A Light in the Darkness
Shining the Enduring
A curious chill drifted through the Crystal Spire, cutting through heavy curtains and leaky windows alike. From his vantage point on one of the balconies, Shining Armor welcomed the cool tendrils as they wrapped around him, keeping him awake and alert despite his fatigue.
Looking out, he could see much of the city, which twinkled with dimmed streetlamps and the occasional lit window telling of other ponies still awake at such a late hour.
In a perfect world, he would have been soundly asleep some time ago, snuggled up against the soft form of his wife, Cadance. She was such a key part of his life, and it was all he could do to feel worthy of being in her presence, let alone be married to her.
It hadn’t always been that way. There had been a time he’d felt confident, and sure of anything. As the Captain of the Royal Guard, marrying a princess had been a bit of a stretch, but it had also felt right, somehow, especially when he’d known her for years.
Cadance was gone that evening, their bed cold and empty. While not without cause - she’d been called to Canterlot on an emergency – it was an increasingly familiar occurrence for him to be left out of more important things.
“Can’t sleep again, sir?”
Shining looked back, spotting the approaching form of Edge Sheen, the head of the night watch and third-in-command of the Crystal Guards.
“Just keeping an eye on things,” Shining replied, hoping to keep the interaction cordial but short. He didn’t feel like delving into his recent bouts of insomnia, something he’d taken great pains to keep hidden from Cadance. “Any news to report?”
“Quiet as can be, sir,” the pegasus – the only one on the night shift – replied. “Almost too quiet.”
The faint prickle of unease Shining had been ignoring bubbled up in his gut. “It does feel like things are under some sort of spell, doesn’t it?”
“That it does. I suppose if we were normal ponies, this would seem like any other night, but I can’t recall a night that felt like this.”
One of the oddities that came with living in the Crystal Empire was accepting that most of the ponies you interacted with had been frozen in time for lifetimes. Edge Sheen was technically younger than he was, and yet her experience stretched back further than he liked to imagine.
Having come to distrust his own instincts, hearing that she was feeling the same thing he had been was something of a relief.
At least I’m not wrong all the time, he thought, before replying, “Tell the Guard to be alert for anything out of the ordinary."
A silly order on its face – of course the Guard was on the alert for things that were out of the ordinary! – but one that Edge understood. It was distinct from telling her to put the Guard on a high alert, which would have meant rousing sleeping ponies and making their presence very visible. Having them paying closer attention just meant that the Guard would be a little more alert than the night usually warranted.
“It will be done, sir.”
“Thank you. Dismissed.”
She saluted before departing, leaving Shining alone with his thoughts once more.
Why did ponies listen to him? Was it just because of his title, an incidental thing that came solely from his marriage to Cadance, and not because of any real merit on his part? He’d at least earned the role of Captain of the Royal Guard, even if he’d screwed things up enough that he no longer considered himself worthy to hold the position.
But nopony seemed to consider those screw-ups as much as he did. Following the fiasco with the Changelings at his wedding, Princess Celestia had refused to accept his resignation, insisting that he retire as originally planned, with benefits and privileges intact.
His life had felt like a comedy of errors since that day. From getting himself incapacitated during the fight with Sombra, to the almost-disastrous Equestria Games, to not simply blasting Discord out of Canterlot when he’d shown up with Tirek, his once formidable confidence had taken blow after blow.
When he took those things into account, it made sense that the Princesses didn’t call on him to help.
I’d probably just screw things up anyway.
When Tirek had taken his magic, it had done more than leave the unicorn drained. It had also resurfaced all the repressed feelings of anxiety and helplessness that he’d suffered under Chrysalis’s dark influence.
He’d hoped he’d gotten over that, had tried his best to not think about it, even going so far as to avoid the subject with Cadance when she tried bringing it up. But it hadn’t worked, and now he felt like he was sinking ever deeper into a bottomless pit, and it was all he could do to not give in and let the darkness claim him.
He spent another hour on the balcony in silence, watching the stars, before he felt tired enough to possibly try for a few hours of sleep.
The guards in the hallways all saluted respectfully as he passed, making his way to the rooms he shared with Cadance. He returned their salutes with curt nods, not looking for any further conversations if he could help it. Not tonight.
As he entered the Royal Suite, that faint prickling feeling he’d felt earlier returned. He ignored it; the feeling wasn’t a new one when it came to these rooms.
After much pleading, Cadance had finally given up trying to get his input on the décor, and had simply told the decorators to do what they wanted. That had led to an elegant, well-coordinated style, one that had been all the rage in the home fashion magazines of Canterlot and Manehattan.
He’d told Cadance that it was fine, but in truth, Shining hated how their rooms looked. Everything felt too neat, too perfect, serving as a reminder of everything he wasn’t. Stepping in here always made him feel like he was going to put a hoof wrong any second. When Cadance was here, he could ignore such feelings; her beauty was enough to distract from greater problems than décor, but with her absence he was forced to focus on the nauseatingly artificial look of the room.
In Shining’s view, the homes of married couples were supposed to have eclectic pieces, or odd curios, or ‘that one ugly chair that was too comfortable to get rid of’. That was how his family home had been, and while he recognized that being royalty came with certain expectations, these were their private chambers. Any guests they entertained were either family or very good friends, the kind unlikely to be concerned about something less than perfect. But Cadance seemed to like it as it was, and with that in mind he had forced himself to try and be content.
He continued through the sitting room and private dining room into their bedroom, which smelled of jasmine and rosewater, the comforting scents of his wife. Now that he was alone – truly alone – he felt safe to let all his enchantments drop, including the beauty ones that nopony even suspected he would use.
Walking slowly over to the mirror that Cadance used each morning, his true visage was revealed. Dark bags hung under his bloodshot eyes, his irises seemingly hazy from fatigue. Edge Sheen might have noticed that he’d been having trouble sleeping, but she didn’t know the half of it; he hadn’t slept well in months, a mixture of stress and night terrors keeping his eyes open as long as he could manage. Cadance had taught him the beauty mask spell long ago, when they’d used it to hide the evidence of late nights spent together in the Canterlot Gardens.
He’d never dreamed he would need it for a scenario like this.
Luna had recently taken to helping him to dispel the worst of the terrors, something which had him feeling equal parts thankful and ashamed. He knew he needed her help, but he hated that it was necessary at all. There were plenty of other ponies more deserving of her help – he was sure of it.
I’m just glad she was willing to be discreet. I’ve already disappointed Cadance enough for one lifetime.
Turning away from the mirror, his tired eyes fell on the fire crackling in the hearth, which looked warm and inviting. And yet, somehow, the room still felt cold. Far colder than it should have.
He felt the hairs of his mane tense on his neck. This was more than discomfort over the décor. He now had the distinct feeling that he was not alone in this most private of rooms.
A lesser stallion than Shining might have started to shake from nerves, or simply left the room outright, but for all his self-doubt, the core of a Royal Guard still beat in his chest. Seizing a poker from the fireplace in his magic, he brought it to bear in front of him as he slowly made his way around the room.
The windows were securely fastened, as was the door to the balcony. His check behind the curtains and in the walk-in closet were likewise fruitless. But that itch continued to bother him.
His tired eyes narrowed as he focused on the one spot he had yet to check: the bed. As he pondered the best way to look underneath – bending down and poking his snout under it seemed like a particularly stupid idea – the lights in the room flickered and died, leaving only the light of the fire and the faint pinkish glow from his magic that surrounded the poker.
Then the fire died as well, snuffed out by some unseen force.
He slowly walked backward until his hindquarters were against a wall, his eyes sweeping back and forth in the new darkness. Lowering the poker, to try and give his eyes a chance to adjust to the lack of light, he strained to hear anything over the low roar of blood pumping through his ears.
There was courage, and there was stupidity, and being in a room with a possible assailant, largely unarmed with no armor for defense, leaned heavily toward the latter. Trying to move quietly, he started to sidestep toward the door, keeping his eyes peeled for any movement.
He caught the faint snick of the doors locking, the sound confirming that he wasn’t alone. Whatever was in the room could see him, had known he was trying to leave.
“Shining Armor…” a voice hissed.
He strained his ears further, trying to determine where the sound had come from.
“Shining Armor…” it repeated, sounding closer this time.
“I don’t have time for games,” he called out. “What do you want?”
The voice chuckled, a sinuous, rasping noise. “We want several things…but we shall settle for your head!”
It was instinct that saved him. He dove to the side just in time to miss the large scorpion’s tail that swung where his head had been only moments before. The stinger impacted on the crystal wall with a sharp thud, cracking it and sending shards everywhere.
As he scrabbled to his hooves, he looked up in time to see a shimmering black creature appear by the fireplace, with eyes that glinted in the faint aura from his horn.
Aware how woeful his weapon was, Shining nonetheless swung out with the poker, trying to score a hit on the monster.
He was rewarded with a cry of pain when the point of the poker drove into the body of the beast, though it was short lived. The monster batted the poker away with one heavy paw, throwing it to clatter against the far wall. Recognizing he was still in an unwinnable scenario, Shining continued backing toward the doors, intent on kicking them down if need be.
Spotting this, the monster leapt to stop him. Shining fell to the floor, feeling the icy cold breath of the beast as it passed over his neck. It slammed into the doors, the force of the impact breaking them out of their frame.
Conscious of the thrashing tail, Shining got back to his hooves, leaping over the monster and re-entering the well-lit dining room. He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes as he continued moving toward the entrance to the sitting room, determined to reach the guards outside.
The monster charged at him, leaping up and crushing the table, a trail of destruction trailing in its wake. Shining forced open the doors to the sitting room and continued onward, firing a few blasts from his horn as he ran. The energy bounced off the creature, the ricochets burning into couches and other decorations.
“No, no, you can’t escape!” the creature screamed. With a swing of its mighty tail, it flung one of the heavy sofas through the air, sending it crashing against the doors and wedging it against the wall, blocking Shining’s exit.
With nowhere left to run, Shining turned to face his attacker, getting a real look at the beast for the first time in proper light.
A manticore? He’d thought the beasts were merely creatures of legend, but the monster currently staring at him was very real. The head was that of a pony, the eyes cruel and intelligent, paired with the body of a lion and tail of a scorpion.
And somehow it had gotten in the Spire, past all the guards and enchantments. Sheer curiosity, mixed with a need to stall for time, prompted his next words.
“Why do you want to kill me?” he asked.
The manticore growled. “It is not for you to concern yourself with the doings of the demon realm.”
“The demon realm?” He started to slide away from the door, ever so slowly, keeping his body tensed to leap if were necessary. The manticore tracked his movements, but otherwise remained in place.
“Celestia fought us off once before, but that was long ago, at the height of her power. Centuries of peace have left her weak, while we have only grown stronger. And we came prepared. Four demons, one for each of your foolish princesses.”
Shining felt a burst of fear for his wife and sister, but he pushed it back down, focusing on the threat in front of him. “And they sent you to kill me?”
“Of course,” the creature hissed. “If we are to leave Equestria truly leaderless, then you cannot be allowed to live, princeling. Ponies would rally around you in an endless rebellion.” It raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Surely, a leader such as yourself could have guessed at this? Are you truly surprised to find yourself a target?”
“You haven’t done your research very well,” Shining replied, continuing to move to the right. “Any ponies that tried to follow me would quickly realize what a bad idea that was and look for another leader.”
The manticore’s eyes narrowed. “You jest, princeling. Your ponies would follow you into the depths of Tartarus itself, because you would be at their head, never yielding, never faltering.”
“You mistake the Guard with ordinary ponies,” he replied, trying to judge the odds he could make it back to the bedroom to escape through one of the windows. He knew his teleportation was lousy, but there was a possibility, however faint, that with his current motivation he might manage a short one to another balcony.
He would take a faint hope over certain death.
Hooves began to beat on the door to the suite, the guards outside trying to get in. When the manticore turned to look at the door, distracted, Shining made a break for it.
He made it roughly halfway across the dining room before tripping on one of the strewn bits of furniture, falling to his chest and earning several cuts from the wood shards scattered on the floor. Without thinking, he cast his shield spell, the pink dome appearing over his prone form just in time to stop the manticore from stabbing him with its tail.
The manticore shrieked, bringing the tail down again and again, only to be repelled each time, growing angrier with every blow. As Shining got back to his hooves, he felt a flicker of pride at annoying the beast so well. He might be a failure in many respects, but his shield spells were second-to-nopony.
“Arrogant fool! Accept your fate with dignity!”
Shining wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his predicament, but he knew the game couldn’t go on forever. The shield drew on his own personal stores of energy, stores that he’d been depleting for months between his insomnia and his near-constant use of masking spells. He guessed he could keep it up for no more than a minute before he’d be too exhausted to hold the manticore off, and then that would be it.
As last stands went, it wasn’t bad. Being murdered in your own chambers was embarrassing, sure, but being killed by a thought-to-be-mythical creature had to count for something.
No, he thought. Buck that! An ember of anger formed in his chest. If I'm going to die, I want to go down fighting!
The pounding on the doors intensified, which seemed to spur the manticore onto greater efforts. Shining could only watch as his shield began to crack, buckling under the strain as he struggled to keep it fed with magic.
A bright flash of light to his left followed by the sound of an explosion drew the attention of both attacker and erstwhile victim. Shining had just enough time to catch a glimpse of an orange blur before it slammed into the manticore, sending it sprawling.
“Your Highness, get to the door!” Edge Sheen shouted, putting herself between Shining’s faltering shield and the manticore, which was thrashing about on its back.
Shining let his shield drop, and started to pull her with him into the sitting room. Having just been granted an unexpected extension on life, his mind was racing. “We need to get the door unblocked before we can get out of here. Think you can budge that sofa?”
She glanced at him only briefly, keeping her focus on the threat. “I’m a pegasus, not an earth pony, sir.”
“Right. And I’m guessing you can’t carry me out.”
A nervous giggle. “No offense, Your Highness, but…”
He grinned despite the situation, feeling strangely alive. “Then you get to be the distraction. Keep that thing occupied, would you?”
Leaving her to the task, Shining quickly ran to the couch, shoving his shoulder against it. The enormous thing barely budged.
Next time, I pick the furniture.
He heard the manticore snarl, and dared to glance back.
Edge Sheen was leading the creature through a merry dance, zigging and zagging around the chandeliers as she dodged the swinging tail. He briefly admired the talent on display before trying to budge the sofa again.
“Uh, sir, if you can hurry up!?” Edge yelled.
“Doing my best!” he shouted back. He squinted his eyes, trying to combine what little magic he could summon with another shove. It wasn’t enough.
“Sir, I don’t think I can-“ Edge began, before cutting off at the same time a loud clanging noise echoed out. He turned just in time to see her sailing across the dining room, where she slammed into the wall above the hearth with a sickening crunch. The manticore bellowed a challenge, obviously having clipped her with its thrashing tail.
Seeing one of the ponies who had sworn to give their life for his thrown like that broke through the chains that Shining had spent years forging for himself. Self-pity and despair, his two familiar companions, found themselves set ablaze in the fire that sprung up in his heart. He didn’t care if his magic was spent. He didn’t care if he’d failed time and time again.
He was going to stop that manticore, no matter the cost.
“Beast!” he called out, steadily approaching the manticore with fire in his eyes. “Your quarrel is with me.”
The manticore, which had been advancing on Edge’s fallen form, stopped, turning its head to look at Shining.
“Excellent,” it hissed.
Shining smiled. With his magic surging from his anger, he reached out behind the manticore, picking up two wooden shards from the ruined dining table, their edges jagged. Then, with two deft slashes, he sliced at the hind legs of the monster.
It screamed, falling to its stomach as its hind legs gave out from the pain.
He slashed again, taking out its forelegs and leaving it stuck on the floor. Then he turned, picking up one of the stone slabs that made up the coffee tables in the sitting room. A small part of his brain reminded him that it had taken four ponies to set those in place, a thought he idly acknowledged as he repurposed the slab for something more immediately important than holding drinks.
Bringing it to hover over the manticore’s body, he didn’t hesitate before letting it drop. It landed square on, punctuated by the noise of cracking bones, drawing more screams from the beast.
Straining once more, Shining raised the slab as much as he could before letting it drop again. There was a crunch as one of the manticore’s forelegs snapped, pinned as it was by the weight of the stone. Its cries grew louder, and tears poured from its pain-wracked face.
In other circumstances, Shining might have felt pity for the creature. In that moment, however, he had only one thought in his mind.
Kill.
As the manticore struggled under the stone, Shining decided that the tail had to be next to go. He used his magic to rip one of the metal torch holders from the wall, aimed the sharp lower edge at the base where the tail met the manticore’s back, and stabbed downward.
Blood and smoke spurted out of the fresh wound, but Shining did not relent. He brought the holder down again, and again, until the tail was fully severed.
“Mercy! Have mercy!” the creature screamed, fear pouring from its eyes.
“Mercy?” Shining blinked, frowning. The rage that had seized him ebbed, if only a little, leaving him more in control of his instincts. He glared down at the manticore, the harsh overhead light and the expression on his face making him a great and terrible figure to behold. “Why should I show you mercy?”
“We…we do not have a reason to give you. We can only beg for your mercy!”
Shining studied the creature’s eyes, looking for any hint of remorse, but there was none. Only deceit and hate shone in their depths. Any mercy he could extend would be met by betrayal.
“You may not have chosen your lot in life, but you chose to try to end mine.” He glanced over at Edge Sheen, who still hadn’t moved. “And hers as well.”
With a flare of magic, Shining broke the manticore’s neck, using the same method he’d taught to Cadance during those nights in the gardens all those years ago. The room fell quiet as the creature exhaled in death, with only the continued hoofbeats on the door as a backdrop.
As the magical surge he’d been experiencing started to ebb with his fading adrenaline, he made his way over to check on Edge, who was stirring fitfully on the ground.
“Edge?”
She mumbled something, not quite awake yet.
“Commander Sheen!” he barked, dropping into his Command Voice, something calculated to rouse any sleeping soldier.
Her eyes flew open, and she immediately tried to get to her hooves before he stopped her, dropping his voice back to normal.
“It’s okay,” he said, meaning it. “It’s dead.”
She craned her neck anyway, and he stepped aside to let her get a glimpse of the crumpled beast.
“Good,” she spat, letting her head flop back. “Sorry I was late.”
“By my recollection you came just in time to save my flank,” he said, letting out a nervous laugh. “Now, there’s no way being thrown like that didn’t leave a mark. What hurts?”
“Left wing is definitely broken,” she said, gritting her teeth. “My left foreleg hurts too, but I’m hoping it’s just a bruise.”
One glance at her wing was all he needed to know it was beyond merely broken, but he didn’t want to stress her out more than she already was, especially if she was hyped up enough on adrenaline to not really feel the injury. He was trained in first aid, but lacking any supplies, there wasn't much more he could do than to keep her calm.
Finally roused, the other two pegasi members of the Guard flew through the ruined window, trying to look sharp and ready for action. From their disheveled appearance he could tell they’d been out on the town earlier.
“Get that sofa out of the way!” he barked, jerking his head toward the doors. “And someone get the medics up here! Commander Sheen’s been hurt.”
“Yes, Your Highness!” they replied, doing as he’d ordered. His sharp ears didn’t fail to catch the mutterings of ‘did he kill that thing?’ or ‘what in Tartarus is that?’, but he didn’t have the energy to reprimand them for losing focus. Besides, he wasn’t exactly focused himself. As the crash started to hit him, he sat down on against the wall, doing his best to breathe slowly and not pass out from exhaustion.
He wasn’t too worried about that last part. If there was one thing he could do, it was endure.
He'd proven that several times over.