as we pass through it. A momentary queasiness washes over, but then it passes as we emerge into the hangar of the Resistance’s moon base.

With the ease of someone who’s done this hundreds of times, the pilot moves the ship into one of the larger docking bays. When clamps are attached and the ship secured, the exit hatch slides open, and the boarding ramp unfurls, touching down on the walkway beyond.

Standing, I walk off the ship and back onto solid ground. Oh Celestia... I never knew it would feel so satisfying to stand on something so wonderfully still and strong.

A cry catches my attention, and I spin before realizing that it’s not a cry of despair, but of joy. The hangar is filled with ponies and beings of other species, probably gathered here at learning that prisoners have been liberated from Iron Hoof’s fortress. One of those prisoners has wrapped her hooves around a stallion and a young child.

More cries fill the air as more ponies emerge from the airship, running to their loved ones.

“I’ll admit it-”

I turn. Onyx’s walking up to me, nodding in admiration.

“-I didn’t think you could pull it off. But fate seems to have smiled on you.” He takes my hoof and shakes it. “Well done.”

Perhaps it’s fatigue or the last residue of the shock, but all I can manage is a grateful nod.

Onyx lowers his hoof. “I know you want to rest and recover, but no one ever managed to infiltrate Iron Hoof’s southern fortress and escape. This should wait for a debriefing, but did you find anything that could help us?”

Oh no... how do I tell him that-

“Look!”

I turn at the terrified shout, and see Queen Chrysalis atop the ramp, caught trying to sneak off unnoticed, and now every security guard in sight raises their weapons.

“No!” I run to the ramp and throw myself before Chrysalis. “Don’t shoot!”

“Hold your fire!” Onyx shouts. “Silverspeak, get out of the way!”

I shake my head as fast as I can. “Onyx, listen, she-”

“Silverspeak!” Onyx yells as loudly as he can. “Get out of the way!”

“She knows where Celestia and the Bearers are!”

Onyx freezes in place.

“She knows where Celestia is,” I repeat, feeling my artificial heart hammering against metal ribs. “If she dies, then they die!”

The guards look to each other, unsure whether to fire or hold their ground. It may have been decades since Chrysalis’ last attack against Canterlot, but no one has forgotten it, nor are they in a forgiving mood.

“You’re sure of this?” Onyx growls.

I nod.

The seconds pass, each one longer than the last.

Onyx looks to Chrysalis, then myself. He doesn’t want to relinquish the chance of eliminating Chrysalis once and for all, but grits his teeth and lets out a long hiss. “Very well. But she stays under guard until Luna says otherwise.”

Chrysalis starts to yell, enraged at the prospect of being treated like a criminal, but realizes the value of not insulting her hosts, and stays silent.

Glancing back to make sure she won’t do something stupid, I head down the ramp and step away. Onyx nods to four guards, who surround Chrysalis, their weapons drawn. She flinches, but doesn’t lash out.

“Take her to the conference room,” Onyx tells the guards. “Don’t let her out of your sight.” Then, to another guard, “Come with me. We need to inform Luna of what’s happened.”

Onyx rushes from the hanger. The guards follow after him, escorting Chrysalis past the stunned resistance members, prisoners, and their families. She refuses to return their gaze, defiantly looking straight ahead.

I walk besides the guards. Not to give Chrysalis emotional support, but to let her know I haven’t forgotten our arrangement.

I hope she keeps her end of it.


***


The trip down to the conference room takes five minutes. We would ordinarily get there in half the time, but our progress is slowed by the crowds lining the hall. Guards fight to hold back angry ponies and members of the Resistance who scream insults at the Queen, wanting her head mounted on the wall, or, better yet, jammed onto a pike.

Chrysalis ignores the pandemonium, keeping her gaze forward and refusing to look anyone in the eye.

We finally reach the lift and ride it down to the conference room. King Thorax, Onyx, Green Wing, Ember, and numerous other important-looking representatives of the Resistance are waiting for us. There are gasps at seeing Equestria’s oldest enemy brought inside, and while there are no jeers or yells, I can see that most are pleased – even gleeful – at seeing Chrysalis humbled.

Onyx motions for Chrysalis to be brought to the table. The guards do so, and she takes a seat, the guards staying close. Onyx motions for me to sit beside him, which I do.

“Keep an eye on her,” Onyx whispers. “Luna wants you to make sure she doesn’t lie to us.”

I nod, but I doubt Chrysalis would do so; if Luna and the others learn that Chrysalis’ information, whatever it may, is false, Chrysalis would find herself back in a cell, this time never to be let out again.

Chrysalis’ gaze goes to Thorax, and his reflective eyes meet hers. They look at each other, but only for a moment before Chrysalis turns away in disgust.

The doors creak as they’re swung open. Several royal guards enter, followed by Princess Luna.

Chrysalis stiffens at seeing the princess.

Luna looks to the Queen, and for a long moment they stare into each others eyes, as if daring each other to make the first move.

It’s Luna who speaks first. “Queen Chrysalis.”

“Princess Luna,” Chrysalis says in the harshest ‘I-hate-you-so-much’ voice I’ve ever heard.

Not interested in trading insults or wasting time, Luna decides to get right to the point. “I have been informed that you know where my sister and the Bearers are,” she says upon taking a seat.

Chrysalis nods.

“Where are they?”

“Somewhere up north, far beyond the uncharted regions of the icy seas, in Iron Hoof’s main fortress.”

Luna’s teeth grind against one another. She’s in no mood for vague statements. “And where is this fortress?”

“I... do not know.”

What?! I leap to my hooves. “You told me you knew!” I yell at Chrysalis. I went through all that effort to break her out, risking death itself, all for a lie?!

A sly smile. “A half-truth,” Chrysalis says. “I do not know where the fortress is... but I know how to find its location.” She points to the map of Equestria upon the wall. “Iron Hoof never told me exactly where Celestia and the Bearers were kept, only that before they were shipped off, they were taken to a research base between the Haysead Swamps and the Forbidden Jungle. It is where Iron Hoof’s research on cybernetics and technology is carried out. If there is any information on where Celestia and the Bearers were taken, you will find it there.”

“Onyx,” Luna says, “prepare a scouting party.”

Onyx rushes from the room without a word.

“I am surprised, Chrysalis,” Ember says, enjoying the sight of a former enemy cowering before the princess. “Iron Hoof did not take you, one of his greatest allies, to his main fortress?”

“No,” Chrysalis growls. “Though we were allies, he never fully trusted me. He always believed I would betray him.”

“Then you know nothing about his plans, I take it?”

“Only that he wants to create a utopia for ponies, and ponies alone. All others are to be cast out, sent to Black Fang for-”

“Black Fang?” Ember’s eyes narrow. “Who’s Black Fang?”

The others look to Chrysalis, Luna included. While Green Wing probably radioed ahead to inform them that the Arch-dragons had a leader, this would be their first chance to learn about this foe.

“He is the leader of the Arch-dragons, and the first of their kind. I do not know how he and Iron Hoof first met, but they formed an alliance, with the promise that after Equestria was purged of everyone who wasn’t a pony, the Arch-dragons would get a new homeland of their own.”

“New homeland?” Luna asks.

“This was their original homeland,” Chrysalis says as she taps the table, unaware that she’s no longer on Equestria. “Before it was taken from them in the pony-dragon war. But it wasn’t going to work out; Iron Hoof was planning to wipe them out once his war was over, but Celestia saved him the trouble.”

“How?” Luna asks.

“It was two years ago: We had finally found her in the west, trying to take a sapling from a tree of harmony. Iron Hoof and Black Fang rallied their forces. Tens of thousands of soldiers and every Arch-dragon charged the princess, myself among them. We thought we could take her... but we were wrong.”

Chrysalis pauses. She doesn’t like the memory of what came next.

“She was ready for us. She brought the wrath of the sun upon us all, burning every Arch-dragon to ash.” The Queen shakes her head. “Few survived. I was on the verge of death. So was Iron Hoof and Black Fang. Celestia would have won that day, had she not been so exhausted from her efforts. Only then was Black Fang able to incapacitate her with the last of his magic. And ever since, she has been imprisoned.”

The others look to one another, murmuring amongst themselves. Some with fear, some with hope, and others a mix of the two.

“Chrysalis,” I say. “Iron Hoof told me that Black Fang has a plan to bring down the Resistance. What do you know about it?”

“Nothing,” Chrysalis says with disgust. “Black Fang and I never spoke. I was beneath his gaze, as Iron Hoof put it. I don’t know what his great and glorious plan is, but whatever it may be, he has the power to do it.”

“And how do you know that?” Ember asks.

“Because unlike other dragons, Black Fang has the ability to cast magic on par with alicorns. Now that he has recovered from the battle with Celestia, he is at his full strength. If he wanted to scorch the surface of the planet, poison the air, or unleash a plague that would poison all life, he can do so.”

“Then how do we stop him?!” Ember demands.

“Casting such magic takes time. If you could find him while he is summoning his spells, you could kill him. But Black Fang hides himself well, and he will not leave his lair until it is too late.”

“And where is this lair of his?” Luna asks, her voice warning Chrysalis that she won’t take kindly to more half-truths.

“Once again, I do not know,” Chrysalis confesses.

Luna’s eyes darken.

“I was never told where his lair was,” Chrysalis says. “He and Iron Hoof communicated via magic. I only met him during the battle against Celestia, and when it was over he retreated back into hiding.” She points to the map again. “However, I did overhear some of Iron Hoof’s generals; apparently all non-ponies who were captured were sent to Black Fang after the research facility was done with them.”

So that’s it... if we go to this facility, we not only learn where Celestia and the Bearers are, but also where Black Fang is hiding. Two goals for the price of one.

No... not two. Three.

“What about the scientists there?” I ask.

“You mean, was your wife stationed there? Yes, she was. I see no reason why Iron Hoof would change that.”

Thank Celestia...

“There’s one thing you haven’t explained,” Thorax says. “You were once on Iron Hoof’s good side. How did that change?”

Chrysalis scowls at Thorax, not wanting to even look at him. “After the battle with Celestia, he was weak and wounded. I realized it was my chance to eliminate him and take his place. I waited until there was a storm to cover his screams before going to his hospital room. All it would take was an injection of poison to stop his heart.”

Chrysalis stops, biting her lip in suppressed rage at a mistake that cost her everything.

“I had not counted on Iron Hoof realizing that he would be vulnerable. Before we had gone into battle against Celestia, he had informed his guards to stay hidden in his hospital room, should he be injured. When I took out the syringe, they caught me. And when Iron Hoof learned what I had done, he had my wings and horn ripped off and locked me away to rot.” She looks to me. “But not before sending you to make my remaining days as miserable as possible.”

“Enough.” Luna rises in her seat. “Do you have anything else to tell us, Chrysalis?”

A sly smile comes across Chrysalis’ face. “I have given you all I know. I expect to be compensated accordingly.”

“For now, you will remain in the brig. We will take further action when Onyx has completed his survey of the jungle. For your sake, I hope you told the truth.”

Chrysalis offers no reply as she’s escorted from the room, standing tall and defiant as she passes those around the table. Only when she’s gone, and the doors closed, does Luna let her guard down and slump back in her chair. No one objects as she spends several moments rubbing her eyes, the overwhelming weight of all that’s just happened hitting her.

“Silverspeak... Was she telling the truth?”

I nod.

“You are sure?”

“She lied to me earlier,” I admit, “but she didn’t withhold anything from us.”

“She could still be working for Iron Hoof,” Ember says. “I mean no offense, Silverspeak, but for all we know, she and Iron Hoof schemed to deceive us. What better way to bring down an organization than by infiltrating it and spreading lies?”

“Iron Hoof wouldn’t have known that I was coming back after I escaped,” I point out. “Or that I would try to find Chrysalis and break her out. I didn’t even know she was allied with him.”

“That is true,” Ember begrudgingly admits. “But let us not forget that we are dealing with Chrysalis, a deceiver of the highest order. I would not put it past her tell the truth about the temple, but lie about what’s happening there.”

Luna holds up a hoof to calm the queen of the dragons. “We will take all precautions, Ember. No one has forgotten what Chrysalis has done in the past. But our need is great, and she is the only lead we have. Now, the matter of Black Fang concerns me. If we are going against a dragon powerful enough to fight my sister, we must find a way to defeat him quickly. Ember, I leave that matter to you.”

Ember nods. “Would you prefer to have him subdued or eliminated?”

Luna opens her mouth to answer, but pauses, having second thoughts. She doesn’t know which answer to give.

“I’ll look into both methods,” Ember says.

Nodding, Luna looks the others. “We will wait until Onyx’s squad returns before making our next course of action.”

One of the older ponies raises his leg. “Your Highness? If Chrysalis is lying and we can’t find Celestia, what are we going to do?”

Silence hangs heavy in the room.

“Let us pray," Luna says, "that Chrysalis wasn’t lying.”


***


With the meeting concluded, the leaders of the Resistance go their separate ways. Luna’s the last to leave, her face heavy with the new burdens and worries that have been placed upon her.

I hurry to Luna as she makes her way to the lift. “Princess? If Onyx forms a team to reach this research station, I would like to come along.”

Luna sighs. “I had figured you would say so. You may, provided Silver Scalpel gives you a clean bill of health.”

Wait, that’s it? I thought the princess would discourage me from going, saying that I would be too old or too emotionally attached at finding Beakbreaker, which would affect my judgment in the field.

“Should we capture any high-ranking scientist or field officers, your silver tongue would help in their interrogations,” Luna explains. “Which is why I must ask you not to put yourself in harm’s way.” She gestures to my chest. “I will have a mechanic come and repair your damage. He will meet you in your quarters.”

“Actually, your Highness, I would prefer if he meet me in the temple.”

“You are going to pray, Silverspeak?”

“Something like that, yes.”

Luna contemplates our answer. “In our situation, we need all the help we can get.” 

She heads for the lift.

“Princess?”

Luna stops.

“We’ll find your sister. I know we will.”

Luna says nothing, but she does give me a small smile. Before I can say anything more, Luna gets onto the lift and rides it up, leaving me to myself.


***


The temple’s empty when I pass through its towering doors. Candles flicker as I walk to the frontmost bench and take a seat. Before leaving to face Iron Hoof and free his prisoners, I had promised myself to pray for Coin Counter when I returned, but now I need to add the soldiers who's lives I ended to that list.

I bow my head, closing my eyes, letting the temple’s silence sink into me. It takes several minutes before I feel calm and serene enough to petition the unknown with my request.

“I know it’s been years since he passed,” I whisper, “But I pray that Coin Counter has found peace, wherever he may be. After all he endured in life, he deserves it... And so do the soldiers whose lives I ended.” I look up towards the ceiling. “Let them find peace as well.”

The doors open as someone else comes in.

“Silverspeak?”

I turn to find Green Wing beside me, carrying a tightly-wrapped bundle with her.

“You don’t strike me as the praying type.”

“I don’t do it often,” I admit.

She looks me over. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Actually, I could use the company.” I scoot over, and she sits beside me. “I never would have imagined you being the praying type either.”

“I don’t pray to gods, the universe, or fate,” Green Wing says, scowling at the thought. “The only one I pray to is the one dearest to me.”

Who could that... oh. 

“Your husband?” I ask.

Green Wing nods sadly. “I ask him for strength when everything is lost, and for courage when I can’t go on.”

Her bundle wiggles.

“But most of all, I ask him to watch over her.” Reaching down, Green Wing rolls her bundle over. “My daughter. Gold Wing.”

Tightly nestled within the bundle is a changeling infant. She can’t be more than a year old. Reflective eyes look back at me as I lean in, squinting as I adjust my glasses. I rarely get to see changeling infants this close; most of them rarely leave their nest or homes, so I-

A tiny foreleg shoots out and hits my nose. I instinctively pull back, surprised. 

Gold Wing giggles.

“She does that to everyone she meets,” Green Wing says, amused.

Still giggling, Gold Wing reaches out with her tiny legs. But she’s not stretching out for her mother, but for... me?

“Looks like she wants a hug,” Green Wing says. “Care to indulge her?”

Those forelegs wiggle even faster.

I’ve never held a child before. Shouldn’t be that difficult, though. Just pick her up, hold her firmly, and make sure she doesn’t wiggle out of my grasp. How difficult can that be?

Reaching down, I carefully slip my hooves around Gold Wing’s bundle and bring her up, taking care to support her under her back and around the side to make her feel comfortable and secure. It seems to work, for the infant's tiny eyes close as she emits a content cooing sound.

“I think she likes you,” Green Wing says with a smirk.

“Yes,” I say, surprised at how quickly the child settled down. “She appears to.”

“Whenever I’m on a mission, one of the nurses or another fighter will take care of her. Gold Wing loves them all.” Green Wing studies her daughter. “She can never have enough affection.”

The tiny little bundle continues to coo.

“Your wife used to watch after her,” Green Wing says. “Loved doing so, too. Never could stand giving her up whenever I returned.”

“She wanted a child,” I say. “Before all this began, she told me how she wanted to be a mother.”

“She spent a lot of time with the young ones we have here,” Green Wing says. “Did it every day, no matter how busy she got.” She looks to the altar. “She always made sure to come here, too. Came to pray for you, hoping you’d wake up from whatever spell you were under. Even when her prayers weren’t answered, she didn’t give up.”

“Maybe they were,” I say. “After all, you found me.”

The idea surprises Green Wing; it seems the thought never crossed her mind.

I stroke Gold Wing’s cheeks. “Do you think prayers are answered, Green Wing?”

“If there are any gods out there, Silverspeak, they ignore the prayers for this war to end. They ignore prayers for Celestia to be found.” Green Wing breathes deeply, but her breathing sounds more like a hiss. “They ignored my prayers to save my husband.”

I say nothing.

“If this war is going to end, it’s up to us to make it happen.” She indicates Gold Wing. “If my daughter is going to have a future, it’s up to me to build it for her.”

“You don’t have to do it by yourself,” I assure her. “You have me. You have all of us to help.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Silverspeak. And I appreciate you wanting to help. But sentiment isn’t going to help us win.”

We’re both silent for a while.

“What about you, Silverspeak? Do you believe in gods? In prayer?”

“I don’t know what’s out there,” I say. “I think there is something. Fate, maybe. An intelligence of some kind. Whatever it is, I think it’s a chess player, moving us around for its own ends, ignoring our cries and protests as it does so. Occasionally it may listen and change its mind, for both good and ill.”

“Better not to tempt it, then.”

“Something like that, yes.”

Gold Wing yawns, stretching her legs. She looks at me briefly, and then turns its attention to Green Wing, stretching her legs towards her. I return her; no sense in keeping her from her mother.

“Boss?”

Turning, I find Gusty walking up to me, wearing saddlebags stuffed with nuts, bolts, and other mechanical parts.

“Gusty. You here to pray, too?”

He chuckles. “Me? Nah. I’m here to fix your frame.”

“You?”

“Ah, Luna didn’t tell you? I help repair the cyborgs we have on staff.” He indicates for me to follow him. “Let’s go. This is no place to perform surgery.”

Nodding, I stand and follow him between the benches. Yet, it doesn’t feel right to leave without saying one last thing.

“Green Wing?”

She looks to me.

“Thank you for saving my life earlier today. And the lives of everyone else.”

She waves it off. “It was nothing.”

“It was. I imagine all those prisoners prayed for freedom. If so, they were answered. Not by gods, but by you.”

As I follow Gusty out, I look back to see Green Wing rocking her daughter, deep in thought.


***


“Welcome to residential,” Gusty says as the lift comes to a stop. “It ain’t the suburbs, but it’s the best we got.”

This place is most definitely not the suburbs: A long, simple corridor has been carved into rock, each side holding dozens of doors, each adorned with a number and whatever decorations their occupants have drawn or hung upon them. I follow Gusty as he heads to one of the doors in the back.

“Here we are. Home sweet home.”

The door’s opened, and we both enter. The room’s scarcely bigger than a bathroom, just big enough to hold a small toilet, a closet, and a bunk that can hold two ponies.

“Is everyone’s quarters this small?” I ask.

“Yep. Even Luna’s. She refuses to have something bigger than the rest of us.” With a clap, Gusty rubs his hooves together. “Right. Onto the bed with ya.”

I glance back. “Come again?”

“That’s where I’ll fix you up. That is, unless you want me to do repairs while you lie on the floor.”

I’d rather not, so I get onto the bed and lie on my back. Gusty pulls up a chair, lights a few crystals embedded in the wall, and pulls various tools from his saddlebags. “Just a heads-up: this will take a while. You’re an outdated model, but that’s a good thing.”

“It is?”

“Less parts. Easier to fix. Not like the bodies we have nowadays. So many components and gears and tubes and wires and chips and whatnot. Way too complex if you ask me.”

A cable’s threaded into the hole in my chest. Uncomfortable, but not painful.

“Nervous?” Gusty asks.

I shake my head. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Yeah; hard to top a head transplant while you’re still awake.”

Gusty squeezes a pair of pliers, and my legs jerk involuntarily.

“Other ponies like to have something to squeeze when they’re being fixed, so don’t feel ashamed if you want to do the same.” Peering away from the hole in my chest, Gusty looks around the room. “Come to think of it, I know just the thing.”

Reaching under the bunk, Gusty pulls something out and puts it on my chest. I look down and-

Wait. Is that-

“Beakbreaker found that,” Gusty says. “Went back to Canterlot two years after it fell. Went through the wreckage trying to find some equipment and scrolls, and found your old apartment. And what do you know? She finds this.”

Little Celestia looks at me. Her paint is cracked and chipping, and her hair’s faded, but despite the passing of time, her smile’s still there.

“Beakbreaker brought it back with her.” Gusty explains. “Planned to give it to you when you were rescued.”

My hooves shake as I take Little Celestia and look her over, her tiny eyes never leaving mine. My gosh, I never thought looking at a child’s toy could make my heart ache so much. This Celestia was my companion for so many years. When I had no one else, she was there. When others judged and mocked and threatened me, she never did. I know she’s not real, that she’s just an enchanted statue, but looking at her again is like meeting a friend I haven’t seen in decades, one who still smiles despite life’s efforts to beat her down.

“Gettin’ nostalgic, boss?”

I nod, still looking at Little Celestia. “You could say that.”

“It’s not good to dwell in the past,” Gusty says as he takes a wrench. “That’s what the shrinks on staff say. Need to stay focused on the present, and the future we can still make. But you know what? I like the past. Back when all we had to worry about was flying around from one corner of the globe to another.”

“Amen to that.”

“Not to mention that I was young and dashing, without a saggy bit of skin in sight.”

“It’s not all bad,” I say. “Older wine has more flavor than a new bottle.”

A chuckle. “There’s a fine line between wine and vinegar, and I passed it long ago.”

Gusty keeps working for a while, repairing the damage Iron Hoof inflicted on me.

“So,” Gusty says, wiping some sweat from his brow, “What are you and Beakbreaker gonna do once all this is over?”

My throat tightens. Gusty doesn’t know about my tumor.

“Boss?”

“I’m... I’m not sure, Gusty. Probably spend as much time with her as I can.”

“Wanting to make up for lost time. Good plan. Well, you’ll have plenty of time to do that. Seventy five’s not so bad. And you’re in far better shape than someone like me.”

Do I tell Gusty that I’m not going to reach seventy six? That he’s almost certainly going to outlive me?

Scooting over, Gusty pops open a panel in my lower belly. “And don’t you worry about Beakbreaker. She’s slower than she used to be, and doesn’t do all-nighters anymore, but her spirit’s as strong as ever. She’s in good health, too.” He chuckles. “Maybe if she became a full-on cyborg like you, the two of you will make it to a hundred and seventy five. What stories you’ll be able to tell the younging’s a century from now, eh?”

I should say something. A joke, a quip, something to show that I’m amused at the idea. But I can’t; it doesn’t feel right.

Gusty notices.

“Hey, Boss? Everything alright?”

Gusty’s going to find out about this tumor sooner or later. Best he learned it from me, rather than hearsay.

“No, Gusty. I’m sick.”

“You? You just came back from breaking our oldest enemy out of a fortress which was blown to kingdom come. If you’re sick, you sure fooled me.”

“It’s not a cold or the flu," I say, wanting to get the words out before I lose my nerve. "It’s a tumor. It’s in my brain. It’s... it’s terminal.”

Of all the motormouths I’ve met during my life, none have been as prolific as Gusty. He always has something to say, whether it’s an opinion, some obscure fact he picked up while drinking in a tavern in a faraway land, or a witty joke. And in all those years, I’ve never seen Gusty speechless.

He is now.

“Silver Scalpel’s managed to slow the tumor,” I say, “but he can’t stop it. Neither can Luna. At the rate it’s growing... I’ll be dead by the end of the year.”

A wrench clatters to the floor. A pair of pliers follows moments later.

Gusty stares at me, trying to speak, to find a voice, to give speech to learning that one of his friends is going to die. When that fails, he sits on the edge of the bunk, burying his face in his hooves.

“Boss, I... I’m sorry. I had no idea-”

“It’s alright, Gusty.”

“Alright?! You’re dying!”

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, I am.”

“And you... You’re just going to accept it?”

“I can’t stop it, Gusty. Celestia might be able to, if we can find her,” I say. “If she can’t-”

“No, don’t say that! She can! She’ll be able to heal you, I know it!” Shaking his head, Gusty tries to calm himself down, but he can't. His eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen, his face contorted and twisted with grief. “You can’t die, Silverspeak! You know how many friends I’ve lost? How many have died or been taken by that monster down there?” Gusty grabs me by the shoulders. “I can’t lose you, too!”

I’m suddenly not in this room anymore. I’m back in Saddle Lanka’s ice cream shop over fifty years ago. Celestia… I can still feel the numbness, the shock, the fear that rushed through me when my mother and father told me they were going to die. I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want it to be true. I wanted them to tell me that everything was going to be all right, to tell me the words I needed to hear. But now I’m in their position, and I realize the horrible truth: You can’t convince a loved one to accept the inevitable. Their hold on you, their love, is too strong, and they will never sever it willingly.

Gusty's on the verge of tears as he waits for me to speak, to tell me that everything’s going to be fine. He’s desperate, almost pleading, wanting to hear those words more than anything.

I… I can’t lie to Gusty. I can’t give him what he wants, but I can give him the one thing that kept me going: Hope. Desperate hope, but hope nonetheless.

“I don’t want to die, Gusty,” I say, “and I’m not giving up.” I manage a smile. “You think I want to save Beakbreaker and then spend only a day with her before I kick the bucket?”

A chuckle breaks through Gusty’s pained face. “No.”

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be around,” I assure him, “but I’m going to make every second count. I'm going to see this through.”

Reaching out, Gusty takes my hoof. “You can bet I’ll be there all the way, Boss. If there’s anything I can do to help make it happen, I will.”

Gusty’s never touched me like this before. It’s not the gesture of a love to another, but of someone who wants to comfort someone dear to them.

It feels... good.


***


When Gusty manages to get back to his work, he throws himself into it with unmatched zeal, working with the speed and focus of a youngster, able to ignore his aches and pains as he does his best to bring my body back into working order, putting part after part inside me. Many parts I recognize, but a few I don’t.

“Gusty? Those look like aircraft parts.”

“A few of ‘em are, yeah.” Gusty grabs one without looking up from his task. “Scraps from a project I’m working on. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna put a jet engine on your back or anything. When I’m done, you’ll look just like before, but your insides’ll be a little better.”

I hope so. Yet, I don’t voice that concern. I trust that Gusty knows what he’s doing, and that he wouldn’t make such modifications to me without good reason.

A half hour later, and Gusty turns off his welder, flipping up his visor as he closes a plate. “There. All done.”

Rolling off the bed, I take an assessment of my body as a whole.

“Well, how do ‘ya feel?”

I flex my legs and body. They feel normal, but a bit heavier than before. Thankfully, nothing’s weighted down so much as to be a hindrance. If the added plating and parts gives me more protection in a fight, and the extra weight additional heft when hitting someone, then these are acceptable upgrades.

“They’ll work,” I say. “I’ll just need a little time to adjust and adapt.”

“You will,” Gusty assures me. “With these plates, you’ll be like a walking tank, able to take a lot of small and heavy arms fire. Not that you-”

There’s a knock at the door. Before either of us can open it, it does so on its own, revealing Onyx and Green Wing in the hallway.

“Silverspeak,” Onyx says. “Princess Luna requests your presence in the conference room.”

Putting Little Celestia upon the shelf, I follow the two out, with Gusty following up the rear as we take the lift to the conference room. Perhaps understanding that he’s not required here, Gusty takes it up to the hangar level. But as he leaves, Gusty gives me a worried, yet hopeful glance, probably silently reminding me that I’m not supposed to give up.

Giving him a reassuring nod, I follow Onyx and Green Wing into the conference room. Luna’s waiting there with the other council members.

“Onyx. Green Wing. Silverspeak. Thank you for coming.” She gestures to three empty seats. “Come. We have much to discuss.”

I take a seat as the others do the same.

“Onyx’s scouts have completed their search,” Luna says, “and it appears Chrysalis was telling the truth.” Her horn glows, and the map of Equestria is pulled down, with a small portion of the southern jungles circled in red. “There is indeed an old temple deep within the southeastern jungles, one that has been fortified with more modern enhancements and emplacements, including what appear to be research buildings.”

The council looks to one another. No one speaks, but I can feel the excitement in the air.

We must sneak into the facility, find out if Celestia and the Bearers are there, and extract them," Luna says. "If they are not, we will gather what intelligence we can, free any prisoners, and ensure the base cannot be used again.” She points to Onyx. “We will need your finest agents for this mission, Onyx.”

“Of course.”

“Because we have Chrysalis in custody, Iron Hoof will rightfully assume that she’s told us everything she knows about his operations. Thus, he is likely moving to evacuate all those who have vital intel from the facility to another location. Because of this, we must get down there as quickly as possible. Onyx, can you get a strike force ready to be in the air within an hour?”

“Consider it done.”

I raise a hoof. “Your Highness, will Chrysalis be joining us? If she knows about the facility, she likely knows its layout.”

“She may. And she will be joining you, but only under guard.” She turns to Onyx once more. “I want four of your guards watching her at all times.” Then, to Thorax. “Thorax: I would like you and whatever changelings you can spare to go along with Onyx in case we need to infiltrate the facility without being noticed.”

Thorax nods. “Of course.”

“Spike will come along as backup if things go wrong.” Luna looks over us all. “If this is successful, we may have Celestia with us by this time tomorrow. Let’s make it happen.”


***


With the mission decided, things quickly fall into place. Once Onyx has summoned his agents and briefed them about the mission, I accompany him and four guards to the dungeons to retrieve Chrysalis. She's not pleased at being back in a cell once again, but knowing that she’s on the road to revenge gives her the strength to endure the indignity of being behind bars.

“Silverspeak,” Chrysalis says as we arrive. “Here to let me out, I hope?”

I nod. “We’re infiltrating the research facility,” I say. “And we need you to come along."

"Have you been to this facility?” Onyx asks.

“Yes.”

“Then you know how it’s laid out.”

“Are you asking for a map?"

"No. You're going to guide us through it." Onyx unlocks the door. "You're coming with us.”

The queen’s on her hooves in moments.

“You will be under armed guard,” Onyx says. “I trust you understand why.”

“In case I am planning to betray you, which I am not.”

The guards get into position as Chrysalis is let out of the cell, and we ride the lift up to the armory. A substantial amount of it has been emptied, but there’s still plenty of gear and equipment for the rest of us, and we get dressed.

It’s unnerving to pull myself into a combat suit. I fill the pockets with ammo and first-aid equipment before taking a submachine gun. Not as heavy as a rifle or cumbersome as a shotgun, and it’s a good choice for someone in a support role.

The others get dressed as well, including Chrysalis. Onyx stops her as she heads for the weapons rack. “You’ll understand that we can’t give you any weapons, Chrysalis.”

“Then how am I to defend myself?!”

He hands her a taser.

“Surely you jest!”

“Single-shot and reusable. Good for taking out one enemy at a time. And if you were to try and attack my troops, you would only get one before the rest subdue you.”

Grumbling, Chrysalis takes the taser.

As everyone prepares to move out, I take two pistols from the rack and sheath them in my vest, along with several clips.

“Silverspeak, you won’t need so many weapons,” Onyx says.

“They’re not for me,” I say. “They’re for Beakbreaker.”

Onyx thinks for a moment before nodding. “Very well. Now, let’s go.”

We head out to the lift. I’m about to get on when Onyx holds out a hoof, blocking my path. “Wait. Silverspeak, have you seen the doctor yet? Luna told me that you aren’t to come along unless he gives you a clean bill of health.”

Oh confound it all. I had forgotten about that. “No,” I say. “I’ll go see him now.”

“Make it fast. Ten minutes, maximum.”

I don’t answer as I hurry up the stairs, the lift rising up behind me.

The halls are a mess of activity as I hurry up towards the medical wing. Word’s likely to spread fast about the mission to find Celestia, and even if they aren’t going along, those here in the base would want to help any way they can, gathering supplies, equipment, or even going to the hangar to wish the soldiers luck. Because of the commotion, it takes a little longer than I’d like before I reach my destination.

The medical wing’s filled with the freed prisoners from Iron Hoof’s fortress, all being examined by Silver Scalpel and his nurses. He glances over as I enter, and hurries over, handing his patient over to a nurse. Before I can even give a greeting, the doctor’s already looking me over and indicates one of the tables in the corner. When I reach it, he pulls a curtain around us. “On the table.”

I climb up and take a seat.

“I heard you got into a fight with Iron Hoof.” Silver Scalpel says as he examines me. "Ponies your age should not be getting into fights.”

I nod. He won’t get any disagreements from me. “Am I fit enough to go on a mission?”

“And what does this mission entail?”

“It’s a rescue operation.”

“Any combat?”

“I hope not.”

Silver Scalpel continues his examination for a few moments before rubbing his face. He’s tired, likely from working for hours, and wanting nothing more than to rest.

“Physically, you're in good condition. But is there anything else I should know about? Anything Iron Hoof might have done to you?”

I sigh. He isn’t going to like my answer. “I had to use magic when fighting him.”

“What?! Silverspeak, I told-”

“I had to use it, Silver Scalpel, or you and I would not be talking right now.”

His fatigue forgotten, Silver Scalpel motions for me to get off the bed and yanks the curtains away. He hurries to a small, jury-rigged machine mounted over a standard dentist’s chair. “Lie down and remain still.”

I do. Something clicks.

“Done.”

I sit up. Silver Scalpel is already going through the display on the machine’s monitor.

He doesn’t like what he sees.

“Doctor?”

Groaning, Silver Scalpel motions for me to come and look.

I bite my lip as I hurry to the monitor, preparing myself for the worst. I almost don’t want to look at the screen, but I need to know how serious this is.

I look at the screen, and my heart drops.

There’s an X-ray image of my skull and brain upon the monitor, revealing the tumor. It’s bigger than I last saw it, its roots spreading further throughout my brain like the gnarled roots of a diseased tree, almost touching the edges of my skull.

“Please tell me you injected yourself.” Silver Scalpel says.

I nod. “Not immediately afterwords; maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”

“You must be quicker than that, Silverspeak!” Silver Scalpel snaps. “You’re lucky you’re still talking at this point, let alone walking!” Silver Scalpel tries to lower his voice, but it’s difficult for him to contain his anger. “The drugs can only do so much, Silverspeak. When you were out earlier, before gallivanting off into Iron Hoof’s fortress, Princess Luna used the most powerful spells she could to keep your brain working normally. Had she not done so, you would now be lying on the floor, drooling uncontrollably.”

“I get it,” I say. “Don’t use-”

“You cannot use magic! Cast another spell and you will pass the point of no return, and there will be nothing no one can do to help you! Do you understand me?!”

Other ponies and patients are looking our way. I’ve got to calm the doctor down. “Yes, I do,” I say, turning my charm on. “I didn’t want to cast any magic, but I had no choice. Now, if the worst came to worst, I could use more of your medication.” I look around, hoping he’s made more. “What if I took several syringes and injected myself all at once. That would help, wouldn’t it?”

Silver Scalpel’s breathing deeply, realizing that he let his emotions get the better of him. “They might blunt the effect, yes,” he says, “but it would only work once, and even that’s not guaranteed.” He goes to a drawer and pulls out three syringes. Taking a large one, he puts all the fluid inside the new syringe, seals it, and slips it into a pocket of my suit. “But for the love of all that is holy, Silverspeak, if you value your life, you must not cast another spell.”

I nod, tightening the straps holding the pocket closed. “I won’t.”

“Promise me.”

“If using magic means I save my wife, then I will.” I look at the clock. How much time has passed? “Now, am I fit enough to go on a mission?”

Realizing that he’s not going to stop me, Silver Scalpel sighs, nodding.

“Thank you.” Before he can say anything else, I rush out through the door.


***


Going as fast as I am, it only takes a few minutes to reach the hangar, where a hundred troops are getting onto transports. Pony, changeling, dragon, and hippogriff alike are dressed in combat gear and outfitted with rifles, shotguns, grenade launchers, and anti-material rifles powerful enough to punch through a dragon’s thick hide.

“Silverspeak!” Turning, I find Onyx waving at me from one of the smaller craft and hurry over. “Did Silver Scalpel give you the go-ahead?”

I nod.

“Then get on!”

I hurry up the ramp as it closes behind me. Onyx, Green Wing, Thorax, Chrysalis, and her guards are already inside. I take a seat next to Thorax as Onyx sits before a console, numerous screens showing camera feeds from the troops in other ships, as well as their vital signs. 

“Green Wing. Take us out.”

“Copy. Taking us out.”

Engines warm up behind the cabin. It’s going to take a minute for them to get up to speed. I spend that time breathing in and out to steady myself. Not to calm my nerves, but to prepare myself or whatever may be coming. With how many troops we have, I have no doubt that we’ll be able to get into that facility and rescue Celestia, the Bearers.

Just one more raid and we can end this war.

The engines get louder. A jostle shakes the cabin.

I feel the syringe vibrating from the roar of the engines, and tighten the straps around it once more. I can’t afford to lose it, not when it may be the only thing protecting me from a fate worse than death. Despite what I told Silver Scalpel, I really don’t want to use magic again. But if I have to, then his concoction will save me.

Something gnaws at me. A thought. Four simple words.

I ignore it.

The thought grows stronger, refusing to go away.

I focus on the shaking as the craft pulls away from the docking platform, following the other craft as they head through the portal at the end of the hangar. But even the loud hums of the engine can’t drown out the thought as it grows and grows, until those four accursed words are etched into my mind.

“Brace yourselves,” Green Wing announces. “We’re going through.”

“Silverspeak?”

I look over to Thorax. He’s concerned about me. “You feeling okay?”

I nod. “I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to be nervous,” he assures me. “We’ll get through this.”

I nod again, giving him a fake smile. Satisfied, he closes his eyes, readying himself as we head for the portal, unaware that I’m not feeling okay at all.

The medicine… it should save me if if I’m forced to use it, but…

What if it doesn’t?
> Research Site 05
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A flash of lightning fills my vision as we emerge from the portal, and the cockpit's main window is suddenly pelted by heavy rain. Wind shakes the shuttle, the sudden, abrupt movement causing me to stumble and my stomach to heave.

“We’re clear,” Green Wing announces.

Onyx carefully scans the readouts on the panel in front of him, looking for any anomalies. Satisfied that the other ships are safely through the portal, he turns to the cockpit. “Take us to the target.” Then, into his radio, “All craft, stay low and run silent. No lights.”

All the lights in the cabin go out, save for the dim, green glow from the control panel’s backlit buttons.

“Chrysalis. What’s the layout of this facility?” Onyx flatly asks.

“There are three levels, all in the chambers beneath the pyramid,” Chrysalis says, “The top level is for administration, the second is for research, and the third are where prisoners are stored.”

“What defenses can we expect?”

“There are at least a hundred heavily armed soldiers stationed around the complex at all times, security checkpoints at every major entrance and exit, and automated turrets in the roof along every corridor. Even if you somehow got past all that, there is only one elevator between each level, each controlled by two keycards and monitored by guards. Less opportunities for prisoners to escape, should they break free.”

Onyx contemplates Chrysalis’ information with a frown. Is he having second doubts about this? I would; Even with all the forces and firepower at our disposal, those are formidable defenses.

“Does the system still work if power is cut?”

Chrysalis shakes her head. “Getting to the generators is a lost cause. They’re located on the bottom most level at the far east corner. The doors are deadlocked; that means nothing can get through without the master keycard.”

“Then we’ll take the control room first and shut them down from there. If that fails, we’ll use magic to force them open. Green Wing! What’s our ETA?”

Green Wing checks the digital clock on her console. “About an hour.”

“Good. Keep us on course.”

Thunder rumbles outside as we ride into the storm.


***


We continue onwards for the next fifty minutes, Onyx coordinating a plan of attack with the other ships. The rest of us are left to our thoughts. I keep myself occupied by watching the jungle passing by below us, lit by the occasional bolt of lightning and the dim glow from the cloud-covered moon.

“You’re taking this better than I thought.”

I glance over my shoulder to Chrysalis. “What do you mean?”

“You’re an elderly pony heading into an assault on a fortified base. If you have any fear, you hide it well.”

“Oh, I’m afraid,” I say. “I’m afraid that we won’t find Beakbreaker and the others.”

Chrysalis snorts, grinning. “You are not frightened of being captured? Of being turned into a helpless drone?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Then you are a deluded fool.”

One of Chrysalis’ guards raises her spear, but I hold out a hoof to stop the mare. The queen’s taunts mean nothing to me.

“And what of the rest of us?" Chrysalis asks. "What of the fools who volunteered to come along on this mission? Are you not afraid for them? For me?”

“Of course I am. But if just one of us reaches Celestia, she will undo the damage Iron Hoof has wrought. She will free everyone who’s been turned into a cyborg.”

Chrysalis chuckles. “And what then, Silverspeak? Say you’re the one to free your beloved princess. Do you think everyone will run to you with open arms, praising your name for freeing them?” She leans forward with a condescending grin. “How many do you think joined Iron Hoof’s cause because of your words? All those speeches you gave in his name? And what about the families you tore apart? How many will want vengeance for the lives you’ve destroyed?”

Again, the guard raises her spear, and this time I don’t stop her. Chrysalis is right. As much as it pains me to think about it, all the cyborgs, prisoners, and soldiers who I convinced to give up everything would probably go after Iron Hoof first, and then me, and Celestia herself might not be able to soothe their anger, bloodlust, and desire for revenge.

“As I said, Silverspeak, you are a fool. You never thought this through, did you?”

I should ignore Chrysalis. Turn away and let her mock me. The fact that she’s doing so amazes me. Even now, with the fate of our world at stake, she wants to tear me down, and I haven’t the faintest idea why. Perhaps angry at being a prisoner of her former enemies, she wants to feel better by tearing others down. Even now, she beams, her pride etched upon her face. I know that pride: it’s the pride of a bully who feels on top of the world.

Celestia, how I hate that pride.

“I’m not the fool, Chrysalis,” I say. “If anything, you are the fool.”

My worlds make the queen chuckle again. “Really? And why’s that?”

“Yes, I’ve made mistakes. I’ve done terrible things with my life. But I’ve tried to make amends. I’ve tried to undo the damage I’ve caused. But you? You’ve spent your whole life trying to enslave others, and not once have you shown any remorse or regret.” I shake my head. “When you die, Chrysalis, everyone’s going to celebrate. You know why? Because you only ever thought of yourself. You don’t care how much pain and suffering you inflict on others.”

I return the glare she gave me.

“You’re a tumor, Chrysalis. And the world will be better off without you.”

Veins rise under skin that’s now bright red, and her teeth grind against each other. But neither can compare to the waves of anger and hate radiating off her, all directed at me. I’ve never seen Chrysalis so angry before, so full of rage and hatred that she wants to kick, bite, and tear at me until there’s nothing left.

And yet, through the fury, I see something else. Beneath the mask of anger, there’s horror at realizing that I’m telling the truth. Chrysalis doesn’t want to hear it. She wants to bury that horror and grief as deep as it can go, to ensure that it never comes back to see the light of day, but even she knows that’s not possible.

All that anger, the burning skin, the grinding teeth, the desire to inflict pain... it’s just a mask to hide her own.

Even though they’re trying to hide it, I can see the others hiding their own grins. I know the feeling: it’s so satisfying to see the queen of the changelings seething. After what she did to my family, seeing Chrysalis stew in her hate is the sweetest justice I can imagine.

And yet, it’s not sweet. Satisfying, yes, but hollow.

Celestia wouldn’t trades insults or mock her adversaries. She wouldn’t try to tear them down. She’d offer them the chance to turn their lives around. Or, if her anger was too great, she might lock them up, but still offer hope that they might find redemption someday.

“You’ve done great evil, Chrysalis-”

Only the spears and guns of Onyx's soldiers keep the queen from leaping out of her seat.

“-but everyone loves a good redemption story. Perhaps freeing Celestia is my chance to make up for what I’ve done... and maybe it’s your chance, too.”

I lean back in my seat. I’ve had my say and made my point. Now it’s up to Chrysalis to decide what she’ll do with it. The fury, grief, and pain is still there, but all three are already fading. Chrysalis is thinking about what I’ve said.

She doesn’t know what to make of it.

The resulting silence is broken as Green Wing leans back from the cockpit. “Heads up back there: We’re approaching the target. ETA, five minutes.”

All arguments and discourse are forgotten as we ready ourselves to disembark. I peer out the cockpit windows, hoping to catch sight of our target. Yet, I can see nothing through the rain and darkness.

A lightning flash illuminates a structure on the horizon. It's a pyramid

“All craft, prepare to disembark,” Onyx says into his radio. Then, to Green Wing, “Are there any clearings nearby?”

“We've got a small clearing near a lake.”

“Set us down there,” Onyx says as he brings up his microphone. “All squads, converge on our position. I want everyone on the ground in five minutes.”

It’s difficult to keep the shuttle steady among the wind and rain. Gusty could probably do it with his eyes closed. Green Wing’s nowhere near his level of skill, but she manages to get us down, leaves and fronds scraping the ship’s side as it descends.

A soldier goes to the door and takes hold of the handle, ready to swing it open.

It’s reassuring to clutch my submachine gun. I don’t know what’s waiting for us out there in the jungle, or what traps we might be walking into, but at least this gives me some confidence to face it.

The shuttle comes to a stop with a gentle bump. The shaking’s not even done when the soldier yanks the door open with all his might. “Go, go, go!”

Thorax takes the lead, jumping from the hatch into the muck. The other soldiers follow him, then Chrysalis and her guards, and then Green Wing as her co-pilot takes her seat. I’m the last one out, taking a deep breath as I rush through the doorway and land in the mud. My uniform’s pounded by the pouring rain, the brim of my hat struggling to stay stiff under the relentless downpour. I’ve never been in a storm this brutal.

The door slides shut behind us as the ship rises back into the sky, quickly replaced by another coming down. It’s also emptied of its troops, the process repeating itself with the other craft.

The last ship finally departs, leaving us all to crowd around each other at the lakeside.

“Alright everyone, listen up!” Green Wing yells. “Target’s half a mile ahead! Follow me and stay close!”

Green Wing heads off into the underbrush, and the rest of us follow.


***


I’ve never been fond of jungle environments, and that’s not going to change anytime soon. The dense canopy blocks out much of the rain, but that’s little comfort as we struggle through the mud and the muck, boots glopping and schlorping as we hack and slash our way through vines, bushes, and fallen trees. This is nature at its wildest, the air heavy with the stench of vegetation in various states of growth and decay.

Chrysalis, who I expected to gripe and complain the most, is unusually silent. She seems lost in thought, almost uninterested in what we’re doing or where we’re going.

It’s another miserable half hour before Green Wing finally raises a hoof. The others instantly crouch down, and I follow suit.

We’re at the edge of a clearing. Before us, lying among tall grass and overgrown bushes, is the pyramid. It’s enormous, the house-sized blocks of stone covered with moss, vines, and other vegetation. Several smaller temples are the same, all draped under a blanket of vines and plant life from centuries of uncontrolled growth. Only the presence of fences, tents, and prefabricated structures shows that it’s been recently inhabited.

I bring up my binoculars and take a look at the temple complexes. Strange... all the lights are out. At this late hour, it’s to be expected that most of the complexes’ residents would be asleep, but it’s also reasonable to expect guards and patrols manning the grounds, and countless lights to discourage any wildlife or intruders from getting too close.

Green Wing brings up her radio. “Onyx, this is Green Wing. We’ve reached the compound perimeter.”

“Copy,” Onyx say. “Move in and secure the grounds.”

“Will do.” She jams the radio into her pocket. “All squads, spread out. We move in on my signal.”

The squads around me disperse, slipping away into the undergrowth. In moments they’re gone, as if the jungle itself has swallowed them up.

“Silverspeak, Chrysalis, Thorax, you stay here,” Green Wing says. “I can’t risk you just yet.”

I nod. That arrangement suits me just fine.

When ten minutes pass, Green Wing brings her radio up. “All squads, report in.”

No voices emerge from the speaker. Rather, there are several distinct clicks.

“Alright. We don’t want to let anyone know we’re here, so no gunfire unless you have no choice.” Taking a moment to calm herself and steel her nerves, Green Wing breathes deep and gives a single command.

“Move in.”

Like a spring that’s been sprung, Green Wing takes off towards the complex in a quick, but silent jog, followed by the other members of her squad. I stay where I am, as do Thorax, Chrysalis, and her guards.

There’s nothing for us to do now but wait.

Several minutes pass.

I listen for the sounds of combat: Gunfire, grenades, screams, but there are none. All I can hear is the pouring rain and distant thunder.

The brim of my hat gives way as I glance at Chrysalis and her guards, two of whom keep a close eye on the jungle behind us. Beside me, Thorax is like a statue, nervous about those who have gone ahead. Even knowing that it’s not safe to risk himself, he still wants to help, disliking having to stay behind while others risk themselves.

The radio crackles. “Onyx, this is Green Wing. Outer complex secure.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“I copy,” Onyx says. He’s relieved as well, but hasn’t let his guard down. “Any problems?”

“No.” Green Wing sounds surprised. “All the buildings here are empty. No guards, no sentries, nothing.”

It’s a moment before Onyx replies. “Copy that. Proceed inside.”

“Will do,” Green Wing says. “Thorax, Chrysalis, Silverspeak, meet us as the front of the pyramid.”

I bring up my radio. “On our way.”

Thorax takes the lead. I follow him as we hurry into the clearing. We reach a fence in short order, and pass through a recently-cut hole, making our way past the tents and portable buildings set up around the temples.

Though Green Wing gave the all-clear, I still hold my gun close. There’s no telling if someone, or something, is hiding in the shadows. Yet, it appears we’re alone: equipment and tools lie scattered about, as if their owners dropped them and ran off in a hurry.

We reach the main pyramid, where Green Wing and the other squads have converged before a pair of giant stone doors.

“This the only way in or out?” Green Wing asks Chrysalis. When she nods, Green Wing turns to the others. “Alright. Open them.”

Dozens of guns are raised as two unicorns magically open the doors as quietly as they can. But no matter how slowly they go, stone still grinds against stone, a horribly loud sound that even the rain can’t mask.

I tense myself, ready to leap back if a barrage of bullets shoots out of darkness within.

Nothing happens.

The soldiers rush inside. Only after several moments when there are no sounds of gunfire, do I follow them inside, entering a hall lined with cables and wires pressed up against vines and stones encrusted with plant growth. Lights hang from the ceiling, but they’re dark.

The doors grind shut behind us, silencing the storm outside. It also plunges the hall into darkness. It’s broken as green flares sputter to life.

“Bravo team, stay here and cover our backs,” Green Wing whispers. “The rest of you, with me.”

The soldiers move with practiced speed, resembling a well-oiled machine instead of living beings. I try to keep up as we hurry along. When we reach the first side passage, the troops hurry inside. I follow, and find that we’ve entered the control room. It was probably a ceremonial chamber of some kind, judging from the glyphs carved into the walls. Computer consoles and terminals line the walls, but all have been powered down.

Nobody’s here.

Soldiers check the computers, only to curse at what they find. Green Wing joins them, and utters a curse as she looks behind the terminals. “Onyx, come in. We’ve reached the control room, but it’s been abandoned. Computers have been smashed. Looks like the staff didn’t want us finding out their secrets.”

I hear Onyx sighing over the radio. “Acknowledged. Any sign of them?”

“No. Looks like everything’s been abandoned. Tools and equipment lying all over the place. Whatever happened here, I think we missed it.”

“Keep searching the structure. We may find something useful in the lower levels.”

“Heading down there now.” Green Wing ends the call. “Chrysalis, where’s this elevator of yours?”

Chrysalis doesn’t answer, lost in thought.

“Chrysalis!”

Shaken from her thoughts, Chrysalis points back to the way we came. “Not far.”

“Alright. Everyone, with me.”

We follow Green Wing out, leaving the room in darkness once more.


***


Chrysalis leads us to a set of elevator doors at the end of the hall. Without power, though, it’s up to two unicorns using all their magic to force them open, revealing an empty shaft beyond. A few giant cables swing within, severed by a sharp blade or a magical beam. The facility’s staff must not have wanted anyone to gain easy access to the levels below.

“Alright, we’re going down,” Green Wing says. “Delta squad, you stay here to keep anyone from following us. The rest of you, with me.”

Thick ropes are attached to the floor and rolled into the shaft. Soldiers hook themselves up and climb down one after another. It isn’t long before it’s my turn, and though I’ve never rappelled before, it isn’t that difficult to hang on and slide down. The hardest part is not looking down. Regardless of my cybernetics, a fall from five stories would crumple me like a tin can.

I’m shaking slightly as I reach the doors, where two soldiers pull me inside and back onto solid ground. Nodding in thanks, I unlatch myself and look around. We’re all in a sparse, metal lobby bereft of decorations or anything to give it a little cheer. There’s a thick door ahead of us, but Green Wing probably wants everyone present before it’s opened.

“What’s behind that?” Thorax asks Chrysalis.

“The research facility,” Chrysalis answers, her hostility towards her former subject seemingly forgotten. “That security door is to keep any unauthorized personnel from getting inside.”

With a chill, I realize it probably serves another purpose: keeping anyone from getting out.

The last of the soldiers emerge from the shaft, followed by Green Wing. Out of habit, she tries the door, but as expected, it won’t open without any power.

A nod, and four unicorns take up position around the door. The others hold back, firearms at the ready as the door is magically forced open, finally locking into place with a loud clang

Darkness awaits us.

Two soldiers crack flares and toss them through. Green light reveals a long corridor of stainless steel.

Green Wing’s pointed hoof sends the rest of the soldiers into the tunnel where they spread out, quickly hurrying along as they search for any traps, threats, or soldiers lying in wait. They toss more flares as they go, revealing that the tunnel goes on and on, until they finally reach another sealed door.

“Clear!” one of the soldiers calls back.

I relax slightly, and so does Green Wing; I hadn’t noticed that she was holding her breath. She hurries inside with the other soldiers. I follow her lead, my heart sinking as I see numerous piles of equipment, discarded paper, and other debris that was left behind in a mad rush.

It appears we were too late to catch anyone... including Beakbreaker.

“Search the rooms,” Green Wing calls out. “Make sure there’s nobody hiding in a closet somewhere. And see if there’s any documents we can use.”

Rooms? I look up to see numerous doors embedded in the walls. The soldiers pry the doors open and hurry inside.

I go to the closest door, following the soldiers inside. There are no closets here, no boxes on shelves, or even shelves for that matter: this place has been stripped clean. Heading out into the hall, I hurry along the other doors, peering inside, hoping to find the soldiers gathered around a zebra, or yanking open another door to find someone hiding within. But all the rooms are as empty as the first. At least, most of them are: A few hold machines and equipment, but I can’t fathom what their purpose is.

I’m not sure I want to know.

The other doors hold little of interest. Some lead to offices and labs filled with broken beakers and chairs lying upon the floor. Others hold even more machines, all smashes to pieces with magic or sledgehammers. One door leads to a room the size of a basketball court, but with hooks, chains, and equipment dangling from the ceiling instead of benches and baskets.

I reach the last room, and though the sinking feeling in my stomach is rising, I try to hold onto hope as I hurry inside, using my barrel-mounted flashlight to illuminate the interior. But my hopes are dashed – there’s no one here.

Confound it all... 

Okay, Silverspeak, don’t let your anger get the better of you. It was a long shot that Beakbreaker or the others would be here. There’s bound to be a clue somewhere around here on where they went.

You’ll find her. It’s just going to take a little more time.

I hear hoofsteps behind me, and turn to find Green Wing coming inside. The former shines her light around, illuminating the numerous empty crates shoved against the walls.

“Let’s hope there’s something below,” Green Wing says, “otherwise this trip will have been for thing.”

A griffin rushes inside. “We finished our sweep. There’s no one here.”

“Any computers still functioning?”

The griffin shakes her head. “They’re all smashed. Only good for scrap metal now.”

“Buck... alright. Let’s sweep the third level and get out of here.”


***


Another elevator awaits us at the end of the research hall. Once more, the unicorns force it open, revealing that the cables were cut, the elevator itself nothing but a pile of jagged metal at the bottom.

Our descent to the bottom of the shaft takes longer, for it’s now ten floors instead of five. When I drop into the car and head through the doors, I join the others inside another darkened chamber. Unlike the research lab above, the air is warmer. Humid, too, and with a powerful stench. There were many sweaty, dirty bodies here recently.

Soldiers toss flares into the darkness. They roll far, the light revealing metal bars. Cages... dozens of them. They’re enormous, filling the chamber as far as we can see, each designed to hold hundreds of prisoners.

All of them are empty.

The soldiers around me recoil at the sight. They’re no doubt seen all the horrors of war, but this is a special kind of cruelty. It’s all too easy to imagine hundreds, if not thousands of ponies crammed into this place, their cries and moans combining into a deafening chorus, broken by screams as the unfortunate were taken upstairs to be experimented on.

I can’t stand the thought of Beakbreaker being one of those doing the experimenting.

“Spread out,” Green Wing says. She too, is sickened at all the cages, and wants to get out of here. From the speed at which the soldiers rush ahead, the feeling is mutual.

Flares and flashlights illuminate more of the chamber, including enormous pillars holding up the weight of the complex above. This place is enormous, easily the size of a football stadium, perhaps even bigger. Was this some sort of ritual area in centuries past? Did macabre ceremonies take place-

“Captain!”

Green Wing rushes towards the pony who called out. I’m right behind her, and so are the others, with two soldiers remaining behind to guard the elevator shaft.

We reach the soldier, who stands before one of the cells, his light shining through the bars.

A pony is inside the cell, pressed up against the corner. At least, I think it’s a pony: the shape is the same, but the body is covered in tight-fitting metallic armor. It reminds of robotic monstrosities lumbering after the heroes in a B-grade science fiction film. But this is no costume built from foam and cardboard; it’s real metal.

“What is that?” I whisper to Thorax. It’s a moment before he answers, for his breathing had quickened at seeing the form.

“It’s a cyborg,” he whispers.

Green Wing keeps her weapon up, ready to fire if the pony even so much as twitches.

“Is it dead?” I ask.

Thorax doesn’t answer. I’ve never seen the king of the changelings afraid before, but he is now.

With great reluctance, one of the soldiers opens the cage and creeps inside, his hoof half-squeezing the trigger of his rifle.

The cyborg doesn’t move.

The soldier stops a few feet away. He stretches his gun out, poking the cyborg with the muzzle’s tip.

There’s no reaction.

“Is it dead?” Green Wing asks, hoping for a yes.

Another poke fails to elicit a response. Creeping closer, the soldier cautiously reaches to the back of the neck and feels for a pulse.

The soldiers around me fight to keep their aim steady.

With a fast jump, the pony in the cell retreats. “It’s alive!”

“Stay calm!” Green Wing says, keeping her gun up. “Medics, scan the thing. Make sure it’s not carrying any bombs or tracers.”

Four unicorns head to the cell’s entrance as the soldier scurries outside. They don’t enter, conducting their scan from a safe distance.

“Why are they so nervous?” I ask Thorax.

“Because cyborgs don’t try to kill you,” Thorax explains. His voice is low, as if he’s afraid of waking the thing up. “They do everything in their power to subdue you, and then you’re converted into one of them, and there’s nothing no one can do to save you.”

“Not even Luna?”

Thorax shakes his head. “She’s tried. But the magic used to convert ponies are programmed to kill the host if it’s reversed. We haven’t figured out how to stop it.”

“It’s clean,” one of the medics announces. “No weapons or explosives.”

“Homing devices?” Green Wing asks.

The medic shakes her head.

“Alright... Thorax, what do you say?” Green Wing asks. “We take it with us or leave it here?”

“I’d say we should put it in stasis and take it,” Thorax says. “But something isn’t right. It’s-”

“Left here for us to find? Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

“Maybe it’s damaged somehow,” I suggest.

“Iron Hoof doesn’t leave his forces behind, even damaged ones. He believes in bringing everyone back, no matter how banged up they are.”

Some of the soldiers chip in with their opinions. I pay them no heed as I focus on the cyborg. It hasn’t moved. I step closer to the bars, circling the cage to get a better view, staying well beyond its reach should it try to grab me through the bars. But there’s nothing to see, only more metal. Where a face should be, there’s only a reflective faceplate.

It’s hard to believe there’s a living, breathing, thinking pony within that shell. Yet, there’s no sign of life. Is it awake and aware of me? Is it silently begging me to help it? To subdue it and rip out that chip, even if it means certain dea-

Something moves.

I spin, shining my light upon the floor. “Did anyone hear that?”

Green Wing’s at my side in an instant, eyes wild as she scans the darkness. “Hear what?”

“Sounded like something moving.”

Green Wing’s flashlight cuts through the darkness. So does a dozen other lights, slicing through the darkness like a sword, searching for whatever made the sound.

There’s nothing in sight.

“Where did you hear it?” Green Wing asks. I point in one direction, and she gestures for two soldiers to go and investigate. As they hurry off, Green Wing turns back to the cage. “Alright, I’ve had enough of this place. What are we going to do about the cyborg?”

Chrysalis has moved to the edge of the cage, where she studies the cyborg. “Put it out of its misery,” she says.

The thought sickens Green Wing. “We aren’t murderers.”

“It’s not murder. It’s a mercy killing. But whatever you wish to do, do it quickly.” She eyes the darkness surrounding us. “Iron Hoof is fond of traps.”

“But we haven’t found anything about where Black Fang is,” Thorax points out. “Or the Princess and the Bearers.”

“Then we shall find them some other way.”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree,” Green Wing says. She gestures to the cyborg. “Thorax, you think you can teleport that thing?”

“Where?”

“Somewhere out of the way.”

Thorax lights up his horn, his brow furrowing as he concentrates, only to stop moments later. “It won’t work. There’s something in the walls. Most likely to keep prisoners from teleporting themselves out.”

“Figures. We’ll leave the cyborg here. Send a specialist team to come and get it later.” She raises her voice. “Alright everyone, gather up! We’re leaving.”

The other soldiers head towards the cage, all of them eager to get out of here. I spin my light, searching for any stragglers. Green Wing’s voice was loud, but it can’t hurt to-

I freeze.

“Everyone here?” Green Wing asks. “Sound-”

“Green Wing?”

She looks to me. “What?”

I point towards the elevator shaft.

“What? What’s-”

She freezes.

The soldiers who were guarding the elevator...

They’re gone.

“Close ranks!”

I rush to the other soldiers, who ram themselves against one another, shoulders hitting shoulders as they raise their guns. Two part as I scurry between them, raising my own firearm.

“Red Heat!” Green Wing yells. “Sure Shot!”

There’s no answer.

“Red Heat! Sure Shot!” Green Wing looks towards another area of the room, where the other two soldiers headed off. “Strong Legs! Amethyst!”

Silence.

Green Wing gulps, hooves trembling as she grips her gun. “We head for the doors,” She says. “If any of you see or hear anything, call it out. Don’t-”

Something falls before me.

Everyone spins towards the object. I almost yank the trigger, but hold back. It’s just a rock. Nothing to get concerned abou-

Another rock falls, landing beside the first.

Nobody moves.

Nobody breathes.

Slowly, oh so slowly, I take my flashlight and look up... into the one area we haven’t checked: The ceiling.

My light dances across something metallic and oddly shaped. It moves.

Then, so do the pieces next to it.

Like a nest of bats in a cave, the ceiling is covered in cyborgs.

Green Wing’s gaze goes from the rock that dropped near me, and then follows my gaze up. “They’re on the ceiling!” she screams. “Open fire!”

I yank on the trigger, and the muzzle flash lights up the darkened chamber, joining the flashes from the other guns. 

Cyborgs drop from the ceiling like acrobats, bullets harmlessly ricocheting off their armor as they slam into the floor. A fall like that would break the legs of a regular pony, but it’s just an inconvenience for our attackers as they leap up.

“The shaft!” Green Wing yells. “Go!”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice, and I bolt for the elevator shaft with the others, some of whom spin to cover our retreat. I only get a few yards before skidding to a stop. Cyborgs are pouring out from the shaft like ants swarming from an anthill.

“The cage!” I shout. “Into the cage!”

I’m answered by desperate, incoherent screams. Spinning, I watch as cyborgs swarm the soldiers, overwhelming them like a hive of mechanical ants.

One soldier is forced to the floor, where a something is shoved onto the top of his head. It looks like a metal plate scarcely larger than a credit card. But then it starts duplicating itself, unfolding as it spreads across the pony’s head, gripping his flesh tightly.

The pony screams as the metal reaches his face, but the cyborgs hold his legs down, preventing him from ripping the metal off as it covers his mouth, and then his nose, and, finally, his terrified eyes.

With a loud click, the metal squeezes around the pony’s head. The cyborgs let go as the pony paws frantically at the hood, which muffles his barely-audible screams.

“Go!” Green Wing shouts. “Don’t stop!”

I run for the cage. The cyborgs press in towards us, the soldiers fighting to hold them back. But there are too many of them, and more and more of our soldiers are overrun, forced down to the floor, screaming as the cyborgs shove more unfolding helmets onto the soldiers.

I run, shoving and kicking as cyborgs get too close. I somehow reach the cage and leap inside. Thorax is right behind me, then Green Wing, several soldiers, and then Chrysalis. She leaps inside as cyborgs swarm over her handlers, dragging them into the writhing mass of metallic bodies.

Green Wing slams the door shut. “Thorax!”

Thorax fires a burst of magic, and the door’s locks melt into useless slag, welding the door to the surrounding bars.

Cyborgs slam against the cage, howling and screeching. But these aren’t the sounds of creatures who hunger or desire to inflict suffering on their victims. These yells... even through the metal and armour, I can hear their screams of misery, desperate to escape their metallic prisons.

“Onyx, this is Green wing!” Green Wing yells. “We got caught in an ambush! We’re trapped in the third level with at least a hundred cyborgs! We need backup and we need it now!”

Hundreds of hooves bang against the bars.

“General?! General, come in!” A shake of the radio fails to bring Onyx through. “Blast it!”

The banging increases, and the cyborg’s desperate moans only get louder.

“Inventory check!” Green Wing says. Around her, soldiers check their weapons and supplies, calling out what they have. While we have plenty of ammunition, it isn’t enough to take out all the cyborgs surrounding us. Celestia, there’s so many of them! They probably outnumber us five to one.

Faces smash themselves against the bars. They’re fighting to get inside, smashing against the bars, screaming in pain with every hit.

My heart nearly stops at seeing tears streaking down their necks, leaking out from under the armor.

And then they suddenly stop. 

Everything goes silent.

The cyborgs step away from the cage, shaking and twitching, their howls silenced.

“What are they doing?” I ask.

“They’re being good soldiers,” a voice says from behind the crowd.

The cyborgs part again as someone passes through their ranks. Guns are instantly trained on him, my own included. I recognize this pony: he was the commander at the outpost, and the one who tried to kidnap Beakbreaker all those years ago on the Eagle.

I couldn’t forget him even if I wanted to.

The pony looks us over, delighted at our misfortune. “Well, looks like I got my rats all in one cage.” He chuckles. “And what a catch: King Thorax, Queen Chrysalis... And is that you, Green Wing?”

Green Wing doesn’t answer.

“Well, bless my soul, it is. Funny how you escape from my outpost, only to be caught again.” The pony strolls to the bars, ignoring the guns pointed at his face. “I always get my prey in the end, changeling. I thought you would have learned that by now.”

Green Wing’s shaking, but she refuses to acknowledge the pony.

“And who is this? Oh my... Silverspeak. Iron Hoof’s going to be so happy when I bring you all to him.”

The soldiers around me close ranks. One shoves the barrel of his gun through the bars, the muzzle inches from the pony’s face. But he doesn’t panic or back off.

He just grins.

“Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You see, if I’m killed, there’s no one left to hold back these cyborgs.” He pats one on the head. “Just how many bullets do you have in those magazines of yours?”

“Enough to kill you,” Green Wing snarls.

“My, my, such bloodlust! Never knew you had it in you, Green Wing.”

I barely notice it, but Green Wing’s hoof tightens on the trigger of her shotgun. Just the slightest of squeezes, and our captor’s face will be decorating a pillar.

“I have a proposition for you all: Put down your weapons, surrender, and you’ll get to sit the rest of this war out in a nice, cozy cell. Better then becoming a cyborg, as your friends here can attest. Iron Hoof is merciful: He wants to avoid any further loss of life. The Resistance may die, but you’ll all live. You’ll be pardoned and get a chance to be part of our new world.”

The pony puts on a smile worthy of a used-car salesman. “What do you all say?”

“Go to Tartarus,” Green Wing says.

The others nod in agreement.

“Now, now, Ms. Green Wing. You wouldn’t want to lose all your troops here, not when the war’s almost at an end.” He smiles. “Haven’t you lost enough loved ones already?”

Green Wing shakes.

The pony ignores her. “Last chance. All of you. You’re coming with me, one way or another. Best you choose-”

Green Wing yells, yanking on her trigger. The pony falls, but it’s more of a stumble, for he had managed a half-leap as Green Wing fired. He scrambles back, blood trickling from nicks and slices in his uniform.

Green Wing fires again, but two cyborgs leap before their commander, their armor easily absorbing the blast. And then the pony’s gone as the swarm surrounds the cage once more, banging away as hard as they can.

The bars begin to groan as they bend inwards.

Green Wing’s livid, but not so furious that she can’t think and prioritize. Letting her gun fall to the floor, she pulls out two blue-colored grenades from her vest.

“Everyone, EMP grenades!”

The others comply, yanking out blue grenades from their own vests.

“Alright, here’s the plan! We all pull the pins at once! When the blast’s done, Thorax unlocks the door, we run to the shaft, climb up, seal the doors, and get out of here!”

“But what about the upper levels?” a soldier asks. “If they’re under attack, we can’t-”

“We’ll deal with it!” Green Wing snaps. “And if you find that smiling motherbucker... he’s mine!” She wraps her hooves around her grenades. “Thorax! You take care of Silverspeak!”

Thorax hurries to me. “Silverspeak, the EMP grenades will stop the cyborgs, but also shut your systems down. I’ll restart them before you feel anything.”

Wait, is he... is he serious? My heart and lungs are going to shut down? Without air to breathe or a heart to pump blood, I’ll-

The bars groan and crack.

“On three!” Green Wing shouts.

Before I have a chance to protest, Thorax pushes me to the floor and opens a panel on my flank.

“One!” Green Wing yells. “Two! Three!”

Pins are yanked, and grenades held high.

There’s a loud bang and a wave of blue energy washes over and through me.

My chest goes still. I try to breathe, but my lungs don’t move. Oh Celestia, I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! I-

Air floods my lungs as Thorax hits something. My heart starts up again, hammering away as fast as it can.

“Go!” Green Wing yells. “Go, go, go!”

Thorax yanks me up as he blasts the cage door off its hinges. He tosses me onto his back as he runs from the cage, leaping through the piles of cyborgs lying around us, limp and unmoving. Are they dead? No, they aren’t... if I can be reactivated, so can they.

We reach the elevator shaft. Ropes are grabbed, and those who can fly take hold of their earthbound companions and race upwards. I clutch Thorax as he flies upwards, his aged wings beating hard. He’s sweating and panting, but manages to reach the research level in seconds.

Sliding off his back, I stagger on solid ground, but the feeling passes. I go to the edge, brace myself, and help pull soldiers up and through the doors.

Chrysalis reaches the doors, wheezing as she tries to pull herself through. I grab her leg and yank her inside. She looks to me; is she grateful? Embarrassed? Angry at having been helped? I can’t tell.

Without a word, she hurries on.

Green Wing is the last one out of the shaft. She grabs hold of one door and shoves it. I take hold of the other, and the two slam together. Two unicorns immediately go to work, quickly welding them together.

“Everyone okay?!” Green Wings asks, panting from the effort of our rushed escape.

Soldiers nod, equally as tired, but in no mood to stop.

“Alright. Let’s get-”

There’s moans and shouts from the other end of the research lab.

They’re coming our way.

“Buck!”

Thorax runs to the end of the hall, two unicorns right beside him. They reach the doors and quickly weld them shut.

“Chrysalis, is there any other way out of here?!” Green Wing asks.

“No. That door is the only way in or out.”

If she’s panicking, Green Wing hides it well as she reloads her shotgun. “Then it looks like we’re going to have to blast our way out of here.”

“But the cyborgs,” one of the soldiers says. “They’re-”

“It’s them or us,” Green Wing says, not looking up as she loads shell after shell into the barrel.

The doors behind us bend as hooves slam into it from the other side.

The soldiers rush to prepare their weapons and themselves. Things are happening too quickly for them to be scared. I don’t have that luxury. Chrysalis says there’s no way out, but she has to be wrong: there’s always a way out. We just have to find-

Wait... air vents! A place this big can’t operate unless there was a way to pump air down to the lower levels!

I run into the closest research room and shine my light on the ceiling. But there’s none to be seen. Wait! The air vents! Maybe there’s a vent somewhere nearby!

I run into the closest room and look up to the ceiling. It’s solid, and there are no vents to be seen. I run out and try another room. But there’s no vent in here either.

Where are they?!

The banging on both ends of the hallway are becoming increasingly frantic.

“Hold your ground!” Green Wing says. “We can do this!”

Think, Silverspeak, think! If you were designing this place, where would you put a vent?

“You’re looking for a way out.”

I spin. Chrysalis has followed me inside.

“Chrysalis! Is there an air vent nearby? Anything we can use to get out?!”

She nods. Then she turns and hurries out and down the hall.

“Silverspeak! Chrysalis!” Green Wing shouts. “Stay-”

An explosion rocks the hall as the doors ahead are blown apart. They fly past us, and so does a barrage of smoke seeping from cylinders rolling across the floor. In moments the hall is flooded; I cough, keeping my head low as I follow Chrysalis into the giant auditorium with the chains and hooks. She ignores them, rushing to a series of crates in the corner, where she grabs one and tries to shove it against the others. Joining her, I lend my own strength, and together we ram the thing into place.

Scrambling on top, Chrysalis climbs up the other crates. She’s panting by the time she reaches the top, but desperation gives her the strength to hit away at a vent cover. It finally breaks free, exposing a duct within.

I spin towards the hall. “Gr-”

A hoof clamps across my muzzle and yanks me back with surprising strength.

“If you want to escape,” Chrysalis whispers, “you will stay silent.” She shoves me towards the vent. “Inside. Now.”

I climb in, easily pulling myself inside. The vent is cramped, but just wide enough that I can squeeze myself around. “The others!”

There’s no reply, for Chrysalis is already gone.

“Chry...”

I stop as the howls of cyborgs climb into the vent. If I yell, then they’ll know I’m here.

A form appears in the smoke beneath me. Is it a cyborg?! I reach for my gun, ready to... no. No, it’s not a cyborg. It’s Thorax!

“Thorax!”

Hearing my voice, Thorax looks up. He doesn’t question why I’m in a vent, instead grabbing my outstretched hoof. He’s bigger than I am, but my artificial muscles are stronger and I pull him inside as if he were a child. Problem is, though he’s safe, the vent’s too cramped with the two of us squeezing up beside one another. I retreat deeper inside while Thorax stays at the entrance, turning so that he’s the one looking down.

I’ve only scooted back a few feet when Thorax thrusts his hoof down and grabs hold of something I can’t see. He struggles, finally pulling a form inside. It’s Green Wing! But she’s limp, her eyes closed. Is she dead?! No, no, she’s breathing, just knocked out.

“Silverspeak, back up!” Thorax says.

I scoot back as Thorax does the same, dragging Green Wing’s limp body with him. Another form leaps up after him. I almost shout, but silence myself in time: It’s Chrysalis, not a cyborg.

My rear hits the end of the vent. I look up, but while the shaft continues upwards, it narrows until even a foal would have trouble getting through.

We’re trapped.

“Chrysalis, we’re-”

She hisses, pressing a hoof to her lips.

I stop talking.

There are gunshots below us. They’re muffled, but there’s no disguising how many guns are blazing away, or how the soldiers are yelling, shouting defiance to their attackers, refusing to go quietly.

It isn’t long before the gunshots become erratic.

The defiant yells turn to screams, and it’s not long before everything becomes deathly silent.

It’s quiet in the vent. I can’t even hear Thorax or Chrysalis breathing. The changeling king has his hoof over Green Wing’s snout, doing his utmost to keep her quiet, not daring to even move his head, lest his antlers scrape across metal.

Two moans approach the vent, and I frantically turn off my light.

The noise stops underneath us.

I clamp my mouth shut, going as still as I can.

If the cyborgs find out we’re in here, we won’t be able to-

The moans fade as their owners retreat.

My body wants to sigh, but I don’t dare move. The cyborgs below us have moved away, but only to rejoin their companions who remain in the hall. Their zombie-esque moans drift up to us for another minute before mercifully fading away.

Chrysalis motions for us to stay put as she carefully slides out of the vent.

Minutes pass. How many, I don’t know. Five? Ten? Twenty? How long should we hide in here before sneaking out?

Just how long can cyborgs wait for their prey? Their handler is bound to notice that we’re not among his thralls; what’s he going to do when-

There’s a whistle from down below. “Thorax. Silverspeak.” It’s Chrysalis, and her tone tells me that it’s safe to come out.

Keeping a tight hold on Green Wing, Thorax carefully lowers himself from the vent. I follow him out, dropping down onto the crates. It’s a struggle not to cough from the acrid smoke that fills the room, but it’s easier to breathe closer to the floor.

Chrysalis hurries from the room, clearly wanting to show us something. I follow her into the hall, which is now a mess: Guns, broken pieces of armor, and scattered drops of blood lie across the floor. Wall panels have been dented, and a few of those panels lie where Green Wing’s squad made their last stand. But now they’re gone, as are the cyborgs.

My heart tightens up. There’s only one reason they would have left, and I try to push the thought aside. Painful as it may be to accept, we can’t do anything for Green Wing’s soldiers now, save finding Celestia. Get her, and she’ll be able to free them... I hope.

“Did no one make it?” Thorax asks, pained at seeing the telltale signs of fighting and destruction about him.

“Not from your squad, no,” Chrysalis says. “But the cyborgs lost someone quite important.” She goes to a fallen panel and kicks it off, revealing the bruised form of the pony from below.

“He was about to leave with his troops,” Chrysalis explains. “Such a pity they won’t notice that he’s gone.”

Green Wing stirs upon Thorax’s back. She’s like a machine coming back to life after being deactivated: her limbs twitch, and she’s slow to open her eyes, confused about what’s going on, recoiling from a pain in her head. She reaches up to grab it.

Then her eyes widen.

Thrashing, Green Wing falls off Thorax's back, struggling, kicking out at invisible enemies.

“Easy!” Thorax says. He quickly kneels next to Green Wing. “Easy, Captain. You’re safe. It’s over.”

It takes Green Wing a few moments to realize that Thorax speaks the truth. When she does, she rubs her head again. “What... What happened?”

“I saved you,” Chrysalis says.

“The others!” Green Wing lurches to her hooves, winching from the pain. “Where are the others?!”

“Gone,” Chrysalis says without regret. “Taken.”

“Taken?! What do you... Oh no... No, no, no!”

“There were too many,” Chrysalis explains. “I could not save everyone, so I saved those who are important.” She gestures to the pony at her hooves. “If you want revenge, take it out on him.”

Green Wing’s rage burns like an inferno. She storms towards the pony, grabbing him and slamming him into the wall. He wakes up with a yelp, unsure what’s going on. When he sees who’s holding him up, and the murderous rage in her eyes, his defiance and smugness from before give way to sheer terror.

“Now... let’s not be too hasty,” he says with a chuckle. “I-”

Green Wing headbutts the pony’s snout, breaking his nose. He shrieks in agony, and then again as Green Wing hits his shattered nose again and again, each blow harder than the last.

“Stop!” he screams. “Stop! Please!”

Green Wing doesn’t listen. She’s crazed, almost feral, hitting the pony over and over. I’d intervene, had this pony not tried to take my wife from me, and succeeded in taking all of Green Wing’s squad.

“Please!”

“Did he beg?!” Green Wing smashes him again. “Did my husband beg like you?! Did he plead for his life?!”

“N... No! He didn’t!”

“Liar!”

A smash from Green Wing’s forehead shatters the pony’s nose into a bloody pulp.

“You took my husband from me. You took my child’s father.”

Green Wing slips a knife from its sheath.

“This world would be better off without you.”

“No! No, don’t!”

I can’t stay silent. “Green Wing!”

“Back off, Silverspeak!” She rears back.

“I can tell you everything you want!” The pony yells. “W… Where the others are. Anything!”

Green Wing couldn’t care less. All she wants is this pony lying on the floor while choking on his own blood. But if this pony knows where Celestia, Beakbreaker, and the others are, then this may be our only chance to get it.

“Wait!” I plant myself between Green Wing and the pony.

“Get out of the way Silversp-”

“This pony is one of Iron Hoof’s right-hoof ponies. He’ll know where the others are.” I turn on my charm. “I don’t blame you for wanting vengeance, Green Wing. But if you’re going to get it, then wait until after he talks.”

Green Wing looks to me, then the pony, and then back to me.

She steps back.

I turn to the pony. No telling how long Green Wing will be able to hold herself back, which means I need to move quickly. “Talk,” I say.

“W... What do you want to know?”

“Where is Celestia? Where are the Bearers?” I lean in close. I want him to see that I’m not messing around. “Where’s my wife?”

“Celes.... Celestia and the others were taken to Iron Hoof’s fortress in the north!”

“And where’s that?”

“Fifty miles past the northern coast!” The pony can’t get the information out fast enough. “It’s on an island enchanted with our most powerful spells!”

“And my wife? Is she there, too?”

“No! She’s.... she’s with Black Fang! He demanded that she be taken to him!”

“When?”

“Last night! Iron Hoof had her taken to his lair!”

“And where is it?!”

“Manehattan! It’s under the remains of Manehattan!”

Thorax and Chrysalis look at each other, surprised.

“There... there’s something else! Black Fang and Iron Hoof... they talked several hours ago and came to a decision. They... they decided to move forward with their plan, the one that will destroy the Resistance!”

“What? What do you mean?”

“The plan isn’t going to happen in a week!” the pony says. “It’s... it’s going to happen tomorrow!”

Tomorrow?! But that’s not possible! Whatever this plan is, there’s no way Iron Hoof can move all the resources he needs, or the soldiers he’d have to relocate. There’s no way he can pull it off!

“How’s he going to do it?” I demand, and I can’t stop the fear from coming into my voice. “What’s his plan?”

“I don’t know!”

“Yes, you do!” I glare into the pony’s eyes, into his very soul, as I ramp up my charm to its utmost peak. “What is Iron Hoof’s plan?!”

The pony withers before me like a plant before a torch. “He... he never told me! He wanted to keep it a secret, even to his most trusted officers! Only he and Black Fang know what it is!”

Buck... He wasn’t lying. If that’s the case, then our only course of action is to find Black Fang himself and stop him.

“Black Fang’s fortress; how do we get into it?”

“There’s... there’s a factory on Manehattan. All of Black Fang’s victims were processed there before being sent down to him. There’s an elevator you can use. It’ll take you right to him! That’s all I know!”

“What does he do with his victims?” I demand.

“I don’t know!”

“You’re lying!”

“No, I’m not!”

I yank him towards me. “What. Does. He. Do?!”

“I don’t-”

There’s a flash of red before my snout, and something wet splashes across my hooves.

Gurgling, the pony grabs his throat, and the large slice that’s gone across it. He wobbles for a moment and then falls to his knees, blood pooling on the floor like it was coming from a hose. He looks at me with widened eyes, numb from pain and consumed by fear.

With a heavy thud, the pony collapses on the floor. He twitches once, gargles, and goes still.

I spin to Green Wing, who wipes her knife clean, her eyes locked on the lifeless body before me. There’s no smile, no jubilant grin, only the cold satisfaction of revenge.

“There was more he could have told us,” I hiss.

“He told us what we needed.” Green Wing doesn’t care if I’m frustrated. She doesn’t even show any concern at hearing that the Resistance is going to be wiped out tomorrow. She just storms down the hall towards the last elevator shaft.

Chrysalis and Thorax look to each other, their animosity forgotten. Like me, they’re shaken by the news the pony told me. But, like me, they come to the same conclusion: standing around in shock isn’t going to stop whatever’s coming, and they hurry after Green Wing.

I should hurry after the others, but I take a moment to study the body of the dead pony. It occurs to me that I don’t even know the pony’s name. But none of that matters. I don’t have time to waste feeling anything for a pony who only spread misery and suffering during his life.

“Silverspeak,” Thorax calls. “We should go.”

I turn and head towards the shaft, leaving the pony behind to soak in his cooling blood.


***


We go slowly as we climb up through the temple complex, but our fear is unwarranted as there’s no one to meet us. The squad that was left to guard the shaft are gone, and so is the one at the pyramid’s entrance, with only scattered shells and the lingering stench of gunpowder giving away what happened.

Hurrying into the pouring rain, I find no sign of the cyborgs or the soldiers. At least, not at first. There’s a multitude of footprints in the mud, steadily being erased by the rain. It seems the cyborgs came through here and headed into the forest. Where they went, I don’t know, but it would be suicide to try and track them in the jungle, where they could lie in wait and ambush us at any moment.

Green Wing is in no mood to pursue anything as she yanks out her radio. “Onyx Shield, this is Green Wing. Our group was attacked. We need immediate evac.”

There’s no answer.

“Onyx, come in!”

Silence.

“Blast... We’re on our own.” The captain looks around as she sheaths her radio. “We need to get out of here and get to Manehattan.”

“No,” Chrysalis says. “We would be better off informing your princess about the fortress.”

I shake my head. “If we find Black Fang, we might be able to stop him before he can unleash his cataclysm, whatever it is.”

“Your concern for your wife is admirable, but you fail to-”

“If we can find a ship with a radio, we can contact Luna, who can deal with the fortress while we deal with the dragon.”

With a hoof to her chin in thought, Chrysalis considers my words. “A fair point. But how are we going to reach Manehattan without a ship?”

“We can use that one.”

I turn to see Thorax pointing at something across the courtyard. I squint, trying to make out what that object is. A chance flash of lighting reveals a downed shuttle, one of the craft we used to get here. We all hurry over, and through the rain, I see the craft’s been shot down, giant holes in the hull testifying to some assault that we missed while hiding below. A quick check reveals that no one’s inside, nor is there any sign that anyone is nearby. But even if there were, we don't have time to look for them.

It takes half an hour to get the craft ready to fly. Being the most powerful magic user, Thorax does most of the work in righting the ship and patching the holes with what little material he has. Green Wing works on the electronics and the engine, with Chrysalis and myself doing manual labor, moving engines, spare parts, and other pieces of equipment to where they’re needed.

At last, the repairs are complete. Piling into the gondola, we hang on as Green Wing activates the engines. They sputter to life and send us aloft. Settling into the pilot’s chair, Green Wing takes control of the console, studies the compass, and sends us north, soaring over the canopy, leaving the pyramid and its dark, bloody secrets behind.
> The Father of All Dragons
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fat, heavy raindrops pelt the windshield as we fly through the night, the windshield wipers trying to keep them off as Green Wing coaxes all the speed she can from the engines. Nestled in the copilot’s seat, Thorax tries to contact Onyx and the others over the radio, but all he gets is static.

Not wanting to get in the way, I retreat back into the cabin, where Chrysalis rests in a seat, seemingly unaware of the numerous cuts and scratches across her body. Most have stopped bleeding, but a slow stream of green blood trickles from a long, narrow slice across her thigh.

“Those should be cleaned,” I point out. “We don’t want them to get infected.” I go to a supply box and pull out the first aid kit, which I give to Chrysalis. She starts to clean herself up without a word of thanks.

Something’s heavy on her mind, something more pressing than cleaning up her wounds.

“Chrysalis,” I say. “You could have left us to be taken by the cyborgs. Why did you save us?”

“Because you’re still useful to me,” Chrysalis says. Wincing as disinfectant goes over a cut, she ties a bandage in place and leans back, sighing as the pain subsides, the last of the disinfectant rolling over her wrinkled hide.

“Is that all?” I ask.

The queen glares at me before closing her eyes.

Not wanting to press the issue, or to destroy any goodwill built between us, I head back into the cockpit, and to Thorax. “Anything?”

Sighing, Thorax takes his headset off, frustrated at his lack of progress. “Nothing.”

“Perhaps it’s interference from the storm,” I suggest.

“Or there’s no one left to contact,” Green Wing says.

Thorax is horrified. “You think-”

“I’m not saying they’re dead. If Onyx was facing a hopeless fight, he’d retreat.”

“Would he come back?” I ask. “With reinforcements?”

The thought amuses our changeling pilot. “We just lost our entire strike force down in that temple.”

A chill runs through me. “You mean-”

“That we’re screwed? Unless we can defeat Black Fang and Iron Hoof’s armies by ourselves... Yeah. We are.”

Thorax shakes his head. “Not if we stop Black Fang’s plan, whatever it is.”

Not wanting to shatter any of Thorax’s hopes, Green Wing ends the conversation, taking a moment to adjust our altitude. “The two of you had better get some sleep.”

“What about you?” I ask.

“Thorax and I can swap places in a few hours.”

Eager to get some sleep, Thorax leaves his chair and heads to the back of the cabin, where he lies down across some seats. He’s out in moments, joining Chrysalis in an exhausted slumber.

“You’d better get some sleep, too,” Green Wing says.

I know I should, but my system is in overdrive after the disaster in the Temple. There’s little chance of getting forty winks with artificial adrenaline still surging through me.

“I’d like to stay awake until Thorax relieves you,” I say as I get into the copilot’s seat.

“Fine. Just don’t touch anything.”

I make a point to keep my legs on my lap as I look out the windows. With all the lights off, it’s easier to see out into the rain-drenched night.

“You want to be useful?” Green Wing asks. “Keep trying the radio.”

Putting on the headset, I press the transmit button. “Resistance Base, this is Silverspeak. Come in, please.”

Static.

“Resistance Base, this is Silverspeak. Come in, please.” I release the transmit button and listen.

All that comes back through is static.

“Keep trying,” Green Wing says. “Once every ten minutes until you get someone, or we reach Manehattan.”

I keep trying the radio for the next hour, but all my efforts are rewarded with static. I finally give up as the top of the trees vanish, and we head over open water. We must be flying over the ocean.

“How long until we reach Manehattan?” I ask.

“At the rate we’re going, we’ll be there by mid-morning,” Green Wing says. “We could get there faster, but we’d risk burning out the engines.” She checks her gauges and adjusts some knobs.

“Any idea what we’re going to face?”

“You mean aside from the giant dragon waiting for us? No; no one’s been in Manehattan since the war started. It was one of our main bases, but Iron Hoof started a siege that lasted for a couple years, and turned the place to rubble. Celestia finally called it quits and pulled everyone out. Everyone who’s tried to get close since then... well, they don’t come back.”

That’s a disquieting thought.

“When we get close enough, we’ll ditch the ship, teleport to shore, and sneak our way through,” Green Wing explains. “Kill anyone we meet and hide the bodies. From there... well, we’ll wing it.”

It’s not the best battle plan, but it’s better than nothing.

“You think we have a chance?” I ask.

“Of what? Defeating Black Fang?” Green Wing sighs. “Tartarus if I know. Only an idiot fights an arch-dragon. Anyone with half a brain lets alicons fight them instead.”

“And what if there aren’t any alicorns?”

“Then you target the thing with the heaviest firepower you have and blast it from miles away.”

“And does it work?”

“Not as often as we’d like. Celestia only knows if it would work against Black Fang. We studied everything we had about arch-dragons during the war. Plenty of stuff talked about the first of their kind, how he was the oldest and most powerful dragon who ever lived. Wiped out entire armies, decimated cities with a single breath, almost wiped out the pony race, things like that.”

“Was there anything on how to beat him?”

“Only that everyone who ever tried, died.”

It’s quiet again.

“Are you scared, Silverspeak?” Green Wing asks quietly.

“About what?” I ask. “Black Fang?”

“No... About dying.”

“Who isn’t?”

“Did I hear right before this mission started? That you have some sort of tumor?”

I nod, tapping my head. “I haven’t thought much about it,” I admit. “Wanted to focus on saving my wife before worrying about death. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve faced death more times than I can count,” Green Wing says. “Thought if you were worried, I could offer some advice.”

I’m touched. “Like what?”

“Everyone I’ve seen who died, whether on the field or in the hospital, seems free of pain at the very end. They may scream with pain or beg for their mothers, but when death itself comes, they always seem to calm down. Maybe it’s shock, maybe its a final release of endorphins, but their ends are free of pain.”

“How about old age?” I ask. “Or disease?”

“I’ve never seen anyone die of either,” she admits.

We fly on, leaving that statement hanging in the air.

“What do you think happens after death?” I ask. “You think there’s something waiting for us?”

Green Wing’s silent. “I don’t know,” she says at last. “I hope there’s something: I’d like to see my husband again. But there’s a chance he’s not there. That nothing’s there. That we just cease to exist.” Green Wing shakes her head. “I know that should scare me. But to be honest, it doesn’t. I mean, when we sleep, we’re not aware of anything. Maybe that’s what death is like.”

“Endless, dreamless sleep?”

“Something like that. And you know something? That doesn’t sound so bad.”

I nod in agreement. “It doesn’t.”

A bolt of lightning flashes through the sky, followed by the accompanying rumble of thunder.

“You really should get some sleep, Silverspeak,” Green Wing says. “Celestia knows you’re going to need it. If you’re still high on adrenaline, there’s some green pills in the medical box that’ll calm you down.”

I’m about to say that it wouldn’t be good to go into combat with drugs in my system, but Green Wing’s right. I’ve been going for... my goodness, at least a day or two without sleep. My body can operate for months, if not years without a charge, but my still-organic brain needs sleep, lest exhaustion affect my judgment.

I head into the back and rummage through the medical box again, taking care not to wake Chrysalis or Thorax. When I find the pills, I take one, gulp it down, and lie across the seats, trying to get comfortable, Green Wing’s words staying with me.

Maybe death is like sleep. Maybe we all fall into endless slumber. My parents, Beakbreaker, myself, all joined together in an eternal night.

That doesn’t sound so bad.

Grogginess hits me. The drugs must be kicking in, but I don’t mind... it feels so good to close my eyeli...


***


“Silverspeak! Wake up!”

What? Who’s... Oh. It’s Thorax. 

Blinking, I open my eyes. Early morning light streams through the windows, but it’s not the bright, cheery light of the sun.

“Silverspeak!”

I want to go back to sleep, to slide back into nothingness again, but Thorax’s tone is urgent. He wants me up front as soon as possible.

Groaning, I rise from the seats and stumble into the cockpit, where Thorax, Green Wing, and Chrysalis peer through the windows.

“We’re close,” Green Wing tells me. “We’ll reach Manehattan in about ten minutes.”

I peer out the windows to find a fouled sea beneath us, the waters churning with black gunk that clogs the surface. The sky above us is overcast, the clouds an ugly green-black, choked with pollution and smog. Before us, far in the distance, lies the source of that corruption.

“Manehattan,” Thorax says quietly.

I take a pair of binoculars and peer through. I almost wish I hadn’t, for the sight that greets me is nothing like the Manehattan I knew: Some of the city’s skyscrapers and towers still stand, but the rest are gone, replaced by ruins and giant smokestacks rising like weeds from poisoned soil.

My wife is somewhere on that island.

“What happened?” I ask, gobsmacked.

“It was turned into a manufacturing center after the city was destroyed,” Chrysalis says. “All of Iron Hoof’s chemicals and foul magics are concocted there.”

“And we need to get inside without being seen,” Thorax says. Then, to Chrysalis, “Does its defenses have any weak spots?”

“The island is covered by magical shields and detection charms to keep anyone from getting in. But there is an abandoned drainage pipe on the southeast tip of the island. If we reach it, we can sneak under the shields.”

Chrysalis indicates my binoculars. I hand them over, and she takes a look at the shore, frowning as she turns the focusing knob.

“What is it?” I ask.

“There are normally patrols along the coast and numerous gun emplacements atop the ceilings.”

“Maybe they’ve been ordered to abandon the island,” I suggest.

Chrysalis isn’t convinced. “Possibly... Thorax, you will need to teleport us to the shoreline. Green Wing, you will need to retreat to a safe distance.”

Green Wing nods in agreement, flicking knobs and bringing the ship to a stop, hovering above the churning water.

Taking a radio, Thorax slips it into his battle harness, and then indicates for Chrysalis and me to get close. When we’re by his side, he closes his eyes, his horn glowing as magic swirls about it.

“Brace yourselves,” Thorax says.

A flash of light, and in an instant the cabin vanishes. Warm, stale air gives way to the salty smell of the sea, and... We’re falling! I spread my wings, but I’m too late to fly as I hit the water and sink beneath the surface. I thrash my limbs, trying to head up, but it isn’t working! Celestia, I’m going to drown! I’m-

I‘m yanked from the water and land hard on muddy ground. Gasping, I cough up water as Thorax hurries over, his horn still glowing.

“Silverspeak! Are you okay?!”

I nod, trying to stop myself from shaking. For all the advances in cybernetic technology, weight is still an issue, making it impossible for a cyborg like myself to swim. Had Thorax not been able to magically grab me, I would have plunged to the bottom of the harbor.

“I’m sorry,” Thorax says, horrified at his mistake. “I thought we’d land on the shore.”

“Well, we’re on it now,” I try to joke. It may be muddy land, but I’ll take mud over sinking into the depths of the ocean. We’re on a remote edge of Manehattan’s shore, surrounded by thick patches of weeds and reeds, which shields us from unfriendly eyes. Beside me, Chrysalis shakes water off her mane.

“Is this where you wanted to land, Chrysalis?” I ask.

The changeling monarch nods, wiping away another smear of mud. “Follow me.”

Wading through the mud, I follow Chrysalis through the reeds, Thorax sticking close to me. We don’t get far before Chrysalis shoves some bushes aside to reveal the barred entrance to an old drainage pipe.

Without a word, Thorax comes forward and uses a lance of concentrated magic to cut through the bars like a plasma torch. We crawl inside, using his light to make our way forward. Ten minutes later, and Chrysalis slowly pushes a manhole cover aside, peering out to check for patrols. Indicating that it’s safe to come up, she climbs out. I follow her, emerging onto a cracked, weed-filled street. The air is so foul and polluted that I want to vomit.

Thorax takes out his radio, struggling not to cough as he speaks. “Green Wing. We’re in.”

“Alright. I’m going to keep my distance. If you need a fast evac, you’ll have to teleport to the shore. I’ll pick you up there.”

Thorax fights back a cough. “We’ll keep you posted.” Thrusting the radio back into its holster, he rams a hoof against his mouth as he coughs, managing to muffle the noise.

“Follow me,” Chrysalis says, muffling a cough of her own. “We need to reach the main factory as soon as we can.”


***


Manehattan was ugly at a distance, but walking through it is even worse. This once vibrant city is now a dead, decaying husk: skyscrapers that haven’t been knocked down are overgrown with vines of gunk and mold. Weeds thrust up through cracks in the streets and sidewalks. The smell becomes even worse the further we go, until it feels like I’m breathing nothing but smog.

Just keep going, Silverspeak, I tell myself. Keep going. You can’t leave Beakbreaker here.

We hurry through the streets of this dying city for an hour. As we continue on, the ruins become thicker and harder to traverse. Iron Hoof’s forces probably were so focused on building factories that they didn’t care about cleaning up after the battle to take the island.

Yet, through all the rubble and destruction, we encounter no guards. We find towers and outposts, but all are empty and abandoned. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong: there are ample places for soldiers to hide, or to lay traps. While we’ve stuck to the shadows and kept as quiet as possible, someone should have noticed us by now.

We finally reach Central Park. Once green and full of life, the overgrown weeds scratch at us as we hurry through, eyes alert and ears twisting as we look for any sign of sentries or guards. Yet, I doubt we’ll find any: It looks like no one’s come through here in years.

“The factory is on the other side of this park,” Chrysalis says.

It takes us an hour to get through the park, half that time spent hacking through overgrown vegetation to pass bridges and make our way past long-collapsed terraces. But at last we break through, and-

I freeze.

Before us is the Manehattan library. Or, rather, what’s left of it. Half of the building has been blown apart from the inside out, and the remaining half has collapsed in on itself from the ravages of time, the windows broken and pierced by vines and the branches of trees growing within the ruins. But even in its crumbling, decayed state, I’ll never forget this place.

My quest to become an alicorn started in this building.

“Silverspeak?”

I blink. “Sorry, Thorax,” I say. “Just... lost in old memories.”

He nods in understanding. But there’s no more time to dwell on the past: Chrysalis is still hurrying along, and we hurry after her, leaving the library behind.


***


It’s another half hour before we finally reach the park’s edge. But we know the factory is close long before we see it: the air is warmer here, as is the stench. It burns my throat just to breathe it in, and it’s almost a relief to finally see the ugly structure at last. Once we’re inside, we might find relief from the pollution.

Chrysalis hides behind some bushes. Thorax and I do the same, joining her in looking the structure over. It’s a huge building, stretching four stories high and being both wide and long enough to swallow a football field. Unlike all the other buildings in Manehattan, no vines or mold enshroud this factory, which means it’s seen steady use.

If there’s anyone on the island, this is where they’ll be.

“Wait here,” Chrysalis says. Without waiting for a reply, she sneaks off once more into the grass, probably searching for guards.

Thorax takes out his radio. “Green Wing? This is Thorax.”

“I hear you.”

“We’ve reached the processing center.”

“Good. Any sign of Iron Hoof’s goons?”

“No.”

“Same here. If I had to guess, the three of you are heading into a trap.”

Thorax sighs. “Probably. But we don’t have a choice.”

I scrutinize the structure before us. If it leads to Black Fang’s lair, we’ll be heading underground. I gesture for the radio, and Thorax hands it to me. “Green Wing? This is Silverspeak. We’re going to be heading underground, which means we’ll likely be out of contact for a while. We’ll call you when we’re clear.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “Silverspeak... If I don’t hear from any of you in two hours, I’ll need to head back to base. Someone has to warn Luna and the others about Iron Hoof’s plan.”

“Then go,” I say. “We’ll be fine.”

From the way he bites his lip, Thorax doesn’t share my enthusiasm.

“I hope so,” Green Wing says. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I’m about to let go of the talk button, but I hesitate. If something should go wrong, this might be the last time the two of us talk.

“Green Wing?”

“Yes?”

“Stay safe out there.”

There’s a brief pause. “You too, Silverspeak.”

The line goes dead.

There’s rustling to my left, and then Chrysalis emerges, panting. “I just checked the perimeter,” she says between gasps. “I did not see any guards or hear any machinery. It seems we are alone.”

Well, that’s good news.

“Once we get inside, we find out where Iron Hoof’s prisoners went,” Chrysalis continues. “We’ll follow their path to Black Fang.”

“And then what?” I ask. “Do we try to kill him?”

“We cannot,” Chrysalis says. “But we have one weapon he has never faced.” She points to me.

“What? Me?”

“Your voice. If you can sway millions to join Iron Hoof, then you can persuade one dragon to abandon his plan.”

“My talent only works on weaker wills,” I say. “If someone’s will is strong, my talent won't have any effect.”

“And what would you have us do, then? Run and hide? You are our best chance of stopping Black Fang, Silverspeak. If you do nothing, then by this time tomorrow, all will be lost.”

“Maybe we don’t have to fight Black Fang,” Thorax suggests. “Maybe we should just sneak down there, find out what his plan is, and then meet up with Luna and the others.”

That’s a much more reasonable solution. Luna will know what to do, and we all stand a better chance of survival if we come back to this island with an army, not an elderly cyborg and two old changelings, only one of whom can use magic.

“I agree with Thorax,” I say. “We head below, find out what Black Fang’s plan is, and then get out of here.” What I don’t say is that we need to find out where he’s keeping his prisoners. No matter what happens, I am not leaving my wife here.

“Fine,” Chrysalis grumbles. “But know this: If we fail, then the two of you will have to carry that burden.”

Turning, Chrysalis takes one last look of the windows and roof, and then sprints across the pavement towards the factory’s main gate. Thorax is behind her, and then me. We reach the gate, where Thorax uses his magic to yank it open, the metal hinges groaning from the effort.

Chrysalis and Thorax silently slip inside, and I follow behind them.

Light gives way to darkness as Thorax pulls the gate shut behind us. It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dark, and to see that we’re inside a long, narrow cage... Sweet Celestia, this looks like a cattle feed. I’ve heard of them being used in other, more barbaric countries far beyond our shores; never did I imagine I’d ever see one. The track leading deeper into the factory is narrow, just big enough for individuals to pass through in a single-file line. Beyond the thick, reinforced bars are numerous emplacements for guards, some of which still hold guns, but there’s no one to man them. No machines are in operation, nor are there the sounds of distant screams, or the laughter of sadistic guards. But there were ponies and other prisoners here recently: the air is suffocating, thick with the musk of accumulated sweat and fear.

“This chute will lead us to Black Fang,” Chrysalis whispers.

“How do you know?” Thorax whispers back.

“Where else would they go?”

Thorax has no reply to that. He’s looking about, head darting back and forth, unnerved at being in such a dark and cruel place. Terrible things happened here, and he has no desire to know what happened.

Neither do I.

I hurry after my companions as they head down the concrete path. But it’s not a quick journey: We have to pass through numerous checkpoints and half-open gates, all set up like locks in a canal, meant to allow only a certain number of individuals through at any given time.

I try to ignore the dried bloodstains on the floors and the bars.

We finally make it through the last checkpoint and emerge onto a metal floor. Chains run up from the corners into the ceiling. We must be on an elevator.

“Is this it?” I whisper to Chrysalis.

She nods, pointing to a thick, reinforced window in one of the walls, revealing a control room beyond. “Thorax.”

Thorax teleports inside, materializing before a console. He studies it intently for a moment before tapping two buttons and adjusting various levers and knobs.

Distant, unseen machines come to life, the grinding of motors echoing throughout the facility. A few lights flicker as the elevator shudders, swaying ever-so slightly as Thorax throws a switch and teleports back in with us.

The chains jerk, and then the elevator descends into a darkened shaft, the walls lined with the gouges from chisels and shovels.

“You ready?” I ask Chrysalis.

“No.”

I nod. “Neither am I.”

With chains grinding and the platform swinging, the elevator continues down.


***


The air grows cold the further we descend. Few lights line the walls, making it difficult to see. It’s as if we’re being lowered into the coldest, darkest depths of Tartarus to join the horrors lurking within.

Chrysalis and Thorax shiver from the cold.

No one talks.

At last, the elevator slows. With a gentle bump, it comes to a stop before a long, narrow tunnel. The three of us remain still, listening for anything unusual.

Nothing happens.

Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, Thorax steps off the elevator and gestures for us to follow him, indicating that we shouldn’t talk.

We head down the tunnel, hooves going over a well-worn path. It ends before a massive gate, and I struggle not to groan. It’s going to be difficult getting through something this big without making any noi-

Thorax takes hold of Chrysalis, and both are gone in a flash. Then he reappears and takes hold of me. A flash of light, a brief queasiness, and then we’re before the gate, and in...

Oh my.

I’ve been in giant, underground places before: Caverns filled with crystals, chambers overflowing with waterfalls, and underground cities that could hold entire skyscrapers. But the cavern before us is larger than all of them, towering up so high and stretching out so far that I can’t see where it ends. Giant stalactites and stalagmites stretch upwards and downwards like enormous towers. In the center is the biggest one, a pillar that plunges into darkness beneath us, accessible only by flying or crossing a long, narrow bridge that leads to it. We’re tiny in this place, smaller than ants, and with nowhere to hide from unfriendly eyes.

Yet, it’s not the size of the cavern or its depths that stuns me. It’s that this cavern has been formed from bright, blood-red rock, glistening and sparkling from the few glowing crystals scattered about us.

Thorax tries to say something, but his voice is gone.

“What is this?” I whisper.

Chrysalis’ eyes narrow as she studies the red walls. “It’s amber.”

“What?” Thorax asks.

Chrysalis points to the closest clumping of the stuff. “I’ve seen this type of amber before, in caves where my loyal minions and I hid.”

“Isn’t amber gold?” I ask.

“Some are. But there are other types: my kind use green amber when making cocoons within our hives.” She heads towards the nearest chunk of amber, doing her best to stay silent. Reaching the spike, she indicates for Thorax to break it off. He squeezes his eyes shut, and his horn lights up.

There’s a sharp crack as the amber moves.

“Thorax!” Chrysalis hisses.

“Sorry!” Thorax whispers back.

I look around the cavern, my heart pounding. The crack sent an echo throughout the cavern; did someone hear it?!

Nothing moves, nor can I hear anything.

Everything’s quiet.

Sweating, Thorax tries again, pulling the spike away from the walls as slowly as he can manage. When the chunk finally breaks free, Thorax breathes a sigh of relief as he gently lowers it to the ground.

Chrysalis wastes no time in looking the chunk over, running her hoof over its surface, studying the texture. Daring to pull my gaze away from the cavern, I head over to join her. The chunk’s bigger than a typical pony; how long did it take for amber to accumulate until it reached this size? Just how long would it have taken for the entire cavern to be covered? Millions of years? Billions, even?

“It can’t be...”

I look at Chrysalis. She’s gazing down at the amber, stunned.

“What?” I ask. “What is it?”

She points at the chunk. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary... Wait. She’s not focusing on the chunk’s surface.

She’s pointing inside it, where a shape can just faintly be seen.

It’s difficult to make out what the shape is. A rock, perhaps? Some unfortunate, long-extinct animal that was caught in the amber as it formed? I squint, trying to make out more of the... the...

Oh Celestia...

A pony. There’s a pony inside the amber.

Chrysalis looks up to the walls. Without any prompting, Thorax casts a light, illuminating the amber, revealing the forms of countless ponies encased within.

“There’s so many of them...” Thorax whispers, scarcely able to believe his own eyes. Neither can I; there has to be dozens... no, hundreds of them here.

The rest of the cavern... does the amber forming it hold others? If it does, then there has to be thousands of ponies in here, maybe millions.

“These... These must be Black Fang’s prisoners,” Thorax whispers. “They must have been brought here.”

That’s enough for me. “You two need to leave,” I say. “Get back to the surface, tell Luna about this place, and-”

The ground suddenly trembles.

We all stop talking.

A pebble falls into a puddle, ripples spreading across the surface.

The trembling comes again, slowly becoming stronger.

A rumble reaches my ears. No... it’s not a rumble.

It’s a growl.

Oh buck... Oh buck! We have to hide! But where? Back! We have to go back to the elevator! I’ll fly us out and we’ll-

A giant chunk of black rock slams before the doors.

“Thorax! We need to teleport through!” I say.

Thorax tries casting his spell, but his horn just peeters out. “I... I can’t! The stone’s nullifying my magic!”

The central pillar sways as something climbs up from below.

A giant, black, clawed hand emerges from the darkness, soundlessly reaching upwards. Giant claws dig into the amber.

Another hand appears, followed by a giant head.

My jaw drops.

Oh Celestia…

The dragon that rises before us is the largest living thing I’ve ever seen, larger than Manehattan's largest skyscraper. Impossibly strong muscles let the black thing move more gracefully and smoothly than something his size should be capable of. Great, fleshy spikes jut from his spine and hang from his belly, neck, and chin, swaying as he continues climbing, the long, jagged horn upon the tip of his snout cutting into the pillar, two others stretching out from behind his skull, his giant, folded wings swaying upon his back.

Keeping still, I turn my eyes: Chrysalis and Thorax are as still as the amber surrounding us, not daring to breathe.

The dragon keeps climbing. Did he not hear us? Maybe he’s unaware of our presence. Oh please, Celestia, let us stay hidden!

Gripping the pillar, Black Fang turns and drops onto the bridge, the impact of his feet almost knocking us off our hooves.

He looks in our direction.

BUCK!

The beast lifts his head up and takes a deep sniff. “I had not expected visitors today.”

Celestia... that voice. It’s ancient, ragged, and full of power. Against such might, my charm will have no effect whatsoever.

Black Fang walks down the bridge. He’s taking his time. 

We... we should run. Hide, do something, anything! But there’s nowhere we can go!

The dragon finally reaches us and stops, an enormous, foggy, red eye swiveling like a chameleon to focus on the three of us. His other eye is shut, the socket sunken as if the eye has been missing for millennia. His lid partially closes as he squints, trying to make us out. 

None of us move.

Giving up, the dragon sniffs the air again, his air rancid and reeking of death.

“Three of you... all with the stench of age and decay.”

He takes another sniff.

“Two changelings and...” 

He sniffs again, confused. 

“Ah. A pony with metal. A cyborg. What brings the three of you here?”

I can’t speak. Neither can my companions. We’re mice before a lion, face to face with a being who can kill us without even trying.

“You’re from the Resistance, aren’t you? Have you come to seek a reprieve from your inevitable defeat? Or to beg for mercy, perhaps?”

Think, Silverspeak! Think! Pull yourself together! You can’t stay silent forever! If anyone’s going to talk with this beast, it has to be you! Thorax and Chrysalis can’t engage-

Taking a deep breath, Thorax steps forward. “I am King Thorax of the Changelings, and I have come to talk.”

Black Fang leans in low, his eye struggling to make him out. “Have you now?” A chuckle, and the spikes upon his chin sway back and forth. “How brave of you.”

“Your prisoners,” Thorax says, putting on his bravest voice, “those you have taken: What has become of them?”

“That depends on who they are. If it is ponies you seek, then they reside within this chamber.” Black Fang spreads his wings. “All safe and unharmed. But if you’re looking for changeling prisoners, yaks, dragons, and their ilk... well, you need not concern yourself with them.”

He licks his lips.

Thorax takes a step back, staring at the dragon in horror. Then horror turns to rage, and Thorax’s fear is nowhere to be found as he steps forward. “I am here to negotiate the release of your prisoners, and to stop the hostilities between our races.”

“Now noble of you, King Thorax. Such valor is not often seen in these troubled times. And to come into the lair of your greatest foe... You are brave, indeed.”

False flattery does nothing to sway Thorax. “What will it take to end this war?” he demands.

“The complete and total surrender of the Resistance,”

“And what would happen afterwards?”

Another smile. “It will be a surprise.”

“If we are to deal, then we must be open with each other!” Catching himself, Thorax takes the briefest of moments to lower his voice. “Lies will not get us anywhere.”

“No, of course not. But perhaps I should find out what your companions want.” Sniffing, Black Fang’s eye swivels to Chrysalis. “And who might you be, changeling? Why have you come down here into the lair of your greatest foe?”

For once, Queen Chrysalis has nothing to say. She’s standing before a dragon that dwarfs her in every way, one who could reach out and squash her beneath his claws like a bug. She has no magic, and no power here, and she knows it.

It terrifies her.

“Oh? Too frightened to speak? Fear not: I will not harm you. Which leaves...”

That red eye turns to me.

“What is your purpose here, pony? Why follow these changelings into the lair of the beast?”

This is it. Gathering what courage I have, I crank my charm to its greatest power. “I share the same goal as Thorax, Black Fang. To end this war, and to end all hostilities between us.”

Black Fang doesn’t move.

Did he hear me? Should I speak again?

Leaning in low, Black Fang turns his head so that his eye is right before me. I can see myself reflected in his clouded iris, veins pulsing as that eye focuses on me.

Recognition flashes across that black orb.

“You...” 

A smile crawls across Black Fang’s face as he pulls away. “You have no idea how long I have waited for this day, Silverspeak.”

I don’t care. “If we are to proceed,” I say, “then we must receive a token of good faith from you. A sign that you are not toying with us for your own amusement.”

Another chuckle. “And what token would satisfy you, Silverspeak?”

“The return of my wife, Beakbreaker.”

A chuckle. “I would imagine so. But if I am to present a token of good faith, then I require one from you as well.”

There’s movement in the corner of my eye. I glance over, and... What is Thorax doing?! He’s walking to Black Fang, going as slowly as he can. Is he trying to get himself crushed?!

No... No, he isn’t. He’s trying to get under Black Fang’s head. But why? Why would he...

Wait. There’s only one reason Thorax would risk such an act.

I snap my head back to the dragon. “What token would satisfy you?” I ask quickly. I have to keep Black Fang distracted. Make him focus on me, and only me.

“Something significant. Precious, to you, perhaps. Your other changeling companion, the one who hasn’t spoken: Who is she?”

“Is your sense of smell not strong enough?” I ask, hope turbocharging my charm. “Can you not identify her?”

“I have smelled many, Silverspeak. One changeling smells the same as any other.”

Chrysalis shakes her head, desperate for me to keep her identity a secret. But I have no choice: I have to keep this conversation going.

“She is Queen Chrysalis.”

Intrigued, Black Fang sniffs, then slowly turns his head as he zeroes in on her location. “Chrysalis... The last time we met, we were too busy capturing Celestia to talk.”

Giving me a death glare, Chrysalis focuses on the dragon. “And where is the pony princess now?”

Thorax gets under Black Fang’s chin.

“Ah, is that it?” Black Fang asks. “You’ve come to free your most hated enemy.”

“It is Twilight Sparkle and her accursed student, Starlight Glimmer, that I hate,” Chrysalis hisses. “Perhaps you can tell me where they are, as well.”

“So you may end their lives?”

Chrysalis indicates for Thorax to hurry up with a hasty roll of a hoof. “Yes!” she bellows. “Give me such satisfaction, and I may be persuaded to surrender!” A desperate idea comes to her. “And perhaps I can give you more, Black Fang, Father of all Dragons.”

She reaches out, touching a hoof to that enormous chin, trying to stroke him.

“I could... do things with you. Things you have never even imagined.”

“You seek to seduce me, changeling?”

“If it ensures my survival, then yes, I do.”

Stopping, Thorax starts to charge his horn.

“You must be desperate for revenge, Chrysalis,” Black Fang says. “But your hopes are in vain. I will not give you Twilight Sparkle or Celestia. Their parts in what is to come are too valuable.”

“And what is your plan?” I ask.

Now Black Fang turns to me, surprised at my audacity. “Did you believe I would reveal it here, Silverspeak? That your charm might persuade me to reveal my deepest secrets before you?”

“It was worth a try,” I say.

The energies around Thorax’s horn are almost at their peak. Were he younger, Thorax could easily handle such power, but now he’s struggling not to pass out from what must be a horrific headache.

“I admire your honesty, Silverspeak,” Black Fang rumbles. “And I admire your willingness to work with Chrysalis, despite your sordid past together. But know this: Your resistance will fail. Your efforts will be for naught. I was here before ponies existed, before alicorns, before all others. I am the first, and I shall be the last. Many have tried to supplant me, and all have failed, and before this is over, you and all your kind will prostrate yourselves before before me.”

He smiles, hundreds of sharp, crooked teeth flashing before me.

“You and your companions cannot stop what is coming.”

With a scream, Thorax fires, and a beam of light erupts from the top of Black Fang’s skull, shining upwards like a spear.

The grin upon Black Fang’s face remains as he goes limp and collapses upon the bridge, Thorax rolling clear before tons of dragon-flesh crush him into goo. He struggles to rise, panting, sweating, but still trying to summon another spell. But he doesn’t need too.

Black Fang doesn’t move.

“That worked!” Thorax yells. “It actually worked!” He rushes to Chrysalis and me, grabbing us both in a giant bear hug. “We did it!” Even Chrysalis tolerates the hug, but only for a few moments.

“Yes... we have.” Pulling herself free, Chrysalis glares at the giant corpse, stunned that Thorax's plan actually worked. “Now come. We must inform the others.”

“But what about them?” Thorax asks, gesturing to the red amber surrounding us. “We can’t leave them.”

“I’ll stay,” I say.

“And do what?” Chrysalis asks. “Find your beloved wife among millions of prisoners?”

“Black Fang would have stored his most valuable prisoners in an important location.” I point to the single pillar in the center of the cavern. “I’m guessing it’s in there. The two of you go and find Luna. Tell her that Black Fang is dead, and his plan ruined.”

“Unless it has already been set in motion,” Chrysalis says.

“Either way, Luna needs to know. Now go.”

Realizing that I’m right, Chrysalis starts down the bridge towards the door, gesturing for Thorax to follow her, which he does.

“We’ll have to go around the stone,” Chrysalis says. “Find another way to-”

Something red hits Chrysalis, ramming her into the stone. She cries out, but only for a second before she’s enveloped in wet amber. It cracks as it hardens, becoming solid in seconds, leaving her entombed inside.

I spin as Black Fang rises, blood pouring from a wound in the back of his head. He blinks, in great pain, but alive... and very ticked off.

“Clever,” he growls. “Perhaps I should have told you how I took magic from those I consumed, magic which can rejuvenate a body that should have died long ago.”

Scales and flesh stitch themselves back together, connective tissue reaching out to cover the hole under his jaw.

I can’t move. That was our best shot, our greatest chance to kill Black Fang, and he... he just shrugs it off as if it were nothing! Nothing! And now our chances of negotiating any deal with him are nonexistent. He won’t give us another chance, not after-

I hear movement to my left. I spin; Thorax is running for me, his horn lighting up. But before he can reach me, he’s hit with the same red liquid that engulfed Chrysalis.

“Thorax!”

I run to him, but the glue-like fluid is hardening quickly. He tries to fight, but in seconds the amber balloons, encasing him before it hardens, freezing him in place.

His eyes lock on mine, pleading for aid before the amber fogs over.

I rear back to kick the amber and shatter it; I have to get him out before-

Something wet and gloopy hits me! I look down to see that horrible fluid rapidly rising up. covering my legs in seconds, and then the rest of me. I struggle, but I can’t break free!

The goo stops just below my chin. There’s a cracking, and I feel the goo harden into amber, making it impossible to move! I still try, yanking and tugging, but the amber refuses to give.

Wait... what’s happening? My neck... it feels like it’s going numb! I... I can’t feel it anymore! I can still breathe, but I can’t feel it!

“It won’t kill you.”

I look up to see Black Fang studying me. “Nor will it kill your companions,” he says. “They’re already unconscious: this amber numbs everyone it touches into stasis.” He spits some of the liquid onto a finger, then reaches out and rubs it onto my horn. In moments, it goes numb as well.

I struggle; while my neck may be numb, I can still feel my mechanical parts.

My struggles amuse Black Fang. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you here, Silverspeak, how I’ve longed for a moment between us. Now, it’s finally come.”

Oh Celestia, is he going to eat me?! Torture me!? I won’t go quietly! I’ll fight with everything I have! I’ll even bite his tongue if he tries to swallow me!

Chuckling, Black Fang lies down on the bridge. Then, as if a switch has been flicked, he goes limp. His eyes are empty and dull, every muscle in his body relaxed, his teeth lazily grinding against one another before going still.

I stare at the limp dragon.

What in heaven’s name-

Black Fang’s head moves. It wobbles slightly, shaking.

The top of his skull bulges. Then the scales and skin split open like an unfurling flower.

What in Tartarus?!

A giant, fleshy, blood-soaked membrane rises from the skull. It stretches and slides away, revealing a...

A pony?!

The aged pony standing atop the dragon’s skull has long passed the prime of his life. He was once strong, perhaps, but his body has been ravaged by the passage of time, pale and weakened, looking more like a corpse that should have been buried long ago. His wrinkled, leather-like skin is pierced by countless, vine-like veins that coil around his body like snakes, pulsing as blood flows through them, acting like intravenous tubes in a hospital patient.

The pony’s head moves. The veins retract, giving him more freedom of movement.

What is this? I’ve never heard or read of anything like... like a parasitic relationship between a pony or a dragon. Just what’s-

The last veins fall away, and the pony looks to me with eyeless sockets.

Wait.

That face.... It can’t be. It’s not possible!

I shake.

No... no. No, no, no, no! It can’t be!

IT CAN’T BE!

The pony smiles at my horror.

“Hello, Silverspeak,” Mangus Bluehorn says. “How wonderful to see you again.”
> Reunions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re dead!” I shout. “You hear me?! YOU’RE DEAD!”

Magnus spreads his legs as he stands upon the dragon’s head. “And yet, here I am.”

The dragon’s claws take hold of my amber prison and lift me up like a pedal plucked from a flower.

“How long has it been since we last saw each other, Silverspeak? Fifty years?”

Gears and motors grind together as I struggle to break free.

“All that time, and you still act like a child. Your hatred burns hotter than Celestia’s sun. That hatred was the last thing I saw before you tore the eyes from my head.” A shiver runs up his spine at the memory. “You have no idea how painful that was. How horrifying it is to have hot blood pour down your snout as darkness takes you forevermore.”

“You deserved it!” I growl. I shouldn’t taunt my enemy, not when he can kill or maim me, but I can’t help myself.

“Yes,” Mangus admits. “I did.”

I blink, taken aback by his wilful admittance.

“You tried to kill me, Silverspeak, and you almost succeeded,” Mangus says. “I fell down that chasm and was carried deep into the earth by an underground river, battered against boulders and thrown around like a child’s toy in a washing machine before I was finally thrown onto a sandbank, broken in body and mind, forgotten and left to die by an uncaring world. And I wanted to die, Silverspeak. Oblivion would have been a relief. And I would have fallen into it, had he not found me.”

Reaching into the bloody flesh beneath his hooves, Mangus retrieves a steel scepter, the top adorned with a red jewel encased within a sharp, spear-like tip. He uses it to tap the scales beneath his hooves.

“Black Fang could have killed me. Instead, he nursed me back to health. I wondered if he was just fattening me up so he could devour me at his leisure. Imagine my shock when he offered to teach me about his kind. Imagine how surprised I was when he offered me the chance to become one of his servants, to become strong and powerful, to help his kind rise again.

“I had been given a way back. A chance to be reborn. So I took it. I pledged myself to him.” A devilish smile dances across Mangus’ face. “I was pretending, of course. All I wanted was a chance to to do you what you did to me.” Mangus shudders from pleasure. “Oh, the things I learned, Silverspeak. Spells and magic, power of which ponies have only dreamed. But Black Fang give me something far greater: He gave me purpose.”

The dragon’s arm brings me closer to him.

“The arch-dragons, Silverspeak, believed in balance, that growth and destruction are forever entwined, breaking up what is old and weak so that growth can bring in something more glorious than before, a cycle that will continue until the end of time.”

He smiles, pleased with himself.

“Ever since I was a foal, I’ve wanted power. But I was selfish; I only wanted that power for myself, to glorify me. Black Fang showed me how I was a thug and bully. When I died, all my monuments to myself would be torn down, and I would be cast aside into the trash heap of history when another bully came along and took my place. I admit, that was difficult to accept, but he was right. And then my mentor showed me joys of serving a cause greater than myself.”

“And what cause is that?!” I snarl.

“Destruction, of course. I want to help destroy all that is weak and false. I want to bring about a new and better age, one where the weak and the pitiful and the useless are no longer coddled and nurtured, but where strength and might are rewarded, just as it should be.”

Sweet Celestia... Even after fifty years, Mangus hasn’t changed. He’s still a bully. A bully – Celestia help me – who’s found religion.

“Of course, it wouldn’t happen overnight,” Mangus admits. “I stayed with Black Fang for decades, learning and growing, until he cast a spell to make me look like any other pony, and I was sent to the surface. It was there that I found Iron Hoof.” Mangus chuckles. “He was so easy to seduce. And once he was in Black Fang’s employ, I knew my new age was close at hand.”

Mangus’ smile turns into the foul grin from my childhood.

“But Black Fang, for all his talk of growth and change, wanted to bring back the glory days of the arch-dragons. Despite all his knowledge and all his wisdom, my mentor had strayed from his path. He was serving himself.

“Thus, one night, when my mentor was asleep, I thanked him for all that he taught me... and then used those skills to end his life.”

Mangus shudders once more, the thought bringing him untold pleasure.

“I took his body for my own, to compensate for my physical shortcomings. I pretended to be him, and provoked Iron Hoof into attacking his beloved Equestria. I sent all the arch-dragons against Celestia so she could wipe them out. And when she was weakened, I took her, then the Bearers, and everyone who could stop me. And now the time is at hand when destruction will finally bring this age of weakness to an end.”

His eyeless sockets focus on me. “And that, Silverspeak, is where you come in.”

Even though it’s futile, I keep struggling. I won’t sit here while this maniac blabbers on about destiny and fate.

“We are opposites, you and I. You create, and I destroy. What you build up, I tear asunder.” Mangus chuckles as he studies my amber-encrusted horn, tapping it with the tip of his scepter. “Oh, how I wasted so many hours of my youth on this: wishing it were mine, not realizing that it's nothing in the grand scheme of things. But it all worked out in the end. And now you will help me once again.”

“I will never-”

“‘Help you.’ Yes, I knew you’d say that. Even if I were on my deathbed and asking you to help me to find forgiveness, you’d refuse, wouldn’t you?” Mangus’ smile darkens. “But you were necessary, Silverspeak. You serve growth. I serve destruction. And as much as I hate to admit it, there must always be a balance between the two.”

Mangus steps towards me, bloody veins and organic tubes stretching from Black Fang’s exposed brain. “I knew your talent could be put to good use, so I instructed Iron Hoof to take you all those years ago and make you his voice, a role you have fulfilled with flying colors. And now comes the next part of your service.”

Oh, that does it! I focus all my charm and unleash it on Mangus like bullets from a gun. “You will release me Mangus, and end this nonsense! You-”

I’m interrupted by a laugh.

“I figured you’d use your charm eventually,” Mangus says. He spreads his legs wide. “But as you can see, it has no effect on someone who has devoted their life for a higher cause.”

Buck!

Black Fang’s body follows Mangus as he turns, arms rising to indicate the chamber. “Look around you, Silverspeak. Iron Hoof treasures these ponies so dearly. This is their ark to carry them into the new age, an age that you may be part of.”

“I’ll never-”

“They’ll be upset at losing the world they knew. But if you were to persuade them that it’s in their best interest to join me, so much suffering and misery will be averted.”

“Or I’ll convince them all to rise against you.”

“Not if you’re under my spell.” Mangus raises his staff, making sure I can see it. “Either you help me willingly, Silverspeak, or I enslave your mind and force you to help me.”

“I’ll die before I serve you.” And I mean it, too. But my threat only amuses Mangus.

“And how will you kill yourself? Holding your breath until you asphyxiate? Twisting your neck until it breaks?”

I struggle again with all my might against the amber.

Mangus watches me for a minute before he speaks again. “You know, Silverspeak, despite all the bad blood between us, I am willing to forgive and forget. There is no point in holding onto old hatreds and grudges. Imagine it: the two of us working together to create a new dawn for all ponykind, a world-”

“That you rule as a cruel and merciless god.”

A sigh. “Oh, there you go again. Yes, I will rule. After all, I serve powers greater than even the princesses. They are relics of the past to be washed away with the rest of the filth.”

“They’ll stop you!” I snap. “When we free them, they’ll-”

“And how will you do that, Silverspeak? Your beloved Celestia is beyond the reach of her loyal subjects. She can’t break free, though she’s tried.”

For just a moment, Mangus’ grin fades.

“I confess, she has been... difficult to contain. Even after being encased in ten feet of amber, she refused to stop fighting. I eventually had to put her into a sleep so deep that she lies on the borders between life and death. But no matter. Celestia, Cadence, Twilight Sparkle and her friends... their magic will bring about the end of everything they hold dear. They’ll be missed once they’re discarded; I imagine their subjects will want revenge, but how much suffering they will endure depends on you, Silverspeak. Will you join me and help lead pony kind into a new age? Or will you refuse and become my puppet?"

“Even if you enslave me,” I growl, “you’ll still fail.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I’m dying.”

Mangus stops, his grin vanishing.

“It’s cancer, and it will kill me in a few months,” I snarl. “All this time and effort, fifty years of planning, and it will be for nothing!” I’m shaking, my body going cold with the chill of hatred. “You are nothing without me!”

For a long moment Mangus is silent, lost in thought, trying to figure out what to do. He clearly hadn’t expected this, and it’s thrown him for a loop.

“Well, that’s... disappointing.”

His grin returns.

“But I can still do much in only a few months. And don’t forget, I have spells that that control minds. A few days of spellcasting, and I can enslave an entire population to do as I please. I say smile, and they smile. I tell them to instruct their young to worship me, and they’ll do it. They’ll be screaming on the inside, but no matter.”

Mangus leans in close, his lips next to my ear. “Either way, Silverspeak, you lose... and I win.”

“And what if I decide to turn everyone against you? To wait until the last second before inspiring them to rise up?!”

“A fair point... but I have my ways of ensuring your compliance.” His smile grows. “Tell me, Silverspeak... how is your wife doing?”

No. Oh no... He can’t!

Keeping a tight grip on my amber prison, Mangus directs Black Fang’s body towards the pillar in the center of the chamber. Reaching it, Mangus stands tall and pulls something from one of the larger holes, and holds it up for me to see.

Lying upon that giant, black palm of aged scales is an amber prison identical to the ones encasing Chrysalis and Thorax.

“She arrived here not even a day ago,” Mangus says. “I knew you’d come for her, Silverspeak. You’re bound to her like a magnet to metal.”

My heart’s hammering out of control. “You’re... You’re lying! That’s not her!”

Putting my prison on the edge of the hole in the pillar, Mangus uses the dragon’s claws to scrape at the amber, flaking layer after layer away until the surface is close to the form inside and holds it up so I can see it.

Just below the surface of the amber is a white form with black streaks.

It’s her... oh Celestia help me, it’s Beakbreaker!

“If there’s one thing I remember about you, Silverspeak, it’s your devotion to Beakbreaker. You were willing to give your life to save her.”

He grips the amber in both hands.

“I imagine you’d do anything to protect her now, wouldn’t you?

His claws tighten.

“Stop!” I shriek.

Mangus relaxes his grip. “I won’t harm her, Silverspeak. I won’t lay a claw on her, so long as you do what I say. Follow my orders, do as you’re told, and no harm will come to her. But should you try to stop me, if you try to rally ponies to rise up against me, then I will break her. I’ll snap her limbs off until only her head remains. And then I’ll regenerate what she’s lost, and do it again. And she’ll be aware of it all: awake, but unable to scream.”

“You can’t!” I shout. “No magic can do that!”

Mangus grins. “Are you sure about that?”

I try with all my might not to show the terror trying to overwhelm me.

Mangus casually rolls the amber between his claws, the way someone might idly play with a pen when they’re bored at school. “While all has gone according to plan, Silverspeak, there is the matter of the Resistance. While they can’t stop me, Luna could still cause trouble. I need her magic, but I have one problem: I don’t know where she is. But I think you do.”

“I don’t-”

“You will tell me where Luna and her minions are, Silverspeak, or you get to watch Beakbreaker’s legs be snapped off one by one.”

“No!”

“It won’t happen if you tell me what I want to know.”

Celestia help me, I can’t! I can’t tell him! If the Resistance dies, then any chance of stopping Mangus dies as well! Beakbreaker... she wouldn’t want me to sacrifice the only chance the world has of stopping this maniac for her sake.

“Well? Are you going to tell me or not?”

“I don’t know where they are!”

Claws tighten around the amber.

It cracks.

“Stop!” I scream. “Please, stop!”

“Then tell me where the Resistance hides!” Mangus roars. “Tell me where Luna has hidden herself like a rat in its burrow!”

“I... I...”

He squeezes again, and the cracks grow larger. Another second, and Beakbreaker’s leg will be snapped off!

“This is your last chance, Silverspeak: Who’s it going to be? The Resistance, or your wife?”

I... I don’t know what to do! I can’t reveal the Resistance! Luna’s the only chance we have now, and if Mangus gets her, then all is lost! But I can’t let Beakbreaker die! She’s the reason I’ve come this far. If she dies, then everything I’ve fought and struggled for will be for nothing!

“Well... I guess you don’t love her, after all,” Mangus says.

The dragon’s enormous muscles flex, readying for one final, decisive twist.

NO!

“THE MOON!” I scream.

Mangus pauses.

“LUNA AND THE OTHERS!” I scream. “THEY’RE HIDING IN THE MOON!”

Mangus rubs his chin lost in thought. “The Moon... of course.” 

Turning, Mangus has Black Fang open his mouth and spray a new stream of amber upon Beakbreaker, covering up the cracks and fractures before putting her back inside the alcove, and me beside her, spraying another glob of goo to bond me to the floor. 

Black Fang’s finger reaches inside the alcove, where it affectionately strokes my head.

“Thank you, Silverspeak.”

Grinning, Mangus sprays more amber across the alcove, wiping and smearing it until it forms a new wall, hardening with an audible crack.

I can barely see Mangus as he lumbers away, his laugh filling the chasm.


***


I have no time to think about what happened or what I’ve done. If Beakbreaker’s still here when Mangus returns, then Mangus will force me to do whatever he wants, and I’ll be powerless to resist him. If I can free Beakbreaker and get her to safety, then Mangus will have no power over me. But curse it all, this amber refuses to give way, no matter how hard I struggle! But I’m not going to let it win!

There are two spare gems inside my body that can act as a backup power supply in case the crystals keeping me alive ever fail. I’ve never had to use them, nor have I ever tapped into them for emergency power, but I do so now. That power surges through me, providing more strength than even my artificial adrenaline, and I focus the spare energy into the servos and pistons in my legs, trying to make them oscillate at a high frequency to crack the amber.

It doesn’t work.

I yell and try again and again. If I can get just a wiggle, I can-

My right hoof fidgets ever so slightly.

I struggle. I kick. I lash Where flesh and muscle fail, steel and engines succeed, each struggle gaining me another centimeter to work with, and more room to struggle and kick. It’s exhausting, tiring work, but I’m not going to stop!

I can finally thrash my leg around the cavity in the amber, and I hit it again and again like a jackhammer.

Crack!

That sound gives me the boost of motivation I so desperately need. I trash and punch, and cracks spread across the amber’s surface. A foreleg finally bursts free from the red amber cocoon, and that's the breaking point. I smash the amber and finally tear myself free from its hot, sweaty confines.

My eyes whip up to my wife. “Beakbreaker!”

Running to the other side of the alcove, I sprint, jump, and kick Beakbreaker's amber with all my might.

A crack appears.

I repeat the process again and again, each hit making the crack a little bigger. When it’s finally spread across the amber, I start punching, pistons and engines turning my hooves into hydraulic hammers. My emergency power reserves are almost dry, but I don’t care! I’ll break this amber even if I have to use up every last drop of energy I have!

Rearing back, I throw everything I have into one final, decisive hit.

The amber shatters, shards flying like shrapnel.

“Beakbreaker!”

Throwing the larger chunks aside, I fight to get into the amber’s heart, to find-

I stop.

Celestia... There she is.

Beakbreaker lies upon what remains of the amber, almost looking like a sleeping maiden from a foal’s fairy tale, waiting for her true love to awaken her. But she’s not the young, innocent mare waiting for a young, equally handsome prince. Her skin is sagging and covered with wrinkles, her once vibrant, black hair now a dull, faded grey. But worst of all are the worry lines over her eyes and on her cheeks, etched deeply from a million frowns and a million furrowed eyelids.

This isn’t the aging that comes with time, the loss of elasticity in skin brought on by wear and tear. This is aging brought on by worry and fear, ripping away beauty and youth, aging my wife before her time.

I don’t care.

Reaching in, I lift Beakbreaker out as gently as I can and lower her onto the uneven floor. Leaning over, I place my ear beside her mouth. Oh, thank Celestia, she’s breathing!

“Beakbreaker? Beakbreaker, can you hear me?”

She doesn’t stir.

I shake Beakbreaker’s cheeks, trying to rouse her. “Beakbreaker! Beakbreaker, wake up!”

Nothing happens.

“Please! Please, Beakbreaker, wake up!” She has to wake up! She has to! I haven’t come this far only to-

Beakbreaker’s eyes move. Then she coughs, her face tightening as she winces, as if trying to rouse herself from a sleep that’s lasted centuries.

Yes! Yes, that’s it! Come on, Beakbreaker! That’s it! Wake up!

Hacking, Beakbreaker struggles to sit up. I help her, bracing her as she finally opens her eyes, looking around in a disoriented haze, lost and scared, unsure of where she is or what’s happening.

“Beakbreaker?”

Startled, Beakbreaker spins at hearing my voice, instinctively trying to get away from an unknown threat.

Then her eyes meet mine.

She freezes.

For a moment that lasts a lifetime, the two of us look at each other.

Neither of us speaks or dares to breathe.

Beakbreaker studies my face.

I don’t dare move.

Beakbreaker reaches out with a shaking hoof. “S... Silverspeak? Is... Is it really you?”

I can’t help myself: I smile.

I’m knocked to the ground as Beakbreaker tackles me. “Silverspeak!” Her legs go around me, squeezing as hard as they can as Beakbreaker buries her face against my chest. “It’s you! It’s you, it’s you, it’s you!”

I laugh. I don’t mean to; it just comes out. “Yes! It’s me!”

“I knew you’d come back! I knew you would, I knew it!”

I manage to stand. “Of course I would,” I tell her. “I promised.” All those years ago... sitting on the porch of the cabin, promising my wife that I would do everything in my power to keep her safe. 

Beakbreaker buries her face in my chest, clutching me tightly, never wanting to let go.

I hold her tight against me.

My wife, lost for so long, has finally been found.


***


I don’t know how long we hold each other, and I don’t care. I’ve dreamed of this moment, longed for it for so long, that I never want it to end. But no matter how joyous our reunion, no matter how long we want it to last, we can’t stay here, not if Mangus is going to come back.

I gently ease my grip on Beakbreaker and look at her, wiping some tears from my eyes. “You look...”

“Old?”

“No, not at all,” I say.

Beakbreaker’s smile straddles the line between sadness and amusement. “Liar.”

“You’re like wine,” I reassure her. “The older you get, the better you are.”

She chuckles. “Thanks for trying.”

I try to crack a joke, but something weighs heavy on my mind. “Beakbreaker... Luna and the others told me what happened. About what I did. I’m... I’m sor-”

She puts her hoof to my lips. “It wasn’t your fault. That wasn’t you talking. It was Iron Hoof.”

I bite my lip. “Yes... him and Mangus.”

“What?”

“He’s alive, Beakbreaker,” I say, wishing it wasn’t so. “He survived that fall in the Alicorn Sanctuary. He’s behind Iron Hoof, behind this war, behind everything.”

My wife’s silent.

“I know it sounds impossible, but I swear to you, it’s-”

“You’re sure?” Beakbreaker asks.

I nod, doing nothing as Beakbreaker breathes deeply. I would do the same if I were in her place, learning that the only pony who’s ever tried to kill me was alive and responsible for the war that’s consumed my life for the last twenty five years, killing and enslaving so many, and who took my only loved one away and enslaving his mind.

Breathing deeply, Beakbreaker calms her simmering rage. “Well, then,” she says quite calmly. “We should get out of here and inform Princess Luna.”

“My thoughts exactly,”

The two of us rise and hurry to the newly formed amber wall, running our hooves over the slick surface, tapping away in search of a weak spot. It won’t be easy: This wall has to be at least three feet thick.

“Silverspeak, over here,” Beakbreaker says, tapping a section of the wall that’s lighter in color than the others. “I think we can break through.” She’s about to hit it when she stops, cracking her hoof. “Wait, what am I thinking?” She hurries over and scrapes away at the amber encasing my horn. “Let’s get this off you.”

“You want me to blow the wall?”

“No, silly. We need to teleport out of here. Simpler and faster.”

I bite my lip.

“Silverspeak, come on. We don’t have any time to waste.”

Beakbreaker doesn’t know that I can’t cast magic without signing my own death warrant. Do I tell her about my tumor, or do I keep it a secret? No. No, I can’t keep it a secret. Painful as it may be, I need to let my wife know. That’s what Celestia would do if she were in my position. Better to gently tell a harsh truth than to tell a sweet lie, or say nothing at all.

“Beakbreaker...” Oh Celestia, how do I tell her? “Beakbreaker, I can’t teleport us out of here.”

“Why not? We have to try. We can’t just-”

I put my hooves on her shoulders. “I can’t because...” Oh Celestia, give me the strength to tell her the truth.

“Because what?”

“Because... Because I’m ill, Beakbreaker. Very ill.”

Beakbreaker’s eyes narrow. “What? What do you-”

“Beakbreaker, Luna and the Resistance’s doctor did a series of tests on me. They found...” I take a deep breath. “They found a tumor in my brain. It’s cancer.”

My wife ages five years in five seconds.

“They’ve managed to contain it for now, but I can’t use any magic,” I quickly say. “If I do, it’ll spread out of control, and they won’t be able to stop it.” I rub my face, trying to work up the courage to continue. “I’m okay for now, and if we free Celestia, she might be able to remove it.”

Beakbreaker doesn’t speak.

“I’m sorry, Beakbreaker. I really am. But there’s nothing we can do about it. So why don’t we focus on just getting out of here?”

It takes another minute for Beakbreaker to move, and another minute after that before she can talk. “Silverspeak... I...”

I gently take her head in my hooves. “Beakbreaker, there’s nothing you could have done to stop it. For now, we need to focus on stopping Mangus. He knows where the Resistance base is. We need to get up there and warn Luna.”

I watch my wife struggle. She wants to break down and cry, to scream, to deny the truth, but she also realizes that there’s so much more at stake than our own lives. That gives her something to focus on, a goal to fulfill and take her mind off the horrible truth.

“Yes... Yes, you’re right.”

I give her a reassuring smile. “Then let’s get out of here.” I turn back to the wall, studying it. “I think I can break through,” I say, “but it’s going to take time.” My backup power’s been depleted, and it’s going to take at least a day for them to recharge, time we can’t afford to spare. But if I can get a splinter in, maybe even a hairline fracture, then that’ll give me something to work with.

Turning, I kick the amber several times, then inspect my handiwork.

Nothing.

“Here,” Beakbreaker says. “Let me.” She goes to the wall and turns around.

“Beakbreaker, I mean no offense, but you’re... well, you won’t be able to hit as well as you did when you were young-”

Beakbreaker smashes her hooves into the wall with a thunderous bang, leaving a crack in their wake.

My jaw falls open. “How did you-”

“When I was working on Iron Hoof’s research, I developed arthritis in my legs,” Beakbreaker says. “He didn’t like that, so he gave me new ones.”

She smashes the amber again.

“Then you’re-”

“A cyborg? Yes. Organic body and four metal legs.”

Several more jackhammer kicks sends giant chunks of amber falling to the floor.

Beakbreaker looks to me with a smile. “Now, you think the two of us working together can break this?”

I grin.

Together, the two of us hit the wall in sync, smashing it repeatedly, our artificial legs making progress where organic ones would have quickly given out from exhaustion. Bit by bit, minute by minute, we make progress until we create a tiny hole. That small hole quickly becomes a big one, and we finally create an opening wide enough for us to fit through.

Peering out into the chamber, I look around for Mangus. He’s nowhere in sight. Satisfied, I extend my wings. “Hop on.”

When Beakbreaker’s on my back, and her legs tight around my neck, I leap from our prison and fly towards the end of the bridge, and the door leading up to the surface. But there’s something we have to do first: If we’re lucky, Mangus left Chrysalis and Thorax behind in his haste to leave. Luck smiles on me, for both their forms are still on the bridge’s base, more amber gluing them to the floor.

Landing, I wait until Beakbreaker slides off my back before rushing to one of the amber chunks and peering inside. But the amber is too foggy for me to make out who’s inside.

“Silverspeak, what are you doing?” Beakbreaker asks. “We need to get going! These two will have to wait until we-”

“We’ll need all the help we can get,” I say. “Thorax is in one of these.”

That changes Beakbreaker’s tone. “And who’s the other one?”

“Chrysalis.”

“What?!”

“It’s a long story,” I say as I adjust my glasses, squinting to see who’s inside. When that fails, I hurry to the other chunk, but I can’t make out who’s inside this one as well.

I have to make a choice, and I hurry back to the first chunk and hit it. “Beakbreaker, help me break this open!”

Beakbreaker joins me, her legs bucking the amber faster than my own. She would much rather be on her way, and I don’t blame her. The sooner we get the two out, the sooner-

The chamber rumbles. A stalactite shakes, sways, and breaks free from the ceiling and narrowly misses the bridge as it plunges into the abyss.

“What was that?” Beakbreaker nervously asks.

I hit the chunk harder and harder. “I don’t know, but it can’t be good!”

Beakbreaker redoubles her efforts, and we finally shatter the side of the chunk. Turning, we grab hold and dig away, yanking out pieces of amber, freeing the pony insi-

Oh no... this isn’t Thorax! It’s Chrysalis! No, no, no! We need Thorax, not her!

Another tremor, and two more stalactites plunge from the ceiling, vanishing into the darkness below. But it’s not the shaking of the chasm that worries me; the air itself feels charged with a massive amount of magic energy.

“We have to go!” Beakbreaker shouts, for she feels it, too. “Now!”

She’s right. I need to throw her on my back and fly... but I can’t leave Chrysalis here. She’s an old changeling without magic or wings, but we need every set of hooves we can get. Even an old mare can hold a gun and shoot.

I dig away the rest of the amber and drag Chrysalis free before tossing her onto my back.

“Beakbreaker! Get on!”

“With her?!”

“Do it!” Another rumble almost throws us off our feet. “Hurry!”

Groaning, Beakbreaker rushes over and climbs onto my back, lying on top of Chrysalis.

An ear-splitting crack, and more stalactites fall from above as the chasm shakes and shudders, boulders and chunks of rock joining the hail of debris. The entire place is falling apart! 

A stalactite falls from over us. I leap back as it slams into the stone blocking the door, nudging it just enough that we can slip through.

“Hold on tight!”

Grabbing Chrysalis’ front legs to keep her from sliding off, I fly for the door. It’s partially open, and I slip through into the tunnel leading back to the elevator, flying up into the shaft as quickly as I can, trusting that Beakbreaker’s metal legs won’t lose their hold around my neck.

We reach the top of the shaft, and I have to beat my wings furiously to keep from crashing into the cage surrounding it. Dropping to the floor, I run down the the long chute through the processing factory, not daring to slow down as machinery sways, shakes, and groans. Windows shatter in their frames, and chunks of brick fall from the walls, allowing polluted sunlight to pool inside.

At last, the doors appear. Kicking them open, I run out into the street. Buildings are crumbling all around me, weaker ones falling to the streets and quickly blocking off escape routes

“What’s happening?!” Beakbreaker yells.

I don’t know, and I don’t care to find out. We’ve got to get moving, but there’s no sign of Green Wing, and without a radio, it’s impossible for me to get in touch with her!

“Silverspeak, head north!”

“What?”

“When I was brought here, the shuttle landed at the docks to the north. I saw some other shuttles there as well!”

If everyone’s evacuated the island, it’s doubtful they’ll be there, but we’ll have to chance it.

Taking to the sky again, I race over Manehattan as more buildings fall and crumble, sending up enormous clouds of dust that threaten to choke the three of us. I recognize some of the buildings, towers I walked and flew past countless times. But none of them can hold up against the earthquake tearing them apart.

My past is falling apart around me.

We finally reach the docks, and I shoot down towards several hangars that weren’t present when I was last on the island. Landing, I kick the doors in on the closest one and rush inside. Amazingly enough, there’s one shuttle inside, similar to the one Green Wing and I flew in – what, a day ago? Celestia, feels like a lifetime.

I run to the shuttle, yank the door open, and hurry inside, slamming the door shut behind us. Beakbreaker slides off my back, and I dump Chrysalis to the floor as I rush into the cockpit and take a seat. Okay, it’s... mostly similar to the shuttle I flew before. Can’t be too different.

Beakbreaker gets into the co-pilot’s seat. “Please tell me you can you fly this.”

I hit what I hope are the right buttons. The engines come on, and I take hold of the control stick. “Here we go!”

Taking off, I ram through the hangar doors, breaking out into the open. There’s no time to look back or do anything fancy. I point us upwards and race forward as fast as I can, pedal to the metal. We need to get as far away from the island as possible before whatever’s going to happen, will happen.

I check the rear view mirror. All of Manehattan is now enveloped in a cloud of smoke, ash, and dust. No towers remain standing; only a few hangars and small structures at the docks can still be seen. Everything’s fallen away, and-

The wind shifts, and the smoke and ash is hit by a heavy gust. Something emerges from the smoke, a single, solitary tower, the last structure on Manehattan that's still standing. I squint, trying to make out what building is is. What building will have the honor being the last…

I stop. A lump forms in my throat. I recognize that building. 

It’s where my dreams became a reality.

It’s the Medicomp tower.

The tower, old, battered, and weakened, sways, glass and debris falling from its gutted exterior. Yet, the tower remains standing, refusing to fall as Manehattan collapses beneath it.

A chunk of the side falls away, rooms and abandoned equipment spewing out to the unseen streets. The Medicomp name, bolted to the edge of the roof in giant, metal letters, falls off, letter by letter.

Then, without a sound, the Medicomp tower breaks apart, falling into the ash below.

It’s gone.

I can’t pull my gaze away. The tower was just a building, one among many, old and past its prime, so damaged that it could never be repaired.

That realization doesn’t stop the my throat from tightening up.

The smoke spreads out, only to be stopped as a giant dome of red energy erupts from beneath the island, bulging upwards and out, throwing debris into the sky. But as soon as it appears, it’s gone, and what was thrown up falls back, vanishing into the unseen remains of Manehattan.

Beakbreaker’s staring out out the windows, shocked. “What happened?”

I... I don't know. That dome of energy was powerful magic, far beyond anything ordinary ponies could accomplish. Was the chasm with Mangus’ captives teleported away? It makes sense: Iron Hoof and Mangus would want their captives to be kept somewhere safe; perhaps Mangus wanted to wait until both of his oldest foes had been added to his menagerie before sending his captives somewhere away from the destruction his plan will cause.

But… What could possibly destroy a chamber that far underground?

I try to push the thought aside as I aim us towards the sky and press the engines to maximum speed, rocketing us into the atmosphere and the void beyond. The moon’s up there, and with it, the last remains of the Resistance. If we’re quick enough, we can reach them in half an hour.

Please, Celestia, don’t let us be too late.
> Enlightenment
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Equestria’s sky gives way to the void of space as the shuttle rockets towards the moon, the ship threatening to shake itself to pieces as I push the engines to their limits.

Chrysalis stirs in the cabin behind the cockpit.

“Take the controls,” I tell Beakbreaker as I head into the cabin, hurrying past Chrysalis to the lockers, where I search for weapons, armor, and anything else we can use in the coming battle.

Blinking, Chrysalis looks around, confused at finding herself inside one of Iron Hoof’s shuttles.

“Relax, Chrysalis,” I say. “You’re safe.”

Nearly jumping at my voice, Chrysalis realizes that if I’m here, she’s safe. “What happened?” she demands. “How did I get here?”

“Beakbreaker and I freed you from Mangus,” I say. “Now we’re-”

“Wait. Did you say Mangus? As in, Mangus Bluehorn, my former-”

“It’s a long story,” I say. Cursing at the lack of weapons in the lockers, I rush back to the cockpit and take a seat. “All you need to know is that Mangus Bluehorn is alive. He’s been manipulating Iron Hoof all these years so he can take over Equestria.”

Chrysalis scoffs. “Preposterous! Mangus Bluehorn would-”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not!” I snap. “Because Iron Hoof and the rest of his cronies know where the Resistance is hiding. We have to get there and evacuate as many as we can.”

Chrysalis enters the cockpit, looking out into the void and to the rapidly-approaching moon.

It takes her a moment to realize that Beakbreaker’s glaring at her.

The last time Chrysalis entered our lives, Beakbreaker was used as a bargaining chip by the changeling queen to ensure I’d do as she ordered, ensuring the deaths of thousands, and that’s not including everything she did as Iron Hoof’s ally.

“Chrysalis,” Beakbreaker growls. “I’d normally break your back and shove you out the airlock. But in light of our current situation, I’m willing to declare a truce between us.”

Chrysalis nods. “As am I.” 

“Good.” Beakbreaker turns back to her control panel, paying Chrysalis no further attention.

I check the shuttle's readouts. If they’re accurate, we’ll reach the moon in about ten minutes. Yanking the radio from its holder, I hit the transmit button. “Resistance base, this is Silverspeak! Come in!”

Silence.

“Moon Base, this is Silverspeak! Come in!”

A voice comes through, garbled and hard to make out. “...peak, repeat.”

“This is Silverspeak!” I say. “Iron Hoof and his forces know where you are! They’re preparing an attack as we speak! The base needs to be evacuated!”

I can hear a brief scuffle as someone grabs the microphone from their end. “Silverspeak?” It’s Onyx. “Silverspeak, repeat what you just said: Did you say Iron Hoof-”

“He knows where the base is, Onyx!”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes! You need to start an evacuation!”

There’s an uncomfortably long silence.

“Onyx?!”

“Silverspeak, if we do this, there is no going back. Are you absolutely-”

“Yes, I am!” I yell. “Tell Luna she needs to get everyone out!” I take my hoof off the transmit button and take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “Chrysalis, how long will it take for Iron Hoof to assemble a strike force?”

“I do not know,” Chrysalis admits. “Maybe half an hour, an hour at most.”

Okay... We have an hour. Luna and the other leaders of the Resistance would have fallback plans in case their base is discovered. No doubt they’ve practiced such evacuations as well, which means this should go quickly and smoothly.

The moon quickly fills up our windows. In any other situation I would be awestruck at approaching such a magnificent celestial body, but I don’t have time to marvel at its beauty.

“Beakbreaker,” I say, “How do we get into the base?”

“There’s a hidden passage inside a crater,” Beakbreaker says, bringing up a map of the surface. “Get back on the radio and let Onyx know we’re coming in on a stolen shuttle. We don’t want them to shoot us down.”

I’m about to hit the transmit button when the radio squawks again. “Silverspeak, this is Onyx. We’re beginning the evacuation.”

“Good. We’re coming in with a stolen shuttle; don’t shoot us down.”

“You have got a shuttle? How many can it carry?”

I glance back, counting the seats in the cabin. “Fifteen. Twenty at most, but it’d be crowded.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Can you guide yourself in?”

“I’ve got Beakbreaker with me. She’ll take care of that.”

A brief pause. “You rescued her?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Now, get here as quickly as you can.” I can hear frantic movement over the radio, and then an alarm begins ringing.

“We’ll be right there.” I flick some switches, readying to slow us down.

“Silverspeak?”

“Yes, Onyx?”

“How did Iron Hoof learn where we were?”

Buck... Onyx and the others are not going to be happy when they I learned I betrayed the location of their base to save Beakbreaker.

Beakbreaker looks to me curiously. So does Chrysalis.

“Silverspeak,” Onyx Shield asks, “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Blast it; might as well tell them now and get it over with.

“Onyx... I-”

An alarm fills the cockpit as the control panel flashes red.

I shoot a glance at Beakbreaker. “What is that?!”

Something shoots past us like an enormous torpedo, and then another, and another. Shoving down on the control stick, I send us into a dive, trying to get away from... whatever these things are!

“It’s Iron Hoof’s fleet!” Chrysalis growls.

I spin the shuttle as an enormous fleet of warships and zeppelins emerge from giant portals around the moon, falling into a blockade formation. And these aren’t small attack craft meant for hit and run assaults: they’re flying gun emplacements, built to hammer enemy bases until there’s nothing left but blood-drenched rubble. Sweet Celestia, there has to be dozens of them, each one having enough firepower to level Canterlot. The largest craft alone holds enough cannons and guns to resemble a mechanical porcupine.

Those guns are already turning towards the moon.

“Beakbreaker! Where’s that passage!?”

Beakbreaker points towards a medium-size crater on the moon’s surface. “There!”

“Alright; everyone, hold on, I-

A bright, green flash fills the windshield, and I turn away, instinctively covering my eyes, Beakbreaker and Chrysalis yelling out in surprise.

When the light fades, I lower my legs, dreading what I’ll find. But... there’s nothing. The moon is still in one piece.

“Is everyone okay?” I ask.

“Yes,” Beakbreaker says, checking our instruments. “What was that?”

“I don’t know... Chrysalis?”

She shakes her head. 

“All right. Everyone hold on.” Turning us towards the crater, I race down faster than I should: it won’t take the nearby ships long to realize that a lone shuttle is out of place among the assault fleet. If I were in their position, I’d destroy it.

I grab the radio as we race towards the crater. “Onyx, this is Silverspeak. We’re coming in!”

There’s no answer.

“Onyx?”

Silence.

We’re almost at the crater. Dropping the radio, I slow us down as we plunge into the shadows within, which is broken as Beakbreaker engages the lights, revealing a small tunnel before us, well hidden within the crater’s walls. As she said, it’s small, just barely big enough for the shuttle, but we’ll make it through.

Going at the slowest speed I can manage, I head into the tunnel, following it as it curves, twists, and goes up and down as we make our way through the moon.

“How long is this passage?” I ask.

“Not much longer,” Beakbreaker assures me. She peers ahead. “There!”

We turn a corner and come into view of a shimmering energy field, and a familiar hangar on the other side. The shuttle heads through the field without incident, and I set us down as best I can, steel groaning and crunching as the shuttle grinds to a halt.

“Everyone out!” I shout. Beakbreaker’s already ahead of me, prying the door open and rushing out into the hangar. Chrysalis is right behind her, and I bring up the rear as stale, recycled air greets us. But no one else is here to meet us: no guards, no representatives, not even a courier to escort us.

This... this is wrong. The hangar should be packed with Resistance members fleeing the base. The shuttles and other craft should be heading through portals leading to Equestria’s surface. But none of them have been touched: fuel pipes lie unused on the floor, and mooring lines keep each craft attached to their berths. But what’s most startling is the silence: No officers are yelling at others to hurry up. No alarms are blaring.

It’s as quiet as the void beyond the moon.

“This way,” Beakbreaker says. “I’ll take us to the control room.”

As I’m still unfamiliar with the base’s layout, I let Beakbreaker take the lead. She heads into a hallway and into a stairwell, heading upward as quickly as she can.

We’ve only gone a few floors when she stops.

“Beakbreaker?”

She doesn’t answer as she sniffs the air. Puzzled, I do the same. There’s something foul, yet sickeningly sweet in the air.

“What is that?” Chrysalis asks, her face scrunching from the smell.

Beakbreaker’s still trying to figure that out. Not wanting to waste time, I hurry up and take the lead. If there’s something dangerous up ahead, I want to face it instead of her. Going to the nearest door, I take hold and push it open, and-

And...

Oh... sweet Celestia...

The corridor before me is crammed with bodies. Dozens of them, slumped against the walls and sprawled upon the blood-drenched floor. Heads have holes in them, chests have gaping, bleeding maws, and throats have been slashed wide open.

Empty, lifeless eyes stare at nothing. Mouths are stuck in silent screams or cries of despair.

Beakbreaker and Chrysalis enter the hall, only to skid to a stop. A second later and they’re vomiting onto the floor. But I... I can’t tear my gaze from the carnage before me.

What in tartarus happened here?!

A sob breaks the silence.

Snapped from my trance, I realize that the sound is coming from the end of the hall, where Gusty treated and repaired me.

“Stay here,” I say. Biting my lip, I head down the hall, focused on that sound, using it to distract me from the bodies I have to make my way around, and the blood splashing onto my hooves.

Finally reaching the door, I open it. The room’s dark, and I can just make out someone curled up in the corner, rocking back and forth, sobbing hysterically.

I turn on the light, and...

“Gusty?!” I rush to his side. “Gusty! Gusty, can you hear me?!”

He shakes, biting down hard as tears dribble down his cheeks. “No... no, no...”

“Gusty!” I take hold of his head and force him to look at me. “Gusty, look at me!”

“It’s not true! It’s not true!” He sobs, his body shaking with grief.

“What’s not true?!”

“I... I... I didn’t do it!” Gusty gasps. “I didn’t kill ‘em!”

“What are you talking-”

“My parents!” He grabs me, eyes wide and shaking with terror. “I didn’t kill ‘em! I swear, I didn’t! I didn’t! I didn’t!”

Sweet Celestia, I’ve never seen Gusty panicking like this, so overcome with grief and fear that he can barely even talk. It terrifies me, but there’s no time to try and calm him down, or argue with him. Turning my charm to its greatest strength, I tighten my hold on Gusty. “Gusty, I know what you did, but it’s not your fault,” I assure him. “But for now, I need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”

Gusty blinks, as if trying to clear his head. “I... I...”

“Just stand,” I say, keeping my voice firm and commanding, but not condescending. “I’ll get you out of here, but you need to stand up.”

Gusty tries, forcing everything he has into his efforts, but it’s enough for him to stand on wobbling hooves.

“There. That’s good,” I say. “Now, stay with me. I’ll get you to safety.” Crouching down, I slide Gusty onto my back. Spotting a bag of supplies on the bed, I grab it and head back into the hall. “Beakbreaker? Chrysalis?”

The two emerge from other rooms. Their manes seems whiter than they were an hour ago.

“Everyone else is dead,” Chrysalis says, her voice shaking.

Then that settles it. We have nothing to gain by staying here any longer. “Beakbreaker, we need to get to the control center.”

She hurries from the hall, and Chrysalis and I follow.


***


My wife and Chrysalis struggle to keep their composure as we head higher, each hall clogged with death and misery: bodies of ponies, dragons, griffons, and all other species lie slumped against one another, guns and knives lying on blood-soaked stone.

I can barely keep myself together as I follow Beakbreaker. Knowing that things will only get worse if Iron Hoof gets here keeps me focused: We find the control room, get what survivors we can, and get out of here.

We reach another hallway when I hear something. I stop, my ears swiveling to the left.

The others stop, hearing it, too.

It’s a cry.

A child’s cry.

I carefully lower Gusty off my back. “Beakbreaker, Chrysalis, watch him.” 

I hurry through the doors into the base’s medical wing, fighting not to vomit at seeing patients and staff lying on the floor, scattered among overturned beds, cabinets, and shelves. The stench of death is overpowering, burning my mouth, my nose, and my eyes as I make my way through the carnage and-

Oh no... Silver Scalpel... He’s lying in a corner, the back of his head collapsed upon itself, a gun lying near his lifeless hooves. Tears still lie upon his cheeks, and lots of them.

Why... Why would he end his life?! Why would so many others end-

The cry comes again.

There’s nothing I can do for Silver Scalpel now. I hate to leave him, but I have no choice as I follow the cry into one of the small side rooms, where a few beds lie tightly packed together. A tiny form lies in one of them.

Gold Wing's terrified and confused, her cheeks wet with tears. Then she recognizes me and frantically shakes her hooves at me, silently begging for me to take her.

I reach down and scoop up the changeling infant as carefully as I can, so grateful that at least one child was spared from this insanity. But where’s her mother? Where’s Green Wing? I haven’t seen any changelings lying among the dead. Perhaps she’s like Gusty, curled up in a heap somewhere. If I find her, seeing her child will snap her out of whatever madness has gripped her.

Clutching Gold Wing tightly, I rush back to the others, desperate to leave this place of death and misery.

“Silverspeak?” Beakbreaker asks as I hurry through the doors. “What was it?”

I hold out Gold Wing.

Gasping, Beakbreaker instinctively snatches her from my hold, clutching Gold Wing as tightly as she can, so relieved to see her alive.

Chrysalis isn’t so sentimental. “We must keep moving.”

Pulling Gusty onto my back once again, I take the lead, heading back into the stairwell.


***


We finally reach the top of the stairwell and emerge into another hall stuffed with the bodies of the dead. Beakbreaker hurries through them, fighting not to cry as she glimpses ponies and others that she knew, but she forces her emotions aside, only stopping when we finally reach an important-looking door. This must be the base’s control room.

I’m about to confirm so with Beakbreaker when I hear more sobs nearby.

“Beakbreaker, you-”

She’s already running towards the sobs, desperate to find more of her companions. Chrysalis follows closely behind.

Leaving them to their task, I take a deep breath and enter the control room, my eyes watering at the stench of death and blood. The place reminds me of the control room on a zeppelin or any other large vessel, with numerous consoles, displays, and maps spread throughout. Computers display information, waiting for commands that will never come. As with everywhere else on the base, the floor is covered with still-warm corpses.

“Hello?!” I call out. “Is anyone in here?”

There’s a moan near the main control console.

I rush into the cesspool of misery, keeping a tight hold on Gusty. “Hello?!” Then I spot the source of the moans.

Onyx Shield lies crumpled before the console. He’s like Gusty: a sobbing, emotional wreck oblivious to my presence, lost in his own world of despair and grief. But if I could get through to Gusty, I can get through to him, and I take hold of his shoulders, forcing him to look at me.

“Onyx? Can you hear me?” I turn my charm up once again. “Onyx, listen to me. We’re all in great danger! We need to get out of here, and I need your help.”

Onyx shakes his head, tears flowing down his cheeks. “I can’t help... I can’t help anyone!”

“Yes, you can. But only-”

“I’ve failed!” Onyx howls. “I’ve failed, Silverspeak! Everything I’ve tried to do has been a waste! I’ve hurt so many! I’ve.... I’ve...”

“Onyx! This isn’t you talking! The base was-”

“Do you know how much blood I have on my hooves?!” Onyx demands. “How many I’ve hurt? How many I’ve killed?!” He thrusts his hooves in my face. “Look at them! Look at them!”

I don’t have time for this! “Onyx, if we don’t leave now, everyone here is going to die! Do you want their deaths on your conscience, too?”

He doesn’t answer, but his hesitation is good enough for me.

The console beeps. Turning away from Onyx, I study a display: Iron Hoof’s fleet is descending towards the lunar surface, including several dozen shuttles, all of which will no doubt be carrying soldiers, cyborgs, and whatever mechanical terrors he can unleash.

There has to be a way to stop them! I go through the menus, trying to find gun emplacements, shields, anything! Wait! There! I hit a button, and a shield rises over the base’s location. Two of the shuttlecraft vanish, and the others turn away. A few moments later, and red dots fire from the fleet, hitting the shield again and again.

An indicator tells me we have ten minutes before the shield fails.

“Onyx, I need your help.” I kneel before him. “We need to get out of here before Iron Hoof’s forces can get to us. Can you stand?”

Onyx tries to talk, but he’s still too shell-shocked to even do that.

I’m interrupted as Chrysalis hurries inside. “Silverspeak: we have found several survivors. Are there any in here?”

“Only Onyx,” I say. “Is Green Wing among them? Princess Luna?”

“No.”

I bite my lip. “Get them all to the hangar." I indicate the graphic on the console. "We can use the portal in there to get everyone to the surface before Iron Hoof breaks through the shield.”

“We won’t have time to search the rest of the base for survivors,” Chrysalis points out.

I nod. “We just need to get as many out as we can.” Then, to Onyx, “Onyx, where is Princess Luna?”

Onyx struggles to talk as he takes deep breaths, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “She... She was in the... the... the sanctuary...”

Sliding Gusty off my back, I run from the room; once outside the control room, I sprint to the lift and cross the chasm, and then race into the sanctuary, dreading what carnage I’ll find inside.

There are no bodies when I rush into the sanctuary, no corpses draped across chairs, pews, or the monuments within the alcoves in the walls. No blood flows over my hooves, and the stench of death is mercifully absent.

“Princess Luna?!” I call.

A sob answers me. It’s coming from the windows at the far end of the room.

Running over, I find the princess curled up beneath the window, her crown lying on the floor, discarded and forgotten as she sobs like a child.

“Princess!” I kneel, my heart sinking at seeing Luna in such bad shape. She’s deathly pale, her shaking out of control as she rocks back and forth. She’s in no shape to talk or even stand. But I have to get through to her. More than anyone else on this base, I need Luna to come back to us.

“Princess Luna? Can you hear me?” When that fails to get a response, I focus my charm; I don’t know if it will overpower the grief-stricken will of a princess, but I have to try. “Princess, you’re in great danger. I need to get you to safety.”

A flash of light distracts me: the shield is visible beyond the windows, as is the fleet that’s bombarding it with everything it has.

“Princess,” I say, trying to ignore the sight, “I need you to come with me.”

“No...”

“Your Highness-”

“No!” Luna roars. She’s on her hooves so fast that I fall back, terrified at seeing her so angry. “No! No more! No more!” But then her anger fades as quickly as it came, replaced once more by grief, and she collapses to the floor.

The shield lights up again, bending as the bombardment increases.

Time is not on my side, but trying to force Luna to come with me isn’t working. Perhaps empathy and listening will do more good than trying to bend her to my will, even if it’s only to save her life.

I kneel beside the princess, taking her hoof in mine. “Princess... Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I... I... ” Luna’s tears splatter onto the tiled floor. “I... I can see them...” She stares at nothing, stiff with horror and fear and guilt and shame. “Everyone who’s dead! Everyone who’s suffered! Everyone I’ve failed!”

“Yes, you can see them,” I say, trying to ignore another flash of light beyond the windows. It’s difficult to keep my voice from rising. “But right now we need to-”

“Kill me.”

“What?”

Luna looks me in the eyes. “Kill me... I order you to kill me.”

I can’t speak.

“As your princess, I order you to kill me!” Luna snaps.

“No,” I say. “No, I won’t.”

“You don’t know... You don’t know!” Luna’s shaking even more violently than before, her tears falling so fast it’s almost like seeing miniature waterfalls. “You don’t know how much it hurts!” She stumbles towards me, crazed, eyes wild with desperation. “Kill me! End it!”

“No.”

“You will!”

“No!”

“You... you...”

Her hooves grab my throat.

“You coward!”

I’m forced to the ground, and I struggle to breathe under a grip stronger than even the mightiest earth pony.

“It hurts!” Luna shrieks. “It hurts!”

I finally grab Luna’s legs and shove, my mechanical strength just managing to match her own. “Princess! Listen to me! This isn’t you! Iron Hoof cast a spell that’s affecting your thinking!”

A flash of light, and the shield buckles from the bombs being thrown against it.

“I can help you,” I say, lowering my voice. “I can make the pain go away.”

Luna hesitates.

“Come with me, your Highness. Come with me to safety, and I can make the pain go away.”

“Swear it,” Luna hisses. “Swear on your life that you will make it go away.”

I nod. “I swear.” My promise isn’t enough to break through the grief that grips Luna’s mind, but it is enough to make her stop struggling. She calms down just enough that she can stand, and I hurry to her side. “Follow me, your Highness.”

A bright flash of light, and the shield bursts like shattered glass.

“Quickly,” I hiss.

We head through the sanctuary. Luna is nowhere near as fast as I would like, but I can’t rush her, not for fear of her losing it and doing something suicidal. When we leave the sanctuary and emerge onto the lift, I see Chrysalis and Beakbreaker on the other side, herding some shell-shocked survivors down the hall and into the stairwell. Upon seeing me, Beakbreaker runs over.

“Silverspeak!”

“The shield’s broken,” I shout. “We have to move!”

“But we don’t have everyone! There has to be more survivors we can-”

“Iron Hoof’s coming!” I say, pointing to the distraught Luna. “We have to get her to safety. You and Chrysalis get the others out of here through the hangar portal. I’ll be right behind you.”

Beakbreaker hesitates, but she knows I’m right. Every second counts, and if Iron Hoof knows where we are, he’ll be sending a strike force our way right now.

Nodding, Beakbreaker finally turns and runs back to the others. There are so few of them that it only takes a few moments before everyone’s gone, leaving just me and Luna upon the lift.

“This way your Highness,” I say, picking up the pace. “We’re almost out of here.” Oh Celestia, please let her feel better once we’re back on Equestria. Let the spell’s effects dissipate and-

A bright shimmer stops me in my path, and Luna too. I recoil, shielding my eyes as a magic spell glows, and then fades. 

Our path across the lift is blocked by unicorns in uniforms of red and black, led by none other than Iron Hoof himself.

“Iron Hoof...” I growl.

He turns to me, surprised. “Silverspeak... Wherever trouble may be found, you are never far behind.” Then he turns to Luna. “Princess... You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Shell-shocked as she is, Luna still realizes who’s standing before her. Her anger flares, and she storms towards him.

The unicorns close ranks around Iron Hoof, their horns lighting up.

“Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that, your Highness,” Iron Hoof cautions.

Luna doesn’t care.

“If you kill me," Iron Hoof says quickly, “then my forces will destroy this base and everyone in it!”

“There is no one left to save,” Luna snarls. “You murdered them all!”

“It was my benefactor and ally who cast that spell. You have survived.” He gives me the briefest of gestures. “So has he. But it’s over, your Highness. You cannot win this war by yourself and with an elderly cyborg.”

Luna answers by rearing back, howling in blind fury, her eyes going white as magic erupts from her horn.

I rush forward, trying to-

A barrage of magic slams into Luna, throwing her across the lift and into a support beam.

“Princess!” I rush to her; Luna’s groaning, weakened, but still alive.

The unicorns light up their horns again, and-

“That’s enough!”

Everyone stops as someone emerges from the darkened tunnel behind us. It’s...

Princess Luna?!

A Luna identical to the one before me strides into the light. Like everyone else I’ve found, she’s shaken and uncertain, but she’s forcing herself to walk through it, to not let herself succumb to despair and grief.

“I will not have you both killed on my watch,” this new Luna says to me.

“And who are you?” Iron Hoof demands.

“The real Princess Luna,” the newcomer informs him. She points to the Luna at my side. “She is my decoy. My double. But I will not have anyone else die today. Not when enough blood has been shed.”

I stare this new Luna, and then back to the one I was trying to save.

“How do I know you’re not an imposter?” Iron Hoof asks the newcomer.

New Luna looks to me for the briefest of moments, her eyes darting to Luna, and then back to me. “Did you really believe the Princess of the Night would be foiled by your spell?” New Luna turns to glare at Iron Hoof. “I thought you’d have known better than that.”

Iron Hoof’s unfazed by the insult. “Oh, I knew you wouldn’t be incapacitated,” he says. “I was counting on only you having the will and the strength to resist.” Iron Hoof smiles. “A queen is so much easier to take when her defenders are all dead.”

“This battle isn't over,” New Luna sneers.

“You said you didn’t want anyone else to die,” Iron Hoof says. “Are you prepared to stop any further loss of life and end this pointless war?”

“I have always been open for negotiating.”

“It’s hard to negotiate when you hide yourself,” Iron Hoof points out.

“Enough talk.” New Luna gestures to me and my Luna. “Allow them to go free, and we will talk.”

“You are in no position to dictate any terms.”

New Luna’s horn charges. “If I wished, I could end your life in an instant, and you would have nothing to gain.”

Iron Hoof walks onto the lift. “And as I said, if anything happens to me, my forces will destroy this moon and everyone on it. There might be a scattered few down here who managed to survive that spell. If you don’t want to be responsible for their deaths, you will get on your knees and surrender.”

It occurs to me that the unicorns and Iron Hoof are so focused on New Luna that they’re ignoring me.

I start to shift my position, trying to get a clear shot at Iron Hoof.

“And how do I know, General,” New Luna demands, “that you will not harm those survivors?”

Iron Hoof stops only a few feet away from the princess. “I give you my word of honor.”

A scoff. “A traitor's honor is worth nothing.”

“It is honor that made me do what was necessary, your Highness, to save our species. To protect us from those who would do us harm.”

“By committing genocide.”

“Who mourns the mosquitoes we swat by the millions? Who cries for the flies we squash without a second thought? Tell me, your Highness, would any of us have mourned the races that sought to take over our lands and enslave us?”

“Your words fool no one, Iron Hoof,” New Luna snarls. “You only deceive yourself. And when you find yourself before the Judge of us all, your lies will not save you from an eternity in the darkest pits of Tartarus.”

For the briefest of moments, Iron Hoof wavers, suddenly lost in uncertainty and doubt. But his hesitation only lasts a moment, and ... just as New Luna swings her hoof at his neck, a small, hidden blade glinting in the light.

That knife almost hits Iron Hoof, but his guards fire a dozen spells at once, all hitting the princess and slamming her into a support cable, where her skin crackles and melts away with a flash of green flame, revealing-

“Green Wing?!”

Shaking at having come so close to death, Iron Hoof storms across the lift to Green Wing, who struggles to rise. But she can’t stand before Iron Hoof yanks out a combat knife and plunges it into her chest.

“NO!” I howl, running towards the two. But I only make it a few steps before I’m hit by something powerful and white-hot, and thrown into the real Luna.

Green Wing gasps as Iron Hoof hoists her up, glaring at her with hatred hot enough to melt stone.

“Parasite,” he hisses.

Yanking the knife free, Iron Hoof slashes Green Wing's throat wide open.

Green Wing gargles, frantically grabbing her neck, trying to stop the flow of blood. She gasps, eyes wide with pain, kicking and struggling with all her might.

The flow of blood slows. 

So does Green Wing’s struggles.

Her legs drop to her sides.

As if he’s taking out the trash, Iron Hoof tosses Green Wing off the lift and into the chasm, where she vanishes into the darkness below.

No... oh Green Wing, no!

Iron Hoof wipes green blood from his uniform, but he can’t hide his shaking hooves. “You are a coward, Princess,” he snarls. “Letting your followers die instead of you. You live, while they-”

Luna vanishes behind me with a flash of light and re-appears before Iron Hoof. A blast of magic knocks his unicorns across the chamber, a few tumbling into the chasm, screaming as they plunge into the darkness below. Luna ignores them all, rearing back and roaring as she brings down her hooves towards Iron Hoof.

Iron Hoof rolls clear, narrowly misses being crushed. But before he can rise, Luna’s magic grabs him by the neck and yanks him up, aiming to crush his throat.

Gargling, Iron Hoof yanks something small and red from his belt and tosses it onto Luna’s chest, where it spreads out and grows with terrifying speed. 

It's Mangus' amber!

Startled, Luna tries to shake the amber off, but it’s too fast, quickly enveloping and encasing her in seconds.

Iron Hoof drops to the floor, gasping as the amber shakes slightly, rocking back and forth as Luna tries to break free. But her efforts fail, and in seconds the shakes slow down.

They stop.

Iron Hoof smiles.

Several unicorns levitate the amber and hurry from the chasm. Their leader lingers a moment, smiling at me as he brings up his radio. “Destroy this place,” he says. “Make sure no one can ever come here again.”

No sooner does he speak than his unicorns light up their horns. Iron Hoof and his minions vanish with a flash of light, taking Luna with them.


***


The chasm shakes. Rubble and rocks around me, some hitting the lift, others plunging into the chasm below.

There’s no time to take the lift, and no time to try the stairwell: Iron Hoof will waste no effort in leveling this place as quickly as possible. I stand and jump from the lift, spreading my wings as I fly down to the hangar level, where I rush inside, finding Beakbreaker and Chrysalis with Onyx and about thirty exhausted Resistance survivors.

Beakbreaker runs to me. “Where’s Luna?!”

“Iron Hoof got her,” I say, hating each word as they slip out.

“What?!”

“We have to go!” I say. “Iron Hoof’s going to destroy this base!” I run to the control panel that opened the portal when Green Wing and I headed to the surface of the planet, but I can’t make sense of the buttons and knobs. “Beakbreaker! Do you know how to use this?!”

Shaken from our latest setback, Beakbreaker manages to push that shock aside and hurries to the pad, trying to get it work, hitting buttons and keys.

The hangar shakes as the moon itself is hit by something. Craft wobble within their metallic cradles, and a few slip free, crashing onto the floor.

“Beakbreaker!”

“Almost got it...”

A shuttle slams down not ten feet from us.

“Hurry!”

“There!”

A portal appears before us. Rough, ill-shaped, and not at all steady, but on the other side is safety, and that’s all that matters.

“Go!” Chrysalis yells. “Everyone, through!”

Clutching Gold Wing tightly, Beakbreaker rushes through. Chrysalis is behind her, dragging Onyx after her. The survivors follow, aware that they’re supposed to be fleeing for their lives, but still too shaken to care. Most even seem to welcome the idea of dying. I dispel that as I shove them into the portal, one after another. Only when Gusty is left do I throw him onto my back and run through.

The chill of teleportation is intense, but vanishes as quickly as it came, and I’m landing on a hard surface behind everyone else. We’re in what looks like the remains of a courtyard, surrounded by long-broken walls enveloped in vines and weeds.

Behind us, the portal wobbles, shakes, and then closes.

Struggling to his hooves, Onyx tries to recover his composure. “Is everyone okay?” he asks.

The others nod.

I look around, trying to recognize our surroundings. “Where are we?”

“Canterlot,” Onyx mutters. “At least, what’s left of it.”

Canterlot? I hurry ahead, emerging from the ruins to find myself among a scene of unimaginable destruction: stone, broken towers, and imploded buildings lie before me, all overcome by weeds and other hardy vegetation lit by the light of the late-afternoon sun.

We’re not alone here; for a moment I freeze, only to relax as I recognize the dragon going through the rubble before us. It’s Spike; he must have been sent through to the surface before that spell hit the base, to act as a vanguard and watch over everyone who was coming through.

Spotting us, he hurries over, the ground shaking with every step of his giant feet.

“Look!” Someone yells.

I look up. High above, the moon is glowing. Even from this far away, there’s no mistaking the numerous explosions rising from the moon’s surface.

The survivors of the Resistance stumble from the wreckage, all silently looking up to the sky.

More explosions appear. They’re tiny from this far away, but they must be enormous, possibly stretching several miles high.

Then there’s a bright flash so powerful that I have to turn away, along with everyone else who’s emerged. When I can finally look back, I... I...

I’m silent.

The moon still floats above us, but no longer in one piece. Giant chunks hang in the void, countless smaller pieces shooting away like shooting stars, racing out into the cosmos.

Iron Hoof... He... he... 

He’s destroyed the moon.
> Reckoning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stare at the moon as its fragments float into the depths of space. I want to slap myself, to wake up from this nightmare. But this is no nightmare: The moon is gone. The Resistance base is gone. Most of the Resistance is dead. All that's left are thirty exhausted, crying, miserable fighters who are in no shape to fight anyone.

Thirty… out of ten thousand.

How many more would still be here if you hadn’t talked, Silverspeak? How many would still be alive and able to fight? How many childre-

No! I shake those thoughts from my head. I can’t think about such things. Not here, and not now.

Movement catches my attention. Turning, I see Onyx looking over the others. As the head of the Resistance, he needs all the help he can get to deal with this catastrophe. If I do everything in my power to help Onyx and the others rally, then we might yet find a way to turn the tide, even at this late hour.

Taking all my doubt, my worry, and my ever-growing guilt, I shove them into a tiny recess of my mind where I can deal with them later. For now, getting everyone going takes priority over everything else.

I hurry to Beakbreaker. “Are you alright?” I ask, looking her over. “Are you hurt?”

Beakbreaker shakes her head. She’s fine, physically. Emotionally shaken, but not to the degree that everyone else is.

“We’ll get through this, Beakbreaker,” I assure her. Then I slide Gusty off my back. “Gusty? How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” he sighs, sounding so much older than he really is.

“Hang in there,” I say, putting a firm hoof on his shoulder. I look to Chrysalis, and see that she doesn’t need my help. She has no emotional attachment to anyone in the Resistance, and is perhaps the most psychologically stable of us all. Yet, she isn’t immune to the misery and suffering surrounding us. She's unnerved by it, unsure what to do. 

Leaving Beakbreaker, I head to Onyx, seeking to give him the emotional boost he needs, but he’s already pulling himself together. Or, at least, trying to.

“E... Everyone,” Onyx stammers, trying to keep his voice steady. “We need to move. We’ll... We’ll regroup in the throne room.”

Perhaps it’s the commander’s tone Onyx has adopted, or perhaps it’s the realization that sitting out here isn’t going to help anyone, but the survivors of the Resistance put on a brave face as they head deeper into the rubble. Some go quickly, some stumble, and others are barely able to put one hoof in front of the other. They’re all fighting not to break down and cry.

They’ve lost everything... and it’s my fault.

I try to shove the thought aside as I follow them.


***


There's no sign that anyone's been through Canterlot in years, but hidden within the crumbling stones are secret tunnels that the Resistance have built over the years. I stick close to Beakbreaker as we head through them. It’s several minutes before we emerge – to my astonishment – into the throne room from the Royal Palace. Though the walls are cracked, and the ceiling’s mostly been replaced with dangling foliage, the room still stands, most likely from magic embedded within the walls to protect the princesses.

It takes a half hour for everyone to gather inside the throne room, save for Spike, who burrows into the ruins above to keep a gaze on the horizon. Once we’re all inside, Onyx sets up a small command post on a fallen chunk of pillar where Celestia’s throne used to be. With trembling hooves, he spreads out his maps, intel, and other useful items.

I head over. “How are we doing?”

He gulps. “Not good. We have minimal supplies and... and thirty four survivors.” He sniffs and wipes away a stray tear. I want to comfort Onyx, to offer words of encouragement, but I don’t know what to tell him; I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in charge of a resistance fighting a force thousands of times larger than your own. Such a responsibility would tax a younger pony to the breaking point. For an older pony like Onyx, it must be overwhelming.

“We could have gotten more out,” Onyx whispers to himself. “If we had been faster or more organized, we-”

I put a hoof on his shoulder. “Onyx, don’t. That talk isn’t going to help. We should focus on what we can do.”

“Do? Do?!” Onyx shouts, more tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. “There’s nothing we can do, Silverspeak!”

All small talk throughout the hall dies out as the survivors turn to us.

“There’s thirty four of us!” Onyx stammers. “Thirty four against hundreds of thousands!”

Gold Wing starts to wail from the shouting. Beakbreaker rocks her legs, trying to soothe the infant.

“We’ve lost our leaders! We’ve lost our base, we’ve lost almost all of our equipment... We have nothing!”

“We have each other,” I say quietly, turning on my charm. “As long as there’s just one of us, Mangus hasn’t won.”

“Mangus?” Onyx’s puzzlement briefly overrides his despair. “What in Equestria are you talking about?”

Oh no... I haven’t told Onyx or anyone else about Mangus. I almost did when approaching the moon, but… Well, they need to know.

“Mangus Bluehorn is alive,” I say.

Onyx takes a step back. “What?!”

The rest of the Resistance are equally as shocked.

“I thought I killed him years ago,” I continue. “But he survived. He joined Black Fang and then killed him. He’s been leading this war ever since, pretending to be Black Fang, and manipulating Iron Hoof into doing what he wants.”

“And when did you learn about all this?!” Onyx demands. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“I found out when Chrysalis and I went to Manehattan. I was about to tell you when… when that spell hit the moon.”

Onyx gives a nervous, nearly-hysterical laugh. “Wonderful. Just wonderful. Now we have to deal with two sociopaths and their deranged followers.” He shakes his head. “Celestia, this can’t get any worse.”

“No, it can’t,” Beakbreaker says. She’s gone to Onyx and put her own hoof on his shoulder. “Which means that it can only get better.”

“How, Beakbreaker? Tell me, how can it possibly get better?!”

“By finding Mangus and killing him.”

“Oh, sure. We’ll just go up to his door, knock, and blow his face off when he opens it.” Onyx’s hooves hammer the table. “We don’t even know where he’s hiding.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “Mangus and Iron Hoof’s main base are on a remote island somewhere to the north.”

“And how do you know that?”

“One of Iron Hoof’s lieutenants told me,” I say.

“How do you know he wasn’t lying?”

“He wasn’t.”

Even in an emotionally compromised state, Onyx knows of my ability to detect when someone is lying. I’ve had decades to perfect that side benefit of my charm.

“That’s a start,” Onyx admits with a defeated sigh. “But we still don’t have the resources to take Iron Hoof or Mangus on.”

“What do we have?” I ask, trying to keep Onyx focused. Judging from the sun’s position above, we have three, maybe four hours before Mangus unleashes his plan to wipe out the Resistance for good.

“We have the Vengeance,” Onyx says. “It’s a battleship we’ve kept hidden in case of emergencies. But one ship won't work against an entire army.”

“Then we’ll deal with that when we need to. What else do we have?”

“There’s a storage area nearby,” Onyx says, pointing to the room’s south wall. “We’ve been stockpiling whatever we could find over the years: guns, spears, bows; it’s all surplus and outdated, but they can still kill.”

“Then they’ll have to make do,” I say. “We’ll figure something out.”

Onyx doesn’t share my enthusiasm. “No, we can’t,” he says.

“Don’t-”

“This is reality, Silverspeak! We can’t rely on fantasies or the power of friendship and love to get us out of this!”

“And I’m not saying we should,” I say. “But we have a ship, we have weapons, and we have our ingenuity. We’ll figure something out.”

“Whatever it may be, we will have to act fast,” Chrysalis interjects. “We should take off now and develop a plan en-route.”

Gusty slowly walks over. “Always did my best thinking in the sky,” he says. His attempt at a joke falls flat, but the fact that he’s trying is encouraging.

“Even if we had a hundred ships, and every member of the Resistance at our side,” Onyx says wearily, “it wouldn’t be enough.” He shakes his head. “There’s just no way we can win.”

That’s not what the survivors need to hear. They’re watching our every move, listening to our every word, desperate for something, anything to hold onto. But Onyx has killed that longing, I can see it in everyone’s eyes. They know they have no chance of winning this fight, that to even try is suicidal. Some relish the idea, but the others are silent, lost in grief and despair.

They’ve run out of hope.

I need to do something, but what? Just telling them to trust that everything will turn out okay isn’t going to work this time. They need something concrete and solid to clutch, something that can give them the motivation to keep trying.

I think I can give that to them.

“You’re right, Onyx,” I say, raising my voice so that everyone else can hear it. “We can’t win.”

“Gee, thanks,” Gusty sarcastically moans.

“But there’s one thing we’ve all forgotten: Celestia.”

The others look to me, wondering what I’m talking about.

“Celestia is our trump card,” I say. “The one individual who can defeat Mangus, Iron Hoof, and their army.”

“But we have no idea where she is,” Onyx says.

“When I was talking to Mangus, he revealed that Celestia, the Bearers, and the rest of the Royal Family are being kept on his base. If we can get it to and free Celestia, she can end this war.”

Onyx wants to believe me, but he’s not letting emotion impede logic. “But she was still captured by Iron Hoof. How do we know she can stop them?”

“Because she almost did once before,” I say. “Isn’t that right, Chrysalis?”

The queen nods. “Celestia only fell because she was exhausted from wiping out the arch-dragons. With them gone, she can easily handle anyone who fights her. And if she can free Luna, Cadence, and the Bearers, then no force on this earth can stand before them.”

The crowd murmurs among themselves.

“I wish it were that easy,” Onyx says, hating himself for having to speak the truth, “but assuming we can even find this island, it will be the most heavily defended fortification on the planet. We will never be able to break through their defenses.”

“We have to try,” I say, raising my voice once again. “If Celestia were here, she wouldn’t give up. She would do everything she could to save her subjects, even if she had to give her life.”

There’s a long silence as everyone thinks among themselves, trying to decide if my words are truthful, or a fool’s hope. Some want to believe. Others don’t. But most seem uncertain. I know the feeling: There are few things worse in life than feeling hope, only to have it torn away from you, leaving you worse off than before.

Hope, the one thing we need, is in some ways more terrifying than despair.

Onyx finally makes up his mind. “I don’t know how we can possibly pull this off,” he admits. “But Silverspeak is right. Even if we die, I’d rather be on my hoove, than sitting here and crying.” He surveys the crowd, looking into the eyes of comrades, friends, and soldier’s he’s worked with, fought with, and bled with for twenty five years. “Who’s with us?”

A few hesitantly step forward. A moment later, more and more come forward.

The last few get to their feet and join their fellows.

Onyx surveys them all. “Very well... We fight.”

There are no cheers or hoof-bumps in the crowd, no jubilation or ecstasy, just a cold, unyielding determination.

They're not going down without a fight.


***


With a goal to work towards, the survivors are quick to get moving. Two dragons take hold of a stone chunk lying on the floor and drag it aside, revealing a vault filled with all manner of weapons, armor, and equipment.

“Been filling that up for twenty five years,” Gusty says. “Just in case we ever needed it.”

The dragons leap in and toss out the weapons and gear, giving whatever is needed to whoever asks, and in minutes every surviving member of the Resistance is dressing themselves in armor, loading up their weapons, and slinging bandoleers around their bodies. Already armed as I am from our excursion to the research facility, all I take is additional ammunition for my weapons.

I’m halfway through loading my bandoleer when I realize I’ve forgotten something. Quickly yanking open a pocket of my vest, I pull out the syringes Silver Scalpel gave me. A quick look-over, and I sigh in relief. They’re still intact and undamaged. I put them back into the pocket and press down hard on the velcro holding the strap cover in place.

Chrysalis comes up. “Your words were quite effective,” she says. “But do you really believe this plan will work?”

“It has to.”

“If it doesn’t, we lose everything.”

I don’t need to be reminded of that. “I’m just glad you’re coming with us,” I say.

Onyx comes over, dressed up and ready for battle, two shotguns strapped to the side of his body armor. “We’re almost ready to move out. This island, Silverspeak: do you have any idea where it may be?”

“I’m afraid not. I only know it’s somewhere in the northern seas.”

Onyx nods, disappointed. “Gusty?”

Gusty hurries over as fast as the combined weight of his armor and guns will allow. “Yes?”

“I need you to get the Vengeance ready to go,” Onyx says.

“Oh, she’s ready,” Gusty says. “You think I never checked on her when I came down here? All you have to do is press a button and she’ll start up, engines purring like a kitten.”

“And the fighters?”

“They’re itching to blow Iron Hoof’s face off.”

“Good... that leaves us only one problem: finding this island. Iron Hoof will have had his unicorns cast a spell of concealment over it.”

“Then we’ll find a way through it,” I say. “There’s a counter to every spell.”

“That’s the thing,” Onyx explains, “These spells are very powerful; only alicorn-level magic could remove it. Without an alicorn, or an army of unicorns, it’s impossible to break through. Our base was protected by Luna’s spell to make sure Iron Hoof couldn’t find it.” He curses, biting his lip. “I still don’t understand how we were found.”

My heart pounds.

“Perhaps he figured out that was the last place we could be,” Beakbreaker suggests. “He’s had twenty five years to search for us; there’s nowhere left down here where we could hide.”

Onyx shakes his head. “There are still plenty of places. He wouldn’t commit his resources to searching them at random.”

“Then what else could he have done?” Chrysalis says. “If we can do what he did, our search will be far shorter.”

“That’s the problem,” Onyx tells her. “The only way around a spell of concealment is for someone who knows where it is to tell you. Someone must have told Mangus where we were; there’s no other...”

Onyx trails off.

“Onyx?” Beakbreaker asks. “What is it?”

Onyx doesn’t answer her.

“Onyx, this ain’t time to become the silent type,” Gusty jokes.

Onyx turns to me, his eyes meeting mine.

Beakbreaker looks to me, then back to Onyx. "Onyx, what's going on?"

Sweat pours down my forehead.

Onyx is shaking, barely able to hold himself together. “You... You told Iron Hoof where we were...”

I raise my hooves. “Onyx...”

“You told him where we were!” Onyx shrieks.

Everyone in the room goes silent.

Gusty’s frozen in place, his eyes wide with shock. Beside him, Chrysalis stares at me, equally stunned.

Beside them both, Beakbreaker stares at me, horrified.

My wife, my greatest friend, looks at me as if I’m a stranger.

I gulp, my heart racing. Instinct yells at me to run, but I can’t.

“Onyx, please, I can explain...”

Onyx starts towards me, eyes so full of hate that I take a step back without realizing it. He’s not interested in excuses or justifications for my actions.

He wants to hurt me.

“Yes,” I say. “I told him. But I had no choice! Mangus, he threa-”

Something slams into my face and knocks me to the floor. I try to rise, only to be kicked in the face. Then two hooves grab me and hurl me through the air. I hit a fallen statue and fall to the ground.

I open my eyes and find myself surrounded by the survivors of the massacre on the moon.

I quickly raise my hooves, desperately turning on my charm. “You all have to understand, I-”

I’m cut off as the survivors swarm me, their furious howls drowning out my words. I try to shout out, but a fist hits me in the face. And then another, and then another. Feet and hooves punch and kick at me again and again.

Claws rake me, slicing through skin.

I cry out and spin, trying to get away. But hands grab hold, refusing to let go as I’m hit again and again.

A deafening gunshot fills the air, and it’s like a sledgehammer has hit me in the gut. I cry out, falling back as another gunshot echoes through the hall, my ears all-but screaming in pain.

“Stop!” I shriek. “Stop!”

A pony snaps his shotgun open to reload it. He isn’t listening to me! No one is!

With a desperate howl, I spin as hard as I can, yanking my legs inwards, tearing free. Landing, I leap up, beating my wings as hard and fast as I can. I have to get out of here before they-

Gunshots rake my wings, and I fall, crashing hard, my head banging into the unforgiving tile.

Everything goes numb.

I scramble, trying to get onto my hooves, but I can’t move properly; I can’t control my legs. It’s hard to see. The exit... Where’s the exit?! There! I see it! But there’s no way to get to it; it’s blocked by the mob running towards me.

“Stop!” I yell. “Please! I-”

Gunshots hit me. I fall back, slamming into a pillar as more bullets keep hitting me.

I scream, trying to cover my head and-

A hoof slams into my jaw, knocking me away from the pillar. I hit the floor once again, but this time I’m back on my feet. These survivors... they’re not going to listen to reason, and they’re not going to stop until I’m dead. I have to defend myself, and if I have to hit-

Onyx? 

He... He’s the one who hit me?

The stallion who was once my friend hits me again, slamming his hooves into my snout, my mouth, my neck, trying to shatter bone. I try to throw him away, to shove him back, but he’s too good. He’s older than me, but his cybernetics more than compensate, letting him move with the speed of someone in their physical prime.

I need to fight back. I need to defend myself... but I can’t bring myself to hit Onyx.

Another punch, another blast of pain, and I crumple against the pillar, blood flowing from my nose and mouth. And then Onyx’s hooves are around my throat, squeezing as hard as he can, veins bulging in his neck and eyes. He’s not going to stop until I’m lying on the floor in a lifeless heap.

The cheers from the others only egg him on.

I grab Onyx’s hooves and pull as hard as I can, my artificial muscles bulging. But it’s not enough! Onyx’s robotics are stronger than my own!

My vision pounds.

“It was... her!” I gasp. “I only did it to save Beakbreaker!”

Onyx doesn’t care.

“Mangus was going to torture her if I didn’t!” I wheeze.

“And you think that makes what you did okay?!”

His hooves squeeze even harder, and I can’t breathe! I struggle with all my might, trying to break free. If I don’t get out of Onyx’s grip in the next few seconds, I’m going to die!

My vision goes red.

I faintly hear a yelling rising above the shouts and jeers from the survivors. Through the blood-red haze, I can just make out Onyx glancing over his shoulder. Someone’s shouting at him, but I can’t hear anything but my heart pounding harder and harder.

Onyx looks back to me.

Red’s turning to black.

Can’t breathe... 

I can’t...

Onyx’s hooves pull away.

I gasp, falling to the floor, gagging as I gulp down air.

“You all know what he did!” Onyx yells to the survivors. “Silverspeak admitted that he betrayed us! That he revealed where we were!” He points at me. “He's the reason our families and friends are dead!”

The crowd howls.

“Now we have to decide what to do with him,” Onyx says. “Spare him... or kill him.”

The yells and roars that fill the hall leave no doubt as to the Resistance’s wishes.

“You’ve heard them, Silverspeak,” Onyx says. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Blood pools on the stone beneath me as I look to the others, desperate for a friendly face. But I see none: Even Gusty, one of my oldest friends, glares at me with disgust and rage.

“Gusty...” I wheeze. “Please...”

He steps back into the crowd.

I see Onyx pulling something from his vest from the corner of my vision.

It’s his shotgun. 

A blast this close will turn my head into shredded meat.

“Onyx, please... I didn’t mean for any of this to happen...”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he growls.

He points the gun to my head.

I scramble back, hitting the pillar. And then I’m crying without wanting to, tears streaming down my cheeks. Oh Celestia, he’s going to kill me! Doesn’t he understand?! It was an accident! An accident!

“Stop.”

Chrysalis emerges from the crowd.

“This is none of your concern, Chrysalis,” Onyx growls.

“It is not worth wasting a bullet on him,” Chrysalis says. “Or a spell, or the slice of a knife.’

“So what are you suggesting?” Onyx demands. “That we forgive him?”

Chrysalis shakes his head.

“Then what are we to do with him?”

Chrysalis studies me, as if trying to see into my soul. “Leave him.”

“What?!”

“Leave him behind,” Chrysalis says. “Let him live with his failure, until the guilt eats at him from the inside out, and he is left a nervous wreck, whimpering and begging for death.”

“And what’s to stop him from coming after us?” Onyx demands. He looks back to me, the gun shaking. “What’s to stop him from making things worse?!”

“Chain him up. Make it so that he cannot follow. But you will need every bullet, every spell, every ounce of strength if you are to have any chance in the fight to come.”

“No,” Onyx says. “He doesn’t deserve it! He doesn’t deserve mercy!”

“Perhaps... but he has given us the location of Iron Hoof’s base. Consider it a trade: Your only chance of survival for his life.”

Onyx wavers, looking to me, then to Chrysalis, and then the others. He doesn’t know what to do.

I don't dare move.

Onyx eyes me for a moment longer, his gun shaking in his hooves....

And then he lowers it.

“Stormwing. Groundscrapper. Go get the chains.”

The crowd boos as the two dragons hurry away, giving a voice to their rage.

“Silence!” Onyx yells.

The crowd doesn’t listen.

Onyx raises his gun and fires.

The crowd is instantly silent.

Turning to me, Onyx lowers the gun. “I once fought for you, Silverspeak,” he whispers. “The Resistance believed you weren’t worth saving, that we should kill you. Even Green Wing believed that. But I told them they were wrong. I said you were a good pony. That you would do great things once you were freed from Iron Hoof’s control... But I was wrong.” He shakes his head, unable to believe his own words. “There were many who said we would all have been better off if you were dead… and they were right. We all would have been better off if you had died back in Canterlot.”

Onyx shakes, tears falling from his cheeks. 

“We were friends, once, Silverspeak... but it’s your fault that that everyone I love is dead.”

He fires. My right leg buckles beneath me. Another shot, and my left is blown apart. He fires twice more and I fall, my hind legs ruined.

“I hope you die out here.”

The dragons return.

Onyx stands, wiping his tears away. “Take him outside,” he snarls. “Make sure he can’t leave.” Then, to everyone else, “Everyone, move out. Let’s get this done.”

The dragons roughly yank me from the floor and drag me away, one shoving a magic inhibitor ring over my horn. The hall empties as the survivors leave. Those who do glance back at me only give me looks of disgust and hate.

Chrysalis regards me. But there’s no anger in her, no resentment. I saved her life once; perhaps she views this as returning the favor.

Then the moment is over, and she turns away with the others, leaving only Gusty behind. He watches me go, but makes no move to come after me.

There’s no sign of Beakbreaker.

The dragons drag me outside to the ruins, and to the edge of the rubble, where they quickly attach chains and shackles around my neck and remaining limbs, and then lift a giant boulder, sliding the chains beneath before they let go, almost a ton of weight holding them in place.

Stopping only to scowl at me for a moment, they leave me, going to Spike, who is heading off into the rubble towards the rising form of an old zeppelin, accompanied by a few fighter craft.

It isn’t long before they’re aboard. And when they are, the zeppelin flies away, heading north until it’s a small blip on the horizon, and then vanishes.

Everything is still.


***


Wind blows through the ruins of Canterlot, rustling my mane and tail.

Onyx and the others can’t defeat Mangus and Iron Hoof. Their tiny fleet won’t make any difference against an entire army, and they know it. Their final, desperate attack is a suicide run. None of them are going to survive, and if they do, they’ll be captured and become Mangus’ slaves.

And it’s all my fault.

I try to push the thought away, but it hits me again and again, as if yelling, refusing to let me tone it out.

All of this, all of the deaths on the Moon, the Resistance’s suicide run... it’s all because of what I did. If I had stood up to Mangus and refused to tell him where the others were, the Resistance would still be intact. Thousands would be assaulting Mangus’ fortress, instead of thirty. They would have had a chance to survive, and possibly even win.

I gulp, trying to hold back the tears. Crying won’t help. Giving in to grief and despair will do nothing. I can’t afford to be weak, not now! Beakbreaker’s still out there, and I won’t abandon her! But all the determination in the world won’t break these chains; they’re pinned under the boulder, making it impossible for me to lift my legs. And even if I could break free, my legs and wings are still broken. My automatic repair features are already working, but repairing this much damage will take days.

There’s nothing I can do.

I try not to cry, but it’s so hard: Beakbreaker could be dying out there, fighting in a hopeless battle, and there’s nothing I can do to help her.

Celestia... what do I do?!


***


The sun continues its slow trip down towards the horizon.

Has the Resistance already arrived at Mangus’ base? Are they fighting?

Are they dead?

Is... is Beakbreaker dead?

No, no. I can’t think like that! Mangus will want Beakbreaker alive, if only to mock her at her final failure. If he captures her, she’ll be alive, and I can save her, but only if I can get free of these accursed shackles!

I try to yank, but my legs are useless, inert hunks of metal. Perhaps if I detach them, I could roll away and... and what? Roll my way across this wasteland until I reach the sea? Try to push myself along using my broken wings as arms?

Confound it all, there has to be something I can do! I can’t just lie here and wait to die! I have to save Beakbreaker! I have to stop Mangus, I-

An unseen rock clatters to the ground.

I look over, suddenly afraid. What if it’s a starving animal hunting for food?! I can’t defend myself like this!

Something comes around the rock. It’s not an animal.

It’s Beakbreaker.

For a moment I’m stunned, shocked at seeing her. Then relief washes through me. I want to call out to her, to cry, to weep that she’s okay and unharmed... but I don’t.

Beakbreaker watches me, her face betraying neither hate or anger, disgust or pity.

I don’t say anything, unsure what to do.

Beakbreaker finally comes over and stops beside me.

“You told Mangus where everyone was,” she whispers, as if it’s taken her hours to build up the courage to come here and talk.

“Only to save you,” I whisper back.

“Was I worth all those lives?” Beakbreaker asks.

I almost say yes, then no. How do I answer that?

“I never meant for anyone to die,” I say.

“But you knew some would.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“What did you think was going to happen, Silverspeak?” Beakbreaker asks quietly.

"I thought Mangus would send his forces against the Resistance,” I say, “and that the two of us would escape and help fight them off.”

“How?”

“I don’t know! I just thought we’d find a way. We always do.” I shake my head, wanting her not to judge me, but to understand. “Beakbreaker, Mangus was going to torture you if I didn’t tell him! He would rip your legs off one by one, then magically heal you and do it again and again until I talked! I couldn’t let him do that to you!”

Beakbreaker shakes her head. “Almost ten thousand ponies are dead because of you, Silverspeak. My suffering wasn’t worth their lives.”

“Then what should I have done, Beakbreaker?!” I scream. “Tell me! What should I have done?! Let you suffer?! Tell me! WHAT SHOULD I HAVE DONE?!”

Startled, Beakbreaker steps back. But she doesn’t scream back at me, and when she speaks, she’s calm and controlled. “You should have put the lives of everyone else before mine.”

I stare at my wife. I… I thought Beakbreaker would understand. I thought she’d be supportive, that she would even be grateful to me for saving her... but she’s like everyone else.

She’s condemned me.

I turn away, ignoring the chains as they dig into skin. I don’t want to talk to Beakbreaker. I don’t even want to look at her. 

“Silverspeak-”

“Go away, Beakbreaker.”

She doesn’t answer.

I lay my head against the boulder and look out towards the horizon, waiting for the flash of light, the wall of fire, whatever it is Mangus is going to unleash.

I welcome it.

Beakbreaker walks before me. “Silverspeak-”

“I told you to go away.”

“I’m not leaving.”

I glare at Beakbreaker. “I sacrificed everything for you, Beakbreaker! Everything, and what do you do? Condemn me. Judge me. Tell me that I should have let you be tortured over and over until-”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you meant it.”

“No,” she says firmly. “I didn’t.”

“Then why are you here? To mock me? To grind me even deeper into the dirt? To join everyone else on this earth in condemning me? To tell me how stupid I was to sacrifice everything to save your life?”

“No.”

“Then why?!”

She waits a moment before answering. “I wanted to understand why you did it.”

“Well, now you know. And like everyone else on this Celestia-forsaken rock, you hate me for it.” I shake my head, wanting to scream, to tear myself free of these chains and just leave, to go somewhere and die alone, away from every imbecile and idiot on this earth, away from their condemnations, their accusations, their mockery.

“Silverspeak-”

“What would you have done, Beakbreaker? What would you had done if you had been in my position?”

She doesn’t answer.

“And what about Onyx? Would you say he was right? That everyone would have been better off without me? That I should have died all those years ago? Was he right?”

She doesn’t answer.

I turn away from her once more, squeezing my eyes shut. Everything I’ve fought for, everything I’ve sacrificed... 

It was all for nothing.

I shake. Tears well up. I lean against the boulder, trying to lift my legs and wipe my cheeks dry, but I can't even do that.

Beakbreaker sits beside me, her legs going around my shoulders.

I want to push her away, to make her go away like everyone else. But she doesn’t move. She refuses to leave, to let go of me.

Bit by bit, I feel myself melting into her warmth.

Closing my eyes, I let go and lean into Beakbreaker, letting her hold me as I weep.
> The Last Plan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don’t know how long I lie against Beakbreaker. The tears just don’t stop; whenever I try to force them back, they just build up and burst through, and the cycle begins all over again.

Mercifully, I feel the turmoil of emotions beginning to fade. The stream of tears becomes a trickle, and finally stop, leaving me numb from emotional exhaustion.

Oh, how I just want to stay here and lie against Beakbreaker, to not think, to not do anything but stay numb.

“Come on,” Beakbreaker says. “Let’s get you out of these.” She grabs the chains and yanks with all her might, trying to drag them out from beneath the boulder. She’s using everything she’s got, the servos and motors in her legs grinding and whirring with the strain, but the chains refuse to give.

Letting go, Beakbreaker goes to the boulder and presses against it as hard as she can, her hind legs sinking into the earth as she tries to shove the boulder aside.

“Beakbreaker-”

“We can’t stay here,” Beakbreaker grunts as she renews her struggle.

It’s tempting to say no, to tell Beakbreaker that we should just stay here and let the others fend for themselves. Though my emotions are numbed, I can feel the stirrings of anger deep within me. The anger that wants revenge for what the Resistance did to me, to point and laugh as they die in their pointless assault. It would be vindication for my humiliation and their short-sighted, pitiful perspective... but I won’t let that anger take hold. It hurts to admit it, but the Resistance was right to be angry at me. But even if I were to somehow reach them and join in on their assault, the Resistance would probably try to kill me on sight. Onyx, in particular, would not be in a merciful mood.

It’s tempting to stay here and let go of it all... the Resistance, Mangus, this war, my failures, everything. My younger self would do so. He’d let himself be crushed by grief and guilt... but I won’t. Celestia wouldn’t.

No matter the odds, no matter how much others hated her, she’d still do what was right.

I can't stand, but I can still press myself against the boulder, joining Beakbreaker in shoving, lending what little strength I can. Maybe the two of us can do together what one cannot.

It only takes a few moments to realize how wrong I am.

“Keep... pushing!” Beakbreaker grunts as she tries to gain traction on the soft soil.

I try. Celestia help me, I try. But I can’t gain any traction. This boulder is too heavy, and the ground too soft. We can’t move it. But we have to try. We have to-

A rock clatters to the ground nearby.

Turning, I look back to see someone coming towards us through the rubble. Someone else stayed behind? But who would stay here and face certain death? No one in their right mind would-

Grunting, Gusty struggles to drag a large duffel bag, the canvas bulging from metal and other components. He doesn’t even look up as he wearily continues on. It’s not anger that’s driving him, or despair or a willingness to fight to the end: Gusty looks defeated. Empty. It’s as if he’s lost all reason to fight, and is running on automatic.

I stop struggling against the boulder. “Gusty? What are you doing here?”

He finally glares at me. “I’m not goin’ on any suicide mission.” Gusty doesn’t allow himself to rest as he plops himself down beside me, instead pulling out a welder’s helmet from the bag, and an old welding torch.

“Gusty?” Beakbreaker asks, suddenly worried, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m freein’ your husband.” He puts on the helmet, turning on the torch. “Might want to look away.”

I do so, Beakbreaker doing the same. Bright light dances outside my closed eyelids, and I’m forced to endure the stench of melting metal. In a minute, my front right leg is suddenly free as the shackle around it falls to the ground. A few minutes later, the other falls away. Several minutes later, and my shackles are lying in a smoking pile on the soil.

Turning off the welder, Gusty takes the helmet off and reaches back into his bag, dumping out a myriad of machine components big and small. Then, he grabs a wrench and goes to work on my front legs.

“Gusty?”

He doesn’t answer, too focused on his work.

For the next hour, Gusty wordlessly repairs my front legs, jury-rigging components where needed. His hooves shake and tremble from age as he inserts bolts and tightens screws into place, but he refuses to stop. When Gusty’s done with my front legs, he goes to work on my hind ones, bringing them back into working order before mending my shredded wings, struggling and sweating as he tries to repair the delicate instruments within. I worry that he’s going to accidentally cripple them beyond repair, but before I know it, Gusty finally closes a tiny panel and leans against the boulder, wiping sweat from his forehead and faded mane.

Looking down at my legs, I try moving them. They operate flawlessly, as do my wings, rotating and flexing as if they were new.

I turn to my oldest friend. “Gusty-”

“You’re welcome,” he says curtly. Though he freed me, Gusty is still angry, breathing deeply to control himself, perhaps fighting the urge to pummel me like Onyx did.

I bite my lip. “Why did you stay?”

“To free you.”

“Why?”

Gusty shoots a hoof towards me. “Let’s make one thing clear, Silverspeak: I’m not feeling charitable towards you right now. All my friends were on the moon, including...” He bites his lip. “Including Green Wing... I never told her, but I was... startin’ to develop feelings for her. Was goin’ to ask her out, too.”

My heart aches, and once again I feel guilt trying to crush me.

Gusty composes himself. “But it was a mistake to leave you here. We need everyone we’ve got if we’re going to stop Mangus and his cronies.”

Beakbreaker’s confused. “Then why didn’t you-”

“Because Onyx and the others don’t have a chance... though if I’m bein’ honest, I don’t think any of us do, really.”

“There’s always a chance,” Beakbreaker says.

“Don’t fool yourself, Beakbreaker,” Gusty says. He rubs his eyes, weary and looking older than he really is. “Truth be told, I don’t think we ever had a chance in the first place.” He points to me. “I’d rather go with you than Onyx and his old rustbucket.”

“Me?”

“Call me a senile old fool, but whenever you set your mind to something, Silverspeak, there ain’t nothing on this earth that can stop you. I’m hoping to Celestia you want to stop Mangus.”

I nod.

“Good. I just hope you have a plan.”

Gusty falls silent, waiting for my answer. Beakbreaker looks to me, too, curious to hear what I have to say.

I breathe, taking a few moments to think. Beakbreaker stayed to free me, and so did Gusty. They played their part, and now it’s time to play mine... but I don’t have what they want.

“I... I don’t have a plan,” I admit. “Not beyond freeing Celestia.”

Gusty groans, thinking that he’s wasted his time.

“But we’ll come up with something,” I assure him. “I don’t know how, but we will.”

It’s not the answer Gusty wanted. But realizing that it’s the best he’ll get, he throws up his hooves. “Well, that’ll have to do.” Breathing deep, he gets back to his hooves, and though he tries to hide it, I seem him stagger a bit. Dragging all that equipment and gear to us took a lot out of him. “Here.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a pair of saddlebags. “These are yours.”

Taking the bags, I slip them on, grateful that Gusty was able to save them from Onyx and his followers. Fastening them down, I look to the horizon. “We need to follow the others and find that island.”

“But how?” Beakbreaker asks. She gestures to my wings. “You can’t carry us both, let alone catch up to the Vengeance.”

“Then we’ll take another ship. There’s bound to be one around here somewhere. And if it’s damaged or old, Gusty can repair it.”

Beakbreaker shakes her head. “There’s nothing left. The Resistance took all the ships we have.”

“Are you sure?”

Beakbreaker nods, hating to be the bearer of bad news.

Blast it... I can fly, but my wife’s right about not being able to carry both her and Gusty. And the Resistance already has a head start on us. Catching up to them would be impossible without riding a rocket. But there has to be something we can do! We can’t just sit here and-

“Actually, the Resistance didn’t take everything,” Gusty says.

Beakbreaker turns, confused. “But there’s nothing else, Gusty. They cleaned out the hangar.”

“Oh, they took all the ships,” Gusty admits with a half-smile. “Or, rather, all the ships they knew about.”


***


Abandoning his bag of equipment and parts, Gusty finds the strength to rush through the remains of Canterlot, guiding Beakbreaker and myself through several improvised tunnels, excitement driving him to a large door. Unlocking it, he ushers us through into a large cavern... no, a hangar of some kind. It’s not big enough to house a zeppelin or any other craft that could take on an army, but a small, personal craft could be kept in here.

I squint, trying to see into the darkness. “Gusty, what’s-”

Taking hold of a nearby cable, Gusty yanks on it. Dust flies from pulleys and gears as the roof retracts over us, letting sunlight shine in. I have to squint again, and then turn away at the sudden onslaught of blinding light. My eyes adjust and I...

Wait... is that...?

Beside me, Beakbreaker’s almost speechless. “Gusty? Is that...”

Gusty beams. “Yep. It’s her.”

The Raven lies before us, bathed in sunlight, looking almost like she did almost fifty years ago. But that’s impossible; the Raven was destroyed during the second changeling assault on Canterlot. And yet, here it stands, like a ghost come back to life.

“Been rebuilding her,” Gusty says, beaming with pride. “Bit by bit, piece by piece. Took far too long, and cost too much... but here she is.” He goes to the gondola, affectionately rubbing his hoof over the metal as if caressing a lover. “Onyx wanted to fly her, but I said it still needed months of work.”

“Does it?” I ask.

“No,” he chuckled lightheartedly. “I just didn’t want Onyx to be the first one to fly her. She’s all set to go... I hoped that she’d help us win the war.” Gusty sighs wistfully. “Looks like I’ll finally get my wish.”

Going to the gondola’s side, Gusty lowers a ramp and heads inside. Beakbreaker and I follow him, and Beakbreaker gasps as she steps inside; the interior of the ship looks almost exactly as it did when I last saw it. It’s like we’ve both stepped back in time and are boarding the ship for the first time, both blissfully unaware of all that lay before us.

Gusty’s hurries into the cockpit and leaps into the pilot’s seat. “Better strap yourselves in,” he says. “We’ve got to get a move on.”

I head to one of the seats, Beakbreaker doing the same. Then it strikes me that we’re missing someone.

“Beakbreaker, where’s Gold Wing?”

“One of the fighters took her,” Beakbreaker says. “He said he’d take her to a safe place and then rejoin the others.” She bites her lip. “I wanted to keep her, but he said we couldn’t risk her safety.”

Gusty taps buttons, lights glowing green. 

“Have you ever flown this?” Beakbreaker asks, understandably nervous about entrusting her life to a craft that hasn’t flown in almost half a century.

“I’d trust this ship with my life,” Gusty assures her with a big grin.

Still not convinced of the ship’s structural integrity, Beakbreaker resigns herself as she buckles herself in. I do the same as Gusty presses a button on the control panel. Unseen engines roar to life, making the compartment shudder as the Raven gently rises from the floor.

Gusty holds the control stick in hoof, but he doesn’t send us upwards. He stares ahead, lost in his thoughts, almost on the verge of tears.

I know this is an emotional moment for him, but our situation leaves no time for nostalgia. “Gusty?”

Gusty blinks, coming out of his trance. “Right... All right everyone, hold on tight.” He tightens his grip on the stick. “Here we go!”

The hum from the engines grows louder as we rise. The darkness of the hangar gives way to daylight as the Raven emerges into the open sky. For a moment we hover as Gusty flips switches and knobs. I start to ask what he’s doing, but the engines answer me; the thrust is switching from vertical to horizontal.

A flick of a switch, and Beakbreaker and I are shoved back into our seats as the Raven rockets forward.

Gusty whoops as gravity rams him back into his seat. “Just like old times!” he calls out.

My younger self would probably enjoy the speed, but I can’t say I do.

Gusty relishes the speed for a few more moments, reliving his own youth, and all the years he spent racing from one end of Equestria to the other. He soaks it all in, and all his grief, worry, and anger about the moon fades.

Then the moment’s over, and he adjusts more switches and levers, slowing us down just enough that we can push ourselves out of our seats.

Panting, and relieved that we’re no longer going at top speed, Beakbreaker unbuckles herself. “Gusty, how do you know where to go?”

Gusty indicates a red dot on the radar. “We’ll follow the Vengeance’s tracker. All Resistance ships have them.”

“How long do we have?” I ask.

Gusty takes a moment to do the mental calculations. “A few hours. Three at most.” He adjusts knobs, coaxing out more speed from the engines. “Until then, I suggest you two figure out what we’re going to do.”

Having had his say, Gusty busies himself with the console and the readouts. He’ll get us to Mangus’ island; what we’ll do when we get there is up to me.

I can feel my new responsibility bearing down on me as I leave the cockpit, Beakbreaker beside me, clearly wanting to take on some of that burden herself.

“Do you have any ideas on what to do?” Beakbreaker asks.

I shake my head. “I... I need time.”

“Would you like me to sit with you?”

I shake my head. I’d love that, but I need privacy in order to concentrate.

Disappointed, Beakbreaker still accepts my decision. “I’ll be here if you need me,” she says, taking a seat.

Nodding, I retreat into one of the Raven’s smaller side rooms. I hate to leave Beakbreaker out like this, but I need to concentrate.

I have to come up with a plan that will save her.


***


With the door shut, and all distractions gone, I sit on the floor and close my eyes, willing the world to retreat and leave me to my thoughts. With the fact that there's only mere hours to save the world, its easier said than done.

I try not to focus on the thought: Gusty, Beakbreaker, and I need to get into Mangus and Iron Hoof’s base, find Celestia, and free her. There may be only three of us, but we have one advantage the Resistance doesn’t: we have a ship that can become invisible. If your enemy can’t see you, you can maneuver yourself behind his back for a one-hit kill. If the Vengeance and its crew have been taken out, Mangus will think that the Resistance is dead. He won’t be expecting a sneak attack. But even with that advantage, the the odds are stacked against us. We don’t have an army at our command, or the numbers to replace us if someone falls. One mistake, one slip up, and we’re dead. Or worse, we’ll be taken prisoner and become helpless spectators to Mangus’ victory over Equestria.

Death might be preferable.

No. No, I won’t think like that. We have to succeed. We have to! And yet, even if we find Celestia, freeing her will be no easy task; Mangus and Iron Hoof will utilize every trick they have to keep her confined, both physically and magically. Gusty could use the Raven to ferry her away, or even utilize onboard armaments to blow open her cage... if the ship isn’t destroyed first. Beakbreaker could use her superior strength, and I could use my magic to free her, but casting any spell would take me past the point of no return, and my lifespan would probably be measured in minutes, not months. But if it would save Beakbreaker, and everyone else, it’s a sacrifice I’d be willing to make.

Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts. I can’t afford to get distracted, not now. Even if we do find Celestia, there’s still Mangus to deal with. In a fight, the odds are not in our favor: if he’s still using Black Fang’s carcass as a body, none of us have a chance of beating him; his hand alone could crush a house, and that’s not counting his teeth, tail, fire, and magic. And even if Mangus does abandon his dragon body, he'd be surrounded by guards, if not an entire army. 

We can’t beat Mangus in a fight against his dragon form, we can’t use my magic, and we probably won’t be able to get close to him... How in Celestia’s name are we going to stop Mangus?

I think long and hard, trying to come up with a solution to the most important problem of my life.

I feel time passing as I think, slipping through my hooves like sand inside an hourglass.

The only chance we have is if I can use my voice. Perhaps my desperation at our predicament will give me greater strength and allow me to crush Mangus’ will. Failing that, I could bring his guards under my sway and have them attack their master. If nothing else, they would be able to distract him while I slip in and deliver the finishing blow. And if that fails, I could use myself as a distraction; keep Mangus busy and focused on me while Beakbreaker and Gusty sneak in and free Celestia. But what if Celestia is deep underground? Or somewhere where an airship can’t go? Or what if that location is built so that there’s only one way in or out?

I grind my teeth, frustrated. There are too many avenues for failure, too many opportunities for fate to ruin everything.

Time continues to pass me by, and I feel that we have less and less of it to spare.

I try to come up with something, anything that can help. But frustration and despair are building, and it’s so hard to concentrate. I just can’t figure out what to do! The others are counting on me, and I’m failing them. But there has to be some way of killing Mangus. Even if he and I were to get into a fight, I couldn’t pull out a gun or pull the pin on a grenade before his minions blow me away. I couldn’t-

Wait.

The thought is so sudden and unexpected that I freeze in place.

Could it really be that simple?

I go over the idea in my mind’s eye, playing it out over and over again, looking for flaws, imperfections, and ways it could fail. But I don’t find any.

This plan... it’s so simple that it seems almost like a joke. But it’s efficiency is undeniable, and there’s no defense against it. By the time Mangus and his guards realize what’s happening, it will be too late for them to do anything.

I have my answer.

I know how to kill Mangus and break his army.

I should be smiling, should be grinning in relief and joy at knowing that we can end this war, and win... but I can’t.

All I feel is a deep emptiness.

For my plan to work, a great sacrifice must be made.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply for several minutes, trying to hold back the despair welling in me.

With shaking hooves, I take my saddlebags and flip them open, looking at the supplies and items within, hoping that she’s there...

She is.

I pull out Little Celestia. As she’s done throughout my life, her tiny eyes meet mine, that friendly, reassuring smile still shining brightly after all these decades. I study that face, pretending that it’s Celestia. It feels foolish to do so; such imaginings belong to children and the young, not old ponies like myself. And yet... it is comforting to pretend this piece of enchanted wood is her, to pretend that she’s giving me encouragement and strength.

Breathing deeply, I clutch Little Celestia tightly.

I’ll need all the strength I have to tell the others about my plan.


***


Only when my nerves have steadied themselves do I return to the cockpit. Beakbreaker and Gusty sit in their chairs, looking out to the empty sea before us.

“Any sign of the Vengeance?” I ask.

“We’ve got her signal,” Gusty says, “but it’s very faint. Still a long ways off.”

“How far?”

“An hour or two.”

I nod toward the microphone. “Anything on the radio?”

Gusty shakes his head.

With all niceties finished, both Beakbreaker and Gusty know why I’m here. They turn to me, waiting, hoping I have some good news for them both.

“My plan’s still the same,” I say. “We reach the island and find Celestia.”

Gusty’s upset that nothing came from my brainstorming and wants to express his anger, but I’m quick to cut him off. “Finding her will be simple,” I say. “Mangus will want to keep Celestia close so that he can keep an eye on her, and mock her when he wins. We find him, we find Celestia.”

“Well, that’s good and all,” Gusty says, “but the moment we show our faces, we’ll be swarmed, overrun, and find ourselves locked up behind bars.”

“You two might,” I say, “But I won’t.”

The two look at each other, puzzled.

“I have one advantage no one else has,” I explain. “Mangus despises me more than anyone else. If I announce myself and demand an audience with him, he’ll give it. He won't be able to resist mocking me, or gloating about how he's won. Once that happens, I’ll keep Mangus distracted while the two of you find Celestia and free her.

Beakbreaker and Gusty think the plan over, deciding for themselves if it’s worth pursuing.

“You’re right, Silverspeak,” Beakbreaker says at last. “It can work... but Mangus is going to be the most heavily defended individual on the planet. His guards – his army – won’t let you to bring any weapons in, and they’ll ensure you can’t cast magic, either. You try anything against him, and you’ll be killed instantly.”

“Not by them,” I say. “Mangus will want to kill me personally. He won’t let his guards do it.”

“But they can still disable you,” Gusty points out. “And you won’t be able to kill anyone if you’re paralyzed or crippled.”

My chest tightens. “I know... and there’s a way I can stop him without magic or firearms.”

I instantly have Gusty and Beakbreaker’s undivided attention.

I close my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to break Beakbreaker’s heart once more.

“There are two crystals inside my body,” I say. “They act as emergency generators, providing energy if my body short-circuits, loses power, or if my organs fail. They activate automatically, but I can also activate them manually.”

“Get shot, play dead, and then attack?” Gusty shakes his head. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “No, Gusty. I can activate the crystals and... and set them to overload.”

Gusty studies me, confused. “Overload?” He glances at Beakbreaker, seeking clarification. “Like, what? Give yourself an energy boost?”

Beakbreaker doesn’t answer him. She’s looking to me, horrified, her body shaking.

She knows what I mean.

“I detonate them, Gusty,” I say quietly. “The energy will destroy everyone and everything within a dozen yards. If I’m close enough to Mangus, he’ll be vaporized. And if Iron Hoof is with him, so will he.”

The cockpit is as silent as the grave. Gusty stares at me, horrified at what I’m suggesting.

Beakbreaker just sits in her chair, hooves clutching the legrests.

“I tried every other way I could think of,” I say. “But this is the only chance we have to take them out.”

Gusty finally finds his voice. “But... You’ll die.”

I nod.

Without a word, Beakbreaker slides from her chair and hurries from the cockpit, going into the passenger cabin. The door slams shut behind her.

I should hurry after Beakbreaker, but I won’t. I didn’t expect Beakbreaker to accept my plan; the best thing I can do for her is give my wife the space she needs.

I sit in the co-pilot’s seat. “Gusty, keep us going.”

He nods, desperate for a distraction. “Yeah.”

With nothing more to say, I settle in the chair and look out to sea, hoping the vista of endless waves and the orange sky will soothe my spirits.


***


An hour passes. I keep my gaze on the horizon, wanting to see the Vengeance appear ahead of us, even if its only smoke rising from the smoldering wreckage. Doing so gives me something to focus on instead of worrying about Beakbreaker, or what’s coming.

Beside me, Gusty keeps focused on his console. He hasn’t spoken a word since Beakbreaker went to the cabin, unsure what to say. He occasionally glances at me, but not long enough to initiate a conversation.

The clock on the display indicates that it’s now six PM.

That’s it. I can’t wait any longer. I leave my seat without a word and head to the cabin. Time’s running out for all of us, especially me, and I don’t want to spend the last hour, half hour, or even ten minutes without Beakbreaker.

Reaching the door, I gently knock on the wood. “Beakbreaker?”

There’s no answer.

I knock again, a little harder this time. “Beakbreaker, we need to talk.”

The door creaks open. Beakbreaker’s on the other side, her face and body sagging. She’s not doing well. She ushers me inside, closing the door behind me, giving us privacy for what may be the most important talk of our lives.

There’s no point in trying to deny what’s going to happen. “I wish there was another way,” I say as gently as I can. “But there isn’t.” I tense up, waiting for the tears, for the pleas, for Beakbreaker to break down and tell me to abandon my plan.

Instead, she nods. “I know,” she whispers.

I’m surprised. Is that all? I thought she’d be more upset.

“I wish it was different, too,” Beakbreaker says. “But you’re right... There’s no other way.”

I gently put a hoof on her shoulder. “I didn’t want to hurt you-”

Beakbreaker shakes her head. “You haven’t.”

“But you-”

“I was upset, yes. But then I realized that we all have to do what we can. You, Gusty, myself… Equestria, and everyone in it, is more important than us.”

Her words may be brave, but Beakbreaker has something else on her mind. I recognize it in her tone, and my heart aches as I realize what it is.

“You don’t think we’re going to survive this.” 

There’s no nod, not whispered acknowledgment. Beakbreaker just meets my gaze. 

“Beakbreaker...”

“I’m not afraid to die, Silverspeak. But I am afraid of... of...” She gulps. “I can’t stand the thought of living without you. Of you dying and me living.” She shakes her head, on the verge of tears. “I don’t want that life. I don’t. I really don’t.”

“And I don’t want you to. And I swear to you, I will do everything I can to come back.” I manage a smile. “If you and Gusty can break Celestia free, then hey, no sacrifice needed.”

Beakbreaker manages a chuckle, and that wonderful smile of hers shows itself, if only for a few moments. It’s long enough for a tear to drip down her cheeks.

Pistons and gears move ever so gently as I reach out and wipe her cheeks dry. Beakbreaker has every reason to be afraid, to cry, and to break down, but I can’t stand seeing her like this. I need to lift her spirits, if only for a minute. But how? There has to be something I can do, something that...

Inspiration strikes.

Opening my bag, I go through it, searching for something, a memento I pray isn’t lost. It’s irreplaceable, one of a kind, something that is worth more to me than all the gold in the earth-

Oh thank Celestia... There it is.

I pull the photo from the bag and hold it up for Beakbreaker to see. It’s a photo of both of us side by side, beaming on our wedding day.

“Fifty years ago, I took an oath to care for you,” I say. “To watch over you, to protect you from all the chaos of this world, and to never abandon you... I haven’t forgotten that vow.”

Swallowing a lump in her throat, all Beakbreaker can do is reach out and take the photo, looking it over, her older eyes looking at her younger self.

The frame dampens as tears fall on it.

“Neither have I, Silverspeak,” she whispers. “Neither have I.”

There’s so much else I want to say, words to comfort Beakbreaker, apologies for trivial things that offended or annoyed her in years past, baggage from regrets. But the silence enveloping us both feels holy, sacred even.

Leaning in close, I wrap a leg around Beakbreaker, and she returns the sentiment without hesitation

We hold each other.

Gusty’s voice breaks the silence. “Silverspeak, Beakbreaker. Might want to come up here.”

Sighing, we release other. Beakbreaker still holds the photo as the two of us walk to the cockpit, where Gusty points ahead.

“There it is.”

There’s a faint smudge on the horizon. Distinct and hard to see, but I know what it is: it’s an island silhouetted against the setting sun. The sky red, orange, and yellow sky should be glorious and majestic, but I can’t see it that way.

I may be looking at Equestria’s final sunset.

“The Vengeance’s signal is coming from up there,” Gusty tells me.

“Any calls?” I ask.

Gusty shakes his head. “We could try callin’ em, but we’ll be picked up instantly.”

“And we don’t want that,” I say. “Do we have anything to track me so you two don’t lose my position?”

Gusty quickly takes out a small, bug-sized electronic device from a drawer. “This should do the trick.”

Taking the device, I pull open a tiny hatch on my belly and slide the tracker inside, closing the hatch behind it. Staying active is helping me not think about what’s going to come; the sunset outside may be not only Equestria’s last, but my own.

Within an hour, I may be dead.

“I’ll leave the Raven and fly ahead,” I say, trying to ignore my pounding heart. “Gusty, activate the cloak and stay close.”

“Right.”

“I’ll probably lose the radio at some point,” I continue. “I’ll try to signal you somehow... a flare, a sign, anything.”

“Let’s hope wherever you go has big windows.” Gusty’s joke is a noble attempt to break the tension, but even his best jokes wouldn’t work now. We’re on the verge of the most dangerous hour of our lives. Our lives, Equestria’s freedom, all of it is on the line.

None of us believe we’re coming out of this alive.

Get to the island, I tell myself. Find Celestia. Set her free. It’s as simple as that.

A light on the ship’s console flares up as a buzzer sounds.

“We’re almost in range of their sensors,” Gusty says. He looks over the readouts. “Five minutes.”

I breathe deep, tightening the straps on my uniform, the fabric still stained with my blood.

Focus, Silverspeak, I tell myself. Focus. Accomplish what you came here to do, and everything will be over. Don’t think of death. Think of Beakbreaker. Think of everyone counting on you. Gusty’s counting on me. Beakbreaker’s counting on me. Every Resistance member, every pony in Mangus’ chasm, all of them are counting on me. But Beakbreaker and Gusty can’t work up the strength to encourage me. They want to, I can see it in their eyes. But they know the end is coming. They know the odds.

They know this may be the last time we’re all together.

I look to Gusty, wanting to tell him how grateful I am that he’s my friend, and that we’ve shared so many years together. I want to tell him that I love him, too. Not romantically, but as a friend. But I don’t need to; he knows. His eyes mist up as he tries to say something, perhaps the same thing, but he can’t get the words out.

Going to him, I take Gusty’s hoof in mine, and he returns the sentiment by tightening his grip.

The warning buzzer sounds again.

Releasing Gusty, I go to the door. Before I open it, I turn to Beakbreaker, taking her hooves in my own, studying her beautiful face, committing it all to memory, drawing on it for the strength that will get me through what’s to come.

Strange... There’s something different about Beakbreaker. She seems... calm. Accepting. Strong, even, more than I can ever recall.

“Silverspeak?” she says.

“Yes?”

Beakbreaker takes my hooves. “Are you afraid to die?” she asks quietly.

Gusty looks over.

“I... I don’t know,” I say.

She takes a deep breath. “Do you remember Manehattan? All those years ago, when you and Mangus were fighting?”

I nod. How could I forget?

“Do you remember the bridge? When I... died?”

I could never forget that, no matter how hard I want to.

“I watched you,” Beakbreaker says.

I frown. “What are you-”

“I watched you trying to revive me,” Beakbreaker says. “I was floating above you when you were yelling at me and slapping my face. I saw all of it. And then I... I... I went... somewhere.”

Beakbreaker trails off, closing her eyes, and I don’t dare speak.

She’s never told me this before.

“It was beautiful, Silverspeak. So beautiful. And I was given a choice: I could go on, or I could come back. I wanted to go on... Celestia, I wanted to, so badly.” Tears slip out from under her eyelids. “But I saw how much you cared about me. I saw how we needed each other...”

Beakbreaker opens her beautiful eyes.

“This isn’t the end, Silverspeak.”

And then Beakbreaker wraps her legs around me, pulling me in close, holding me as tightly as she can.

Without thinking, I do the same, and for a few moments, the war, death, all of it goes away.

It’s just the two of us.

Nothing else matters.

The warning buzzer sounds once more.

I never want to let go, to let the moment end. But it must.

Gently releasing Beakbreaker, I take some goggles and slip them on. I grab hold of the door and slide it open. Wind howls, whipping at my mane and tail.

I step to the door, sparing one final look at the two ponies I care about more than anything in the world.

I jump.

The wind batters me as I fall through the sky, trying to throw me into the waves as I spread my wings. They slow my fall, and then stop it as I right myself.

Above me, the Raven cloaks, vanishing into the air.

Biting down hard, gathering all my resolve, I beat my wings and fly towards the island, towards the army that waits for me, and towards Mangus. When I arrive, he’ll scoff. He’ll laugh. He’ll think me insane for facing him and his army by myself.

It will be the last time Mangus ever laughs at me. I’ll make sure of it. 

I’m going to make sure he never harms anyone ever again.

With wings beating, I fly towards the island.

I fly to war.
> Death and Absolution
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of the ocean’s waves beating against one another assaults my ears as I race towards Mangus’ island, wiping water from my goggles as I furiously beat my wings. The island’s still far away, and I have so much distance to cover. But I’ll make it. I have to.

The mountain grows steadily larger as I approach. Iron Hoof’s island has a mountain range on the northern edge, acting as a wall at the edge of flat, gently sloping land. Where there was once grass, there’s now concrete, and towers instead of trees.

The closer I get, the more I see, and the more I see, the more my stomach tightens. Iron Hoof’s forces have turned the island into a fortress, an ugly collage of grey, concrete towers with mounted guns, sentry posts, and outposts crushing out whatever beauty the island once had.

Towering above all the towers and fortress is an enormous colosseum near the island’s northern point. I gawk at realizing its sheer scope and size. Equestria once held great sports stadiums that could hold thousands. This dwarfs them all, being big enough to hold dozens of stadiums.

But that isn’t the smallest structure I see.

At the end of the island, past the colosseum and the mountains lies a tower that stretches into the sky, standing twice as tall as the tallest mountain, the setting sun casting its shadow over the rest of the island. But as I get closer, I realize that it’s not a tower at all. Unlike the defensive tower of a castle, or a skyscraper from the world’s great cities, this is an oversized spire, an ornate and beautiful structure that would be found on a cathedral. Even from miles away, it’s curving, ornate and gilded exterior is glorious to behold.

Yet, for all its beauty, something about that spire makes me uneasy.

The island’s southern beaches come into view, and with them, the concrete barriers, guard towers, and barbed wire that takes the place of palm trees and tropical bushes.

It isn’t long before I hear alarms blaring from outposts along the coast.

I head for the closest beach, landing on the grey sand. Searchlights shine on me a moment later, the obscenely bright light almost blinding me. But I don’t run. I stay where I am, waiting.

It isn’t long before dozens of soldiers rush onto the beach, kicking up sand as they fall in line before me, raising rifles, shotguns, and grenade launchers, their faces hidden behind full-face helmets.

I feel no fear as I match their unseen gazes.

“My name is Silverspeak,” I announce. “I have come to speak with your leaders.”

The soldiers look to each other, surprised. They were probably expecting a suicide bomber, not the pony who was the public speaker for their leader’s regime.

An officer takes out a radio, turns away from me and mutters something unheard to me. He waits, and nods as I hear a muffled reply from the radio. Slipping the radio back into its holster, he walks to me. “You will come with us, Silverspeak. Any resistance will be met with lethal force.”

I nod.

Pleased at acquiring such a valuable prisoner, the officer snaps his hooves, and six soldiers flank me on both sides. One grabs hold of my head while an inhibitor ring is forced over my horn, and two unicorns clasp weights onto my wings to render then inoperable.

I silently endure the indignity.

Another two unicorns scan me with their magic. “He’s clean, sir,” one says. “No weapons or explosives.”

Eager to get going, the officer nods and indicates for the guards to move.

I follow the guards as they escort me off the beach. And yet, despite having just surrendered myself to the enemy, I feel no fear. I’ve made it to Iron Hoof’s island without being shot on sight. Now I just have to reach my targets, and play my part as best I can.

I feel... calm.

The soldiers shove me along, and I follow without complaint.


***


As soon as we get off the beach, the officer has his troops load themselves into a truck, persuading me to join them with their guns. When we’re all in, the truck starts down a road that stretches across the island, lined with countless outposts, flak towers, and barbed wire.

My throat tightens up as we pass the smoking, crumpled remains of a giant zeppelin that looks like the Vengeance. It’s been torn apart, blasted into scrap metal, the steel girders still glowing white hot. Yet, there are no ponies surrounding the wreckage, no firefighters trying to put out the blaze. The Vengeance has been abandoned.

I try to study the ground, to see if there’s any smoldering bodies. But the truck continues on, and I lose sight of the wreckage.

Sitting back, I breathe deep, closing my eyes to calm myself. There’s nothing I can do for those who were on the zeppelin, beyond saying a prayer for those who have died.

Heartless as it feels, I have to stay focused on what I’m here to do.


***


It takes almost half an hour to reach towering walls of reinforced concrete. Steel gates grind open like nails down a chalkboard, and we drive through into the streets of a city of concrete and banners. Thousands of soldiers are rushing about, but not from panic or fear. They’re excited. Eager, even. They all hurry about, carrying different crates, weapons, and supplies, but all of them have one thing in common:

All of them are heading for the colosseum.

The truck joins a convoy of over a hundred vehicles heading for the enormous structure. I prepare myself for a long wait, but it isn’t long before we arrive at the colosseum’s base. The numerous gates built into the walls are wide open, letting the innumerable soldiers pour into and fill the building to capacity.

The truck comes to a stop near a guarded entrance, and I’m forced off. Once more, I’m scanned by guards, and, satisfied that I am incapable of hurting or killing anyone, they allow us through.

I keep pace with the soldiers as they go through the hall at a fast trot. Despite the thick, stone walls, I can hear something ahead of us: it’s military-style music designed to stoke a patriotic fervor in everyone who hears it. Or, more likely, nationalistic narcissism.

The officer comes to a halt before a set of black obsidian doors. There are no decorations, no hints about what awaits us on the other side. Is it a parade? A celebration? My execution? Has one been thrown together at the last instant, just so that Mangus and Iron Hoof can have the joy of watching their last and greatest enemy be executed for all to see? No, that can’t be it: they wouldn’t summon everyone on the island to this place just for that. There has to be something else going on here.

Whatever it is, I have the feeling that the end of my quest, and the end to this war, lies beyond these doors.

The end of my life may be there, too.

Strange... Even though death is likely waiting for me beyond these doors, I’m still not afraid. It’s easy to face death knowing that I’m fighting to save others, instead of hiding and crying and waiting for the inevitable.

Better to die standing up than to live on your knees.

The officer speaks into his radio. When the reply comes back, he gestures for his soldiers to open the doors. They do so, grabbing hold of the enormous handles and shoving them open.

With another deep breath, I gather my courage and follow them inside.


***


I didn’t know what to expect when passing through the doors. There could have been anything on the other side, but what I see takes my breath away. From the outside the colosseum is enormous, but the interior is so huge it boggles the mind. The smooth, reflective floor stretches on for what seems like miles, hundreds of thousands of soldiers standing upon it at attention, facing a giant podium at the other end. Pillars and banners line the walls, along with building-sized carvings showing ponies accomplishing great deeds from Equestria’s past. Enormous, golden statues of ponies lie pressed against the walls, each at least a hundred feet tall and with perfect, olympian physiques, free from imperfections and flaws. And beneath all the decorations and carvings, sitting on countless seats, are hundreds of thousands of spectators, waving flags and beaming with pride at seeing the armed forces before them.

I have to force myself to walk; there may be almost a million ponies in here, and I feel the weight of all their eyes coming down on me.

We walk towards the other end of the colosseum, where a podium of grey marble stretches up several stories, giving speakers a hawk’s-eye view of the colosseum floor beneath them. Beyond it is the spire, stretching so high up that spectators have to crane their heads back just to see the top.

But it’s not the spire that interests me, or the podium. It’s the enormous, black throne set against the wall.

Black Fang sits upon that throne.

The dragon’s giant eyes see us coming

They narrow on me.

I match that gaze as we approach the podium. Before it are numerous soldiers dressed in elaborate, ceremonial armor, carrying antique halberds, spears, and rifles. If I had to guess, these are elite guards, meant to protect someone of great importance. But instead of a pony, they’re guarding a group at the podium’s base, a base of...

Oh no...

Onyx’s strike force lies at the base of the podium. But they’re not the angry force that set out for one last stand against Iron Hoof’s forces: they’re tattered, scuffed, and beaten, skin, fur, and scales covered in dried blood and bruises, eyes almost swollen shut. They all wear collars connected by a single chain that binds them to the podium.

Queen Chrysalis, ever fierce, ever defiant to all authority but her own, lies slumped on the floor, one eye swollen shut, her body battered and bloody. And beside her, slumped over and almost lifeless, lies Onyx. He’s staring at nothing, his fiery spirit extinguished. He doesn’t even notice me coming up. None of them do. Their spirit, their fire, the willingness to fight and die for a worthy cause, is gone. Only despair and grief remains.

My escorts come to a stop before the podium. I look around, wondering if they’re going to drag me over to that wall, slap a collar on me, and chain me there as well. But no one comes forward.

The music stops as someone walks to the top of the podium, taking their place at a speaking platform. Magical screens light up around the colosseum, giving everyone a view of the pony who stands before them. It’s Iron Hoof, dressed in robes of red and black that give him the appearance of a priest.

The colosseum goes silent as Iron Hoof adjusts his robe and taps a small, glowing orb, amplifying his voice. “Brothers! Sisters! Citizens of New Equestria! Today we come together to celebrate a day we have all dreamed of. A day that we have fought for, bled for, and sacrificed so much to achieve. Today is the end of the war!”

Cheers erupt from throughout the colosseum, the noise so loud that my ears hurt.

Iron Hoof raises a hoof, and the cheers quiet down. “This day, this victory, belongs to all of you!”

More cheers.

“Your reward is to watch the final destruction of the Resistance, and any who would dare opposes us.” Iron Hoof indicates the ones chained beneath him. “With their execution, the Resistance will finally end!”

Boos and taunts fill the air. 

Onyx, Chrysalis, and the others flinch. Some burst into tears, unable to bear the shame and humiliation.

Iron Hoof indicates the spire. “And this glorious structure, which you have built, will eliminate anyone else who seeks to harm, consume, or enslave our kind!”

The audience goes berserk.

Iron Hoof lets the crowd have their moment before he raises his hooves again. “But I have been informed that there is one last member of the Resistance who escaped our grasp.” He lowers his gaze to me. “Before me stands the last, pitiful member of the Resistance! The great traitor, Silverspeak!”

The air erupts into a storm of boos and screams, insults and mockery, all directed at me.

I feel no fear, no shame, and no weakness. I ignore it all, my eyes focused on the dragon seated behind the podium.

“Tell me, Silverspeak,” Iron Hoof asks, “Why you have come before us? To plead for mercy? To spare your companions?”

Spotlights shine down upon me. Millions of eyes turn towards me, awaiting my response.

I stand tall. “No.”

Iron Hoof expected me to beg for mercy, or to accept defeat. So did the crowd, if the sudden silence is to be believed. Recovering quickly, Iron Hoof regains his composure, adjusting his robe to save face. “Really now? Then did you come back to join the winning side?”

“No.”

Now thoroughly confused, Iron Hoof studies me, trying to figure out what my play is. “Then why did you come?”

I meet his gaze. “To talk.”

Iron Hoof laughs. “Is that all? To engage me in verbal-”

“I did not come here to speak with you, Iron Hoof,” I say. I point to Black Fang. “I came to speak with him.”

Iron Hoof instinctively looks back, surprised. “Him?”

“I am the last free member of the Resistance,” I say. “Thus, I am their emissary. I request an audience with Black Fang here and now, where everyone may listen.”

Murmurs rush through the colosseum. A million hushed voices whisper to one another.

Onyx and the other members of the Resistance look to me, wondering what I’m doing.

“No,” Iron Hoof says. “Preposterous. It will not happen.”

Mangus’ giant, reptilian body moves. “If he wishes to talk,” he says, his voice deep and rumbling. “Then I will listen.”

“Black Fang,” Iron Hoof begins. “Don’t waste time listening-”

“He is an emissary of your enemies,” Mangus’ amplified voice shakes the colosseum. “He deserves to be heard.”

Caught between the two of us, Iron Hoof looks back and forth, unsure what to do. Will he defy his benefactor? Concede to him?

Scowling, and not the least bit happy, Iron Hoof reluctantly walks off the podium.

Black Fang leans forward, his enormous head stretching down, one great eye focusing on my tiny form. “You say you have come to speak with me,” Mangus says. “For what purpose?”

I glare up at my enemy, the pony who has caused so much death and misery. I’m the only one here who knows who he really is. He’ll be expecting me to try and expose him; I’ll have to tread carefully.

“To end this war,” I say.

Mangus chuckles. “It is already over.”

“Not when one pony still stands against you.”

The dragon smiles. “Noble words, Silverspeak. But you are alone. You have no allies left.” He sweeps his arms, indicating everyone around us. “I have many.”

I smile.

I was hoping he would say that.

“Still, you have come far,” Mangus admits. “You’ve shown great courage and valor. And to come into the heart of the enemy’s territory, hoping to end further bloodshed... such nobility deserves to be rewarded.” He leans in lower. “I will grant you your wish, Silverspeak. I will listen to what you have to say.”

Silence falls upon the colosseum. I feel everyone looking to me. Over a million ponies await my reply, the largest audience I’ve ever had. It’s not unlike that stage before Medicomp all those decades ago, when I addressed the Guardians of Tradition, engaging in a war of words with their founder. But this is no debate, no speech to sway minds.

This is my last chance to stop Mangus.

The stakes have never been higher... but I’ve never felt more calm in all my life. Every speech I’ve given, every debate, every argument, has led me to this moment.

This is my swan song. My final performance.

I’m ready.

Taking a deep breath and clearing my throat, I face Black Fang. “Why have you aided Iron Hoof and the others?”

“To make our world a better place, of course,” Mangus says. “To eliminate all those who would fight against ponies. It’s been a resounding success, don’t you think?”

I shake my head, a small smirk etched across my face.

“Oh?”

“If you have succeeded at anything, Black Fang, it’s in destroying everything we held dear.”

Mangus is silent for a split second, no doubt puzzled why I’m addressing him by his alter-ego.

“Have we really destroyed anything of value, Silverspeak?” Mangus continues. “Buildings, yes. Cities, towns, communities, all have been reduced to rubble, but they can be rebuilt. All of Equestria can be returned to its former glory. But what we have truly destroyed are the vermin of this earth: the ones who were planning to turn against ponykind.”

“And where is your proof?”

“History is our proof,” Mangus says. “Time and time again, selfishness and greed consume even the most loyal allies. They grow envious of power and want it for their own, so they try to take it, slaughtering everyone who would stop them. Do you not agree?”

I can’t argue with that. “I do.”

Again, Mangus hesitates. He realizes I’m up to something, but he doesn’t know what.

“Then you must see the truth,” Mangus says. “Everything Iron hoof and his loyal followers have done was for the best.”

I nod. “They may think so, but that doesn’t make it true.” I turn around, addressing the crowds around me, my visage on every screen floating before the walls. But this time there are no jeers or taunts. No one speaks, wanting to hear what I have to say.

“You all believe that you have done what is best for Equestria, but all you have brought is death, suffering, and misery to millions of innocent beings.”

As I expected, protests start up. Boos and shouted curses are thrown my way.

“But I do not blame you,” I say, raising my voice. “I do not blame any of you for what you have done.”

The jeering stops. I can hear confused whispers as the crowd tries to figure out what I’m doing.

“Everyone here is flawed,” I continue. “We all have our dark sides... our monsters... that lurk below our smiles. These monsters are selfish, cruel, and care nothing for others.”

“Spare us your self-help babble, Silverspeak!” Iron Hoof snaps.

I turn to the podium and face my adversaries. “Evil,” I say, “encourages us to indulge in our vices: the desire to dominate. To have power over others. To be prejudiced and hateful to those different than ourselves.” I point to Iron Hoof. “Iron Hoof gave you permission to drown yourself in your vices and hatreds.”

Iron Hoof shakes. “How dare-”

“But I do not blame Iron Hoof, either,” I say, raising my voice even higher. “He is not evil. He, like all of you, is a victim. A pony hurt by the evil of others, so easy to sway when evil came to him with a friendly face, whispering words he wanted to hear.”

Iron Hoof stops, baffled at seeing one of his most hated foes defending him.

He doesn’t notice Black Fang stiffening up behind him.

“I don’t blame you for leading so many astray, Iron Hoof.” I point to Black Fang. “I blame him.”

I feel the gaze of everyone in the stadium falling on Black Fang, Iron Hoof included.

Mangus remains still, looking down on me, his draconic face unreadable... and then he laughs.

“You forget, Silverspeak, that I am Iron Hoof’s ally. I have helped him, and everyone here, achieve their dreams.”

“Oh yes,” I say. “You have... but tell me, do you think allies should be open with each other?”

It’s so satisfying to see Mangus realize that I’ve been luring him into a trap, one that’s about to be sprung.

“Of course,” he says reluctantly.

“Do you believe they should tell the truth?”

“Of course.”

I spring my trap. “Then why haven’t you told your allies the truth?” I ask. “That you’re not Black Fang?”

“Enough!” Iron Hoof yells. “Soldiers! I order you to-”

“Evil loves to deceive those who have pledged themselves to it!” I yell, pouring more power into my voice. “Evil delights in controlling, manipulating, and lying to make others do its bidding.” I once again point to Black Fang, “He has deceived you all. He started this war, and has been manipulating everyone here for his own ends!”

“You lie!” Iron Hoof roars.

“I can prove that I’m telling the truth.” This is the riskiest moment of my plan: if Iron Hoof refuses to comply, then I’ll have no choice but to use my emergency power to end both him and Mangus. But from the whispers and murmurs around us, I know that won’t happen. I’ve been working to rouse the crowd’s curiosity; accusing Black Fang of being an imposter will make them want to know if I’m telling the truth, and refusing to go along will make Iron Hoof look suspicious as well... and he knows it.

“How?” Iron Hoof hisses through clenched teeth.

“Have your unicorns scan Black Fang’s head,” I say. “Have them see if there’s someone inside it.”

Iron Hoof laughs. “What madness-”

“Ten seconds, Iron Hoof,” I repeat, refusing to give in. I’ve got both leaders of this war right where I want them, and I won’t yield, not now. “In ten seconds you can prove to everyone here whether your benefactor is who he says he is.”

“Do not heed the words of this desperate pony,” Mangus rumbles. “He only seeks to deceive you all.”

“Then you refuse to let us scan you?” I call out.

“And waste everyone’s time indulging a lunatic? I think not.”

“Then you have something to hide, Black Fang,” I say. “After all, someone who is innocent wouldn’t hesitate to prove it.”

I fall silent. My plan to force Mangus to expose himself has gone off better than I had hoped. If he refuses to let himself be scanned, everyone here will realize something’s wrong. That doubt will grow and fester, until everyone here will want the truth. But if he gives in and lets himself be scanned, everything falls apart.

Mangus glares down at me, full of rage that wants to crush me here and now, to silence my voice forever. But if he does so, everyone will realize I was telling the truth.

I’ve exposed him, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Draped in the shadows of Black Fang’s massive jaw, Iron Hoof looks out to the crowds, unsure what to do, hating me for forcing him into this position. But, at last, he finally yields, gesturing for several soldiers to come up.

Ten unicorns hurry up the steps to the top of the podium. Mangus, still glaring at me, doesn’t move as the unicorns cast their magic upon Black Fang’s head.

Five seconds later, they gasp and step back.

“S... sir....” one says to Iron Hoof, the magical enchantment amplifying his words for all to hear. “There’s.... there’s a pony inside there!”

More gasps.

Confused, Iron Hoof spins to Black Fang. “What... What is the meaning of this?!”

Mangus doesn’t answer.

Shaking, his world falling apart, Iron Hoof raises a hoof. “Who are you?!”

Mangus still doesn’t move.

“Soldiers!” Iron Hoof yells.

I’m forgotten as all the soldiers around me raise their weapons towards their dragon ally, targeting his head.

“I will ask one final time,” Iron Hoof hisses. “Who. Are. You?”

The giant body of Black Fang remains still, his giant eyes looking about. But they’re no longer the eyes of an intelligent being: they’re the eyes of a cornered animal knowing that there’s no way out.

I know what’s coming, but it’s still unnerving to see the top of Black Fang’s head unfurl. Around me, soldiers and spectators cry out, shocked and disgusted as the mass of tendrils rises from the dragon’s exposed brain, dripping blood as they unravel themselves to reveal the pony beneath.

Shrieks and screams surround me. Soldiers instinctively retreat, tripping over themselves at seeing Mangus Bluehorn. In the decades since the second siege of Canterlot, Mangus’ name has become synonymous with betrayal, greed, and selfishness. It was Chrysalis who wanted to take over Equestria, but it was Mangus who was all-too happy to sell out his own country to get a piece of the prize. Others have tried to conquer our land and our neighbors, but each of them stood for something: A cause, a crusade, bringing what they believed was righteousness to the masses. But not Mangus. He stood only for himself.

Mangus stands upon Black Fang’s head, his scowl enormous on the viewscreens surrounding us all, ignoring the shrieks of the ponies who have realized in horror that they’ve been working for one of the most reviled ponies in Equestria’s history.

Iron Hoof stares at his former benefactor, his skin pale.

“Silverspeak? Silverspeak, can you hear me?!”

I’m so surprised at hearing the voice in my head that I almost jump before recognizing it. “Beakbreaker?” I whisper.

“Thank goodness... Gusty hoped you hadn’t taken out your communication implant.”

“Where are you?” I ask. “Are you alright?”

“Sorry we’re late, Boss,” Gusty says. We just had to free someone.”

“Who?”

Above me, Mangus stands tall, his eyeless gaze looking towards everyone in the colosseum. “It appears my secret is out,” he says with a sigh. “Silverspeak is right... I started this war, and you have all played your part admirably.” He smiles. “But all good things must end, and I have no further need of any of you.”

He raises his scepter high.

“I’ll give you a moment to make peace with your-”

An explosion drowns out Mangus’ smug voice. I spin, along with thousands of others, as chunks of the colosseum wall flies high above us, and then slams down like meteors.

Through the smoke where a wall once was, a form thunders into the colosseum, green and purple wings unfurling as he announces his arrives with a guttural roar.

It’s Spike!

Spike’s roar echoes through the colosseum as fire belches from his maw, bathing the seats and the soldiers in green and white flames. Screams are drowned out beneath the fire as soldiers rush Spike, firing their weapons and their magic, but they’re engulfed in flames as Spike turns against them with unstoppable fury.

“I knew he’d come in handy!” Gusty yells over the radio.

I spin to Mangus, who glares at me, and for a moment all else is forgotten. It’s just the two of us facing one another, as if no time has passed at all since our last, bloody feud.

A yank on the tendrils, and Mangus has Black Fang’s mouth open, the throat glowing red from an unseen fire.

I run for the podium and the Resistance prisoners chained against it, throwing myself as close to the stone as I can as Mangus unleashes a blast of scalding flame. It washes out like a wave, enveloping the soldiers and elite guards around me. Their screams are lost in the roar of flames, but I couldn’t hear them even if I wanted to; I’m screaming, too. The heat... Oh Celestia, it’s burning! It’s burning me up!

Then the fire stops as more explosions rain down from above. The Raven materializes, unleashing a barrage of rockets and bullets into Black Fang’s hide. I don’t see Mangus, but I hear him yelling in fury, and Black Fang’s tail shoots overhead as he retreats.

I take only a second to look myself over: my fur’s been singed, but I’m not burnt; the podium provided just enough protection to save me and the Resistance.

Rising, I grab a singed, smoking gun from a now-dead soldier and take aim at the chain binding the Resistance together. A few blasts from the rifle’s shotgun attachment, and the chain breaks, freeing them all.

Onyx rises as if waking from a dream, scarcely able to believe what’s happening. Then he looks to me, the pony who sold him out and everyone he cared about to save my wife.

I only give Onyx the briefest of glimpses before shoving the rifle into his hooves and running to the stairs heading up the podium as Spike bathes the colosseum in fire while Iron Hoof’s army fights to stop him. I had hoped they would kill Mangus, but now it’s up to me.

I have to stop Mangus, no matter the cost!


***


Iron Hoof’s lying in a heap at the top of the podium, shell-shocked and struggling to make sense of everything that’s happened. I pay him no heed as I bolt up another set of stairs leading towards the giant throne, and then around them, rushing through a small hallway leading out of the colosseum. Mangus is heading into the Spire; what he plans to do in there, I have no idea, but I can’t let him do it!

Black Fang’s massive claws dig into the spire as he climbs towards the top, silhouetted against the reds and oranges of the setting sun. Atop Black Fang’s skull, Mangus points his scepter at the tower and unleashes a spell that rapidly envelops the structure. The curves, nooks, and numerous smaller towers and spires glow, pulsing with magical energy.

A deep rumble fills the air, quickly drowning out the sound of Spike tearing through Iron Hoof’s army.

What on earth-

With a deafening boom, the spire starts to rise. Slowly, but steady, the air humming as incredible energy pushes it upwards.

“Silverspeak!” Beakbreaker yells into my communicator. “The spire! It’s rising!”

“I know!” I yell, dashing onto a walkway leading towards the spire, one that spans a canyon separating it from the colosseum. I run with all my might, but it’s not enough!

Tearing the weights from my wings, I fly, racing up towards the Spire, aiming for a giant set of ceremonial doors. It keeps rising, and I keep beating my wings, willing myself to go faster. That’s my only way in, and if I miss it, I won’t be able to get inside!

A final dash, and my hooves barely manage to grasp the ledge, one of them slipping off and causing me to swing out and look into the abyss below. I fling myself forward, grabbing onto the ledge and pulling myself up with whatever hoofholds I find. I struggle to resist the wind trying to beat me off as I yank on the doors.

They’re locked! 

Rearing back, I kick, hammering away, trying to break the locks. Steel dents, bends, and finally gives way as I bolt inside. Throwing the doors shut, I take a moment to catch my breath... and I stop in my tracks.

When I first realized how big the spire was, I wondered why it was so tall. Vanity, perhaps, or perhaps acting as a symbol for Iron Hoof’s might and power. But it wasn’t either of those: this spire was built to house Mangus’ prisoners, the ones I saw in his lair under Manehattan. They’re before me, giant chunks of amber magically suspended in the air, bobbing up and down inside the spire’s massive interior.

This spire... is it some kind of ark?!

Spreading my wings, I take flight once again, racing up as quickly as I can.

Magic courses down through the chamber’s walls and pillars, its speed increasing the higher I go, my motors and servos struggling from the effort. But at last the top appears, and with it, a platform. Dropping onto it, I run to the only door in sight and kick it open, running up a long staircase. That staircase deposits me inside a long, curving corridor, the ceiling lost high above me as it stretches to my right and left, great windows allowing the fading light of day to shine inside, blocked briefly by passing clouds as the spire continues to rise.

I pant, my heart racing. The air here is charged with magic, the saturation so heavy I can almost bite into it. Whatever Mangus plans to use is somewhere nearby... and that set of giant doors has to lead to it.

I run to the doors and launch myself into them with a heavy kick. The doors buckle, but they don’t give. I grab the handles and tear them out, destroying the locks. Another kick, and the doors finally swing open, and I run through.

I’m inside the spire’s peak. It’s a vast, sprawling chamber filled with dozens of enormous, ornamental pillars covered in magical glyphs that also adorn on the walls, the domed ceiling, and the floor beneath my hooves, all pulsing with magical energy. It’s... it’s like I’m inside some sort of giant machine, one built to handle unimaginable amounts of magical energy. But what for?

I look up and have my answer.

Embedded around the chamber’s domed roof are six enormous chunks of amber, each a different color: Purple, yellow, white, blue, orange, and pink. Above them, suspended within an intricate harness of golden metal, is one of dark blue, and one colored pink. And above them all, suspended within an elaborate contraption, is the largest piece of amber, one pale white and glowing from within, as if lit by a raging sun.

I can scarcely breathe. 

I... I’ve found them. I’ve found the Bearers. I’ve found the princesses.

I’ve found Celestia.

A shadow falls upon me.

“No matter where I go, and no matter what I do, you are always there, Silverspeak.”

Black Fang’s body walks over me, each step causing the floor to shake.

“You were very clever down there,” Mangus admits as he glares down at me. “For all your weaknesses and failings, you always were the greater orator. But you accomplished nothing.”

“I’ve turned your minions against you!” I call out.

Mangus chuckles. “They were disposable.” He stretches his legs, gesturing to the grand chamber. “You are privileged, Silverspeak: the new age will begin here, and it is the combined might of the Bearers and the princesses that will make it happen.” He points to the conduit above us. “This device will channel their magic and accomplish the greatest feat this world has ever seen.”

He turns away.

“Mangus!”

Mangus has Black Fang’s body stretch itself high so that he’s beneath Celestia’s crystal. He raises his scepter and touches the two. A flash of light, and magic flows from all the crystals, pouring into the scepter.

“Mangus, stop!”

Mangus looks down at me, grinning, his scepter held high. He knows there’s nothing I can do to stop him.

“Let this world end, Silverspeak!” Mangus shouts. “Let all that is weak, feeble, and beyond repair be swept aside, so that strength may take its place!”

A beam of light erupts from Mangus’ scepter, hitting the conduit and charging it with energy.

‘Let one age end, and another begin!”

“Mangus, for the love of Celestia, STOP!”

“Equestria’s end!” Mangus thunders, “has finally come!”

“NO!” I scream.

A shockwave washes through the room, knocking me onto my back as power greater than anything I’ve ever felt washes over me, a blood red light filling the chamber.

The spell erupts like a volcano, shooting up into the hole atop the dome’s peak. But it doesn’t stop. It keeps going, unimaginable power shooting out like water pouring down Neighagra Falls. And all the while Mangus raises his legs, ecstatic beyond measure, maniacally laughing in triumph.

Celestia, I’ve got to stop this! Whatever this spell is doing, I have to stop it!

I leap to my hooves, charging my batteries.

Beakbreaker... forgive me....

I crouch, readying myself to fly. I’ve got only one shot at this; I’ve got to hit that conduit and blow it apart! If I miss, or if Mangus sees me coming, then I won’t get another chance!

Beating my wings, I-

A blast hits me, and I’m thrown to the floor. I roll, my armor smoking as I struggle to my hooves.

Who-

Another blast, and I hit a pillar, gasping as the wind’s knocked from my lungs.

Iron Hoof storms towards me, smoke rising from the barrel of a giant revolver. Around him, his elite guards stay close, the pegasi still panting and drenched in sweat from desperate flight.

“You have done enough damage today, Silverspeak,” Iron Hoof growls, turning red with rage. “I won’t let you stop what’s coming.”

I don’t have time for this! “Iron Hoof, Mangus isn’t your friend! He doesn’t care about you!”

The guards spread out, encircling us both.

“I will kill Mangus,” Iron Hoof snarls as he holsters his revolver. “I will tear him limb from limb and take control of this machine, and ensure that my work, my labors, will not have gone to waste... but not before I rip you apart!”

A yank tears Iron Hoof’s cloak away, revealing a suit of high-tech armor that fits him like a glove, artificial muscles bulging beneath numerous weapons mounted to the frame.

“Iron Hoof, stop!”

Iron Hoof charges, howling with rage, and the time for persuasion is over.

I roll as Iron Hoof brings down a hoof, effortlessly smashing the floor beneath me into dust. He swings and I narrowly leap clear.

High above, Mangus watches us both, delighted at our gruesome contest.

Jumping, I kick Iron Hoof in the chest, trying to knock him back. But his suit easily absorbs the blow. A mace and a long, serrated blade pops out from Iron Hoof’s forelegs. He swings both, forcing me to retreat, blowing the floor apart with each hit from that spiked mace.

I don’t have time for this!

I jump, my wings giving me a boost as I narrowly avoid another swing and land behind Iron Hoof, where I hit him in the lower back, trying to disable his suit, to find a weak spot. But it has no weaknesses: every part of the suit is masterfully put together without flaw or imperfections, the tightly woven outer layers providing unparalleled protection.

Iron Hoof grabs my leg and throws me overhead and into the floor, denting both. Crying out, I smash his armored hoof and break free. “Iron Hoof, listen to me! I’m not your enemy! Mangus is!”

Iron Hoof doesn’t listen as he comes at me again. I run back as he slams his mace down again and again, sending up chunks of marble,

I lash out and kick the mace, breaking it free and sending it flying. “He’ll destroy you!” I shout. “He’s going to destroy everything you love!”

“Of course he will!” Iron Hoof swings at me and I roll to the side. “Why do you think we sought to capture the princesses?! The Bearers?!”

Another overhead swing nearly slices my wing off.

“Only with their combined magic could we control Celestia’s sun!”

I freeze. “What?!”

“From within this chamber, Silverspeak, I shall use Celestia’s power to burn our world, to scour it clean and wipe away all who oppose our kind! And the magic from both the Bearers and the Princesses, I will rebuild our world from the ruins like a phoenix rising from the ashes, free from all parasites and their ilk!”

Oh no... Oh no, no, no, no! I had thought Mangus’ ultimate weapon was a spell of some sort, something dark and arcane, or a barrage of conventional weaponry: a planetwide barrage of empyrean bombs, a plague, something that turned the air poisonous. But what he planned was so much simpler, and so much more effective, something that no one could survive, no matter how strong or powerful they were!

I jump away as Iron Hoof’s blade narrowly misses my neck. “Beakbreaker! Beakbreaker, do you read me?!”

“Silverspeak?! Thank Celestia, Where-”

“The sun!” I hit Iron Hoof with a barrage of blows, trying to throw him off balance.

“What? Silverspeak, what are you-”

“It’s the sun! Mangus is going to bring down the sun! He’s going to drop the sun onto Equestria!”

“What?!”

“He’s going to destroy the planet!” I scream. “And then he’s going to build a new one from the ruins!” I ram Iron Hoof, knocking him back and giving me a few precious seconds. “Beakbreaker, you have to destroy the spire! The spire is the conduit! It’s channeling the magic! Do you hear me?! Destroy the spire!”

Iron Hoof spins, and I scream, falling back as blood sprays from my neck. And then my side buckles as I’m kicked to the floor. Iron Hoof snaps guns into place, firing and tearing into my armor. I shout and roll, trying to get away, to curl up and protect my head as bullets riddle my-

A wall explodes as something flies through, slamming chunks of rubble and rock around us, magical energy lashing out and slashing into the walls as Spike barrels towards Mangus, roaring as he tackles Black Fang’s body into the chamber’s walls. Then it’s Mangus who roars as he retreats into Black Fang’s head, and punches Spike across the floor.

I barely roll clear as Spike hits Iron Hoof’s guards, reducing them to a red smear upon the marble before slamming into the other side of the dome. Spike leaps to his feet as Mangus tackles him, the two dragons rolling, wings and tails thrashing as they tear into one another.

Wobbling, my vision blurred, I stumble to my legs. Iron Hoof does the same. He’s breathing hard, but not as hard as I am. I’ve thrown everything I’ve got into him, and his armor is barely dented! There’s no way I can endure around round with him: Iron Hoof is too skilled, too experienced, and too fast. My mechanical strength is of no use here, and I can’t risk using my magic, which leaves only me with but one weapon: my voice. But Iron Hoof’s will is too strong, which means a direct assault won’t work. I have to find a way to break through his defenses, to find a weakness and exploit it.

Spike roars as he tears into Black Fang. Despite being only half his size, Spike is in berserker mode, slashing and biting as he outmaneuvers his larger opponent, drenching the walls with dragon blood. But Mangus’ blows are ripping giant gashes in Spike’s hide, each bringing a deafening howl of pain.

Iron Hoof wipes blood from his lips. “You can’t win, Silverspeak!”

My gut tightens. If I can’t figure out Iron Hoof's weakness, the only one I love will...

Wait... That’s it!

Iron Hoof raises his guns, taking aim at my head. “Any last words, Silverspeak?”

I glare at him, focusing my charm to maximum. “Would they be proud of you?” I ask.

“What are you talking about, you pathetic-”

“Your parents,” I say. “Your family. Would they be proud of you?”

Iron Hoof chuckles. “Still trying to manipulate me into surrendering, Silverspeak?!”

“Answer my question,” I say. “Would your family be proud of you?”

“Of course they would be!” Iron Hoof says. “I have eliminated all those who would threaten our kind: Changelings, griffons, dragons, yaks, kirins, and all the others! I have made them proud!”

“You’re wrong, Iron Hoof,” I say. “Your family would be ashamed of you.”

My opponent shakes. “How dare you-”

“You are a mockery to everything they stood for!” I say.

“You know nothing about what they stood for!” Iron Hoof yells.

“But I do.” I glare deep into Iron Hoof’s eyes, into his very soul. “You told me yourself: they stood for love and compassion. Your family helped anyone who needed it.”

“Naive sentiments. Worthless sayings for those who have never known the greed and cruelty of others!” 

“It was a rogue group of changelings who murdered your family, Iron Hoof,” I say. “It was the arch-dragons who burned you and killed your comrades, not the dragon race.”

“Parasites,” Iron Hoof hisses. “Degenerates! Filth, all of them!”

“Would your parents say so? Would they call our changeling allies parasites? Would they call the dragons who have aided us savages?”

Iron Hoof hesitates.

“Would they?”

“You-”

“TELL. ME”

“It doesn’t matter!” Iron Hoof snarls. “They were ignorant! They didn’t know how-”

“No, they were not!” I shout. “They lived in an age of peace, an age that you destroyed! You destroyed the world they knew and loved! YOU destroyed everything our ancestors fought so hard to create!”

“To save our world!” Iron Hoof yells. “To save others from suffering as I did!”

I shake my head. “How would your parents feel, knowing that they raised the biggest racist of all time?”

Iron Hoof screams and fires. I throw myself to the floor, sliding into Iron Hoof and tripping him.

“How many families have you torn apart?!” I shout. “How many have you destroyed?!”

Screaming, Iron Hoof kicks me back. He leaps, swinging his blade, trying to decapitate me. Ducking, I throw myself on top of Iron Hoof, pinning him to the ground.

“You brought death and misery to millions, all to make yourself feel better!”

Iron Hoof shrieks with uncontrollable rage, and it takes all my strength to hold him down. But I’m winning. I realized what Iron Hoof’s weakness is: it’s his family. He adored them beyond measure, sacrificing everything he had to try and save them. I gambled that, deep down, he knows his loved ones would be horrified at how he’s acted, and that he’s spent years burying that knowledge in the name of doing what he thought was right. I see him fighting against the truth, trying to shove it into a dark place where he won’t have to face it. But the truth won’t go away. He can’t stop it.

He’s breaking.

“You call your enemies parasites, creatures who take but never give," I say. "A parasite thinks only of itself, Iron Hoof. It never thinks about the feelings of others. It doesn’t care about the pain it inflicts, or the lives it ruins.”

I lean in close.

“You are a parasite, Iron Hoof, and if your family could see you now, they would be disgusted.”

Iron Hoof’s defenses shatter, sliding off him like caked-on mud before the first spring rain. He shakes his head, his lips quivering, trying to deny it, to say I’m wrong, but he can’t.

He can’t deny the truth.

Iron Hoof shakes. Decades of excuses and delusion fall away, and the truth grows worse with each layer that’s gone.

And then, before my eyes... Iron Hoof begins to cry. He goes limp, sobbing, all the fight gone from him.

I look down at my enemy. He’s defenseless. I could kill him here and end his threat for good. And after all he’s done, he deserves it. Iron Hoof may have been Mangus’ puppet, but he chose to ruin our world.

Iron Hoof doesn’t see me rearing back for the final blow, the pistons in my armor readying for the blow that will crush his head and end his life...

But what would Celestia do?

No! No, not now! The last time I hesitated like this, my parents were murdered. I have to stop him. I have to destroy him and Mangus!

Is that what Celestia would do?

Iron Hoof is in no shape to fight. He’s broken. Mangus never broke. He’s never had any remorse for the evil he’s done. But I see Iron Hoof’s regret. I see the grief, the tears, the realization of all the evil he’s committed.

If Iron Hoof can realize that he’s done evil... then maybe he can change.

Maybe he can make his way back.

I lower my hoof.

“You have done great evil, Iron Hoof,” I say.

Iron Hoof breaks into a new wave of sobs.

“But now you can make it right.”

He looks to me, confused.

“If you want to atone for what you’ve done, Iron Hoof, if you want to make things right, then stop this.” I point to the magic shooting out of the dome. “Stop the destruction of our world and everyone on it."

Spike roars in agony as a giant claw slices into his belly.

Iron Hoof looks to me, then to the conduit, and then once again to me.

“If your family were here,” I say softly, “what would they want you to do?”

I wait.

For the longest minute, Iron Hoof thinks. 

Reaching to his ear, Iron Hoof activates his headset. “Attention all troops: This is Iron Hoof... Stand down. I repeat, stand down!”

I hear a voice coming over the speaker. “Sir?!”

“Mangus Bluehorn has betrayed and manipulated us, and now seeks to destroy our planet!” Iron Hoof bites his lip. “All forces, fire on the spire! Destroy it!”

Spike howls again as Black Fang’s teeth sink into his neck.

Iron Hoof gets to his hooves, looking to the conduit above us, and the spell shooting into the night sky. “We have to destroy that conduit,” He yanks off one of his guns and gives it to me. It’s some sort of miniature rocket launcher. “I will distract Mangus. No matter what happens, Silverspeak, you must destroy that conduit.”

Taking a deep breath, Iron Hoof brings up another gun and runs out from the pillar, firing everything he's got.

Rockets slam into Black Fang’s head. Roaring in confusion, he glances down and sees Iron Hoof. With a howl of rage, Mangus swings Black Fang’s tail, trying to crush his onetime ally. It slams down hard, and I’m thrown off my hooves, the launcher flying from my grasp and sliding across the chamber!

No!

Leaping up, I run after the launcher as fast as I can.

Spike unleashes his most ferocious attack yet, raking Black Fang’s belly, and then slicing his throat open with a flurry of strikes, blood gushing out as Spike rams Mangus into the floor, demolishing several pillars.

Black Fang’s rear legs slam into Spike and shove with all their might, throwing the green and purple dragon off. Spike tries to recover, but he hits the broken wall where he forced his way in and falls out, roaring in fury as he vanishes into the night sky.

Mangus is quick to rise, turning towards Iron Hoof, eager to crush him like a bug and be rid of him, but a rocket flies into a wound on Black Fang’s throat and explodes, nearly decapitating the dragon.

Iron Hoof runs forward, firing again and again, tearing Black Fang’s face apart, roaring in defiance, screaming as he tries to kill the pony who has lied to him for over twenty years.

Then the barrage is stopped as Black Fang’s hand snatches Iron Hoof from the floor.

Iron Hoof struggles, crying out in pain and rage as he’s lifted up.

Mangus emerges from Black Fang’s head. “Fascinating, isn’t it?” he growls, “how quickly we turn against our friends.”

“You’re... no... friend... of... mine...” Iron Hoof gasps.

“No, I suppose not.”

Throwing myself onto the floor, I finally grab the rocket launcher. Rolling over, I take aim at the conduit, forcing my eyes open against the searing, blinding light.

I fire.

A rocket shoots across the chamber and slams into the conduit with a thunderous blast.

Mangus spins towards me, horrified at seeing me. “NO!”

I fire again, and the conduit buckles.

Mangus lunges for me, only to stumble as Iron Hoof, managing to wiggle one leg free, fires his rocket launcher, blowing Black Fang’s face apart.

Iron Hoof screams in defiance as Mangus clenches his hand, crushing Iron Hoof into bloody pulp.

I have no time to mourn Iron Hoof as I take aim once again.

Celestia, guide my shot.

Black Fang’s body leaps at me.

I fire.

The rocket shoots through the air and slams into the conduit.

I hear an explosion. I hear Mangus scream in rage. I hear the spell – no longer constrained by the machinery – as it erupts. And then I’m flying as a shockwave blasts me across the chamber, the blast demolishing walls, pillars, anything it touches. And then I’m no longer inside the dome, but plunging through the brutally cold air. And then Black Fang’s body is thrown from the dome with such force that two of his legs and one of his wings are ripped off, leaving him to tumble and spin helplessly.

Above us all, the steam of magic flowing from the spire continues shooting into the heavens, curving away from us and around the planet.

It flickers, sputters, and dies, fading from sight.

The spell’s been broken!

The spire continues flying up, reaching what has to be the edges of Equestria’s atmosphere. But then it slows. It stops.

It falls.

And then I’m falling, too. So is Black Fang, spinning helplessly as we plunge towards the planet below. I spin, gasping as I try to breathe. 

I plunge towards Equestria, falling like a brick, shooting through enormous storm clouds, gasping as I finally take in air. And then I break through the clouds, right above a desolate, dead landscape, and the peaks of a mountain range.

Black Fang’s body plunges past me, and slams into the mountain range, exploding into a fountain of blood and gore.

The spire falls past me, and it, too, slams into the mountains, destroying them. Yet, it doesn’t break, rolling down after Black Fang, magic holding it together as it kicks up an avalanche of ash, soot, and dust.

Spreading my wings, I shoot past the mountains, narrowly avoiding them as I race towards the ground. But I’m going too fast! The ground’s coming up, and I can’t stop or pull up!

I’m going to hit!

Shrieking, I tighten my wings, trying to slow myself-

There’s no pain, only the incredible pressure of being hit by an unmovable surface. I spin, rocks tearing into my skin, my cheeks.

I scream.

Then, finally, I slow. 

I stop.

Everything goes silent.
> Sunfall
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I smell smoke.

I taste ash.

I feel fire.

I gasp, trying to expel smoke from my lungs, blinking furiously to clear my vision. When I do, I find myself lying before an endless wasteland bereft of life. Ruins of buildings lie around me, the pale bones of a long-abandoned town at the base of an enormous mountain range.

A single, dead tree stands nearby, as pale as the ash drifting through the air.

Wiping my snout clear of dirt and dust, I look up to see the sky covered with thick clouds of smoke, glowing red with unseen fire.

I struggle to stand, grunting from the pain of a long cut on my forehead, and a dozen other scrapes and slices.

Where am I?

I activate my radio. “Beakbreaker?! Beakbreaker, can you hear me?!”

All I get is static.

A gust of wind blows debris past me, but I turn away so none gets in my eyes.

Wait... The spire! It lies about a mile away, cracked and fractured from its long fall, but still intact. If I can get to the spire’s dome, I can free Celestia!

I break into a run. I have to get to the spire before-

A clap rings through the air.

Someone emerges from the ash like a memory returning from the depths of time... or a monster emerging from a nightmare.

Mangus Bluehorn claps as he slowly walks towards me. “It seems congratulations are in order, Silverspeak... I had forgotten how determined you could be when you set your mind to something.”

I stand my ground, unsure what to do.

“Against all odds, you turned my minions against me, convinced my most useful follower to betray me, and stopped the ritual... but it was all for nothing.” Mangus thrusts his scepter towards the sky. “My spell was dragging the sun towards us. You stopped the spell, but the sun’s still coming. It won’t be long before everything is burned away.”

“At least you’ll die with the rest of us,” I point out.

“Oh, I’ll be long gone by then.” Mangus says as he gestures towards the spire. “I’ll accompany my ark out into space, where my subjects will slumber while I rebuild our world.”

“With you as its new god.”

Mangus gives a mock shrug of humility. “Someone has to watch over our new world.”

“You are no god,” I growl. “You’re a bully. You're a thug... a monster.”

Mangus chuckles like he’s already won. “Oh, Silverspeak... All these years, and we’re still at each other’s throats. We may have old, sagging bodies, but, deep down, we’re still two little foals who never grew up.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but trails off, looking around, his eyeless sockets taking in our surroundings.

Mangus chuckles again. Then he starts to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

Mangus spreads his legs. “Don’t you recognize this place, Silverspeak?”

“No.”

“Really? I would have thought you, of all ponies, would recognize your home.”

What is he...

Wait... No. No, it’s not possible. I step back, my eyes darting back and forth.

We can’t be...

“We’re back where it all started," Mangus says. "We stand in the ashes of Saddle Lanka.”

The mountains... I recognize them now. And the ruins around us... it’s all coming back. That ruin over there... that was the old ice cream shop... and over there was the train station. And we’re...

We’re in the old school yard. And this tree...

This is where Mangus and I first met.

“Fitting, isn’t it?” Mangus asks. “This was where you and I met for the first time... and it’s where our feud will finally end.”

I tense up.

Mangus gestures to the sky. “In half an hour, Silverspeak, everything here will be destroyed. In an hour, this planet will be a pile of rubble floating in the void of space.” He points his scepter at me. “But, knowing you, you’ll find a way to stop me. I can’t let that happen.”

He starts to circle me.

I do the same.

The scepter twirls in Mangus’ hoof. “I could disintegrate you with a flick of the wrist, but where would the fun be in that? It’s so much more satisfying to prove to you, once and for all, that you could never beat me, that you could never win. So I’ll give you a chance, just for old time’s sake.”

“You want to make this a fair fight? Get rid of that scepter.”

“And leave myself defenseless? Oh, I don’t think so. But don’t worry: I only have a finite amount of magic.” Mangus taps the gem atop the scepter. “This scepter can only use magic I drain from others. I topped it off before Iron Hoof’s ceremony, but I have used most of it already. Your robotic strength against my magic. I think that’s a fair match.”

Lightning crashes through the overcast sky.

“Of course, it doesn’t have to be this way, Silverspeak. You may be stronger than me, but you’re not young anymore. Join me, and your eventual end will be-”

“I will never kneel before you.”

Another laugh. “Oh, you will. I promise you that before this is over, you’ll fall at my hooves and beg for mercy." Mangus pauses as a thought comes to him. “But then again... Would your precious Princess even want us to fight? Tell me, what would Celestia do in this situation?”

“Kill you.”

“Really? I don’t think-”

“Celestia would know that there are ponies who will never listen to reason,” I snap. “That they’ll never stop until they’ve destroyed everything in this world, and that the only way to stop them is to end their worthless lives.”

Mangus studies me for a long moment.

“So be it.”

He spins his scepter, and we glare at each other as the sky rumbles.

My heart hammers in my chest. If I kill Mangus, then this nightmare will end... but if I fail, then Equestria will fall into a nightmare it will never escape.

A massive bolt of lightning hits the earth, the static making the fur on my coat stand on end.

I charge, kicking up a cloud of dust as I race towards Mangus.

Mangus charges too, laughing at me, a sound that has haunted me all my life.

I scream a war cry as we jump, and the sky roars again as our hooves collide.


***


I tackle Mangus, slamming him into the ground, rearing back to crush his head, but he fires a magical blast that launches me into the sky. I hit the ground hard, rolling as Mangus leaps, trying to impale me with his scepter. I roll out of the way just in time, the tip sinking into the earth.

A kick to the ribs sends him flying into a rock.

I leap clear as Mangus fires off a blast, tearing a deep gouge into the earth. He fires again and again, and I run for my life, trying to stay ahead of those blasts.

Howling, I leap at Mangus, unleashing everything I have, throwing kick after kick, blow after blow, trying to land that one, critical hit. But Mangus moves like a pony possessed, his aged body using magic to twist and turn in ways that not even a young contortionist could pull off. He easily dodges my blows, laughing all the while.

“You can’t win, Silverspeak!”

I swing both legs, but Mangus rolls around and hits me in the side, knocking the wind from me.

“Equestria couldn’t stop me!”

A blow to the chest throws me to the ground.

“The Bearers couldn’t!”

He brings his legs down hard, almost caving my chest in.

“Cadance and Luna couldn’t!”

Mangus hammers me like a punching bag.

“Celestia herself couldn’t stop me!”

He hits me again and again.

“What makes you think you can?!”

Howling, I ram my hind legs into Mangus’ chest, silencing his laughs as the air is knocked from his lungs. Leaping, I grab hold, bite down onto one of Mangus’ ears, and tear it off.

Mangus screams with unholy rage, and I return the sentiment, rearing back to break his neck. But Mangus fires a blast, hurling me into the dirt as he retreats, grabbing the bloodied stump on his head, shaking as blood coats his hoof.

“You love your princess so much, Silverspeak?!” Mangus roars. “Then let’s see how long you last against her power!”

The scepter’s thrust towards the sky as magic erupts from the tip, creating a beam of yellow energy that cuts into the clouds. And then Mangus swings the scepter like a sword, that beam slicing into the earth with ease, leaving deep gouges in its wake.

I run, trying to stay ahead of the beam!

Mangus points the scepter towards towards me again, the tip glowing a fiery red, and an enormous wave of fire erupts, rushing towards me like a tidal wave, the heat so hot that I shriek as my skin blisters.

I leap behind the tree; the flames follow seconds later, rocketing past me, setting the ancient tree ablaze.

Spinning, I slam my hooves into the tree, sending it crashing down towards Mangus. He leaps aside, and the flames finally stop.

The earth cracks. Far in the distance, giant chunks of the ground break free and rise upwards. The tops of the mountains do the same, floating up into the hellish sky.

The sun... it’s getting close enough to interfere with the planet’s gravity!

Grinning, Mangus thrusts his scepter away from both of us, aiming towards the horizon as he casts another spell.

I wince, ready to run.

Nothing happens.

I look around. Mangus did something, but what?! Is he going to to send a tidal wave towards me? Is the earth going to drop out beneath my hooves?

The sky darkens.

I look up as something comes through the clouds.

What is...

No... Oh no!

Oh my gods!

Genesis emerges from the clouds. Glasseye’s city of the future, once a shining, proud beacon of progress and technology, is now corroded, covered in algae...

... and falling right towards me!

Laughing, Mangus rockets into the sky, magic propelling him to safety.

I leap up, wings beating, as Genesis smashes through the mountains, towers and buildings falling from its giant base as it hits the earth, digging deep as it flips over.

I fly faster and faster, wings beating harder than ever before, but I’m not going to make it! Genesis is too big! I can’t get clear in time!

The top of Genesis rises above me like a giant wave as I spin to my left and rocket towards the edge of the city, dodging around falling skyscrapers and collapsing buildings... and just narrowly shoot free as the city slams down and implodes, unable to bear its own weight.

I did it! I got away! I-

A spell slams into me, and I hit the ground, crying out as something breaks deep within me.

Mangus floats down, landing on the dead earth, not caring that he just destroyed his childhood home. “How many times must I tell you, Silverspeak? You can’t beat me.”

Groaning, I try to stand.

“You’re nothing! An earth pony who could never accept his place in life! But I’ve done what no unicorn has ever done! I’ve defeated the Royal Sisters! I’ve conquered an entire planet!” He spreads his legs wide, grinning as lightning flashes down around him.

“I’m the most powerful unicorn that’s ever lived!”

Mangus’ boast is cut off as a barrage of bullets zip past him, tearing up the ground around him and forcing him to retreat.

The Raven rockets down from the sky, miniguns spewing lead.

“Boss, you there?!”

“Gusty?!”

“Hang tight, boss! We’re coming!”

My tracker! Beakbreaker and Gusty must have used my tracker to find me!

High-caliber rounds slam into the ground around Mangus, forcing him to raise a magic shield to defend himself as he returns fire, forcing Gusty to swerve as he comes in fast.

Scrambling to my hooves, I ram Mangus' shield. I can’t break through it, but I can distract him for a few crucial seconds, and it works; he turns his attention to me, firing a blast. I leap aside as the Raven comes in low, the side door swinging open. Beakbreaker leaps out, and then Onyx, and then Chrysalis, each armed to the teeth and looking like a walking armory. They unleash it all on Mangus, splitting up to flank him from three sides, making him roar in rage as he’s forced to retreat.

“Gusty!?” I yell. “Gusty, can you hear me?!”

“Boss?”

“The spire!” I shout. “Get to the spire! If we can get Celestia away from here and free her, she can stop all of this!”

Onyx’s two automatic shotguns unload shell after shell. Even though they’re deflected by the shield, Onyx refuses to let up, forcing Mangus to keep his attention on him.

Roaring, Mangus fires a spell.

“Onyx!” I yell.

Onyx leaps up, his mechanical limbs just barely clearing the blast that rockets beneath him, but he stumbles as he lands, tripping and falling to the ground.

Seeing Onyx in trouble, and Mangus aiming for the kill, Chrysalis takes advantage by firing her under-barrel grenade launchers. Mangus is forced to divert his attention to her, letting me run to Onyx, where I grab hold and help him up.

Above us, the Raven races towards the Spire.

“You okay?!” I ask Onyx.

“Don’t worry about me,” Onyx says. “Keep Mangus distracted. Don’t let him-”

A flash of light rockets towards us. I instinctively jump clear, falling back onto the ground, my ears ringing as I struggle to my hooves.

“Onyx! Onyx, you oka-”

I stop, the words dying in my throat.

Onyx stands before me.

His head is gone.

A gust of wind blows Onyx’s body to the ground, his legs clattering before going still.

A scream reaches me.

I can barely turn my head to see Chrysalis trying to dodge Mangus as he fires spell after spell at her. But Chrysalis doesn’t have artificial legs, and not even adrenaline can overcome her age and exhaustion.

Chrysalis jumps.

Mangus fires.

A flash of light, and Chrysalis screams as she’s thrown through the air, slamming into the fallen tree with a sickening crunch, and then collapsing to the ground.

Chrysalis doesn’t move.

Gusty yells something over the radio, but I can’t hear him.

Beakbreaker is the only one left standing, the barrels of her rifles glowing red as she fires again and again, trying to break through Mangus’ shield. A yank of the trigger hurls a grenade into the shimmering field, the explosion momentarily blinding me. But when my vision returns, Mangus is stumbling, his shield gone.

He raises his scepter.

“No!”

I tackle Mangus to his knees, rearing back. One hit, one blow to the head, and-

Mangus slams his scepter into my chest and fires, knocking me away. I hit the ground hard and try to get up.

I can’t.

I try again. But I can’t get up. What’s happening? I look down at my body; why’s-

I freeze.

My left leg is gone.

Mangus stands, pointing the scepter at my skull... and then he howls as a bullet hits him, knocking him to the ground.

“Silverspeak!” Beakbreaker runs to me, dropping her guns in the dirt as she reaches my side. “Oh Celestia, no! No, no, no!”

“I... I’m okay.” I know I’m not, but there’s no pain as I struggle to stand. “I’m okay, I-”

“Gusty!” Beakbreaker yells into her headset. “Gusty, get back here!”

“What’s wrong?!”

“It’s Silverspeak! He’s hurt!”

I shake my head. “Gusty, get to the spire! Save Celestia!”

Mangus tries to stand, magic closing up his wound without healing it. The process is excruciating, and he can barely move, let alone attack us. But that won’t last.

Beakbreaker grabs one her rifles and fires. 

Click.

Tossing the rifle away, she tries the other. 

Click.

Mangus slams a hoof against the dirt as he rises, shaking, his eyeless gaze locked on us in a death glare.

“Gusty, hurry!” Beakbreaker yells.

“No, Gusty!” I yell into my headset. “Save Celestia! She’s all that matters!”

The Raven turns from the spire and heads back towards us, dropping in low.

Mangus stands, readying a blast that will finish us off... and then he’s forced back as the Raven opens fire, every gun unleashing round after round as Gusty tries to tear Mangus apart.

It doesn’t work.

A wall of shells and bullets floats before Mangus, shaking wildly as more and more join their number, until hundreds of rounds hover before Mangus, who sweats, his scepter glowing.

Then, with a shove of his scepter, Mangus shoots the bullets back the way they came.

Hundreds of rounds slam into the Raven, shredding the cabin into confetti. An engine explodes, gushing fire and smoke as the ship careens overhead, out of control.

“Gusty!” Beakbreaker shrieks.

Mangus smiles as the Raven shoots past him.

“Gusty?!” Beakbreaker yells. “Gusty!”

“I’m... I’m okay...”

Oh Celestia, he’s not okay! I can hear the pain in his voice!

Another explosion, and the Raven rocks dangerously, almost falling from the sky.

“Get out of here, Gusty!” I say. “You can’t help us!”

The Raven swerves, almost looking like it’s going to careen out of control before turning, starting a slow, painful loop. Mangus doesn’t notice it. He’s smiling as he walks towards us, in no hurry to finish what he’s started. He wants to savor this moment, seeing his two greatest foes lying before him, helpless and unable to stop him.

He doesn’t notice as the Raven turns towards him.

Gusty’s voice comes over the radio. “Silverspeak... I want you to promise me something: Take care of Beakbreaker.”

“Gusty?”

“I’m glad we’re friends, Silverspeak. We sometimes didn’t see eye to eye, and I lost my temper a few times, but... I wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world.”

What is Gusty talking about? He’s...

No.

He can’t mean-

The Raven’s last engine kicks in.

“See you on the other side, Silverspeak.”

“Gusty!” I scream. “No!”

Mangus, realizing that something’s wrong, spins just in time to see the Raven racing towards him like a cannonball.

“Hey, Mangus!” Gusty yells over the radio. “Open wide!”

Forgetting about Beakbreaker and me, Mangus roars as he furiously tries to raise a shield. And in that brief moment, I see Gusty in his cockpit, soaked in blood as he hunches over his console, clutching his steering column in a death grip. But he’s not afraid. He’s not in pain.

He’s... smiling.

And then everything goes white as the Raven slams into the ground, vanishing in a thunderous explosion.

“GUSTY!”

The earth buckles beneath us, then falls, taking Beakbreaker and me with it. I spin, trying to grab her as we both hit a slope and slide down.

“Beakbreaker!” Where is she?! I’ve lost her! I-

A boulder rapidly approaches me as I fall! I’m going to hit-


***


Pain... So much pain.

I blink, wincing at the effort; it’s hard to make anything out. I’m... I’m in the bottom of a crater, surrounded by jagged, broken rocks of all shapes and sizes.

“Beakbreaker?!” I look around, trying to find my wife among all this chaos. “Beakbreaker!?”

Rocks fall from above, rolling down and falling off a ledge into a deep chasm, the walls lit with the hellish glow of unseen fire.

“BEAKBREAKER?!”

There’s no answer.

I drag myself forward, trying to hold back the grief trying to take me. Onyx... Gusty... I want to collapse and cry, but I can’t. I’ve already lost them... I can’t lose Beakbreaker, too!

“Beakbreaker!” I reach a boulder and crawl around it, desperately looking for... 

There! There she is!

Beakbreaker’s lying against the crater’s walls, near the crushed, twisted, and burning remains of the Raven. She’s battered, her skin covered in cuts and scrapes, and her eyes are closed.

I can’t tell if she’s breathing.

I yank myself forward as fast as I can. “Beakbreaker!”

Rocks roll past me as Mangus emerges from behind several boulders. He’s bleeding and badly hurt, barely able to stand, much less walk, his skin smoldering and blistered from the heat. “I told you, Silverspeak, you were never going to win.” He limps towards Beakbreaker.

“Get away from her!” I yell.

Beakbreaker stirs, eyes fluttering beneath closed eyelids. Then she groans as she opens them, gasping in pain.

I can’t help myself. “Beakbreaker!”

Turning at my voice, Beakbreaker lights up at seeing me. But that joy is short lived as Mangus casts a spell on her.

“Mangus, stop!” I shriek.

Beakbreaker struggles, but she can’t move; it’s as if an invisible hand has closed around her.

“Don’t worry, Beakbreaker,” Mangus says as he strokes her chin. “I’m not going to kill you. Or your husband, for that matter.”

I roar, dragging myself towards Beakbreaker; I don’t know what I’m going to do when I reach her, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing!

I’m stopped as Mangus fires another spell, freezing me in place

No!

“It’s pointless to resist, Silverspeak,” Mangus says.

I ignore him, struggling with all my might to break free!

Mangus watches me struggle, amused. “What was it you said, Silverspeak? That I’m a bully? A thug? A monster?”

I keep struggling, but this spell is too strong!

“Have you ever considered, Silverspeak, that I could describe you the same way?”

I roar.

“Tell me, Silverspeak, have you ever thought about how many lives have you’ve ruined?”

I don’t answer. I won’t listen to him! Mangus is trying to trick me!

Mangus takes a step towards me. “A righteous god looks after his followers, Silverspeak. But he must hold his followers accountable. He lets the know when they’ve committed evil.”

A hoof slides up and down the scepter.

“Black Fang taught me many spells, Silverspeak, but there’s one that not even the Princesses can resist it. I call that spell... Enlightenment. It forces the victim to see all the suffering they’ve ever caused, through the eyes of those they’ve hurt.” Mangus smiles. “From what Iron Hoof told me, it worked rather well on the Moon.”

The Moon... Is that what happened before we landed? Was that flash of light Mangus casting his spell? Was that why Gusty, Onyx, and all the others were driven to such despair? Because they saw all the suffering they inflicted and killed themselves, unable to bear the same and the gui-

My blood runs cold.

Oh… Oh no.

Mangus walks towards me.

Oh no, no, no!

I struggle, trying to move as Mangus approaches, but I can’t!

“Mangus, stop!” Beakbreaker yells. “Don’t!”

Mangus ignores her as he reaches me. “Let me enlighten you, Silverspeak.”

I make one last effort to break free, straining with all my might to-

Mangus shoves the scepter against my forehead.

For a moment there’s a blinding flash of light and-

And everything’s gone. There’s nothing around me but darkness.

Where am I?! Am I-

Screams.

I spin, but I don’t see anything.

“Hello?!”

The screams come again.

“Who’s there?!”

The screams get louder. There’s only a few of them, but... Wait. Wait, there’s more. Dozens... Hundreds... Thousands... they’re still growing!

Celestia, what’s going on?! Who’s screaming?! Why are they-

A face flashed before, a mare screaming in fear.

I fall, throwing up my legs to protect myself. But then another face comes, and then another, and another: thousands of faces flash before me, faces of every age and species and gender, all wracked with pain and agony beyond imagining.

Who... Who are these beings?! I don’t know any of them, but... Oh, Celestia, I can feel their pain... their fear!

And then, in the blink of an eye, the darkness is gone.

Where am I?! I’m... I’m a foal again. I’m in a hospital room, looking up at my parents, who are so young, so overjoyed to see me... but that joy fades. Confusion crosses their faces. Then they recoil in horror and shock. I’m not the child they wanted.

I see myself wailing, and they don’t draw close to comfort me, the child they didn’t want...

Then I see them again.... but now I am them. I see things from their perspective. They’re older now, on a stage outside Medicomp, staring at me in horror, unable to believe that I betrayed them, manipulated them, all to get a horn and wings, without care of what would happen to them.

I feel their shock, their anger, their grief...

Then the darkness comes again. 

Images flash before me... No, not images: Lives. I’m countless ponies in offices, stores, homes and apartments throughout Manehattan, and then through all of Equestria. All are afraid of the freak running free, the earth pony who gained the powers of an alicorn and would destroy you if you tried to stop him.

After all, he was willing to harm his own family to get what he wanted...

No... No more! I can’t-

I’m in Manehattan again, watching Mangus and myself fight. But I’m not replaying it from my perspective: I’m the bystanders, the ordinary ponies who are running for their lives, scared to death of two monsters duking it out above them.

One stallion tries to get away, only to be hit by a stray magic blast. He collapses to the pavement with a hole blown through his body. I feel his pain, his fear, his terror and shock as he feels himself dying.

I feel his mind fading away into nothingness.

I feel him die.

Celestia... Did I... Did I do this?! Did I kill him?! I... 

I didn’t mean to-

More ponies. More faces. More screams. Ponies on the streets, inside buildings, inside that hospital. I feel their terror as a building falls towards them. And though they’re saved, they’re still terrified that Mangus and I could come back.

No more... please, no more!

Then Manehattan vanishes. I’m on the fields outside Canterlot. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers stand together in perfect formation,

Oh no... No, not this! Please, not this!

The arch-dragon unleashes a tidal wave of fire over Equestria’s army, and I feel fur melting into skin, and then skin and muscle burning away, nerves and eyes dissolving. I hear ponies silently screaming in agony, screaming for their mothers, all of them forced to stand still and die in agony.

I feel all of it. I feel the pain of every pony in that army.

Every.

Single.

One.

I want to scream.

I see my parents as they’re shot. I feel their pain as they lie in my apartment, bleeding to death in ruined bodies as I scream at them to live...

I feel them fade into oblivion.

NO MORE! PLEASE, NO MORE!

I see the survivors from the Second Changeling War suffering as they try to adapt to life without their loved ones. I see soldiers driven mad by nightmares that never go away, and I see others plunged into suicidal despair at being trapped inside broken bodies that will never heal.

I see parents, siblings, and spouses in agony as their loved ones join Iron Hoof and his armies, swayed by promises of power, by my words as I give speech after speech, persuading millions to join Iron Hoof’s insane genocide.

I feel the terror of ponies being turned into cyborgs against their will, a process perfected by the technology I helped create. I feel them screaming as their identities, their sense of self are taken from them, until they’re trapped in bodies they can’t control, doomed to spend the rest of their lives fighting and enslaving others.

And it’s all my fault.

All these deaths, all this suffering... it’s all because of me!

And then it stops.

The darkness vanishes. I’m back in the crater, lying on the slanting floor.

I want to vomit, to scream, to yell that it isn’t true, that it was all a lie... but I can’t.

Celestia... Celestia, I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t know!

Celestia, what have I done?!

I cry. I try to stop, squeezing my eyes shut, but the tears... Oh Celestia, forgive me!

Forgive me!

A hoof touches my shoulder. “You know the truth, Silverspeak. Don’t you?” He shakes his head. “You’ve caused so much suffering, so much pain, and you can never make up for it... you know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t listen to him!” Beakbreaker yells. “Silverspeak, don’t listen to him!”

“But the pain can stop, Silverspeak,” Mangus whispers. “I can make it go away... do you want me to?”

He... he can? He can make it stop? I... I... Oh Celestia, I want it to stop! I don’t care how, or who does it, just please, please, please make it stop!

I nod as quickly as I can.

Mangus smiles, gently rubbing my cheek. “Kneel.”

I fall to my knees.

“Do you, Silverspeak, want me to end your pain?”

“Yes!” I shriek.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Do you want me to-”

“Make it stop!” I scream. Make it stop!”

Mangus strokes my cheek. “There, there... It’s going to be okay, Silverspeak.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop the tears. Please... just do it!

“You should know, however, that there’s only one way to end your pain.”

Stop talking, stop talking! Make it stop!

“I have to end your life.”

Wait... What is he-

Something sharp punches through my chest.

Something bursts.

My... heart...

Beakbreaker screams.

I turn to her.

What’s going-










































































...on?

Wait... What’s-

Beakbreaker is gone. Mangus is gone. The crater is gone. Everything’s gone.

There’s nothing around me but white.

Where... Where am I?

I look down. My body’s intact. There’s no hole in my side filled with shattered mechanical organs. My leg’s back. Everything feels normal.

I look around, “Hello?”

My voice echoes into infinity.

“Is anyone here?”

There’s no answer.

My legs respond smoothly and effortlessly as I stand and look around. There’s no horizon, no edges of a room, and no barriers. I don’t sense anyone, either; there’s no angels, demons, or other beings waiting for me.

Am I... dead?

I don’t feel dead. I feel fine. Better than fine, actually. All misery, all unhappiness, all the sufferings and troubles of life are gone, fading from memory faster than a dream.

After seeing all those deaths I caused, it’s a relief. I-

Wait... Something’s changing.

I turn around, only to jump back.

There’s a path before me, stretching out until it fades into the void. 

There are no signs or directions telling me where this path leads, but I somehow know that going back will return me to life.

It seems I have to choose which way to go.

I squint, trying to see what’s ahead. But there’s nothing. No hints, no indications of what awaits me. Paradise? Perdition?

Hell?

Yet... The longer I look down this unknown path, the more I feel... calm. Like... Like this is meant to be. It's like there’s something ahead beckoning to me.

It feels... welcoming.

I smile.

I like that feeling.

I step onto the path. A wonderfully pleasant warmth flows through me. I take another step, and the warmth comes again, but just a little stronger. It’s like... like falling into a warm bed on a cold, windy night, feeling safe and sound and protected, free of all worry and cares forever more.

My smile becomes a grin.

I keep walking.

Oh, this is so wonderful... I wonder if Beakbreak...

Wait...

I stop.

Turning, I look back. I’m still alone. But I can sense Beakbreaker.

I can hear her spirit screaming.

My gut tightens. Why? Why is she so sad? I don’t want her to be sad; I want her to feel this, to be here with me, feeling as good as I am. I’m free from pain, free from fear, free from all those horrible memories that Mangus showed-

Mangus.

Oh Celestia... Mangus... he killed me!

He’s still with Beakbreaker!

“Beakbreaker!”

I bolt back down the path, running faster than I ever did in life.

“BEAKBREAKER!”

I sense something coming up behind me. But before I can turn, a force takes hold of me, propelling me onwards faster than I can run, and-
































































And I’m suddenly on my back. 

I’m back inside the crater, breathing in air clogged with smoke and ash and death, and high above me is a sky red with fire and flame.

Something beeps inside me. What... wait. My emergency crystals! They’ve activated, taking over for my heart, which-

Oh... oh Celestia! I bite down, trying not to scream. My head hurts, my chest hurts, everything hurts!

Oh Celestia, it hurts!

Why?! Why did I come back to this?!

A scream fills the air, but it’s not my own.

Turning, I spot Beakbreaker lying against the boulder, shaking, crying, weeping as Mangus strokes her hair.

“You killed him!” Beakbreaker screams, barely able to contain her grief and rage. “You killed him!”

“Yes, I did,” Mangus says. “And you want to know something?” He gives a grin that would scare the devil. “It felt wonderful.”

Beakbreaker howls again, trying to bite Mangus.

“Oh, poor, helpless Beakbreaker,” Mangus coos. “All alone in the world without anyone to care for you.” He runs his hoof through her hair. “I’ll take you in. I’ll keep you safe.” He leans in close. “I will love you more than he ever did.”

Beakbreaker shrieks, fighting with all her might to break free of Mangus’ spell.

“You may hate me now,” Mangus says, “but after I wipe your mind, you’ll forget Silverspeak ever existed.”

Beakbreaker screams so loudly that Mangus recoils, wincing as he grabs his ear.

I forget my pain as something comes back to me:

Anger.

Fury.

Pure, unadulterated rage.

Rocks fall nearby. Not wanting to remain down here any longer, Mangus starts up the crater’s slope, using his scepter’s magic to drag Beakbreaker behind him. Beakbreaker still struggles, fighting with all her might to break free, but she can’t do anything as she’s dragged away, helpless and at Mangus’ mercy.

Reaching up, I yank the inhibitor ring off my horn and cast it aside. If I have to use magic to save Beakbreaker, I’ll-

Wait... Wait!

Mangus’ scepter!

Mangus chuckles as Beakbreaker continues to struggle. “Fight if you want, Beakbreaker. It makes no difference to me.” He laughs. “Scream if you want. Yell. Beg. Cry. It doesn’t matter! No one’s coming to save you!”

I activate my magnet, tearing the scepter from Mangus’ grasp. Shocked, he spins as the scepter slams into my hoof, and I magically yank Mangus towards me, slamming him into the rocky floor as hard as I can, breaking his nose. He cries out in pain, but the cry dies when he sees me glaring down at him.

I glare into the face of my childhood tormentor. “Get away from my wife, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Magic shoots from the scepter as I grab onto Mangus and yank him skywards, screaming in fury.

Mangus screams too, and then his screams are silenced forever as I tear his head and spine from his shoulders.

Blood spews into the air like a geyser as Mangus’ body slams onto a ledge behind me, spasming and kicking. His severed head lands beside it. Then the ledge shakes, crumbles, and breaks away, taking Mangus’ body with it.

For a brief moment, Mangus’ gaze meets my own, his mouth open wide in a silent scream.

Then the ledge breaks away and plunges into the chasm.

I watch Mangus as he falls into the deep, fiery chasm, spinning, his mouth still wide as he tries to scream...

... and then he vanishes, swallowed by the flames of the roaring inferno far below.

He’s gone.

Mangus Bluehorn, the pony who fancied himself a god, is gone.

Mangus Bluehorn, Saddle Lanka’s bastard child, is no more.

Mangus Bluehorn is finally dead.


***


I look into the inferno below. I want to laugh. I want to cry, to collapse and weep in relief. Mangus is gone. He’ll never torment anyone ever again. He will never threaten Beakbreaker or anyone I love.

Mangus Bluehorn is finally dead.

The ground shakes. A giant crack appears, spreading upwards as the crater begins to crumble.

I spin, spotting Beakbreaker lying on the slope above me. Taking the scepter, I cast a spell to free her. Like a spring that’s been too tightly wound for too long, she leaps to her hooves and stumbles as she runs down the slope. “Silverspeak! Silverspeak!”

The sky roars.

Oh, how I want to take Beakbreaker in my leg and hold her tight, to tell her that it’s over, that we never have to fear Mangus again, but there’s no time! Mangus may be gone, but the destruction he started still has to be stopped!

“The spire!” I yell. “Beakbreaker! We have to get to the spire!”

The walls of the crater break away and fall into the chasm, taking the remains of the Raven with them.

Beakbreaker skids to a stop and drags me onto her back. “Hold on!” I do so as she runs up the slope, leaps out, and bolts towards the spire as the crater implodes behind us, the chunks racing up into the clouds.

The mountains surrounding Saddle Lanka are ripped from their roots and rise upwards. Chunks of earth hundreds of miles wide break apart as they’re dragged towards the sky. Far on the horizon, I can see the oceans being sucked upwards.

“Beakbreaker!” I scream. Hurry!”

Beakbreaker speeds up, sweating as she runs for our lives.

Before us, the spire shakes, gripped by invisible forces trying to break it apart. But it’s not far; we can make it!

As if grabbed by a giant hand, the spire is dragged up into the sky.

“Hold on!” Beakbreaker yells back. Crouching down, she jumps as high as she can. But she doesn’t fall; she keeps rising as the sun lessens Equestria’s gravity. But we’re too far away, and the spire is rising faster than we are!

“We’re not going to make it!” Beakbreaker yells.

Wrapping my hind legs around Beakbreaker’s torso, I point the scepter behind us. “Hang on!”

A burst of magic shoots us forward. I angle it, steering us towards the spire.

Mountains break apart around us. Below us, the rest of Saddle Lanka does the same, lava and fire rising up to join earth and rock.

The spire gets bigger as we race towards the peak.

“Silverspeak! We’re going too fast!”

“I know, I know!” Thrusting the scepter forward, I fire a counter spell to slow us down. It just barely works as we fly through a gaping hole in the wall and enter the main chamber.

“Look out!” Beakbreaker shrieks.

I fire again, blowing apart a pillar floating before us, the chunks smashing into other pillars and blasting them apart in a hailstorm of debris, peppering the crystals embedded in the walls, and the barely-intact conduit.

We reach Celestia’s amber prison, slamming into its side with a bone-shaking clash. Beakbreaker grunts as she grabs hold, stopping us from sliding off.

“Brace yourself!” I shout, aiming the scepter. One powerful shot should cut through, freeing Celestia!

I fire.

A flash of light, and a red light slices into the amber-

It stops.

What?!

I fire again, but nothing happens!

Beakbreaker looks back to me. “Silverspeak, what’s wrong?!”

The scepter’s gem... it’s not glowing anymore! It must be out of magic!

Paint begins to melt off the walls. The air is getting hotter and hotter, making it difficult to breathe.

I have to get more magic! I take aim at the crystal, visualizing myself sucking out magic from the pony inside. I hate to do it, but I have no choice!

I cast the spell, and-

And I scream.

Beakbreaker shouts something, but I can’t hear her as I grab my head. 

My skull... it feels like it’s bursting! Like claws have dug into bone and flesh and are tearing it apart!

The... The gem... What did Mangus say?! Something about... about it storing magic! Only someone who uses magic can drain more magic from others... if I get more of Celestia’s magic, I’ll kill myself!

A slap. I barely feel it, but I look up to see Beakbreaker desperately yelling at me, trying to make me focus,

I... I can’t break the amber... but she can...

“Break it... Beakbreaker! You have to break the amber!”

“What?!”

“Smash it!” I yell. “Like in Mangus’ lair!”

Windows shatter from the heat.

Beakbreaker grabs hold of the amber, her hooves locking into place on the crack’s edges as she pushes, trying to make it bigger, mechanical muscles holding nothing back.

Nothing happens.

Beakbreaker redoubles her efforts. “Come on!” She screams. “COME ON!”

Her screams are drowned out by the roar of a dying planet.

Out of options, and out of time, Beakbreaker hammers the crack, smashing it again and again, denting her mechanical hooves with each blow, but it’s not enough. She can’t get through. She can’t break the amber. She doesn’t have the strength. Nobody does. Flesh, muscle, and steel can’t break this amber.

Only magic can.

Everything goes silent.

I don’t hear Equestria dying.

I don’t hear Beakbreaker’s desperate screams as she tries to break the crystal.

I don’t feel the pain in my head anymore. I don’t feel fear, either. There’s no terror, worry, or grief.

There’s only one way to break the crystal. One more blast should weaken it enough that Beakbreaker can break it open. Celestia will be freed, and Equestria will survive.

Beakbreaker will live.

There’s no time to be afraid, to be scared, or even think as I summon my magic.

Stricken with fear, Beakbreaker looks to me, probably to yell that this isn’t working, that there’s nothing we can do. But then she sees the glow coming from my horn, and she freezes.

She realizes what I’m going to do.

My magic is ready. All I have to do is fire. But I don’t look at the crystal. I don’t look at the dome, or the hellish light in the sky, or listen to the sound of our world as it dies.

I look at her.

My Beakbreaker.

I fire.

An explosion. I’m ripped from Beakbreaker’s back and thrown through the air.

I twist, just barely seeing a pillar coming-

I feel myself shatter.

My lower body is flung away, along with a wing.

I fall from the dome, emerging into the searingly-hot air outside the spire.

The remains of Equestria floats around me, rising towards the clouds, taking me with them.

I can barely see. I can barely think.

Everything’s... hazy... fuzzy...

I’m... I’m losing myself...

Wait... What’s that?

Something’s coming towards me, racing through the rubble and the debris... It’s Beakbreaker. She’s flailing, struggling, fighting to get to me, shoving herself off the debris around her, screaming, crying, refusing to give up even as we’re both pulled upwards.

It hurts to move, to look, to even think. But I stretch out my leg, straining, trying to reach her.

She thrusts her leg forward, teeth grinding as she strains, trying with all her might...

Our hooves touch.

They wrap around each other.

Beakbreaker pulls me in, clutching me to her. She’s crying. Why is she crying?

Beakbreaker’s screaming at me, tears rising from her eyes. But she’s not screaming from fear. She’s trying to say something, to make herself heard above the chaos surrounding us.

She’s... she’s saying...

I love you.

I reach up and touch my wife’s face, trying to wipe away her tears.

I feel the darkness closing in... but I’m not afraid. I’m grateful. The last moments of my life are going to be spent with Beakbreaker.

I'm not afraid.

Beakbreaker clutches me as tightly as she can.

We rise into the sky, into the light of the sun.

I smile.

I am content.

I close my eyes...

...

I let go.
> A Long Awaited Meeting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I open my eyes.

White... Everything’s white.

I smile. I’m back. I’m back in that wonderful... Wait. This white... it’s not a void. It has a texture. Canvas... it’s canvas stretched across an interlocking system of wooden poles.

I move, only to find myself lying beneath soft sheets. A pillow lies behind my head. I’m in a bed inside a large, round tent holding cabinets, shelves, and other amenities one would find in any comfortable home.

What... What's going on? Beakbreaker and I... We were being pulled upwards towards the sun, and then everything went dark.

I pinch myself. I’m not dead… not unless the dead can feel pain.

Breathing deeply, I sit up and... Wait. My left leg; it’s back! And not just the leg, but the rest of me that was smashed to pieces by that pillar. It’s not identical to my old body; it’s a little bulkier, a little heavier, and I can feel a powerful energy humming inside my chest.

Sitting further up, I look around. I don't see anyone else.

“Hello?” I call out.

The door flaps open as a royal guard enters. He looks me over, then quickly retreats.

“Wait, where are-”

The flaps are pulled aside as someone else enters.

“Chrysalis?”

The Queen of the Changelings walks to my bed, relieved to see me awake. She’s in rough shape; newly healed scars line her neck, face, and limbs, and she walks with a limp. It takes her several seconds to ease herself into a chair beside my bed.

“So, you’re finally awake,” she says. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to sleep your life away.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “What happened? Why am I-”

Chrysalis holds up a hoof. “If you give me a moment, I can explain everything.”

I have so many questions to ask, but I manage to quiet myself. Best to take things one question at a time. “How did I get here?” I ask.

“You and your wife were saved by Princess Celestia.”

“The princess?! Than we-”

“Freed her? Yes, you did. She managed to stop the sun from destroying us all, and then saved you and your wife before gravity could drag you to your death.” She blushes, embarrassed. “She rescued me, as well.”

“Then Beakbreaker-”

“She is fine. Busy, but fine.”

Beakbreaker’s alive?! I sink back into the pillow, relieved.

Thank Celestia...

“You are lucky to even be alive,” Chrysalis continues. “You pushed yourself to the brink of death with that spell you cast. Had your beloved Princess not gotten to you in time, you would have been the last casualty of the war.”

“So... I didn’t die?”

“Some wondered if you were going to. You’ve been in a coma for two months, and-”

I shoot up from the bed. “Two months?!”

“Yes. Two whole months spent sleeping away while I was tasked with watching over you. An excruciatingly boring job, if I may be so bold.”

Two months?! That... that can’t be possible! It doesn’t feel like I’ve been out that long! Maybe a few minutes at most, but not months!  

I breathe deeply. Okay... Calm down, Silverspeak. If you were out that long, then you must have needed the rest. But now you’re awake, and what’s important is getting your bearings.

“Look, Chrysalis. I’m grateful for you watching over me, but where’s Beakbreaker? Why didn’t she do it?”

“Doctors like her are in high demand,” Chrysalis says. She points to my repaired body. “You have her to thank for that new body of yours. It’s a miracle she was able to make it: metal and electronics are in short supply, but she managed to put most of you back together.”

“Most?”

“She couldn’t get you a new heart, and the backup crystals powering you were damaged. She had to replace them with a crystal harvested from what was left of Saddle Lanka.”

There’s a power crystal in me? Well, that explains the humming.

“Beakbreaker checks in on you whenever she can,” Chrysalis says. “She always hopes you’d wake up. I’m glad you have; I couldn’t have taken watching over you for another month!”

The thought of Chrysalis being a nanny amuses me, but I push the thought aside. There are so many other questions I have. “What about the others? Luna, the Bearers, the Resistance? What happened to them?”

“They’re fine. Like your wife, Luna and the Bearers are busy. Always rushing back and forth, using the Elements to restore the world.” Chrysalis smirks. “When all is said and done, they’ll be the ones who will be sleeping for two months straight.”

“And the Resistance?”

“Still celebrating that they won the war… and taking every opportunity to rub it in the faces of Iron Hoof’s troops.”

“And the ponies Mangus captured?”

“They’ve been freed and are doing their part to help rebuild.”

“And what of Iron Hoof’s army? His soldiers, his cyborgs-”

“Celestia and Equestria’s best doctors have been doing their best to heal the cyborgs. From what I’ve been told, it will take time and years of therapy, but they will eventually return to normal. And as for Iron Hoof’s soldiers...” Chrysalis smirks. “Well, they’ve been put to work rebuilding all the cities, communities, and towns they’ve destroyed. With all the damage they’ve inflicted, they’ll be toiling away for decades.” She stands, wincing at the effort. “I imagine you’d like to see what our new world looks like.”

Nodding, I pull back the sheets, taking my time as I get out of bed before following Chrysalis out of the tent. Light from the sun shines down on me, and I have to put up a hoof to block it. When my eyes finally adjust, I lower my hoof to find myself standing in the middle of a large meadow before a dense grove of trees. Dozens of other large, round tents have been set up around the perimeter, with ponies, changelings, yaks, griffons, and kirin bustling about, some rushing off on a task. It reminds me of the Resistance after they escaped the moon. But unlike them, everyone here is full of hope. There’s no fear and no worry, only the eagerness of those privileged to participate in something vast and grand.

Chrysalis walks across the meadow to a thin path heading into the forest. We follow that path, emerging a minute later into an even larger meadow almost triple the size of the camp we just left. There are no tents here, only a seemingly endless array of flowers, bushes, and roses of every shape, size, and color.

Chrysalis heads to an overlook at the garden’s end. And when I reach it, I’m treated to a glorious view of the landscape below: a vast plain blanketed in green fields that stretch out to the horizon in every direction, all lit up and shining in the mid-morning sun.

I stop and take it all in, awestruck at the beauty before me. Everything looks so new and pristine; perhaps this is what Equestria looked like millions of years ago, before the arrival of civilization.

“It’s... beautiful,” I say.

Chrysalis nods, admiring the view.

A soft wind blows through our manes.

“So where are we?” I ask.

“Where Canterlot used to stand,” Chrysalis tells me. “The mountain has been reformed, but until a new city is raised, that campsite is Celestia’s capital.” She spreads a hoof. “From here, your beloved Equestria will begin anew, spreading out once more until all was as it was.”

I doubt it; if a tree is all but cut down and then grown back, it won’t be the same tree. Who knows what the new Equestria will look like? I imagine all the old kingdoms will spring anew, with Equestria’s inhabitants and allies settling back down.

There’s one, I realize, who might have hard time doing so.

“What about you?” I ask Chrysalis. “What are you going to do in this new world of ours?”

Chrysalis sighs wearily. “Everyone knows that I freely pledged myself to Iron Hoof and helped him early in his campaign,” She says. “There are... many who want revenge.”

She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to.

“Maybe you can win them over,” I suggest. “After all, you helped me and the Resistance.”

“Only out of my own self-interest.”

“But you still helped. You risked your life to save others. You even tried to kill Mangus.”

“So I would have no competitors. That’s what others would say: That I was trying to eliminate anyone who could stop me from ruling over the planet.”

“And yet, here you are,” I point out. “You watch over me for two months when you could have tried to take over. You let the Princesses and the Bearers do their work without trying to interfere.” I smile. “If you keep helping, eventually everyone will realize you’ve changed.”

Chrysalis considers my suggestion.  

“It’s a new world out there,” I say. “A fresh start for everyone... even you.”

Though she doesn’t say anything, I see the beginnings of a smile on Chrysalis’ face. But there’s something else too, something far more precious.

Hope.  

There’s movement in the trees behind us. I turn just as the royal guard from the tent emerges from the trees. He hurries over, whispers something to Chrysalis, and then rushes back to the path.

“I must leave,” Chrysalis says. “It seems someone wants to meet you.”

“Meet me? Who?”

Chrysalis just smiles as she heads back to the path, disappearing between the trees.


***


Alone now, I look around, taking in the incredible kaleidoscope of colors about me, taking a moment to relax and loose myself in all this beauty. If someone wanted to meet me, they couldn’t have chosen a more beautiful spot… but who would that individual be? Chrysalis didn’t say. Beakbreaker? A member of the Resistance? The Bearers?

Birds chirp as they fly overhead, nestling among the branches of a solitary tree near the hedges, singing as they look down at me.

It’s so peaceful here... I can see myself staying here for hours. After the hell that was the war, this place is like paradise.

I look around once again, this time with a critical eye. The meadow’s wide open, and the greenery isn’t tall enough that someone could hide behind them. Yet, I don’t see anyone waiting for me. A glance at the sky shows no one flying down to talk.

Where’s my host?

The birds stop chirping.

Puzzled, I look up.

The birds are looking towards the forest.

Turning, I see several other colorful birds perched on the branches and vibrant, green leaves of the trees. They’re looking down the forest path towards someone I can’t see. Yet, they don’t fly away as they would at the sight of a predator or a stranger.

Someone appears on the path.

I squint, trying to see who it is. Whoever they are, they’re big, about the size of one of the princ...

I freeze.

My hoof goes to my mouth.

Her coat is whiter than the purest snow. Two great wings lie folded against her sides. Her billowing, multi-colored mane and tail float behind her as she walks towards me. Though she’s smaller than a dragon, a minotaur, or even a yak, she carries with her an aura of unimaginable strength and unmatched magical might. Yet, she also brings wisdom and mercy with her, and has a smile warmer than a Hearth’s Warming fireplace.

I’ve read about her. I’ve dreamed about meeting her. I’ve spent my life looking to her for inspiration, but fate has always kept us from meeting... until now.

I can barely stand as Princess Celestia walks to me.

“Hello, Silverspeak,” she says with a smile.

I... I…

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Celestia says. “I’ve wanted to talk to you... and I understand you’ve wanted to meet me for a very long time.”

My mouth moves, but nothing comes out.

“I’ve wanted to meet you, too, Silverspeak, but now more than ever. I wish to thank you; If it were not for you and your wife, I would not be here.”

She puts a hoof on my shoulder, and I shudder.

Celestia... she’s... touching me.

“I owe you my life, Silverspeak.”

Closing her eyes, she lowers her head.

I should be honored. I should be awestruck at this, the highest honor any pony can ever receive: Being thanked by the ruler of Equestria herself. With all she has to do, she’s chosen to spend time with me. Thousands, if not millions of other beings are hurt and suffering, and she...

Wait.

Mangus’ spell...

I take a step back, guilt flooding through me, overwhelming me, threatening to suffocate me.

“Silverspeak?”

I turn away, squeezing my eyes shut, trying not to cry. “I... I don’t deserve your gratitude, your Highness.”

“Of course you do. You-”

“Did Luna and the others tell you about how I helped Iron Hoof? Did they tell you how I betrayed the Resistance to save my wife? About how it’s my fault that so many are dead?” I turn to my princess. “Did they?!”

Celestia’s silence speaks louder than words every could.

I turn away, too ashamed to face Celestia. For so long, I’ve wanted to meet her; it’s been a dream that I’ve had my entire life. But fate is cruel... Only when I’m old, when I realize all the pain and suffering I’ve inflicted during my life, do I finally meet the pony I admire above all others.

I’m not worthy to be in her presence.

I wait for Celestia to leave.

She doesn’t.

Celestia walks beside me, tenderly placing her hoof on my shoulder. “I know what you’ve done, Silverspeak,” she says softly, like a mother reassuring a shamed foal. “Many have called for vengeance, for justice for all that you’ve done. And I told them that justice would be done.”

“And what are you going to do?” I can barely get the words out; Gods, I can’t remember the last time I felt so afraid, so guilty, and so ashamed all at once.

“I know about the mistakes you’ve made, Silverspeak. I know about the ponies you’ve harmed, and how you were used against your will to spread a message of intolerance and hate.”

I stifle a sob.

“But you are not the first pony to hurt others.” Celestia softens her voice. “There are many who have done far worse than you.”

“Like who?” I gasp. “Discord? Tirek?”

“Yes... and me.”

What? “No... Your Highness, you-”

“I carry the responsibility of caring for not only my subjects, Silverspeak, but all who live on our world.” She lowers her head, her smile vanishing as memories come forth, memories she doesn’t want to relive. “I have failed treaties, negotiations, and peace talks. I have broken relationships with our neighbors beyond repair. And... I have dragged Equestria into wars that didn’t need to be fought.”

She goes silent, hurt by memories almost too painful to bear.

This... This can’t be. Celestia, the role model all ponies look to for friendship, forgiveness, and compassion... she couldn’t have done all those things. I know that she’s not perfect, but for her to do all that...

Celestia looks to me. “I know the shame and the guilt you carry, Silverspeak. My failures have destroyed friendships, families, and entire countries.”

“But... everyone on the moon...”

“Their deaths were caused by Iron Hoof; not you.”

“But I let him know where they were.”

“You were in a position no one should ever have to endure, and forced to make an impossible choice.”

“But did I make the right one?” I plead.

“I cannot say,” Celestia says.

“Princess… if you were in my position… what would you have done?”

Celestia’s ponders my question for a long moment. “I don’t know, Silverspeak.”

All my life, I’ve asked myself what Celestia would do if she faced the challenges I have. I’ve always imagined her reacting quickly and easily, without hesitation or doubt.

Never did I imagine she wouldn’t know what to do.

“No one is perfect, Silverspeak. Rarely do we know what the right choice is, if there even is a right choice. My first thought would be to save Beakbreaker, but Mangus could have killed her before I could act. I could have tried to teleport her away, but there might have been spells in place to prevent it. I could have tried to subdue Mangus, but he could have overpowered me, and then killed all his hostages in retribution... I simply cannot say what I would have done.”

I try to put on a brave smile; Celestia’s trying to help me feel better, and I’m so grateful that she’s even doing that much… but her words only soothe the sting of my crimes. They haven’t erased them.

“I still feel guilty.” 

Celestia tightens her hoof upon my shoulder. “Silverspeak, you are like Iron Hoof and Mangus. All of you hurt others. All of you have killed others. All of you have brought suffering to others.”

My stomach drops, and my guilt comes roaring back with a vengeance.

“But unlike you, Iron Hoof and Mangus felt no guilt or remorse for all the lives they took. Any lives you ended were accidental, or done to save others.” Her hoof takes my chin, and she gently turns me to look at her. “What separates you from them, Silverspeak, is that you have tried to make up for your mistakes. You have tried to heal the damage you’ve caused.” She smiles. “Those are the actions of a pony with a good heart.”

A warmth spreads through me.

“We still have to decide what to do about what you’ve done. I will not put you in a dungeon as others have asked, nor will I banish you.”

“But what can I do?” I ask. “I... I’ve hurt so many. Thousands... hundreds of thousands... I can’t make it up to all of them.”

“No,” Celestia says quietly. “But you can still make a difference. There are many suffering from what they endured during the war, and the grief of losing those they loved. Your talent can can help heal them: Your words can help mend broken hearts, give courage to those who have none, and help others find meaning when they’ve lost all reason to go on. And in doing so, you will help bring hope to all of Equestria, and help to repair the lives you damaged... Will you accept this task?”

“Yes!” I say! “Yes, I will!”

Celestia smiles. “I’m delighted to hear that, Silverspeak. Together, you, me, Luna, Twilight, and all her friends will restore the hearts and souls of our world... starting with your own.”

What? What does she mean by that?

“A pony cannot heal others until they have been healed, Silverspeak.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need healing, Princess. Others do. Not me.”

“But you do.” 

Celestia smiles once more as she takes my hoof in hers. 

“Silverspeak, I know about your mistakes. I know about all the harm you’ve caused, and those you’ve hurt. But I also see that you only want to make things right. I have seen that you have never embraced evil, nor will you ever do so. Therefore, let it be known to all of Equestria that I, Princess Celestia... forgive you for all that you’ve done.”

My lips quiver.

Celestia... she... she...

She forgave me...

I try to hold back my tears.

Celestia’s legs go around me, pulling me me in, holding me close to her.

I reach out and wrap my legs around Celestia, clutching her like a child would hug its mother. But Celestia doesn’t push me away.

She holds me tighter.

I let go.

I cry in Celestia’s embrace.


***


Eventually, the tears stop. My guilt and shame slide away. Sighing, I let go of Celestia, wiping the last tears from my cheeks. “Thank you, your Highness.”

Celestia’s smile never wavers.

Taking my glasses off, I wipe them clean. “Princess, there’s something you should know... Before the end of his life, Iron Hoof realized all the pain and damage he had done, and tried to make up for by helping me stop Mangus. Without him... well, you and I wouldn’t be talking now.”

Celestia’s surprised at learning how her most dangerous adversary had a change of heart, but she’s also pleased. Perhaps not pleased enough to pardon him, but she might look back on him with pity instead of malice and disgust.

“Chrysalis also helped,” I say. “She-”

“That, I am aware of,” Celestia says. “I must admit, I had thought Chrysalis would never accept our friendship, but I am pleased she has.”

“Will you let her help us?” I ask. “Help us to rebuild? I believe she deserves a chance to prove she wants to better herself.”

“Of course. It would give me no greater pleasure than to see her reformed. Throax has hoped she would join him. Together, they could do much good.”

I look around, studying the garden, relishing in how peaceful it is. This place is a sanctuary, a safe haven the likes of which hasn’t existed for years, maybe decades. But there’s still much work to be done beyond its borders.

“What happens now?” I ask.

“The Elements have restored Equestria, but it is up to all of us to rebuild our lives,” Celestia tells me. “The path before you is a long one, Silverspeak, and at times it will be painful. But in the long run, the path of a healer brings the greatest satisfaction, and the greatest joy.”

There’s movement behind us. Two Royal Guards have come to the garden’s edge.

“Ah, she’s here,” Celestia says.

She? Who’s she? Another pony who-

The Royal Guards part, allowing Beakbreaker to pass through and enter the garden.

“Silverspeak!”

She runs to me. Without thinking, so do I, and we collide, throwing our legs around each other as we collapse into the grass.

“You’re awake!” Beakbreaker gasps. “You’re awake, you’re awake, you’re awake!”

“Yes,” I chuckle. “Yes, I’m awake.”

Gasping, Beakbreaker wipes away her tears. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?! How afraid I was that you wouldn’t wake up?!”

“Uh... Sorry?”

Giving a nervous laugh, Beakbreaker embraces me even tighter, relieved that I’m just talking, and not a dead pony lying in a morgue somewhe...

Wait.

Gently pushing myself free of Beakbreaker’s hold, I turn to Celestia. “Your Highness? One of the reasons I wanted to free you was because... well, there’s-”

Celestia walks over. “A tumor in your brain,” she says. “Luna told me about it. I inspected it while you were unconscious.”

I bite my lip, trying to slow my racing heart. “And?”

“Silverspeak, my healing skills are considerable... but I can’t cure your tumor. It’s too advanced.”

My stomach drops. A moment later, so do I, sitting on the grass.

My last hope – my only hope – is gone.

“However...”

I look up.

“Though I cannot heal or remove the tumor,” Celestia says, “I was able to cast a stasis spell around it, ensuring that it cannot grow or spread any further.” She smiles. “You have nothing to fear from that tumor anymore.”

I struggle to find the right words. “Then... I’ll...”

“Yes, Silverspeak. You will live.”

Beakbreaker shrieks, grabbing me as tightly as she can. Then, looking to Celestia, she runs to her and grabs the princess, jumping up and down for joy. Only after a moment does she realize what she’s doing and lets go, turning bright red with embarrassment.

“I, uh, heh... Sorry, your Highness.”

“Think nothing of it,” Celestia says with a smile. “It’s the least I can do for all that you have done.”

I... I don’t know what to say, or to think. I’ve been a dead pony walking, death an ever-present specter, making me think that my days were numbered. But that weight is gone. It’s vanished, and all that’s left is a feeling of lightness like I’ve never felt before.

I’m... I’m going to live!

“However... I have something to ask of you both,” Celestia says.

I turn to her, as does Beakbreaker.

“Everyone will be needed to help rebuild our world,” Celestia says. “Whether it’s in physical labor, use of magic, healing, or comforting. But I have a special task for you both... Many have been hurt by Mangus’ war, and many families have been torn apart. Many children, I am afraid, have lost their parents.”

Celestia gestures to someone nearby.

Another royal guard emerges from the bushes, carrying a small bundle in the crook of his foreleg.

“Beakbreaker,” Celestia says, “I was told that, before the war, you wished to have a child.”

Beakbreaker goes pale, grabbing her mouth as she realizes what Celestia’s saying.

The guard reaches us. Gold Wing looks up at us both from within the bundle, smiling and reaching up with her tiny legs.

Shaking, barely able to hold back her tears, Beakbreaker takes Gold Wing in her hooves.

“I ask that the two of you take this child and raise her as your own,” Celestia says. “Will you accept this task?”

The tears flow as Beakbreaker nods. “Yes!” she gasps. “Yes! I will!”

“And you, Silverspeak?”

After all that Celestia has done for me, I can’t imagine saying no. And seeing Beakbreaker so happy, at having a dream come true... I can’t deny her that.

“It will be an honor,” I say.

Celestia beams.

Turning, Beakbreaker embraces me, sobbing. Not with grief or sadness, but with joy. Pure, unaltered happiness.

I hold her back.

Gold Wing squeaks, wrapping her tiny legs around mine.

The three of us sit under the warmth of Celestia’s sun, and the warmth of her pleased gaze. All my fears, all my worries about the future, about everything, all falls away. I have a purpose again, a chance to make up for the past: To help heal those who have been hurt, and to help raise a child. It will be a large task, a burden that will no doubt be hard to bear… but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I can’t help but smile.

The future has never felt so bright.
> 30 Years Later
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When we’re young, we’re told by our elders to cherish every day and live as if it were our last. But, being the impulsive little ponies we are, we ignore their advice. We feel invincible, never dreaming of the day we find ourselves covered in wrinkles and in a body weakened by the ravages of time. I should know: I was once a young, impetuous fool who never thought about the future, forever focused on the present and what I wanted… but that was long ago. My youth is only a memory. My smooth skin is gone. My thinking isn’t as fast or as sharp as it used to be. My body, though state-of-the-art, is slowly being worn down.

Only now, in my old age, do I finally comprehend the wisdom my elders had, but I’ve learned that there’s still many things from youth you can still cherish… including ice cream.

I bring another spoonful of ice cream up and swallow it, closing my eyes as I savor the creaminess and the sweetness of grape. It’s an unorthodox flavor, to be sure, but I’m glad Frosty’s sill serves it.

Leaning back in the booth, I look around at all the younger faces inside my childhood ice cream shop, watching as they eagerly eat their own cones. I’m the oldest one here, but that doesn’t bother me: ice cream is the great equalizer, the one thing that can bring anyone together.

Smiling, I take another spoonful and look across the table. “You don’t seem very hungry.”

Mom and Dad chuckle.

I take another delicious spoonful. “Sure you don’t want some?”

“Maybe later,” Mom says. “We can’t stay long.”

“Really? You only just got here. I can’t remember the last time we just sat down and talked.”

“It's been a while,” Dad says.

Mom and Dad reach out and take my hoof.

“Today’s a big day, kiddo,” Dad says. “Make the most of it.”

I hold up the bowl of ice cream. “Oh, I am.”

Dad chuckles. “I mean, when you wake up.”

My smile vanishes.

Wake up?

“We have to go, Silverspeak,” Mom says. “But we’ll see you soon. I promise.”

Mom and Dad stand and head to the door, stepping outside. They look back to me, smiling as they wave, and-



***


I blink.

I’m not in the ice cream shop of my childhood. I’m not even in Saddle Lanka. I’m… I’m sitting on the large swing in the backyard of my Canterlot home. Snowflakes are falling around me. Well-disguised heaters keep me warm as the night goes on.

A… a dream. It was a dream. No, it, it couldn’t have been...

I look to my left, where Beakbreaker sits beside me, pressed up against me for warmth, her eyes still closed as she dozes. But that doesn’t last long; the first rays of the sun slowly rise over the distant mountains, stretching out to illuminate the snow-draped fields of Equestria, then Canterlot, and then us.

Blinking, Beakbreaker awakens. She smiles at feeling the warmth falling on her and stretches.

“Oh,” she says. “So beautiful…”

A bluejay flies down and perches upon a branch on our small tree. It chirps, welcoming the dawn of a new day.

Beakbreaker slips a leg around me. “Sleep well?”

I nod, trying to figure out how to explain what I just experienced.

Beakbreaker can tell something’s on my mind. “Silverspeak?”

“I had a dream,” I say. “Only… I’m not sure it was one.” I look to my wife. “It was like one of yours.”

Beakbreaker immediately gives me her full, undivided attention. For the past few months, she’s been having the most interesting dreams. Well, perhaps dream isn’t the best word. She says they don’t feel like dreams, that they feel more real than our day to day lives. Her parents are always there, and they deliver a brief message, and then Beakbreaker wakes up. 

When these… visions, for lack of a better word... first appeared, I thought they were pleasant dreams and nothing more. But then the two of us looked into these kinds of dreams and found that our neighbors, friends, and acquaintances all spoke of how their elderly parents or dying friends spoke of seeing their dead loved ones before they themselves died.

Now, after experiencing such a dream myself, I realize just what Beakbreaker’s been going through.

“I was in the ice cream store I used to go to all the time as a colt,” I say. “My parents were there; they told me to make the most of today.”

Beakbreaker takes in what I said, surprised… and yet, not surprised.

“Did you have another visit, too?” I asked.

She nods. “I was in the middle of my old village. It was so perfect, so bright and colorful and full of life. Green Wing was there. So were my parents.”

“Did they say anything?”

Beakbreaker nods. “Green Wing thanked us for taking care of her daughter.”

I wait. Surely there had to be more than that; Beakbreaker’s hesitating, unsure what to say. 

“They did say something else,” Beakbreaker says quietly. “They said I should make the most of today.”

She goes silent.

We look at each other, and though we don’t say it, I can see Beakbreaker has the same thoughts I do: she and I had almost the same dream on the same night, and both had the same message. 

That can’t be a coincidence.

“Well,” I say at last, “I suppose we’d better follow their advice.”

“Yes,” Beakbreaker says. “Yes, we should.”


***


The sun’s still rising as we both get off the swing and head inside our warm home.

“I’ll get breakfast going,” Beakbreaker says. “You want to go wash up?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Leaving Beakbreaker as she starts up the toaster and the coffee pot, I head down the hall and slip into the bathroom, where I comb out all the knots and unruly strands in my white hair. Adjusting my glasses, I look myself over, making sure I’m presentable.

Splashing my face with a hoof-full of water, I dry myself with a towel, then study myself in the mirror. I’ve looked at this face countless times, and yet, it’s still a shock to see all these wrinkles and sagging skin.

Beakbreaker walks inside and sees my melancholy. “Wondering who that old fellow is?”

I nod.

Beakbreaker could crack a joke, tell me to lighten up, or some other piece of self-help. But unlike so many times before, she’s silent. 

Walking to my side, Beakbreaker silently studies her own reflection, her gaze going over her wrinkles and sagging skin, over her faded stripes, and white hair that was once dull-red.

“When did we get so old?” Beakbreaker wonders.

“Raising a child will do that to you,” I say.

Beakbreaker pretends to pout. “If it weren’t for that blasted little changeling, I’d still be beautiful!”

“You are beautiful,” I assure her. “You’re like a fine wine. The older you get-”

“-the better you are... And more sour.”

We both chuckle.

“A hundred and five,” Beakbreaker sighs. “You ever imagine you’d get this old?”

I shake my head. “Not in my wildest dreams.”

“Me neither.”

We watch our reflections.

“Well, we’d better eat,” Beakbreaker says. “Can’t risk being late.”

“No,” I agree. “No, we most certainly cannot.”


***


Once we finish a rather hurried breakfast, we dress, and I’m reminded how fortunate we are to be cyborgs: We don’t have to experience the shaking or slowed movement that so many others suffer at our age. The few equines who live to be over a hundred are all but guaranteed to have tremors, shakes, and a general lack of mobility in their failing bodies, but our artificial limbs and bodies spare us such misery.

The snowfall has slowed as we leave the house and walk through the streets of Canterlot. Businesses are already opening up as the city’s residents ready themselves for another day of business, shopping, and play. It’s fascinating to watch everyone hurrying about: some are young and carefree. Others are middle-aged and just managing to keep up with their children, and others are old like us and out for a stroll, content to enjoy life without any of the responsibilities of adulthood.

We could reach our destination in just a few minutes with one of Canterlot’s numerous elevators and subway cars, but we want to take my time seeing the city again, to look at all these beautiful buildings, shops, winter decorations, and so many happy individuals running about and enjoying themselves.

I shudder at thinking how I let so many of these pleasures pass me when I was younger, but that’s how life goes, I suppose. We get so busy that it isn’t until we’re old that we truly learn to savor and enjoy them.

A feeling deep within me says to savor this while I can.

Halfway to our destination, we reach a large, public garden. While Canterlot’s gardens are allowed to grow and wither with the seasons, this one is kept evergreen. This is the garden that pays tribute to those who gave their lives – or lost them – in the most destructive war Equestria had ever seen.

Looking at Beakbreaker, I gesture to the garden. She nods, and we head inside, going to a black, obsidian wall in the back, polished to a mirror sheen and holding thousands upon thousands of names. To the side of that wall are statues of soldiers, doctors, and all the specialists who fell during the war. 

We head to one of an older pony in a flight uniform. But this pony isn’t somber or depressed. Even with his wrinkles, he’s beaming and full of life.

I smile. “Hello, Gusty.”

Of course, the statue doesn’t answer. But I like to think that, somewhere, Gusty still hears me. I’d wager he’s still getting a kick out of knowing that he was the one chosen to represent all the pilots who were lost fighting against Iron Hoof and Mangus’ armies.

We both stand before the statue, taking in Gusty’s smile. Even now, all these years later, I can still hear his voice, his laugh, and how he was always up for another trip into the endless freedom of the skies. 

Satisfied, I turn and walk out with Beakbreaker, leaving the garden for the last time.


***


It takes us a half hour to reach a familiar apartment structure. I’m not surprised to see the main gate open, and boxes lining the walkway leading to a moving truck. Nor am I surprised to see a familiar changeling coming out with another box in hoof.

Gold Wing struggles to hold the box, grunting at its considerable weight. But her burden is forgotten when she sees us coming up.

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to help,” I say.

Our daughter groans. “Come on, you two, I said you could come by at noon.”

“And leave you to manage all this by yourself? Never,” Beakbreaker says.

“But it’s way too cold to be working.”
    
“So says the changeling working in the cold,” Beakbreaker points out.
    
A chuckle. “Touche.” Gold Wing sets her box into the back of the moving truck. “Well, come on in. If you’re going to help, you might have some breakfast.”

We follow her inside, heading up the flights of stairs to Gold Wing’s apartment. It’s mostly empty now, with the furniture, appliances, and personal belongings already packed up. All that’s left is to remove all the little nick-knacks and trinkets that seem to hide until the last day of any move.

“Honey?” Gold Wing calls out. “Better get another batch of toast going.”

There’s movement from the kitchen as a familiar stallion peeks his head out. “Hey you two,” Sea Breeze says, yawning as he stretches his wings. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

“And have our daughter’s family finish packing everything on their own?” Beakbreaker says. “Never.”

Gold Wing’s husband heads to the toaster. “Well, afraid we’ve already packed up the butters and jams, so you’ll just get plain toast.”

“That’s perfectly alright,” I assure him. While we’re still full from breakfast, it’d be rude to turn down an offer of food.

“Right on! Give me a minute and it’ll be all ready.”

I look around the mostly-empty apartment. “Where’s Velvet Dusk?”

“Still sleeping,” Sea Breeze says.

“How’s she holding up?”

“Nervous,” Sea Breeze says. “But can you blame her? I mean, moving out of her home, going to an entirely different continent? That’s a big move for someone her age.”

I peer down the hall towards my granddaughter’s room. The door’s closed, and I can’t hear any movement on the other side. The poor thing must be exhausted if she’s sleeping this long.

“Anyway, there’s not much left to do,” Sea Breeze says. “Just gotta get the last few boxes out into the moving van, take it to the airport, load ‘em up, and we’ll be good to go!”

Two pieces of toast pop out of the toaster with a ding.

“Right, here you go!” Sea Breeze yanks the toast out and puts it in our hooves.

“Sea Breeze?” Gold Wing calls from the living room.

“Be right there!” Giving us a sly grin, Sea Breeze hurries out.

Beakbreaker eyes me as she eats her toast. “You’re sure he’ll be able to take care of her?” While she loves Sea Breeze and has long-since adopted him as a member of the family, my wife has always been a bit skeptical of Gold Wing’s husband. I can’t blame her: Sea Breeze has always been a carefree soul, happy to spend his days surfing or being a lifeguard, as he’s done here at Canterlot’s largest indoor pool. But in all the years I’ve known him, he’s always put his meager earnings towards caring for his wife and daughter instead of luxuries and the senseless spending that plagues Canterlot’s upper classes. I have no doubt he loves Gold Wing with every ounce of his being, and will do everything he can to make her happy.

“Yes,” I say. “I do.”

Beakbreaker frowns. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel good?”

“Oh, I mean it,” I assure her. “They’ll be fine.” I hope so: Beakbreaker’s experiencing the anxiety all parents must endure when their children finally move out. It’s a difficult burden to bear, but Gold Wing’s fortunate: Thanks to her years of study and the connections she’s made at Canterlot University, she has a job lined up as a marine biologist on the island that once housed Iron Hoof’s base of operations. There, she and her husband will be able to live and work at the sea that they both love so much.

I smile; I have nothing to worry about.

They’ll be just fine.


***


With our second breakfast finished, Beakbreaker and I get to work helping move the last boxes out of the apartment. It doesn’t take long with the four of us working, and the task is easier with both Beakbreaker and my cyborg limbs. We get everything ready to go in no time, leaving the apartment empty and ready for the next university student to come in and begin their education.

“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be!” Sea Breeze says as he puts the last box atop the other ones.

“Never underestimate the power of steel, pistons, and magic,” I say, flexing a leg.

“Yeah, well, pistons and steel won’t do much good to get a little foal out of her room. Why don’t you all go for a walk while I try to talk her out? Get one last look at Canterlot in the morning?”

“I’ll help,” Beakbreaker says.

I’m about to say that I could easily coax one measly filly out of her room with my talent, but Gold Wing tugs on my shoulder. “Come on, Dad. I could use a bit of fresh air.”

I look to Beakbreaker, who smiles and silently shoos me out the door.

“Very well,” I say with a grin. “That sounds lovely.”

Leaving Beakbreaker and Sea Breeze behind, I let my daughter take the lead as we head down the street. Closing her eyes, Gold Wing smiles as she takes a deep breath of the cold, crisp morning air. “Oh, what a beautiful day!”

We head down the streets, passing shops and vendors until we come to a stop in a small park overlooking the city’s lower levels, giving us a glorious view of everyone going about their morning, heading off on some new endeavor or adventure to parts unknown.

“So, are you excited?” I ask.

Gold Wing’s beaming. “Yes!”

“Nervous?”

She blushes and nods shyly. “Yeah. A little.”

“That’s perfectly normal,” I assure her. “I know this is a big step for you. But if you’re scared-”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Gold Wing says with a laugh. “I mean, I spend all those years studying, taking tests, staying up all night reading notes, and then it’s all done and I’ve got to head out into the real world.” She chuckles again. “Who wouldn’t be nervous?”

I give a chuckle of my own. “I would be.”

“What? You? Silverspeak, Equestria’s most famous cyborg? Personal speechwriter to the Princesses? Never.”

I chuckle, relieved to see how well Gold Wing is taking all this. She reminds me of myself when I graduated and headed out to Manehattan to follow my dreams. But unlike me, Gold Wing isn’t driven by desperation or wanting to get something she can’t obtain. She has a respectable life ahead of her, and fortunate enough to have a loving husband, a beautiful daughter, and a well-paying job waiting for her. 

I’m so proud... and yet, sad. My little mare’s thirty, and – true to her name – possesses wings and eyes of shimmering gold, her once dull coat has changed to a vivid, shiny black. Where I could once easily carry her with one leg, she’s now as large as I am.

My daughter’s all grown up.

“Dad? Are you crying?”

“Yes,” I admit, wiping my eyes. “It’s just... Oh Celestia, it’s so wonderful to see you all grown up.” I remove my glasses and wipe my eyes. “I don’t suppose I can persuade you to stay here another day or two?”

“Oh, I wish we could, but our flight leaves tonight, and the next one’s not for another month.” Gold Wing chuckles. “Considering how much they’re paying to ship us all out there, the university wouldn’t be very happy if I missed my flight.”

“No, I suppose not.” I put my glasses back on. “You sure you’re going to be alright out there? It’s a big change going from city life to the tropics.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t wait! Beaches, palm trees, swimming, parasailing, teaching Velvet how to scuba dive... it’s going to be wonderful!”

I beam. “I know it will be.”

“When we come back for Hearth’s Warming next year, I’ll have all sorts of photos to show you!”

My gut tightens.

“Who knows? Maybe you and Mom can come and join us next year! Hearth’s Warming Eve in the tropics! What do you think?”

I choose my words carefully. “I don’t know, sweetheart... We’re going to be so old.”

“Yeah... but don’t worry. We’ll make sure everything’s nice and easy for you two.”

Celestia bless her... Ever since she was little, Gold Wing’s known that she’s been adopted by old ponies, but she’s never made a big deal out of it. Where other parents were young, hers were old. Beakbreaker and I have done our best to not let our age keep us from being there for our daughter as she grow up, refusing to let it hinder us in helping her apply to college, giving her advice on dating, watching as she and Sea Breeze grew close and married, and then have a child of their own.

I’m so glad we’ve had all these years together. I hope Gold Wing can look back and treasure them in the decades to come, as I still treasure the memories of my own parents.

“Well, I’ve had my fill of cold morning air,” Gold Wing says. “Come on, let’s head back and finish packing.”


***


Sea Breeze, Beakbreaker, and Velvet Dusk are waiting for us back at the complex, the former two putting the last few boxes into the moving trucks. As Gold Wing heads off to talk to the drivers, I head to Velvet, wanting to see how she’s taking all this. My granddaughter's always been a rambunctious, happy type, a bundle of energy ready to get into a play session at a moment’s notice. That enthusiasm has been understandably dampened this past month as things were packed up, but I had feared how difficult this last day would be for her.

Kneeling, I look my granddaughter in the eyes. “Hello Velvet. How are you doing today?”

She bites her lip, averting my gaze.

“Oh... that bad, huh?”

She nods.

“Well, we’ll help you get through it,” I assure her.

The trucks drive off, taking the luggage to the airport.

“Well, that takes care of all our stuff,” Gold Wing says as she hurries back over. “Looks like we’ve got the rest of the day to ourselves. Now we just need to figure out what to do with it.”

Once more, I get a warning in my gut. It’s not threatening, but it’s telling me to choose my next words carefully. Gold Wing, Sea Breeze, and Velvet Dusk, see this as one last family get-together before heading off to their new lives. But for Beakbreaker and me, the decision carries so much more weight. The dreams she’s been having have made us realize that we didn’t have a lot of time left with our daughter, and there were many discussions where we tried to figure out what to do with them. But again and again, one solution kept presenting itself, and I feel it’s the right choice.

“I know,” I say. “How about we spend it down at Funville?”

“Hey, that sounds great!” Gold Wing says. “Velvet, would you like to do that?”

The thought of spending time at her favorite place gets Velvet’s attention, momentarily lifting her out of her melancholy. She nods eagerly.

“All right then: A day at Funville it is!”


***


Funville has been a staple of our family for years, an amusement park that we’ve visited hundreds, maybe thousands of times when Gold Wing was growing up. We’ve celebrated birthdays there, celebrated Gold Wing getting her first job, and so much more. And now it’s arguably even more beautiful than ever before, for holiday decorations are still up, covering the park in lights, garland, wreaths, and tinsel. Ambient holiday music plays through hidden speakers as we join ponies, changelings, kirin, and other guests eager to partake in the rides and attractions.

“Oh wow, look at all this!” Gold Wing says as she hurries through the entrance, Sea Breaker and Velvet Dusk close behind. “It’s so beautiful! Now, where shall we start first?” She kneels. “Velvet, do you have any rides you want to go?”

“The roller coaster!” 

Oh, I was afraid she’d say that…

“Alright then, the roller coaster it is!” Gold Wing looks to me. “Well… I understand if you and Mom want to pass on it.”

Beakbreaker and I regard each other. We could sit this out, and no one would blame us. After all, no one expects centenarians to go on extreme theme park rides, much less enjoy them. But I see it in Beakbrekaer’s eyes: We were both told to use this day well.

“Actually, we’ll do it,” I say.

My daughter’s surprised. “Wait, really?”

Beakbreaker grins. “You only live once.” 

Thus, we trot after our daughter and her family, and accompany them on the roller coaster. It’s not exactly fun to go at fast speeds through multiple loops, spins, and inverted falls, but after everything Beakbreaker and I have gone through over the decades, it's easy to endure such discomforts. 

“I can’t believe you actually did it!” Gold Wing says when we get off.

“Easy,” I say, fighting to hold back the contents of my stomach.

“Well, then,” Sea Breeze says with a mischievous grin, “you up for trying some of the other rides?”

I return his grin. “Are you?”

Thus, we go on one ride after another, enjoying all our old favorites: The centrifuge spinner, the freefall drop, the mine cart ride, and so many others. And despite all of us being so much older, it’s like no time at all has passed since Gold Wing has a child, except now we have Sea Breeze and Velvet accompanying us.

For several glorious hours, all thought of the move, of our age, of what’s to come is forgotten. It’s just the five of us enjoying rides, scarfing down cotton candy, and trying out traditional carnival activities (Beakbreaker and me, I’m pleased to say, easily succeed at the test-your-strength attractions).

Yet, for all the joy and fun to be had, Velvet seems immune to our merriment. She laughs, yells, and shrieks on the rides, and smiles when eating some sugar-laden abomination, but when the rides are over, and the sweets are gone, so are her smiles. I try to go to her, to reassure her that everything will turn out for the best, but something always gets in my way: Her parents, Beakbreaker, or even a random passerby who stops and asks if they can get an autograph from Equestria’s first cyborg, and one of the only ponies still living who knew Twilight, her friends, and Chrysalis, the reformed co-ruler of the changelings.

We continue on, and I can only hope that Velvet’s mood improves. 

There’s shouts, jokes, and laughter, and before I know it, the sun begins to set. The lights come on, making the park even more beautiful as the twilight hours begin. I smile at seeing all the families around us, at witnessing so many beings of so many different species enjoying themselves. Here, all the troubles, worries, and issues of the outside world are forgotten, allowing everyone to relax and enjoy themselves.

I’m so grateful that we’ve been able to spend our day here.

“Well, who’s hungry?” Gold Wing asks. “Looks like they’re opening up the buffet table!”

I start to raise a hoof in mock surrender, to say that I’m still so full from lunch that I couldn’t take another mouthful... but I then lower it. A dinner with all of us would be delightful.

“A buffet sounds wonderful,” I say.

Five minutes later, and we’ve all joined the dozens of other families eagerly filling their plates with all manner of unhealthy carnival fare, caring more about the taste and the fullness than how much sodium and fat they’re pumping into their veins. I join in, eating caramel popcorn one mouthful after another, with Beakbreaker doing the same.

“Oh, I’m going to have to do so much swimming to burn this off!” Gold Wing jokes as she eats a deep fried jumbo cookie.

I chuckle. “There’s no shame in indulging yourself every now and then.”

“Amen to that!” Sea Breeze says as he sits down with a plate full of ice cream.

“And how many laps do you think it’ll take to burn all that off?” Gold Wing jokes.

“I still got a raging metabolism! I got nothin’ to worry about!”

“Really? Well, we’ll see how you feel when you wake up tomorrow with a beach ball inside your gut.”

The two chuckle, enjoying their joke. 

I smile; it’s so wonderful to see Gold Wing and Sea Breeze so happy. And yet… the moment is bittersweet. Although I’ve enjoyed this day so much, something’s been building in me, a feeling that I don’t want to acknowledge, but cannot deny.

I know that I won’t be getting another day like this.

I want to push that feeling aside, to rob it of its power over me. But it has refused to leave, telling me to treasure these moments, to make my daughter as happy as possible.

Gold Wing and Sea Breeze laugh at a joke, oblivious to my worries as they dream of all the good days to come.


***


The last rays of the sun gently fade away, and Luna’s night falls on us all. The park remains busy, and will remain so long into the night. But we won’t be there: It’s getting late, and we need to head back to the house. Commandeering a taxi, we all ride back to our home, driving through the warm glows from lights inside buildings, homes, and businesses. Holiday lights welcome us as we arrive on the street, get out of the cab, and hurry inside to escape the cold.

“So, did you two have fun?” Gold Wing asks as I close the door.

“Oh, oodles,” Beakbreaker says.

“Really”

“Of course we did,” Beakbreaker assures her with a smile. “We wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Gold Wing grins. “Just imagine how much fun you have when you come out to visit us next year!”

Beakbreaker looks to me, her smile fading.

“Gold Wing...” I say. “You... You know your mother and I love you, so very, very much.”

“I know, Dad.”

“No, really, I mean it.” I put my hooves on her shoulders. “No matter what happens, or where you go, or what happens to us, I want you to remember that we will always love you.”

My daughter chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. “What’s gotten into you, Dad? You’re usually not this...”

“Sentimental?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Well... when you get older, you realize what really matters in life: saying I love you as many times as you can.”

Smiling, Gold Wing pulls me in for a hug, and we embrace each other.

“I’m so lucky I got you as a dad,” she says. “I want you to remember that.”

“I will,” I promise her.

We hold each other a moment longer.

I let go as Beakbreaker comes up. “And don’t forget how proud we are of you,” she says. “That we’ll always be proud of you, no matter what you do.”

My wife takes Gold Wing in her legs, holding her long and tight.

Eventually, Gold Wing eases her way from Beakbreaker’s hold. “Well, we’d better get ready,” she says. “It won’t be long before the cab comes back.”

“What?” I ask.

“I asked the driver if he could stay, but he had to go pick someone up. He’ll come back in... ten minutes or so, and then we’ll have to head to the airport.”

I gulp, a knot forming in my throat.

“Dad?”

I... I need to stay with my daughter as long as I can, but... but confound it all, I can feel my resolve slipping, weakening even as I think about it.

“Ex... Excuse me,” I say. “I need to be by myself for a moment.”

“Dad? You okay?”

I give everyone a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry; I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Well, okay. But don’t doze off now!”

I give her my best smile and head off into our backyard. The heaters have turned on automatically, melting away the snow and the cold as I head to the furthest corner of our garden, and the bench nestled among the greenery. Our miniature lamp post casts its gentle light on me as I take a seat, breathing as deeply as I can, trying to calm the turmoil in my mind.

The moment I’ve been dreading has arrived, and I don’t know if I have the strength to endure it.

Taking off my glasses, I wipe the tears from my eyes. 

I... I can’t think of myself now. I need to think of my daughter, to try and make this as easy as possible for her. I… I need to give her something, some final memento or trinket to help her remember us by, or some final lesson I could impart. But there’s nothing I can give her: Gold Wing doesn’t have the self-doubt I had; she knows what she wants to be and what to do with her life.

I wish... I wish there was some way I could pass something on to her, to pass on the greatest lessons of my life. But Beakbreaker and I have raised her well. We’ve taught her everything we know about living a good life, and now there’s nothing more we can pass on.

I put my glasses back on with a quiet sigh. I need to head back. I can’t stay here any-

Someone comes down the path.

I look up, expecting to see Beakbreaker coming to retrieve me, or Sea Breeze saying that the taxi has arrived. But it’s not either of them.

“Velvet? What are you doing here?”

The little pony sniffs as she comes to the bench, tears coming down her cheeks.

“Sweetie? What’s wrong?”

Velvet tries to pull herself onto the bench. I help her up, and she sits beside me, trying not to cry.

“Velvet, what’s wrong?”

“I’m scared, Grandpa,” she says.

“Why? What’s the matter?”

She tries to talk, but can’t get the words out, no matter how hard she tries.

“Are you scared of moving?”

She nods.

“You’re scared that you’ll be alone, and won’t make any friends?”

She nods again, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Oh, honey, it’s alright,” I say, putting a hoof around her. “Everyone feels that way when they move.”

“But it’s not that, Grandpa,” Velvet says. “It’s... It’s something the other kids told me in school. They said... they said I’m gonna be worthless!”

“Worthless? Why on earth would they say that?”

“Because...” Velvet gulps. “Because they told me I don’t have a horn, and I don’t have wings!” She breaks down as more tears come forth. “They said I’m a nobody!”

A chill rushes through me.

“I can’t cast magic!” Velvet gasps. “I can’t fly! I... I … I can’t do anything!”

Velvet may be sitting beside me, but I don’t see her: I see myself at her age, devastated at realizing that I would never cast magic or do anything my neighbors, schoolmates, or friends could do with ease. I was terrified that I would never amount to anything, that my life was over before it even began.

What would I tell my younger self?

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. “Velvet?”

She looks to me.

“Let me tell you a story. I think it’ll cheer you up.”

Velvet’s doubtful, but she still listens. She’s always had a soft spot for stories; whenever she visited our home, she would spend hours listening to tales I told her next to the fireplace, spellbound by pirates, ninjas, adventurers, knights and dragons, and whatever else I could come up with.

This story, though, will be the most important of all.

“A long time ago,” I say, “long before you were born, there was a little town called Saddle Lanka. Now, this town was very special, because only unicorns had been born there. Then, one day, a pony was born, but he didn’t have a horn like everyone else. He was the only earth pony there!”

Velvet gasps.

“Now, this pony felt lost and alone. He was an outcast-”

“Like me?” Velvet asks.

I chuckle. “Yes. None of the other little unicorns wanted to play with him. He didn’t have any friends and was all alone, feeling worthless and unwanted. But then he decided that he’d become someone powerful, someone who could do anything! And so, one day, he left home and set out on a quest to become an alicorn.”

“Like Celestia and Luna?” Velvet asks.

“Yes, just like them.”

“Did he do it!?”

“Slow down,” I chuckle. “Let me continue: As I was saying, the little pony set out to get a horn and wings, so he could cast magic and fly! But this little pony was very foolish, for he thought that getting a horn and wings was more important than anything... including his family.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... He hurt many others on his journey. He lied and cheated and stole. He didn’t care if he hurt others, as long as he got what he wanted.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“No, no, it isn’t. And one day, his dream finally came true. He got his horn and his wings... but he wasn’t happy.”

“He wasn’t?”

I shake my head. “No... No one liked him because of all the bad things he did. And so they took the pony’s wings and his horn, and he felt worse than ever before.”

Velvet frowns. “I don’t like this story.”

“Well, you see, something happened... the pony realized that he didn’t really want to cast magic. He didn’t even want to fly. You see, deep down, all this little pony wanted was to be accepted, to be loved for who he was. And then, one day, he met Princess Luna and Princess Celestia, and they helped him realize that he had a gift with words, and he could use them to make others happy.”

“Really? How?”

I bite my lip. “By... By encouraging them. By comforting them when they felt sad, and giving them help when they needed it. And in doing so, he was happier than he had ever been.” I smile at Velvet. “You see, Velvet, it doesn’t matter if you can fly, or if you can cast magic. Everyone has a gift,” I point to her blank thigh. “You may not know what yours is yet, but when you do, you can use it to make the world a better place. And the more you use your gift to make others happy, the happier you’ll be, too.”

Velvet smiles. “Really?”

I nod. “Yes... Really.”

“Grandpa? Are you crying?”

“Yes, Velvet.” I wipe the tear away. “I’m just happy that that pony learned his lesson. And I hope you learn it, too.”

“I have, Grandpa!” Velvet bounces up and down with the limitless energy all foals have. “I have, I have, I have! I’m gonna tell Mommy and Daddy! And then I’m gonna tell all my friends, too! The ones I’m gonna make!”

“There you go,” I say. “Don’t you feel all better, now?”

“Yeah!” My granddaughter embraces me as tightly as she can. “Oh, thank you, Grandpa!”

I return the hug, and the tears just keep coming. They don’t stop.

I don’t want them too.

“Velvet? Velvet!” Gold Wing and Sea Breeze enter the garden, Beakbreaker by their side. “There you are!”

“Mommy, mommy!” Velvet bounces off the bench and hurries over. “Grandpa just told me this amazing story! It was about a pony who wanted to be an alicorn, and how stupid he was, but then he learned what made him happy, and it was amazing!”

“Really?” Gold Wing smirks at me. “Well, I’m glad it was a good one.”

A horn beeps from in front of the house.

My chest tightens.

“Oh, there’s our ride,” Gold Wig says. “Come on, Velvet. We need to get going.”

“Awww...”

“Hey, don’t worry. Try seeing this as the start of an adventure! Like in one of your grandpa’s stories.” Gold Wing looks to me. “Isn't that right, Dad?”

I try to say that yes, it is, but the words don’t come. All I can manage is a nod.

Leaving the garden, we all head through the house and out to the front yard, where the taxi waits at the curb.

“Oh, I’m sorry we have to go,” Gold Wing says to Beakbreaker and me. “I wish this day could go on forever.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Beakbreaker says. “You just focus on having a wonderful time. All of you.” But she can’t keep up the brave facade; her lips are quivering as she fights not to cry.

“Mom? You okay?”

“Sorry.” Taking off her glasses, Beakbreaker wipes them clean. “It’s just... I never like goodbyes.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t think of it as goodbye,” I say. “Maybe... we should say farewell instead. After all, we will see each other again, someday.”

“Hey, I like that,” Sea Breeze says. “Good one!”

“Yeah,” Gold Wing says. “Yeah, let’s stick with that. Farewell, not goodbye.”

“Farewell, not goodbye,” Beakbreaker says. She’s still struggling to keep herself together, but she’s managed a smile.

The air goes silent as we stand before our home, as if all of us, consciously or not, realize how precious this moment is.

It’s one final moment with all of us together.

There’s so much I want to say, to do, to plead for this moment to last, to go on as long as it can.

The taxi driver taps his horn.

“Well, we gotta go,” Gold Wing says. “Can’t keep the ship waiting.”

“Wait!” I say. “Before you go...” Turning, I hurry back into the house, rushing to my room, where I go through the display cabinets...

There!

Taking my prize, I rush back outside. “Velvet? This is for you.”

I hold out Little Celestia.

“Oh wow! Celestia!”

“She can be your first friend in your new home,” I say.

Velvet clutches the doll tightly. “Oh thank, you Grandpa! Thank you!” She squeezes Little Celestia tight, unaware of the enchanted eyes focusing on her.

They look to me.

My throat tightens.

The horn beeps again, the driver indicating the watch on his leg.

“Okay, that’s it,” Gold Wing says. “We’ve got to go.” She goes to Beakbreaker and gives her the biggest hug she can. “Love you, Mom.” Then, she embraces me as tightly as she can. “Love, you Dad.”

“I love you, too,” I say, wishing this moment would never end.

It can’t.

I let her slip from my hold.

Scooping up Velvet, Gold Wing turns and heads to the cab with Sea Breeze. “Bye Mom! Bye Dad! See you later!”

Beakbreaker and I both wave, and neither of us stop the tears coming down our cheeks.

Sea Breeze gets into the cab with Velvet Dusk. But before Gold Wing joins them, she pauses, and then raises a hoof. 

“Farewell,” she calls back, “not goodbye!”

She gets into the taxi, closes the door, and sits with her family as it drives off down the road, the three of them waving at us through the windows.

Then the cab turns a corner, the headlights fading away as it heads down the road.

It’s gone.

Beakbreaker and I stand on the walkway, watching the spot where our daughter was only a moment ago.

My wife sniffs.

I take her hoof in mine.

She shakes, trying to hold back the sobs fighting to break free. 

She bursts into tears.

Without a word, I embrace her, holding her tight as her tears come.

I don’t try to hold back my own.

We sit together, holding each other under the cold winter sky.
> Life's End
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snow falls around us.

Beakbreaker and I sit on the walkway, watching the road where our daughter drove off into the cold, winter night. We knew the day would come when we would have to say goodbye to our daughter; we’ve tried to prepare ourselves for the moment when our paths would diverge, never to cross again on this earth. But no matter how hard you try to prepare yourself, nothing can protect you from grief.

Beakbreaker shivers.

I stand, sniffing as I gently pull her towards the house, wanting to get my wife out of the cold. It’s difficult for her to muster the will to walk, but she manages, her hooves scraping along the pavement as we head to the door, where we both head inside. I close the door behind me, the warmth of our home washing the cold away.

“Silverspeak?”

I turn to Beakbreaker. “Yes?”

My wife wipes a tear from her eye, summoning all her strength to keep her from collapsing into an emotional wreck. “We might want to get the will.”

Without a word, I go to the office and retrieve the folder from the safe. Inside is our will, updated a week ago about what is to be done with our possessions, all of which will go to Gold Wing and her family. With our saving accounts, they’ll all be financially set for life; never again will they have to worry about how to pay the bills, allowing all of them to focus on doing what they love.

For a few, precious moments, my grief subsides just a little bit. Knowing that our child and her family will be taken care of takes a weight off my shoulders.

Breathing deeply, I clutch the folder and head back to Beakbreaker, who’s waiting for me by the door.

“Is that everything?”

I nod.

Beakbreaker walks into the living room, taking a seat at the dining table. I do the same, pushing aside napkins and laying the folder atop the colored tablecloth, where it can’t be missed.

“They’ll be okay,” I assure Beakbreaker, putting a hoof around her shoulder.

She manages a small smile.

Holding her tight, I look around. Hearth's Warming lights are still strung about the house, lighting the walls and halls with warm shades of red, green, and blue. The tree still sits in the corner near the back; all five of us were celebrating the holiday a week ago, and it was one of the most magical ones I can ever recall. It had been so long since we had a small child in the house, and the magic of the season – all the cookies, sweets, smells, and songs – were powerful enough that Velvet was able to forget, if only for a day, about the upcoming move.

“You know,” I say, “I think this was one of the best Hearth’s Warmings we’ve ever had.”

Beakbreaker’s smile grows a little bigger. “Yes... yes it was.” She looks to the kitchen counter. “Can you believe we made a hundred cookies?”

“Your best batch.”

A chuckle. “Oh, please-”

“Well, if they hadn’t been so good, Velvet wouldn’t have eaten half of them by herself.”

“And gotten a stomachache.”

“But she still kept eating them.”

Another chuckle. “Yes... Children do that.”

We’re silent again.

Looking around, I realize that there’s still a book on the table, left from when we were looking it over on Hearth’s Warming Eve. I pull it over.

It’s our photo album.

Beakbreaker can’t speak as I open the cover, revealing the very first photo we ever took of me, her, and Gold Wing. We’re standing in in the fields on the side of this mountain, before Canterlot was rebuilt, before a new Royal Palace was raised, before the bustling city was reborn. It’s the very first photo ever taken of our family. Beakbreaker and I are beaming, barely able to hold back our tears. Gold Wing – itty, bitty, tiny Gold Wing – is smiling, full of the life and endless energy all youngsters have.

Smiling, I turn the page, More photos show the three of as we started our lives together: Watching construction begin on the new Canterlot. Traveling around the world, visiting beautiful forests, endless, grassy plains, and enjoying ourselves on beaches, where Beakbreaker and I first introduced Gold Wing to the ocean.

We both chuckle at seeing her baffled face at being hit by a wave for the first time, a one-in-a-million shot that the photographer managed to catch.

Turning the page, we find photos of us before our new home in Canterlot. And as the pages go by, Gold Wing grows from a grub to a youngster, and experiences all the things that come with it: Birthday parties, vacations, first days of school, Hearth’s Warming Eves...

I bite my lip as my throat tightens up.

Beside me, Beakbreaker struggles not to cry.

My brain has slowed with age, making it difficult to remember many things, but I can still remember all the memories in these photos: playtimes, gatherings, and the hustle and bustle that comes with raising a child...

Me chasing Gold Wing around, pretending I was a dragon and she a brave and valiant knight...

Helping with homework...

Beakbreaker and I counseling Gold Wing over the end of several failed relationships, drying her tears and holding her tight as she sobbed...

I sniff.

“Those were beautiful years,” Beakbreaker says.

“Yes...” I say. “Yes... they were.”

I reach the end of the album. Tucked in the bottom corner of the last page is a photo of all of us together for this year’s Hearth’s Warming Eve. We’re happy, beaming, and content.

We’re a perfect family.

I gently close the album, putting it beside the will.

“Beakbreaker?” I ask quietly.

“Yes?”

“Is there anything you want to do?” I ask. “Anywhere you want to go?”

Beakbreaker regards me for the longest time.

She knows what I’m really asking.

Reaching out, my wife puts a hoof on mine. “I just want to be with you.”

I hold her hoof tightly.

She holds mine back.

“What about you?” Beakbreaker asks. “Is there anywhere you want to go?”

My first reaction is to say that, no, there isn’t. This is our home; it’s our refuge, a sanctuary that’s sheltered and protected us for so many years. There’s nowhere else I’d rather...

Wait...

“Silverspeak?”

In all of Equestria, there is one other place that holds a special meaning to me.

Leaning over, I whisper into my wife’s ear.

For a long moment, Beakbreaker thinks about my words. Then she nods, smiling softly.

“I’d like that,” she says.

Slipping from my chair, I take Beakbreaker’s hoof and head back to the door, where I open the closet and pull out our warmest coats. It’s only going to get colder as the night goes on, and we’ll need all the protection we can get. When the zippers are pulled, the belts tightened, and the scarves in place, I take hold of the door and open it, the cold coming inside as we walk out onto the porch.

Beakbreaker and I look back into our home. It’s served us all as our home, our place of safety, and our refuge from life’s storms.

My gaze lingers on our home for a moment longer... and then I turn out the lights, close the door, and lock it.

Taking Beakbreaker’s hoof, we walk to the sidewalk, and then down the street, leaving our home for the last time.


***


The snow’s still falling as we make our way up the streets of Canterlot, heading past ponies walking about under the warm, golden lights from buildings and streetlamps. Those lights guide us through the night as we head up through the city, our coats keeping us warm against the bitter cold.

It isn’t long before I feel my eyelids growing heavy, and my mind slowing. It’s been a long day, and it’s starting to catch up with me. Beside me, Beakbreaker’s eyes droop as she struggles to keep going.

Holding her hoof, I wordlessly encourage her onwards.

Our destination isn’t far.

We keep walking, the shops slowly giving way to gardens, statues, and other public displays of art, which come to an end as we reach the Royal Palace, the towers aglow with flickering lights from unseen fireplaces. The top of its tallest tower seems to touch the sky as Beakbreaker and I head to the gates. The guards there are surprised to see us at such a late hour, but make no effort to stop us as we cross over the moat. It’s touching to see their concern for us, and I wish I could thank them, but there isn’t time; all I can give them is the warmest smile I can.

Once we step off the bridge and pass through the gates, Beakbreaker and I head into the palace, making our way through the halls, walking past stained glass windows depicting the greatest, most monumental events that have shaped Equestria into the land it is today. But I don’t look at them; I want to sit down and rest my eyes for just a moment... But I can’t stop. Not here, not now… not when we’re so close.

Beakbreaker leans against me. Shifting my weight, I help her along as we reach a set of doors and pass through, emerging into the Royal Gardens. Twice as grand as their predecessor, they’re one of the most cherished parts of the capital, home to an enormous menagerie of the most beautiful plants, flowers, and trees throughout all of Equs. All are dormant now: the flowers have died, and leaves have long-since fallen from branches. Yet, there’s still beauty to be found among all the snow draped upon the grass and the branches.

“We’re almost there,” I whisper to Beakbreaker. “Just a little further.”

My wife nods, steeling herself.

We make our way through the garden, following the path we’ve taken so many times before. And at last, we finally reach the clearing in the garden’s center, where an ornate gazebo sits upon the white stone, a shelter from the sun or the snow.

Beakbreaker and I trudge through the snow and walk inside, heading to a bench near the back. It’s getting harder and harder to stand…

I’m so tired…

I help Beakbreaker sit down on the bench, and then I do the same, sighing as I all but sink into the wood.

It feels so good to sit down...

Beakbreaker leans against me, relieved that we made it.

I pull her close.

We’re silent for a while, watching the snow and the night sky, listening to the soft wind blowing by.

“Silverspeak?”

I look over.

“Are you scared?”

“Are you?”

Beakbreaker shakes her head.

I take her hoof.

It isn’t long before I hear the rapid clip-clop of hoofsteps on the path. Someone’s hurrying to the gazebo. Turning, I look over to see who it is, wondering who else would be out here this late.

I’m not surprised to see who it is.

“Hello, Princess.”

Princess Luna hurries inside the gazebo, relieved to have found us. “Silverspeak. Beakbreaker. The guards sent for me. They were concerned about you two; is something wrong?”

“No,” I say quietly.

Luna studies us, no doubt wondering if we’re in our right mind. “Are you sure?”

Beakbreaker and I look at each other. We’ve told Luna of our dreams, but she doesn’t know about the ones we had this morning.

“Princess,” I say, “our parents visited us last night in our dreams. They told us to use this day well… and that they’d see us very soon.”

Luna stiffens. She doesn’t say anything, but I see in her eyes: She’s see this before.

She knows how it ends.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

Beakbreaker taps the bench. “Stay with us.”

Without a word, Luna quickly takes a seat besides my wife.

Someone else comes up to the gazebo. I turn and see another familiar form joining us.

The Princess of the Sun walks to us, as beautiful and ageless as she’s always been. She’s about to ask us why we’re here, but then she sees Luna’s gaze. Like Luna, she’s known about our dreams, and she’s no doubt seen many ponies at the end of their lives.

She realizes why we’re here.

Without a word, she takes a seat beside me.

We all sit in silence for a while.

“We can help you,” Celestia says. “I can renew my spells.”

Beakbreaker and I look to each other, mulling Celestia’s words. We could take her up on her offer. We could take every pill available, every spell available to us, and keep swapping prosthetics to replace parts as they wear out. We could buy more time for Gold Wing, Sea Breeze, and Velvet Dusk. We could have more birthdays, more Hearth’s Warming Eves, more nights like tonight...

And yet... how enjoyable would those years be?

Five years ago, when Beakbreaker discovered that she had cancer, Celestia cast a spell to keep it at bay, like how her spell keeps my own tumor in check. But for all their power, Celestia’s spells aren’t perfect. They contain the tumors, but have to be renewed, typically on the first day of the new year. And for all their strength, they can’t stop the aging of our brains. Remembering things is becoming harder and harder, and there have been times when Beakbreaker and I have forgotten ponies and places we’ve met and seen hundreds of times. Today’s been a good day… no, a glorious one, the best we’ve had in so long… But the bad days have outnumbered the good these past few years, and if the spells wore out, our fragile brains and bodies would quickly succumb to the tumors.

Magic and cybernetics are keeping us alive, but we will continue to deteriorate, even as our cybernetic bodies continue to function, until we’re little more than bodies without souls. We don’t want that; we don’t want to burden Gold Wing with having to care for two ancient, helpless equines who have lost their minds.

Beakbreaker and I could extend our lives... but something deep inside me says that doing so will only make things worse for everyone.

Looking back to Celestia, I shake my head.

I think Celestia was expecting that answer, but it’s still difficult for her to accept.

I look out to the horizon, taking in the sight of all the stars above us.

“Is there a reason you came here?” Celestia asks.

Beakbreaker reaches into her wallet, pulling out the oldest photo we own. She holds it up for Celestia to see.

It’s the two of us on our wedding night.

“This is where we were married,” Beakbreaker says with a smile.

With the greatest of care, Celestia takes the picture and looks it over, studying our young, happy faces. She smiles at the sight. “You both look so happy.”

“We were,” Beakbreaker says. “We had our whole lives ahead of us… anything was possible.” My wife smiles at the memory, basking in it, relishing in it… Yet, doubt creeps across her face. Worry takes the smile away.

“It didn’t turn out the way you wanted?” Celestia asks.

Beakbreaker’s silent, lost in her thoughts.

Celestia waits.

“I’m glad for Gold Wing,” Beakbreaker says. “I’m grateful for all that I had...” She meets Celestia’s gaze. “Princess… Do you think we had good lives?”

“Do you?” Celestia asks.

“I think we did.”

“I know you did,” Celestia assures her. “Thanks to your efforts, all of Equs now has the technology to restore the crippled, the maimed, and the weak to wholeness. A hundred years ago, such a thing was only a dream.” Celestia smiles. “You have given us all a gift that will be cherished forevermore.”

Beakbreaker’s wrinkled cheeks turn a deep shade of red. “Please, Your Highness, you flatter me.”

“But even if that technology had never been created, you still took an orphan and raised her to be a loving adult, who will be a wonderful parent to her own child.”

Beakbreaker blushes once more, all worry and doubt falling away.

Celestia tenderly hands the photo back to Beakbreaker. She then turns to me. “What about you, Silverspeak? Do you think you’ve lived a good life?”

Oh, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked myself that over the years. I can’t deny that I’ve done good things with my life… but I can’t deny all the suffering I’ve inflicted. But has all the good I’ve done canceled out the bad?

“I don’t know,” I say.

Celestia nods, understanding. “Few have ever lived a life like yours. You have played both the villain and the hero. You have hurt, and you have healed.” She smiles. “When ponies ask about you in all the years to come, I will tell them of a pony who lost his way and hurt so many... but who had the courage to admit his mistakes, learn from them, made amends, and grow into someone greater than before.”

She puts a leg around my shoulder.

“I will tell others about a pony who proved that you can always find your way back, no matter how far you fall.”

Thirty years ago, Celestia brought me comfort in a way that no one else ever has, before or since. Now, all these years later, she’s doing so again. And once more, her words are like a balm for the soul.

She would use my life as an example of redemption…

I bite my lip, a single tear running down my cheek.

A distant hum catches my attention. Looking up, I watch as an enormous airship glides out from the airport nestled within the mountains. Its engines hum as it turns towards the snow-covered mountains to the north, the hull lit up with hundreds of lights from the cabins within.

Biting my lip, I hold Beakbreaker’s hoof as the airship flies on, carrying our daughter and her family towards their new lives.

The ship slowly, but steadily grows smaller as it heads for the horizon.

And then, with a gentle wink, the lights vanish.

It’s gone.

I squeeze Beakbreaker’s hoof.

She squeezes mine.

I breathe as deeply as I can. The grief is still there, deep within me… and yet, not as strong as it was earlier. My daughter is gone… but she’s heading out to take part in the adventure of life, a task that Beakbreaker and I have done our best to prepare her for, what was perhaps our most important task in life. And we did it.

The task that Celestia gave us so many years ago is finally complete.

Strange… even through the grief, I feel… satisfied. Content.

Peaceful.


***


We watch the night sky.

Celestia and Luna stay with us. They say nothing, lending their comforting presence.

I close my eyes, relaxing. Whatever comes, I feel ready for it. I...

I stop.

I feel something.

Something’s moving in my head. Energy’s shifting, flickering… fading.

Celestia’s spell…

I look over to Beakbreaker. She has that same, distant gaze, momentarily losing track of her surroundings, as if trying to figure out what she’s feeling. Then she looks to me, her eyes meeting mine.

We realize what this is.

An ache, ever so small, starts to build in my head.

Reaching out, I place my legs around Beakbreaker.

She does the same to me.

Celestia stretches a wing around me, holding me tightly. And beside Beakbreaker, Luna does the same. Their horns light up. I want to say no, to ask them not to stop this… but then the ache goes away. It vanishes.

The Sisters… they’re not trying to keep us alive. They’re making sure there’s no pain.

I want to thank them, but fatigue washes over me, a tiredness I’ve never felt before. It’s not like the fatigue one feels at the end of a long, hard day. It’s so much stronger, as if all the weariness of life is washing over me all at once.

I struggle to keep my eyes open, focusing on Beakbreaker, holding her tightly.

She does the same to me.

I try to hold the fatigue back, to keep it at bay for just a few seconds more. But it’s stronger than me.

I can’t hold it back.

Celestia... this is it.

This is the end.

My thoughts flash to Gold Wing. It will be hard for her when she hears the news. There will be grief. There will be tears. But she will have her husband and daughter to comfort her, and the memory of knowing that the last time she saw her parents, they were healthy, happy, and told her how much they loved her. And in time, she will heal. She will continue with her life, and one day, far from now, we will be united again.

Then the thought’s gone, fleeing like a breeze on the wind.

I’m fading…

I’m falling away… And yet… I’m not scared. I’m not afraid.

I’ve already died before.

I look at Beakbreaker. I want her to be the last thing I ever see in this life, the one being I treasure and cherish more than anything, more than life itself.

With the last of my strength, I pull Beakbreaker close to me, holding her as tightly as I can. And as I do so, her legs grip me, too.

I lean against her, feeling her warmth against my cheeks.

“I love you.” I whisper.

Her grip tightens around me.

“I love you.”

Beakbreaker leans into me, relaxing… Smiling...

Her eyes close.

I watch her… My wife…

My Beakbreaker…

I close my eyes…

I hold her tight.

I smile...










































…




























































I let go.

































































































































.
> Goodbye, Farewell, Amen
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I feel something.

A breeze…

I open my eyes.

Grass lies before me. Shrubs, too, stretching out beyond the gazebo. But… something’s different. They’re green, almost shining from early morning sunlight.

Wait... How can...

Another breeze caresses me.

I look to my right. Celestia’s gone. Looking to my left, I find that Luna’s gone as well. So is the snow that was blanketing the gardens, a garden that’s now green and full of life, the air warm and pleasant.

I… I feel pleasant, too. So much more so than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s like I’ve woken up from the most refreshing night’s sleep I’ve ever had in my life.

I look down. Beakbreaker’s still leaning against me, her legs wrapped around…

Wait ... Beakbreaker’s skin. It’s smooth and tight, her stripes vivid, and her hair full of life and color.

She… She’s young again!

Blinking, Beakbreaker opens her eyes, yawning as if awakening from the most restful sleep she’s ever had. Then she sees me.

She freezes.

“Silverspeak?”

I nod, grinning at seeing my wife in the prime of her life.

“Silverspeak... You… You’re young!”

I am? I look down and-

My skin… it’s no longer wrinkled! It’s smooth and tight and warm, and so is the rest of me!

Wait… wait, it’s…

Oh… Oh my heavens!

I can feel my body again!

My legs, my torso, all of it! It’s real again, not metal and gears!

I spin to Beakbreaker, the biggest smile crossing my face. “Beakbreaker… We’re young again!” I jump off the bench. “We’re young!” I want to jump and shout and yell for everyone to hear! But… This isn’t possible. We couldn’t have aged backwards, or be magically transformed unless…

“Silverspeak,” Beakbreaker asks, “Are we...” She pauses, unsure what to say. “Dead?”

Are we? Or is this one of Luna’s dream realms? Like the garden I visited when I was younger, or the one she put me in when my tumor was discovered? Those felt real, but this… this feels almost… more real than real. As if the life I lived, the life Beakbreaker and I knew, was only a dream, and we’ve both woken up for the first time in our lives.

Walking to Beakbreaker, I gently touch her cheek. Her skin is warm and pulsing with life. And then she does the same, and I realize the truth.

This is no dream.

Letting my hoof fall away, I look around. The gazebo looks much like it did only moments ago, only cleaner and more pristine, as if it were only just painted and ready to be used by visitors. Beyond it lie the Royal Gardens, but so much fuller, and more majestic than any garden in all of Equs, the trees stretching high above us and full of life and power, warm beams of light drifting down through the canopy above us.

“Where are we?” Beakbreaker asks, overwhelmed at the greenery before us. Before I can answer, she eagerly rushes from the gazebo out onto the path, and then into the grass. “Silverspeak, is... Is this the afterlife?!”

Grinning, I hurry after her. “I… I don’t know!” I look around, sniffing the air, taking in the wonderful smells of jasmine, vanilla, rosemary, and so many other delightful fragrances, all stronger than ever! If this is what comes after life, then it’s…

I stop.

I sense something… something familiar.

I look to Beakbreaker, but she’s looking off into the distance, awestruck.

“Did you feel that?” She asks.

I nod, turning towards the edge of the garden.

Whatever caused that feeling came from there.

Together, Beakbreaker and I rush down the path, heading past the plants, the trees, and the flowers.

The feeling, it’s... it’s getting stronger. But where have I felt it before? I… I…

Wait! I remember! It was back when Mangus killed me, when I was in that void!

My grin grows ever larger as Beakbreaker and I reach the edge of the garden, the walls covered in thick ivy that keeps us from seeing what lies beyond. All that keeps us from getting through is an ivy-covered gate, one that Beakbreaker and I push open and run through...

We stop.

Beakbreaker’s hooves go to her mouth. “Oh my...”

A great field lies before us, one that stretches to the horizon and beyond, filled with grass so green it seems to shimmer in the warm, soothing light of a golden sky. Before us lies a path that leads to that horizon. I can’t see where it goes, or what’s waiting at the end, but I can feel a call so welcoming, so full of joy, peace, happiness, and…

Love.

That love is calling to us.

It wants us to come join it.


***


It’s been said that when you’re about to die, your life flashes before you. Good and bad alike are shown, and nothing is hidden. Like so many other ponies, I once dismissed it as wishful thinking, nothing more than a literary device for books and movies, or silly nonsense parents tell their children to make them behave. But the stories didn’t lie. It really does happen.

In an instant, I see my life. I see all the pain and suffering. I see the broken hearts, the dreams that died, and plans that were never fulfilled. I hurt others, and was hurt, too... but there were good things, too. Love. Compassion. Happiness and joy. Learning from my mistakes, making amends, and helping others avoid the same mistakes I did.

And then it’s over.

All my pains, all my hurts, all my bad memories are washing away like the remnants of a nightmare fleeing before the warmth of dawn. And then they’re gone, banished forever, less than a memory, and all that remains is the love I shared, the love I gave, and the love I received. And at the end of this path is everyone I’ve ever loved: My parents. Gusty. Onyx, Glasseye, Coin Counter, Thorax, and all my other friends who have passed. I can even sense Chrysalis among them, all waiting to welcome us.

Turning, I look to Beakbreaker. She wants to walk down that path, wanting it more than anything.

So do I.

Smiling, I offer my hoof.

Beakbreaker takes it, smiling back at me. 

Our journey through life is over, but we have one final journey to make. And when we reach wherever we’re going, we’ll be together forever.

We'll never be separated again.

Together, Beakbreaker and I walk through the grass.

Together, we step onto the path.

Together, hoof in hoof, we walk into the light.




The End

> Bonus Material - Original Outline with Commentary
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Way back in 2013, I started writing a little story called ‘The Monster Below’. At the time, I intended for it to be a one-shot story that would avoid the dreaded trilogy creep. Then, halfway through, I got the idea for two more stories. Excited and energized, I went to work, and once ‘Nightfall’ was complete, I started work on outlining the final installment of the Monster Below trilogy with five goals in mind:

1. The story would be about a world-wide war indirectly caused by Silverspeak and his efforts to become an alicorn.
2. Mangus would return and be killed off for real.
3. Silverspeak would finally meet Princess Celestia.
4. Silverspeak would be old throughout the story, and die at the end.
5. Silverspeak would no longer brood or go crazy every time something didn’t go his way.

To go with those goals, the theme of the story was to be about what legacy we leave behind when our lives are over. From the beginning, ‘Sunfall’ was going to be the final story in the ‘Monster’ trilogy with no doubt at the end that there weren’t going to be any further outings or adventures. After all, it’s difficult to keep a story going after the main characters die and head off into the Great Beyond. But when I was initially brainstorming the outline, there were three big story ideas that were considered, but were ultimately discarded. They included...

Idea 1: Originally, Mangus’ grand plan had him experimenting with opening gateways to other dimensions to gain whatever weapons and powers he could find from them (one of which was the Equestria Girls realm, which he burned to the ground and destroyed; I want my ponies to stay ponies, dangit!), eventually becoming a god who would then work to take over all of Equestria, and every realm he could find. Mangus would also have success in creating pocket dimensions that he could store his prisoners in, including Silverspeak and Beakbreaker, who then had to fight off a Silverspeak from another dimension who succumbed to his lust for power and went insane. Good Silverspeak and Corrupted Silverspeak would fight, until corrupted Silverspeak was fatally injured. After seeing Beakbreaker, he would become his old self for a few moments, and use his magic to open a way out, letting Silverspeak and Beakbreaker escape before dying. This side trip would help Silverspeak realize that Mangus would cause the same misery to so many others if he succeeded in his plan.

Idea 2: Silverspeak’s horn was sentient and working to take over his body like a parasite, with Silverspeak having to constantly fight off its influence. Alternately, Silverspeak would start to show signs of dementia and have memory gaps throughout the story, but I decided it would take too much time and decided to have the horn cause a tumor instead.
    This idea also influenced the earlier idea of Silverspeak meeting an alternate version of himself from another dimension, but that Silverspeak had been taken over by the horn, a foreshadowing of what Silverspeak’s fate would be if he didn’t succeed. At one point near the climax, Silverspeak’s horn would suddenly make one last attempt to take over his body, leading to a battle in the center of Silverspeak’s mind, which he just barely wins.

Idea 3: The story would largely unfold as it did in the finished version, only, instead of trying to find Celestia, the Resistance was searching for the time travel spell that Twilight used in the show to go back in time and stop Mangus before he started the war. Eventually, after much sacrifice, Silverspeak would succeed in finding it, and go back in time to the very first ‘Monster’ story, arriving when he was debating with the leader of the Guardians of Tradition, and team up with his younger self to hunt down Mangus and kill him… only to find that Old Mangus had traveled back in time as well, leading to two Silverspeaks and two Mangus’ fighting each other over over Manehattan in a magically-augmented thunderstorm, eventually ending with both Mangus’ being killed, and Old Silverspeak badly injured.

Before he dies though, Old Silverspeak meets with Celestia and tells her everything that happened in his timeline, which no longer exists. Magically scanning his memory, Celestia and Luna discover that he’s telling the truth, and immediately work to stop Chrysalis and prevent the events of ‘Nightfall’ and ‘Sunfall’ from ever happening. Old Silverspeak would then have a reunion with his parents and get them early treatment for their diseases, saving their lives, and then tell his younger self and Beakbreaker everything he had learned, so that they would learn from his mistakes, and then finally die of his injuries.

The ending to this scenario would have been told from Old Silverspeak’s point of view as a spirit as he watches his younger self marry Beakbreaker and grow old together, enjoying more time together than he did, and without all the heartbreak. And when both die, Old and Young Silverspeak merge into one and passed on into the afterlife together with Beakbreaker.

Idea 3 came very close to being written into the final story, mostly as an apology for the substandard quality of ‘Nightfall’ and for how awesome it would have been to have a time-travel team up and fights between the various Silverspeaks and Mangus’. However, I eventually realized that I didn’t want to do the comic book strategy of retconning every bad decision and story that didn’t work out in the trilogy, and that it would be more honest to acknowledge ‘Nightfall,’ learn from it, and not magically erase it and pretend that it never happened.

Finally, in going with themes of a war, I wanted ‘Sunfall’ to be the most serious of the three stories, where Silverspeak would undergo his greatest challenges and find out what kind of individual he really was when he had lost everything… but as I quickly learned when I started posting chapters, that was the wrong approach to take. While my readers rightfully criticized the story for killing off so many characters willy nilly, they had no idea how the story was going to get even darker: At one point, Beakbreaker was going to be kidnapped by Mangus, brainwashed into becoming an assassin who Silverspeak would eventually confront and try to snap her out of her funk… only to fail and be forced to kill her when she tried to kill him, a path that was thankfully avoided when the story was quickly revised so that the Mane Six and the rest of the show’s cast were not killed, and the overall tone was lightened.

With all that said, here’s the original outline for ‘Sunfall.’ that was written before I started posting chapters. As with the previous two outlines, my comments are in italics. Because there were a lot of little edits and changes to the story, I will only comment on the more substantial alterations.


***

ACT 1

Opening has Silverspeak flying through the clouds, overjoyed at being able to be a much better flier than he was when he first started out all those years ago. He can even go higher and higher than he did without passing out. He flies up and up and finally stops on a cloud that’s seemingly above the earth itself. Then he hears someone coming towards him. He turns and sees his parents sitting nearby. He’s overjoyed to see them, but can’t understand why they look so sad. Then there’s a bright light on the horizon. An explosion, one bigger than Silverspeak’s ever seen. It rushes towards him, obliterating everything in his path.

Silverspeak’s parents originally showed up early on in spirit form in this dream, but I decided that I wanted them to appear at the end instead, and replaced their appearance with a foreshadowing of Mangus’ return. However, this was removed in the ‘grimdark revision’ to try and keep Mangus’ return a surprise.

Waking up, Silverspeak realizes that it was all a dream. Yet, it felt so real, like he was really seeing his parents. Yet, their sadness shakes him. Getting out of bed (being careful not to wake Beakbreaker), he heads outside into the falling snow. He and Beakbreaker are spending Hearth’s Warming Eve in the forests near the Smokey Mountains. Figuring to give Beakbreaker breakfast in bed, Silverspeak’s about to fly out to get some fresh berries when the door opens and Beakbreaker comes out. Turns out she heard him get up and asks how he’s doing. Silverspeak wonders what to say, and then tells her about the dream, the first one he’s had of his parents in twenty years.

The two have breakfast and talk. Silverspeak asks if there’s anything Beakbreaker has on her list for last minute wishes. The question excites Beakbreaker, and she finally can’t hold it in. Silverspeak takes pity and says she can reveal it if she wants. Beakbreaker says that they’re getting close to middle age, and while she’s happy with her life, there’s one last thing she’d like: She wants to have a child, someone she can teach and pass on everything she and he have learned.

Silverspeak points out that he doesn’t have the ‘equipment’ to have a child. Beakbreaker knows, which is why she’s thinking they should adopt a child. Silverspeak’s a bit undecided. While the idea of having a child is exciting on one hoof, on the other, he has really deep fears. He messed up so badly with his previous gifts to the world, and he’s terrified of messing up again with a child. But Beakbreaker assures him that the technology the two of them have created turned out all right.

Silverspeak still isn’t quite convinced, but promises Beakbreaker that he’ll think about it, and not in a dismissive, ‘I’m only saying this to get you off my back’ way. He sees how badly Beakbreaker wants this, and that she’s been thinking about it for a while. That satisfies Beakbreaker.

The two head to the airport and board a giant airship that’s taking Medicomp’s best and brightest to Canterlot, not just for the festivities, but also to finally see Celestia’s first public address in twenty years. Ever since recovering from the Arch-Dragon attack, she’s been working overtime to ensure they don’t come back, and building up alliances with other nations, as well as strengthening her own magic and helping others do the same. Silverspeak heads to a get-together and meets up all manner of guests, including the Wonderbolts. Rainbow Dash is really busy with guests, and Silverspeak meets up with Soarin, who has now retired from active flying and is an instructor. There are other models for Medicomp, but Silverspeak is one of the most famous of the guests, and even gives a few autographs, including Soarin and other cyborgs. It still feels strange being admired and looked up to, but he likes to make others happy, and does so.

Silverspeak meets up with Coin Counter, who’s happy to see Equestria’s most famous cyborg. He’s looking forward to the speech Celestia’s going to be giving tomorrow, especially as it’s written by Silverspeak himself. Silverspeak’s looking forward to it, too. All his life he’s wanted to meet Celestia, and tomorrow he finally will. Jokes about how the universe seems determined to keep him from meeting her, but Coin Counter assures him that it just means that when they finally meet, it will be one of the highlights of Silverspeak’s life.

When writing, I was trying to come up with logical explanations as to why Silverspeak hadn’t met Celestia even once since ‘Nightfall’. Initially, I wanted Celestia to be so busy that she didn’t have time for such a meeting, but eventually I just decided to make it so that their schedules never allowed for such a meeting, and put in an in-joke about how the universe (i.e. me) didn’t want them to meet. I knew from the beginning that the two would meet at the end of the story, and wanted to hold it off to make it more meaningful than if they met earlier.

I originally wanted Soarin to come back for one last cameo, but realized that at this point in his life, he would be too old to be a member of the Wonderbolts any longer, and he was removed, along with Rainbow Dash, keeping the focus on Silverspeak’s story, and not cannon characters.

I also realized that there was no foreshadowing here of Iron Hoof at this point in the story, and added him in, along with a get-together between Gusty, Coin Counter, and Silverspeak so they could muse about their lives, where they are, and what they want with the time they have left.

As night falls, Silverspeak heads back towards his cabin with Beakbreaker. On the way, he sees some families enjoying themselves with their kids. He notices how happy they are. Back in the cabin, he and Beakbreaker get in bed and read for a bit. Silverspeak thinks out loud about how nice it would be to raise a child and leave not one, but two lasting impressions on the world. Beakbreaker hesitantly asks if that’s a yes. Silverspeak thinks, ponders, and says yes. Overjoyed, Beakbreaker decides to give him an early gift, and pulls him in for a kiss, Silverspeak making sure to turn out all the lights with his magic, except the candles.

I combined the two separate scenes of Beakbreaker wanting a child into this one to condense the story and have some foreshadowing and build-up to it earlier.

The next day, the airship finally reaches Canterlot. Everyone’s dressed up and ready to land, and the city is crowded with lots of airships bringing ponies, dignitaries, and guests from all over Equestria. The ship heads in, and from so high up, Silverspeak can see a stage being set up for Celestia. Guards are everywhere, as are the guests. This is going to be one of the biggest get-togethers in Equestria’s history. The Wonderbolts fly down to take up their positions.

Excited, Silverspeak heads to the viewing deck in the nose to watch the scene. But as they’re looking, Beakbreaker notices something in the distance. Silverspeak takes a look and sees several black specks/things flying their way. A nearby cyborg zooms in with his eyes and says that they’re dragons. Puzzled, Silverspeak looks through some binoculars and sees that he’s right. They are dragons. But not normal dragons... Arch-Dragons.

The dragons attack, spewing fire into Canterlot and swiping into it with their tails and claws. The sky is filled with chaos and destruction. Instantly forgetting everything but Beakbreaker, Silverspeak rushes around to find her. He does so, only for the airship to be cut in two. Grabbing her, he dives out of the airship, Coin Counter on his back, with Gusty being carried along by magic. Silverspeak twists, spins, dodges fire, and almost crash-lands in the streets near the castle as the rest of the fleet above is destroyed. But as he watches, ponies around him are caught by other ponies swarming down and dressed in strange outfits. There’s thousands of them, and when they spot Silverspeak, they all immediately focus on him.

Silverspeak takes off for the palace, but the fighting there is even worse. In an explosion, Gusty and Coin Counter vanish, but there’s no time to look for them. He has to save Beakbreaker, no matter the cost. As they run into the palace, the arch-dragon bombard it, breathing fire on the walls so hot that the paint inside starts to melt. Silversepeak retreats down into the Alicorn Sanctuary, but as he gets inside, a squad of the other ponies attacks. Before he rushes out, he embraces Beakbreaker and tries to tell her that he loves her... but then the sanctuary is partially destroyed again, and Silverspeak falls into the abyss as Mangus has. His last view is seeing Beakbreaker and he yells for her... and then everything goes black.

When I started writing this sequence, I realized that it was too similar to the climax of ‘Nightfall’ and changed it so that it ended on the fields outside of Canterlot, instead of the city itself. The idea also came to me that having Iron Hoof’s agents try to apprehend Silverspeak and Beakbreaker before the attack would add some paranoia and give Silverspeak the chance to beat up a smug bully, scenes that I relish writing whenever I get the chance.

The next thing Silverspeak’s aware of, he’s inside a tube of some kind. Gel-filled. He’s groggy and has trouble waking up. There’s someone before his tube in a uniform similar to what the attackers were wearing, but much more advanced. He panics, but waits until the individual leaves before struggling. It’s hard to move in the thick gel, but he finally manages, ripping a ring off his horn and firing, blasting his tube apart. He collapses into the hall, his head hurting so badly he almost passes out. But he manages to keep going, and sneaks through the concrete halls of wherever he is. He doesn’t recognize anything and doesn’t know where he is, or where Beakbreaker is. But he has to get his bearings. He hides as a squad of soldiers troops past, led by a middle-aged pony in what looks like a general’s uniform. He keeps going, only to hear an alarm raised, probably by his escape.

Reaching a window, Silverspeak breaks through and emerges into the sky outside a giant, concrete block even bigger than Canterlot. Below it are dozens of plain, concrete towers, gigantic, colorless, and ugly. Silverspeak tries to fly away, but his wings don’t work, and he soars downwards, crashing into the streets. But there’s no life here. It’s all plain, functional, and without color. But there are soldiers running around, and Silverspeak manages to sneak onto a train as it takes off across the land. But this isn’t the Equestria Silverspeak knows: the land has been blasted and ruined by war. There’s hardly anything green and living. It’s nothing but dirt, gravel, and rock as far as the eye can see.

Trying to send a message to anyone nearby with his magic, Silverspeak gasps and falls to the floor, clutching his head in agony. This isn’t normal. Nothing makes sense, other than some battle has been going on since he was knocked out. He has to get back to Canterlot, but doesn’t know where it is. Desperate, he runs through a nearby dead forest, only to emerge onto the other side and finding himself on the edge of a cliff. But it’s not a natural one: the land has been shattered for miles, creating a deep, jagged, canyon that’s instant death for anyone falling in. Trapped, Silverspeak has nowhere to go, but is saved when a giant form swoops in and takes out his pursuers. When the smoke clears, he sees a dragon. Not an arch-dragon, but still big, and still dangerous. It spots him. Silverspeak panics and tries to fight, but the pain from his horn is excruciating. And as the dragon grabs him, he tries to fight, only to pass out from the effort.

When writing this passage, I realized that having someone be present to help explain to Silverspeak what’s going on would help ease the audience into what’s happening, as well as help set up that the Resistance sees Silverspeak as a threat and want to take him out, as well as set up Gold Wing’s appearance, so Green Wing was created to help him get out. I also added a scene of her being beaten up to show that Iron Hoof’s ponies are not the type to mess with, but the tone of the scene was lightened up in the ‘grimdark edit’ to make it less of a torture scene, and more an interrogation.

When Silverspeak wakes, he’s now in a small room built of carved, black rock, and he’s momentarily horrified at being back in the prison in Canterlot, but realizes that it’s not a prison room. It’s more comfy and well-made. And as he tries the door, he finds it’s not locked. He leaves, and is immediately met by a guard, who immediately sends for a medic, assuring Silverspeak that he’s safe and with the good guys. Silverspeak isn’t sure what to believe, but as the commotion increases, general Blueblood appears and asks what’s going on. The guard explains, only for Silverspeak to cut him off and ask Blueblood what’s going on. Blueblood asks his name, and Silverspeak gives it.

Stunned, Blueblood asks Silverspeak to come with him immediately, as there’s someone who will want to meet him. Silverspeak follows Blueblood through this strange, underground base; the rocks here are like nothing he’s ever seen before. Eventually, he’s led to a giant observatory, where the dragon is. Silverspeak almost bolts, but Blueblood assures him that he’s in no danger. This is Spike, famed assistant to Twilight Sparkle. He’s the one who saved Silverspeak and brought him here. Spike comes over and sees him, acknowledges him, and then leaves. Blueblood takes Silverspeak towards the veiled windows and introduces him to Princess Luna, who is stunned to see him. She has many new scars, and while Silverspeak is glad to see her, he begs to see Beakbreaker. Luna realizes something and asks Silverspeak if anyone has told him what’s happening. He says no, and she reveals that he’s been missing for over 25 years.

Silverspeak collapses, shocked. Twenty five years ago, a war was unleashed on all of Equestria, and while it was once hot, it’s now cold. An army of cyborgs controls the planet. Planet? Silverspeak asks, and the windows are unveiled, revealing that he’s in a base on the moon. It’s the one safe place left that the loyalists, those dedicated to Celestia and Luna, remain. Silverspeak begs to know where Beakbreaker is. Luna hesitates, and Silverspeak gets a horrible feeling.

Luna reveals that for twenty years, Beakbreaker devoted herself to only two things: helping advance the resistance’s tech, and searching for him. She never stopped believing he was alive, and did everything to find him. But one day she was kidnapped in a raid, and hasn’t been seen since. Because of her value, she’s unlikely to have been killed, and Silverspeak is now determined to rescue her. But there’s a problem: his body is twenty fifty years out of date. With the advances ponies have now, he’s practically an antique. That doesn’t dissuade Silverspeak, however. He can still fight, and he’s sure as hell not going to just stay here, and uses his magic to show that he’s still capable. But he gets a terrific pain in his head and collapses.

Silverspeak is taken to the medical hall and examined. As they’re waiting for the results to come in, he asks why the Bearers haven’t stopped the cyborgs yet. Luna takes him to the hall of the Fallen, where all those who have died are remembered. The Bearers are there: They were killed in the first year of the war, when the other army commenced an assassination strike just to take them out. Manehattan was destroyed, and the Bearers successfully evacuated the city, but at the cost of their lives. But what about Celestia? She has been leading the army for decades, but then the unthinkable happened: As victory began to get closer, she asked Luna to take over while she went out to find the new Elements of Harmony, which, when combined, would guarantee that their faction would win and undo the damage that’s been wrought. But then she vanished, and hasn’t been seen since. And since then, the cyborgs have been slowly but steadily gaining ground, and turned the tide of the war thanks to their converted armies, and the emergence of tech that shouldn’t even be possible. All the cyborgs are involuntary, and under complete control, immune to fear, fatigue, or pain, they make formidable warriors.

I originally wanted Blueblood to have a major part in the story, mostly for the chance to help redeem him and make him into a respectable character who has learned to become a leader and focus on helping others instead of focusing on his own self-importance, but he was cut out because I decided that I would rather see Silverspeak interact with Thorax, who would be more enjoyable to hang out with.

In the original outline, Spike was going to be one of ‘Sunfall’s major characters, with him and Silverspeak becoming buddies throughout the story, both united by losing someone they loved (Twilight and Beakbreaker) and eventually managing to rescue both. However, when Chrysalis entered the picture, I realized that she would be a more interesting companion for Silverspeak, so Spike became a background character. Poor guy.

Originally, all of Iron Hoof’s forces would be cyborgs, ALA the Terminator movies, but I instead decided to make them special units, and to have the majority of his followers be ordinary ponies who joined of their own free will, to show that Iron Hoof wasn’t some maniac who wanted to brainwash and enslave his followers, but who really did want what was best for the pony race, and that there were ordinary ponies who secretly supported his genocidal vision.

Originally, Silverspeak was not one of Iron Hoof’s greatest assets, but just someone who was kept prisoner and out of the way so he wouldn’t be hurt. But I figured that having Silverspeak unwillingly help his cause would make him into an enemy in the eyes of the Resistance, making his relationship with them more complex and uneasy, even though he is a good guy.

The results come in and show that Silverspeak’s brain has been slowly been corrupted by his horn for decades. It’s like cancer, and it’s spreading, and its too advanced to be surgically removed. It could be, magically, but only Celestia is skilled enough to do so. And if Silverspeak tries to cast magic, it will only cause the cancer to grow even faster. And even if it is removed, he still has the brain of a older pony. It may not survive the process. Like it or not, Silverspeak is now over 70 years old. He’s no longer young. He agrees, but says he can still help. If Celestia was captured, maybe he can locate where she is: the leader of the enemy reveres him, and he’d be more than willing to talk. Silverspeak can sneak in, gain an audience with him, gain some intel, and then escape. Luna considers this, and agrees.

Silverspeak now has two objectives: Find Celestia to win the war and cure his cancer, and more importantly, find Beakbreaker.

ACT 2

Now ready, Silverspeak readies to head back to Equestria, but meets up with both Onyx Shield and Gusty. Both are now way past their prime, but still find use helping out, with Onyx commanding raids on various enemy outposts, and Gusty servicing aircraft. Due to his age and slowed reflexes, though, he can’t fly anymore, but wishes Silverspeak the best.

Silverspeak teleports back to Equestria and heads towards the headquarters of the General. Reaching the gates, he’s stopped by a division of cyborgs, but as they look him over, they stop. Ten come forward, surround Silverspeak, and escort him inside. He’s led past machinery and many rooms filled with tech he can’t comprehend... along with some pony and other prisoners being turned into cyborgs, screaming and panicking all the while.

He’s brought into a throne room overlooking the city and the surrounding plains. The General, leader of the cyborg army, comes in to meet him. He’s an Alicorn, and is overjoyed to see Silverspeak alive and well. In fact, he’s almost reverent. He apologies for the misunderstanding, and guesses that this is a big shock for him. It’s a big shock for the general, too, as he’s been waiting for Silverspeak to wake up for a long time.

Tour of the palace. The General explains that he was little with the changelings invaded Equestria; his town was a border one that was the first one hit, and he lost his parents. Realized that Equestria needed to be strong to fend off all those who threatened it. If you’re not with us, you’re against us, that sort of thing. But as he grew older and joined the military, and tried to make it the dominant force to protect Equestria’s citizens, he was frustrated at how all his efforts failed. Thus, desperate and determined to succeed, he realized that the princesses were holding the country back and making it weak. Tried to reason with them, but they were determined not to become warlike or nationalistic. So he eventually joined forces with the Arch-dragons for the good of Equestria, and began his war. But he purposefully captured Silverspeak to save him and Beakbreaker from harm, though she escaped.

The General tells Silverspeak that he’s his biggest fan. Watched him throughout the years and admired his determination to get what he wanted, no matter the cost. Pulls away his uniform to reveal that he’s a cyborg, too, with only his head remaining as the original piece of his body. Took inspiration from Silverspeak to become the best he could be. Horrified, Silverspeak goes along with it and flatters the General, asking him for information on his plan. Gushing like a fanboy, the General reveals that he’s actually guided by the Arch-Dragon leader. Where is he? Hidden somewhere safe. He promises to take Silverspeak there, soon. Silverspeak asks about Celestia. He learns that she was about to find the last of the elements of harmony when almost all the Arch-dragons went after her. The resulting battle was apocalyptic: all but one of the dragons was killed before Celestia was finally subdued. She’s now being kept in a hidden location. Can’t risk her breaking free before the great plan is complete.

Iron Hoof (who was unnamed in the outline) was based on a scrapped idea for a character in ‘Nightfall’ who would have been a younger competitor to Silverspeak, but I eventually removed the fanboy elements to make Iron Hoof more focused, determined, and nothing like a giddy fanboy. I also changed him from an alicorn to an earth pony because I thought it would be more interesting for a pony without magic or the ability to fly to conquer and overcome other ponies with those powers.

Silverspeak asks where Beakbreaker is. She was captured and is now working for their cause, the General says. But he understands that Silverspeak wants to see her. She’s working in a hidden outpost in the Forbidden Jungle. They’ll go tomorrow. But there’s still so much to show him here. Silverspeak agrees. Gets a moment away from the General and his guards in the bathroom, and informs Luna and Spike about what’s going on. Spike agrees to lead an attack on the city to try and capture the General and to destroy it.

Going back to the General, Silverspeak sits with him for lunch. He’s horrified at the thought that he inadvertently created this pony, but at the same time, wants to try and turn him from that path. Maybe he can end this war without fighting. Asks the General if really was the best way to go. Is this really the best use of his talents and gifts? There are other ways he could protect Equestria. The General is surprised at this, and wonders why Silverspeak would ask such a thing. There’s no negotiating with those who want to destroy you. Silverspeak didn’t say that. The General now gets suspicious, and wonders if Silverspeak is up to something.

A strike force attacks the city, with Spike and Luna providing most of the heavy hitting. Silverspeak tries to knock the General out to take him back with him, but the General, enraged, escapes. Silverspeak does, too, fleeing with some escaped prisoners onto an elevated train riding through the wastes, and Spike’s efforts manages to destroy the city. But as the train rides away, something’s launched through the air and hits the ground far behind them. The explosion is so huge it starts ripping the earth apart, expanding towards the train, destroying everything in its path. A frantic evacuation manages to get everyone off the train, Silverspeak being the last one. And as they all fly away on transports, Silverspeak looks out to see even more of the explosions erupting across Equestria as far as he can see.

I added in the idea of the leader of the arch-dragons having an (unrevealed) plan to win the war in short order to add a ticking timer to the story, and keep it moving, as well as having Iron Hoof being the one to destroy his own base.

Chrysalis was originally not in the story, but I thought it would be interesting to revisit her when she’s now elderly and focused on killing Iron Hoof, no matter the cost. She was only going to live through the train attack, dying after throwing Silverspeak onto the shuttle, but I decided to spare her, as the idea of having her gradually be reformed over the course of the story was a fascinating idea that I wanted to play with.

Inside his transport, Silverspeak reports to Luna about what the General said. They have to get to the research and production facility to learn more about these weapons. Luna explains that they’re decades ahead of anything the Resistance can produce, and has no idea how the General and his forces got them. The strike that just took place was a retaliatory strike for taking out the General’s city, and early estimates have almost a quarter of Equestria being rendered all but uninhabitable from the destruction. If more strikes occur, there will be nothing left for the Resistance to save.

Silverspeak asks if there’s any talk of surrendering. Luna doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t say no, either. But their next move has to be carried out: Reach the facility and gain intel about the bombs and what else the General has up his sleeve. They’ve never found the facility, and this is their first chance to strike. Silverspeak insists on going, as Beakbreaker will be there, but Luna says no. And now that the General knows Silverspeak is with the Resistance, Silverspeak’s fame won’t protect him anymore. She tells Silverspeak not to go. But Silverspeak won’t take no for an answer. He’s afraid that Beakbreaker will be killed in any crossfire that takes place, or that the General, in retaliation for his betrayal, will give orders to have her killed. If he can go, he won’t try to study the bombs or take anyone out. Luna’s commandos can take care of the guards and the equipment. He’ll just be there for his wife.

Luna thinks about it, and reluctantly agrees.

I added in a brief interlude with Green Wing and Gusty to both let the audience breathe for a bit, and to help further Silverspeak’s relations with the two, as well as introduce Gold Wing and foreshadow how she’ll be adopted by Silverspeak and Beakbreaker at the end of the story

A ship flies into the Forbidden Jungle at night during a heavy rainstorm, Silverspeak on board. It lands, and a commando group sneaks up to the research outpost. Onyx stays onboard to provide intel and lead the operation from the air. The outpost itself is heavily defended and camouflaged with magic. It’s busy, and will be hard to sneak into, but the group will do so anyway. They make their way to it, Silverspeak at the rear. But things go disastrously wrong, and they’re spotted. In the resulting firefight, the group is killed, and Silverspeak is damaged. He plays dead as everyone is dragged inside to be experimented on. Once all is clear, he sneaks out, and manages to make his way through the facility, finding an archive of everything the General has been working on, and learns their secret: The General’s forces have been mining ancient artifacts from a lost civilization deep underground. Thousands of years ago, before the three tribes of the ponies lived, a civilization became very technologically advanced and wiped themselves out in a war, and were subsequently forgotten. But now the General is using their tech to create weapons of mass destruction, and aside from the bombs and guns, there’s something else: A bomb that can sterilize an entire continent. It’s not ready yet, but it’s getting there.

I originally wanted Iron Hoof’s base to have a more technological feel to it, and to try dabbling in spy/infiltration scenarios. However, I decided that going with a survival horror theme by having the sequence take place in the darkened, mostly abandoned labs would have a more gripping atmosphere, as well as a chance to include a horror element with the cyborgs. In retrospect, I would have liked to include more of Iron Hoof’s weapons of mass destruction, but I believe it was a better choice to focus on Mangus’ plan and uncovering what it was.

I dropped the idea of a lost civilization because it was cluttering up the story, and it was more efficient to focus on Mangus and his goals.

With the tech found and the information sent on, Silverspeak heads out to find Beakbreaker. He finds some of the tech she’s been working on, including a few suits of power armor. But she’s not in the facility: she’s been moved underground, to the area where the artifacts are coming from. Ignoring Onyx’s protests, Silverspeak hurries after her, going deep underground, snatching a gun to defend himself. The ride down into the earth goes deeper and deeper, until Silverspeak can’t communicate with the surface anymore, and finally stops in some dark, obsidian-like ruins.

The suits of power armor were foreshadowing for an action sequence that was later written, but cut from the story.

I originally wanted to condense locations to streamline the story, but decided to take a side trip to Manehattan so Silverspeak could have an opportunity to revisit some locations from the first book, as well as reveal that there was a giant dragon lair beneath the city the entire time, and, finally, to have an action sequence where the island is destroyed, and have the MediComp tower be the last structure to fall, which, as I noted in the author’s note of said chapter, was surprisingly emotional to write.

Alone, Silverspeak creeps through the city, heading ever deeper, trying to find Beakbreaker. There’s no one around, but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched. Heading through a gigantic chamber, he’s shocked to see it filled with thousands, if not millions of giant crystals, each holding the form of a pony or another creature. Is this where Beakbreaker is? But as he starts to look, Silverspeak freezes at hearing something moving around. Something big. To his horror, a massive dragon, the biggest one he’s ever seen, emerges from the darkness. It’s ancient, the scales dull and the horns gnarled, but still full of power. This is THE Arch-dragon, the first of them all, the godfather of all dragons. Sniffing the air, it looks around for Silverspeak, calling for him by name. Silverspeak is stunned. How the heck can this thing know who he is? The dragon says he has his wife, and knows he’s here. He’s been waiting a long, long time to see him.

Silverspeak realizes that this might be a chance to kill the dragon and sneaks around to try and get a clear vantage point. But when he gets to that spot, the dragon sees him. Silverspeak fires, but his gun is of no use against the beast. Amused, it lets him attack, and chases him when he runs, like a cat toying with a mouse, destroying giant caverns as it follows, until Silverspeak is cornered. The dragon says it’s been waiting for this moment for so long, and Silverspeak demands to know how it knows who he is. Through the General: the dragon only just learned that the general had kidnapped him all those years ago. Had he known about that, the dragon would have met him sooner. But no matter. He’s known Silverspeak long before the attack on Canterlot. Decades before then, to be exact. But how?

The dragon lowers his head, and seems to pass out. Then a slit on top of the head opens, and a pony pops out, connected to the dragon with veins, tubes, and all sorts of biological goop. It’s Mangus Bluehorn. Old now, and still missing his eyes, but alive. Horrified, Silverspeak tries to fire, but Mangus moves a limb, and the dragon’s arm grabs him, preventing him from attacking. Silverspeak tries to use his horn, but the magic is too painful, and he’s forced to stop. Mangus explains that all those years ago, he plunged into the depths of the Canterlot mountains, hit a river, and was swept deep into the depths of the earth. Blind, crippled, and helpless, it was pure luck that he was found by the leader of the Arch-dragons. For whatever reason, he took Mangus in and trained him, wanting him to become an agent who could sneak into pony society and carry out inside work to bring them down. But Mangus, learning many things from him, had better ideas. After learning that many of the dragon’s agents had heard of a pony who wanted to overthrow the princesses, Mangus was disguised and sent to meet up with him. A deal was struck, and the high dragon agreed to lend his dragons and their forces to the General.

However, when Mangus met with the high dragon again, he took an opportunity to kill him while he slept, using some of his, dark magic to take command of the body, using it as his own. With no one the wiser, he aided the General in his war, and has been secretly guiding it to his own ends, but refuses to say what they are. Besides, Silverspeak is more interested in Beakbreaker, he guesses. Mangus then shows Beakbreaker to Silverspeak, and he’s horrified: her limbs are all artificial, and she’s so old now, with a faded coat and wrinkles, but she’s still the zebra he knows and loves. Mangus figures that he also wants to see his beloved princess, too. He takes Silverspeak into a sealed chamber and shows him a solid, blood-red crystal with the faintest outline of a large pony trapped inside. No, Celestia’s not dead, just contained... for now, that is. She’s proven tricky to keep inside, constantly fighting to get out. She will, eventually. Not even Mangus’ magic, or the power of multiple magical artifacts can keep her contained But by then, it’ll be too late. Within two days, the Resistance will be dead, and his plan will succeed. And in a way, Mangus has Silverspeak to thank for that.

With Thorax and Chrysalis joining Silverspeak at this part in the story, it made for a more interesting scene where Mangus deals with three opponents instead of one.

Again, I wanted to streamline the story by having Celestia be present in this scene, but realized that it was more efficient to have her appear at the climax, so she was moved.

While I still believe the sight of so many crystals in the chamber is a great visual, I realized it was a bit cliched, and instead tried amber instead, as I can’t recall reading about dragons with the ability to spray it and contain their enemies.

Mangus shows Silverspeak another chamber, one filled with millions of ponies encased inside crystals. All preserved and in stasis. His new loyal subjects. When all is said and done, they’ll have no choice but to follow him. Normally Mangus would kill Silverspeak, but for now, he’ll let him live. After all, there really is no way for Silverspeak to stop him, and Mangus wants Silverspeak to watch as he’s defeated. But just to be on the safe side, he casts a spell that keeps Silverspeak from using his magic. Another spell goes on to ensure he knows where he is at all times. With that, he drops Silverspeak and lets him go. He’s free to do what he wants, and walks away.

Grabbing Beakbreaker, Silverspeak hurries back to the elevator and rides up. He gets back onto the ship with Onyx and they take off, getting in touch with Luna to tell her what’s going on. Luna recalls all her forces to the Moon, safely out of reach of Mangus and the General, who has been prepping his army for an unknown attack. Silverspeak forgets all that, focusing on reviving Beakbreaker. She finally wakes, and the two are reunited.

This scene was changed drastically from the original outline; I originally wanted to portray Mangus as being so powerful and confident that he knew Silverspeak could do nothing to stop him. While it would make for an interesting antagonist/protagonist relationship at this point, I realized it was too far-fetched, and that Mangus would realize that Silverspeak was a threat to be reckoned with, and would want him out of the way. Thus, I came up with the idea of sending him to an alternate dimension, as described earlier. But then Alcatraz, my editor, remarked that the idea of alternate dimensions was going a bit too far, so it was changed again to an amber prison cell, and Mangus threatening to torture Beakbreaker if Silverspeak didn’t reveal where Luna’s base was.

It was also at this point that I realized that ‘Sunfall’ had jumped the shark, because I had Silverspeak blasting off into outer space; When your earth-bound franchise sends its heroes into the cosmos, you know it’s starting to run out of ideas.

But as they reach the moon, Silverspeak is telepathically contacted by Mangus, who thanks him for telling him where the Resistance was hiding. It’s been quite a problem trying to locate them, and now they have.

The planet-cleanser bomb is hurled into the moon, fracturing it. The General’s forces attack it, and a ferocious battle takes place. Luna and Spike lead the resistance, and manage to take out a large chunk of the attacking forces, but in the end there are too many, and the cyborgs overwhelm the defenses. Onyx is killed in the fight, and Silverspeak, Beakbreaker, and Spike manage to hide with some of the Resistance as the General marches up to Luna and tells her to surrender. If she does, the rest of the Resistance will be spared. Should she refuse, the surface of the planet will be bombarded until nothing is left, and half those taken captive throughout the years will be killed. With no choice, Luna surrenders, and the Resistance is defeated. The rest of the group is teleported to the surface, with only those in hiding remaining still left.

When writing this section, I realized that it fell into the all-too-frequent tropes of ‘enemy finds base, bombs it, overwhelms occupants, and conquers it with ease’. That’s when the idea of casting magic to make everyone go insane and kill themselves popped up; why risk the lives of your soldiers when you can have the enemy take themselves out? It was uncomfortable to write, but I feel it made for a more interesting and emotional sequence.

Act III

Everything’s fallen apart. Of the Resistance, only Spike and Blueblood are the remaining commanders, and maybe a hundred fighters. There’s no way they can win, now. Everything is lost. Mangus knows where Silverspeak is, and that he’s alive, but Silverspeak knows that he doesn’t care. Luckily, the Resistance knows where Luna is being taken thanks to a tracker she has in her body. She’s been taken to a remote island north of Equestria, which is essentially one giant mountain. And as the Resistance watch, the crystal containing Celestia is taken there, too. Mangus contacts Silverspeak, not in words, but in images, showing him that the princesses are to be executed, and then his plan will finally unfold.

It’s decided. The group has to launch a final, all-out attack. Do or die. But how? Their army isn’t big enough, and the mountain is too strong for a full-frontal assault. Blueblood, now in command of the Resistance, contacts the other groups on the surface who weren’t part of the Resistance and tells them what’s going to happen. They finally realize that they can’t afford to let the General and Mangus run free anymore and agree to unite. They still can’t win the battle, but if they can free Celestia and Luna, the two can take them on without a problem. Free Celestia, and the tide will turn. But there’s still the question of how to get into the mountain. And at that, Silverspeak has an idea.

Later, Gusty flies another commando squad to the outpost in the jungle. This time they bring Spike, and manage to overwhelm the facility, but it’s been abandoned. All the prisoners in the lower levels have been taken, too. But Beakbreaker guides Silverspeak to the power armor and helps him get into it. It will help in the fight. He wants her to stay behind, but she refuses. They’re all in this together. If they fail, everyone dies. She will fight with Silverspeak, no matter what. Besides, she has her own suit of power armor, too.

The combined might of the Resistance flies towards the island, with Gusty and the rebuilt Raven now at the forefront, Gusty ecstatic that he can fly one final time. He doesn’t think they’ll make it, but he feels better about dying while trying. They finally reach the mountain and the massive defenses it has. Mangus telepathically taunts Silverspeak about how they can’t even get in. But to that, Silverspeak smiles... and the massive ruins of Genesis, raised from the ocean by the Resistance’s remaining unicorns, are dropped onto the mountain, tearing through it like a bunker-buster.

The battle begins, the Raven turning invisible as the heavy hitters of the battle, including Spike, assault the mountain. The Raven heads inside, and then Silverspeak and Beakbreaker fight their way towards the crystals. Finally reaching both of them, they hide, sending out a signal to Spike and the others. But Mangus and the General are there, too, and the General can’t understand why the others continue to fight when all is lost. It would be better to join with him and work to rebuild and make the world stronger than it was. With the tech of both the ponies and the ancient civilization, they will make something so grand that it will never fall. Mangus, working to drain magic from both princesses, says that Silverspeak and his allies are the losers of history, knowing they’re about to become extinct, and giving one last push before the end. But it’s only fitting: the General would do the same, too.

Confused, the General asks what he means. Mangus chuckles and reveals that he never supported the General’s goal of making ponies the dominant race. He wants to rule it all, and taking so many prisoner was just a way of getting his new subjects together. Now it’s time to enact his final plan: Wiping the planet clean, and everyone and everything on it. The General is horrified, saying that wasn’t in the plan. Mangus admits that, no, it wasn’t. But no one would have gone along with him, including the General. He’s outlived his usefulness. He weakened Mangus’ enemies for him, and he has no further use. Horrified and enraged at learning that everything he ever did was for nothing, and that his dreams were never going to come true, the General screams and attacks Mangus, but is grabbed, squeezed, and crushed.

This part of the story underwent more revisions than any other; I had written the chapters for the aftermath of the moon’s destruction and the fight itself when I realized that after betraying them all to Mangus, there is no way the Resistance would allow Silverspeak to work with them, and decided to explore having them turn against him and casting him out, which required rewriting two chapters from scratch. However, I feel the end result is much stronger, and it was an enjoyable challenge to have Silverspeak face the consequences of revealing the base’s location, even if it was without any ill-intent.

From the beginning, I had wanted to bring both the Raven and Genesis back for the story’s finale – while ‘Nightfall’ was not the best sequel to the original story, I didn’t want to pretend it never happened. However, after the chapters were re-written, there was no logical place to include Genesis during the initial assault. I was afraid I’d have to drop it completely, but it was finally moved to the final fight between Mangus and Silverspeak, where I feel it works much better than acting as a bunker-buster missile.

Iron Hoof was always going to meet his end turning against Mangus, but when writing his scene, I realized it would be better to have him realize what he had done and join forces with Silverspeak to try and atone for what he did, as well as giving Silverspeak the means to bring down the spire.

The coliseum scene was never in the outline, but I believe it worked better than a straight-up assault on Iron Hoof’s island, as it allowed Silverspeak to engage in a verbal boss battle, so to speak, and defeat Mangus by discrediting him before all his followers, which was inspired by countless moments throughout history where the followers of dictators and tyrants realize that they’ve been worshiping/following a monster and realize how far they’ve fallen, morally. I also relished having Silverspeak speaking before one of the biggest crowds in history, and writing my favorite use of his silver tongue in the trilogy.

Spike bursts into the room with the remains of the army. Mangus spreads his wings and takes off. Realizing that something bad is about to happen, Silverspeak manages to fly onto him and grab hold as Mangus flies up into the Equestrian sky. Spike follows, clawing his way up the dragon body, shredding it as much as he can, only to be knocked off halfway up, leaving Silverspeak by himself. He climbs up to the head, but can’t stop Mangus before he heads into the uppermost limits of the atmosphere, where he uses his magic to take control of the sun and brings it close. Silverspeak, desperate, manages to shred the dragon wings, sending both of them plunging back to earth, slamming into a mountain range.

The sequence of Silverspeak climbing up Mangus was directly inspired from the climax of ‘Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2’, where Dracula and Alucard climb up the body of the Leviathan as it flies up to destroy the Earth from Space. Then I thought, ‘Nah. Set it inside a giant, flying building instead. That’ll make it more interesting’.

When Silverspeak regains consciousness, he finds himself at the base of the ruined mountains, and the destroyed dragon body. But something’s wrong: the sky is a hot, fiery red, as if it were on fire. Then Mangus emerges from the body and strolls over, his body cracked and lit as if on fire, possessing some of Celestia’s magic. He grins. In less than ten minutes, the sun will get close enough to the planet to burn it clean. Everything on the surface will be destroyed, and when that’s done, Mangus will be free to rebuild everything in his own image, and take all his prisoners to be his new subjects. If they refuse to cooperate, they die. All unicorns will be eliminated, and no one will be able to stop him. And what’s Silverspeak going to do about it? Even if he kills Mangus, it will be impossible for him to stop the sun. The others won’t be able to open Celestia’s crystal in time, and they will die. No matter what, Mangus will win. And now, he’ll do the one thing he never got the chance to do: Kill Silverspeak. And there’s no better place to do it, for the two have landed in the remains of Saddle Lanka. This is where everything began: Silverspeak’s obsession with becoming an alicorn, and Mangus being told he would be the best. And he has. He’s about to take an entire planet for himself, and in a way, he has Silverspeak to thank for it. His defeats at his hooves taught him the value of patience, and not being so headstrong. And for that, he’ll give Silverspeak exactly one minute to fight without any resistance.

Silverspeak tears into Mangus, but he can’t kill him. And when the minute is up, Mangus uses his magic to fight back, equipped with a staff that acts as a spear, throwing Silverspeak around like a rag doll, ripping the very earth apart around them. And as the sun gets closer, the two watch as the oceans, forests, ground, and mountains rise up, ripped apart by the incredible gravity. But Mangus is able to cast a spell that protects the both of them. They get a front-seat view of the end of the world. And as they fight, Mangus easily overpowers Silverspeak. He’s about to deliver the killing blow when the Raven suddenly flies in, Beakbreaker having tracked Silverspeak’s signal. As it swerves in, Mangus easily destroys it, Beakbreaker leaping out, but Gusty, having gotten his last flight, is killed. 

Landing, Beakbreaker attacks Mangus with the heaviest weapons she could mount onto her power armor. She hurts Mangus, but can’t kill him. He destroys the ground beneath them both, and all three fall onto a slope, and then a ledge above a giant, underground vein of lava. There Mangus fights Silverspeak again, tearing his body in half, and destroying all but one of his legs, and one of his wings, crippling him. He taunts Silverspeak, asking if this is what he wanted. Everything he’s ever worked for has led to ruin and death. The technology he helped birth gave the General the weapons he needed to overrun the continent and kill so many. That’s his legacy: Death, destruction, and ruin, and giving Mangus everything he needed to win.

Beakbreaker launches a final attack. Annoyed, Mangus grabs her and starts to crush her from the outside in. Enraged, Silverspeak breaks through the spell stopping his magic, and uses what little remains of his magic to pound Mangus, stunning him. Grabbing the spear, he impales Mangus and tells him that he’ll never hurt his family, or anyone else, ever again, and uses the last of his magic to yanks out Mangus’ head and spike, finally killing Mangus Bluehorn once and for all, his lifeless corpse plunging into the lava below.

The final fight between Mangus and Silverspeak underwent some substantial changes: Initially, I wanted to go all out and have Mangus become almost godlike from having absorbed some of Celestia’s powers, including having his skin turning into cracked lava from holding so much sun magic, and destroying everything around him for miles with a wave of his hoof. However, the fight eventually got too big and too ornate, and I toned it down to try and create something a little more grounded, while still being able to show off a bit.

I moved the earth being ripped apart to take place after the fight, so as to make Silverspeak and Beakbreaker’s desperate rush to free Celestia more exciting.

Originally, Silverspeak was not going to die during the fight, but the opportunity to have him be emotionally crushed and then briefly visit the spiritual realm was too intriguing to pass up. While there, he was originally going to be greeted by Celestia’s spirit, who would be disguised as a generic alicorn of light, but one that was lit from within as if by the sun’s rays, who would wordlessly encourage him to go back. But again, I realized that it would be better to save Celestia’s appearance until later, and only have the faintest hint of her show up beforehand (with her encased inside the amber). Thus, she was removed, and Silverspeak instead just felt a presence instead. Aware of how touchy spiritual things can be in fiction, I worked to keep everything about the spiritual world in the ‘Monster’ trilogy to not have any religious associations.

When I was revising the first ‘Monster’ story, I removed some curses that Silverspeak and Beakbreaker said because I wanted Silverspeak’s last words to Mangus to be the only time explicit language was used in the trilogy, and I couldn’t think of any other place to use it for maximum effect than before Silverspeak kills Mangus for good.

The spell shielding Beakbreaker and Mangus falls away, and the sun’s gravity takes hold, yanking them up into the sky with the rest of the rubble. Desperate, the two fight to reach other, finally grabbing hold with their legs, clutching each other as they fly up to their death... but then something happens. Everything freezes. Then the mountains, oceans, and rubble falls back to earth, Silverspeak and Beakbreaker included. They clutch each other as tightly as they can. And just before they hit, Silverspeak looks up to see something shooting towards them.

Blackness.

Once again, Celestia’s appearance was pushed back to keep her first full appearance later on. However, I did struggle with how to have Silverspeak and Beakbreaker survive Celestia reversing the sun’s gravity. Doing so would stop everything from floating up, but also send it all crashing back down to earth, and while it is poetically satisfying to have Celestia rescue Silverspeak after he freed her, the odds that Celestia would spot him and Beakbreaker among all the destruction and save them are laughably small. Thus, after trying and failing to come up with a satisfactory answer, I decided to keep things vague in the final story about how the two survived.

Silverspeak wakes up in a hospital bed. He’s alive. Intact, even. No sing of Beakbreaker. But Luna’s there. She assures him that she’s fine. Everything’s over. But how? What happened? Celestia managed to tear free of the crystal and stop the sun from incinerating the planet. The attack worked, and the General’s forces have been defeated. Celestia’s been busy freeing all the cyborgs and returning them to normal. But it’s been a long process... five years, to be exact. Silverspeak and Beakbreaker have been in stasis that entire time. Silverspeak needed it more due to his illness, but Beakbreaker was put under, too, so she wouldn’t have to wait without him. But why was he awakened? Silverspeak asks Luna. She smiles.

I changed it so that Silverspeak is only in a coma for a short time instead of five years so he would be able to help with the reconstruction efforts, and did the same for Beakbreaker. With all the medical help that would be needed after the war, having her spend years dozing away felt selfish and out of character.

Luna was also changed to Chrysalis because in real life, she’d be enraged at Silverspeak for what he had done, and I wanted to avoid a big conflict after the climax. Having Chrysalis take her place let her be seen well on the path to redeeming herself, as well as indulging in the humor of having the queen of the changelings be a glorified babysitter while Silverspeak was unconscious.

Luna takes Silverspeak out of the partially rebuilt Canterlot hospital, and to the gardens. It’s the first green Silverspeak has seen in a long time. There, Luna leaves him. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. And then he sees someone walking towards him, and he’s speechless.

It’s Celestia.

Silverspeak bows, but Celestia has him stand. He doesn’t need to bow to her. She’s heard so much about him, and she still remembers the letter he sent her, and the one she sent back. She’s wanted to meet him, and now finally has a chance to do so. But first things first... using her magic, she removes the cancer infecting his brain, healing him. But while his body is healed, Silverspeak’s mind isn’t... what Mangus said has stuck with him. He realizes that all he’ll ever be seen as is someone who led to the deaths of so many. His life, long as it has been, has inflicted so much pain. But Celestia stops him. Silverspeak is not responsible for what others have done with the technology he helped give to the world. And that technology is now being used to rebuild that world. If he and Beakbreaker hadn’t done what they did so many years ago, it’s possible that Equestria could never be rebuilt. He hasn’t doomed the world: he’s saved it.

Overwhelmed, Silverspeak collapses and cries, Celestia holding him in her legs. Eventually, he quiets down, relieved as never before. And then Beakbreaker is there, relieved to see her husband healed and whole once more. Celestia then says that she’s heard the two were once interested in adopting a child. She knows just the one, and brings out a small foal who lost her parents, and needs a mother and a father. Silverspeak and Beakbreaker accept.

It was a daunting task to write Silverspeak finally meeting Celestia, and while it was tempting to have the meeting go on for quite a long time, I decided to go with a shorter, more condensed scene, as I didn’t want to risk stretching it out too long and becoming too sentimental and syrupy, so to speak.

I added a bit of Celestia giving Silverspeak the opportunity to use his talents to help heal those who had been mentally traumatized by the war, as I realized that having Silverspeak be absolved of everything he’d done without having any long-term consequences felt unrealistic.

Epilogue

50 years later, Silverspeak awakens in his Canterlot apartment. He dresses himself for a fancy event. Though very old, even by Equestrian standards, and with large wrinkles and a faded mane, he’s happy. Today is a very special day. He goes to a church, where his daughter is finally getting married to the stallion she loves, complete with kids. She wishes that Beakbreaker were with them, and Silverspeak assures her that she is. He has a feeling she’s happy with her.

Originally, Beakbreaker was going to die of old age during the time jump, as I wanted the series to end by focusing exclusively on Silverspeak during his final day of life, with Beakbreaker appearing shortly after he died. However, I realized that, having come this far, Beakbreaker deserved to be part of the ending as well, as she was spared from death one last time.

While I toyed around with the idea of Silverspeak living to 125 thanks to his cyborg body, I eventually decided that such an advanced age felt a little too old, and dialed it back so that he died at 105 instead.

Gold Wing was originally going to be married and head off on her honeymoon at the end of the story, but when the chapter was written to include those events, it felt like we spent very little time getting to know her or her own family, which made her departure have less of an emotional impact. Thus, I rewrote her chapter from scratch so that she’s preparing to leave Canterlot and giving both Silverspeak and Beakbreaker one day to spend with her and her family.

Silverspeak, the guest of honor, watches his adopted daughter at the reception, and even signs a few autographs from ponies who recognize and are in awe of him. But eventually, things quiet down. He says goodbye to his daughter and her new family, and heads off to the castle gardens, and goes to a familiar bench near a quiet, secluded area overlooking Equestria. From up here, he has a wonderful view of the towers and gleaming, sparkling cities that have been built with the help of both technology, and the relics from the ancient civilization, all under the most beautiful sunset he’s ever seen.

He hears someone coming. Looking over, he’s surprised to see his granddaughter coming up, and in tears. He helps her onto the bench and asks what’s wrong. She says she’s been teased by some bullies at school about how she’s a useless Earth pony. She wants to be like him, strong and powerful and able to do whatever she wants. Drawing on a lifetime of experiences, Silverspeak tells her that a very wise pony once told him that everyone can use the gifts they have to make the world a beautiful place. And she was right. His granddaughter doesn’t know what her special talent is, but when she does, she should follow her dream and use it to help make the world a better place.

Comforted, Silverspeak’s granddaughter thanks him, gives him a kiss, and heads on home. Moments later, someone else walks up. It’s Princess Celestia, and she’s proud that Silverspeak remembered the letter she sent him. Silverspeak thanks her for coming. She says it’s an honor; she even made this sunset just for him.

Silverspeak looks down to the small headstone of his beloved Beakbreaker and sighs. He’s old... very old. If it wasn’t for his mechanical body, he’d be long gone. Celestia quietly says that he wants to be with her, doesn’t he? He nods. Celestia’s magic has helped him live thanks to countering the effects of the brain cancer that would have otherwise killed him long ago, but now that he’s seen his child start a new phase of her life, he’s ready to let go.

Gathering Silverspeak in her legs, Celestia holds him tight as she readies to remove her magic. He asks if it will hurt. She promises that it won’t, and thanks Silverspeak for everything he’s done for Equestria.

Using her magic, Celestia removes the block around the cancer. Silverspeak sighs and closes his eyes, like one who has been awake a very long time, and can finally rest. But something happens. He feels so much lighter and alive. Opening his eyes, he finds himself in the garden, and looks around to see Celestia with his body. He’s died.

Hearing something, Silverspeak turns, and finds Beakbreaker and his parents waiting for him, all three of them young once again, and in the prime of life. Overjoyed, and crying in happiness, he reunites with them. And then, without the need for wings, they all fly off into the sky, heading into the sunset, and then beyond it, and Silverspeak is happy and content at last.

The End.

If there’s one scene every writer dreads doing, it’s the moment when their main characters die. You have only one chance to get it right, and messing it up can ruin even the best story. As stated above, Silverspeak was originally going to be by himself during his death scene, with Beakbreaker only showing up after he had died, and so I made it so that Beakbreaker died with him. But when the time came, I realized there was a problem I hadn’t considered before: Just how does a cyborg die of old age? I had originally planned for Celestia – at Silverspeak and Beakbreaker’s request – to remove the spell containing the tumor so that Silverspeak and Beakbreaker would then die from thirty years of tumor growth suddenly spreading out all at once. However, when I wrote this, it felt more like Silverspeak and Beakbreaker were committing suicide, which was something I wanted to avoid.

After trying to figure out exactly how Silverspeak and Beakbreaker were going to die, I decided to have Celestia neither help them die, or help them live by not renewing the spells, and letting nature take its course. In addition, I had Silverspeak’s parents appear to tell him that he’ll be dying soon, which was inspired by stories of the terminally ill somehow knowing exactly when they’re going to die, including one story I was told by an acquaintance about how his elderly mother, without any warning or foreshadowing, one day took off her jewelry (which she never did), lay down in bed, and died without appearing to be sick or ill.

In the final version of the story, the ending was changed from Celestia’s garden to a spiritual meadow with a sunset, and Silverspeak’s parents and all the other supporting characters were implied to be waiting for him and Beakbreaker, with Chrysalis being a last second addition, due to loving the idea of her redeeming herself enough to make it to the great beyond. (In case you’re curious, Mangus is... well, he’s not in the great beyond, but I prefer to think that one day, many centuries from now, he’ll finally have another chance to live again, but not before he’s been forced to feel the pain he inflicted on others, and learn that being a genocidal, would-be conqueror is a very bad thing).

Finally, Silverspeak and Beakbreaker’s parents came to meet them in the meadow before leading them to whatever lies beyond, but I removed them because I wanted the focus of the very last chapter to be on the two characters that we had followed for six years. And in case you’re wondering, yes, I did tear up while writing it.