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The Chronicles of Swarm: The Equestrian Front

by kildeez

Chapter 65: Chapter LXV: Wrapping Up

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“And so ends another chapter in the Chronicles,” Michael hummed, looking over every line of data in the server before returning it to its place, hidden in a pocket of subspace behind the nether. He cracked his neck and turned to his brother, the man in the business suit gazing over the large, pink orb before him, occasionally tapping his fingers to some near-invisible chink in its armor. “How’s that coming?”

“Almost…there. A job well done, if I do say so myself,” Chen beamed with pride, standing back from the orb. “That should keep the veil around Equestria whole, just like when we arrived! Though we should check in every once in a little while, just to be sure.”

“Yeah, just to be sure,” Michael sighed, taking a seat in the cosmic dust gathering around their feet. Chen turned from his work on the veil around Equestria and rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder, trying to smile reassuringly.

“We did the best we could.” The man in the business suit said.

“But was it enough? After all the lives we destroyed and lost, was it enough?”

“We didn’t destroy anything,” Chen replied coldly. “It was Mars. He’s the one who dared bring our war to this world.”

“Yes, but we’re the ones who didn’t even realize there WAS a war until barely a week ago! And we just now figured out it was him! I mean, he’s my son, dammit! There must’ve been some sign we missed, something to warn us about this…darkness brewing within him…” the demigod trailed off, eyes lowering as he fought back the craving for another goddamned cigarette.

Chen wrapped his brother in a hug, smiling as the other demigod stiffened in his grip. The man still wasn’t comfortable with ‘dudes hugging it out,’ as he called it. “Even if there was some sign, would you really have believed it was him before seeing him at the head of that army?”

Michael sighed shakily, cursing himself for devolving into this shaking, jittery mess of a man.

“Of course you wouldn’t. The Princess told me what happened during your first encounter outside Coltton. Even seeing him in that uniform with that army at his back wasn’t enough for you; it took Bannon’s disembodied head for you to realize just how far he’d fallen.”

“I’m an idiot,” Michael grumbled. “It was right in front of me, and even then he had to literally shove it in my face for me to realize what was going on.”

“No, you’re just loving,” Chen smiled, straightening himself up. “Mars was…IS your son. I doubt there is anything that could change that.”

“Maybe,” Michael replied as a strange tapping sound approached. A smile crossed his lips as he pulled free of Chen’s grip. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” He cooed.

Dietrich limped towards the pair, his usually perfectly-pressed tux in tatters over his body and the darkest of glares on his face as he approached, cradling one arm in his hand.

“Brother!” Chen said with a smart little smile. “Whatever happened to you? You look like you tried to hop in bed with a sun goddess!”

“Close, but not quite,” Dietrich grimaced. “Did you two want to take much longer in getting me out of zere!?”

“Yes, actually; but we were overstaying our welcome as it was,” Michael replied, waggling a fingertip in his European counterpart’s face. “Seriously man, the fuck is wrong with you!? Sleeping with a pony!?”

“CHANGELING, not pony, zere is a difference,” the blonde replied, absentmindedly popping his elbow back into place with a loud crack.

“Oh?” The American folded his arms. “And what, pray tell, would that be?”

“Ponies can’t transform zemselves into perfect copies of golden-era Marilyn Monroe.” He replied plainly.

Michael opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again, his extended finger traveling to his chin in thought. After a few moments, he shrugged. “Welp, can’t say I’ve got an argument against that.”

“You’re taking his side on this!?” Chen gasped indignantly.

“Hey! All rules about dealing with native populations aside, it’s Marilyn-freakin’-Monroe.”

“Bah,” Chen waved the pair off in disgust. “Westerners and their cocks.”

Mimicking his brother with a grin on his face, Michael raised one of his hands. “Bah, Easterners and their prudence…”

Suddenly, his Peacemaker fell right out of its holster, slamming hammer-first into the semi-existent floor of the nether and going off. Chen immediately fell, clenching his elbow as blood pooled on his sleeve. “Shénme shì dìyù!” The man in the business suit screamed, teeth clenched in pain as he set about sealing the wound.

“Oh my God, Chen!” Michael gasped, nearly jumping at the sound of his own weapon.

“What the hell, Mikey!?” Dietrich screamed, his rapier appearing in his hand on instinct. “You get into a little spat vith your brother, and you fucking shoot him!?”

“I didn’t mean…Chen!” The man in the leather jacket took a few steps towards his injured brother. “Chen, are you…”

He was interrupted when Dietrich’s rapier blade suddenly twisted into a downwards slash, slicing right through his Achilles tendon. “GODDAMMIT!” Michael screamed, dropping to his knees and clutching at his injured ankle, blood spilling between his fingers.

“Oh my God, Mike! I…I didn’t…it vasn’t me!” Dietrich gasped, sheathing his weapon.

“What in the hell is going on!?” Chen barked as he stepped towards his brothers, still holding his injured elbow at an elevated angle to stem the bleeding and aid his natural healing process. And then something tweaked a nerve in his good arm and sent it flying forward just as a sting in his leg tripped him up. Stumbling wildly, he didn’t notice what was happening until after his knuckles connected with Dietrich’s throat in a perfect clothesline jab.

“Shit! Dietrich!” He yelled as he fought to regain his balance

“Jee-he-zus…” the blonde wheezed, dropping to his knees and spitting up some of the contents of his stomach, one hand wrapped around his Adam’s apple.

“What in the flying dick is going on here!?” Michael screamed, waiting as a spurt of gray goo covered his ankle. “It’s like a ‘Three Stooges’ sketch!”

“If that is ze case,” Dietrich rasped, smiling despite feeling like he’d just swallowed a whole pineapple, skin included. “Then you are Curly.”

“Fuck you, man, I’m Moe. If anything, you’re Curly!”

“Guys, be quiet,” Chen said calmly, looking about. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Just…shhh, listen…” the trio shut their mouths and listened, ears tuned to the sounds of the nether all around them. Not that there were any sounds in the nether. At least, how we know sounds: by definition, there isn’t any air or other medium for them to travel through. However, the group was able to sense the abnormalities in the patterns of cosmic dust and background radiation drifting about, allowing them to sense just about anything within a very good chunk of the nether around them. After a while, the European and the American heard it too: something thin and light whipping about and darting this way and that at horrifying speeds. They recognized it instantly.

“NASREEN!” They all gasped at once.

“Oh shit, oh shit, she’s pissed, did anybody remember to check in with her like she asked!?” Michael gasped, panic rising in his eyes.

“I vas a bit busy to remember,” Dietrich replied sheepishly.

“Oh yeah, busy with what? Chrysalis’s pussy!?” Michael hissed angrily.

“Hey! You do not get to talk about Chrysalis zat way! And besides, she’s more of an ass…” Dietrich said just before a pair of cracks sounded and his rapier lifted itself right out of its sheath, promptly angling downwards to stab him right in the back. “…giiiiirrrRRRRRRRRLLAAAAAAAAAA!”

“Well, I most certainly remembered, because I had my mobile set to vibrate every hour on the hour to remind me to…” Chen drifted off as he felt into his suit’s pockets for the little device, and came up empty-handed. “…ooooooohhhhh that chaotic, prank-loving BASTARD!”

“Okay, Nasreen,” Michael held up his hands for calm as he eased himself to his feet. “Look, you’re pissed, and that’s understandable. But you must know we’d never leave you out of the loop on purpose, right? You must know that all of this is certainly the fault of outside circumstance, and not of our own silly absentmindedness, right?”

His only reply came when a few more little cracks sounded and his M1911 clattered out of its holster, going off the moment it hit the ground. “MYASS!” He screamed, dropping to the ground while blood spread across the seat of his jeans. “SHE SHOT ME IN THE ASS WITH MY OWN FUCKING GUN!”

“Chen! Talk some sense into her! She’s your nutty girlfriend!” Dietrich screamed, only to be met with silence.

“Chen?” Michael asked. The pair looked up in time to see the back of their compatriot’s suit jacket, disappearing into a cloud of cosmic dust.

“Coward! Come back here and face your woman like a man!” Dietrich screamed, shaking his fist after his brother’s fleeing form.

“Oh please, we’d both be right next to him if our legs weren’t disabled,” Michael grunted.

“Ja, true.”

A few more little whips and cracks, and a dark streak rocketed through the nether, landing right in front of the pair. The figure standing before them was in the shape of a slender woman in a navy-blue hijab, her face turned downwards, a pair of mean-looking bullwhips in her hands, lashing outwards at random intervals with miniscule flicks of the wrist from the woman’s shrouded hands.

“Hey, Nazzy,” Michael said, smiling sheepishly.

The woman’s face lifted from the floor, revealing a round visage with dark, Indian skin and wide-eyes that sparkled in the surreal light shed by the universes spinning all around them. To his relief, a gentle smile crossed her face. “Well hello Michael, and how are you?” She asked in a heavy Pashtun accent.

“Oh, fine, fine, besides the, y’know, BULLET IN MY ASS!” He screamed accusingly as he re-holstered his weapons.

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby, I warned you that I would be rather upset if you failed to keep me updated on the battle’s progress,” the woman replied with a huff, her eyes scanning the clouds around them. “And you, Dietrich: not even a greeting for your beloved sister?”

“I’m finding it razer hard to talk through the pain screaming through my throat, at the moment,” the man in the tattered tuxedo replied.

“Goodness, both of you! A little bit of roughhousing and you start crying like little girls,” she said jokingly, shaking her head as she continued peering around. “Now, would either of you mind telling me where my beloved boyfriend has gotten to?”

“We would mind a bit, ja,” Dietrich said, trying his best not to appear frightened.

“Sorry Naz; ‘bros before hoes’, an’ all that,” Michael said, his eyes widening before he clamped a hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Nasreen turned a piercing gaze on her American counterpart. “What was that?”

“Why would you say zat!?” Dietrich screamed accusingly. “You know how much of a psycho-bitch she can be when she’s mad!” Then his hand clamped over his own mouth, eyes also widening in terror.

“Now Nasreen,” Michael said, holding up his hands defensively as the whips picked up speed in the air around her. “I know you’re upset, but that’s no reason to…”

He didn’t even get to finish before the whips lashed out again, smacking the pistols right back out of their holsters. A few more cracks of the deadly weapons, and their hammers suddenly clicked back and forth, emptying the contents of their magazines as Michael was forced to dance clear, dodging his own gunshots. When the chambers clicked empty, the woman turned her attention on Dietrich, who clung to his rapier like a child with their favorite plushie. Smiling and shaking her head, she easily wrapped the whip around his body, pulling him in and kicking him into the air. Screaming, the blonde was helpless as she promptly kept him aloft with a series of lasso tricks, spinning him through the nether on a terrifying rollercoaster ride.

“HE RAN INTO ThE CLOUD! ZE ONE RIGHT OVER THERE, SHAPED LIKE ZE ANDROMEDA GALAXY!” The man screamed, his eyes clenched shut. Immediately, the whips stopped, and he crashed to the ground, eyes still closed, arms still wrapped around his weapon.

“Thank you!” The woman chimed as she twirled one of the whips in the air around her head, sending it right out into the cloud like a fisherman’s cast. She bit her tongue and frowned as she continued fishing, eyebrows hunched in concentration until something snagged. Smiling, she threw the whip over her shoulder, pulling with all her might until Chen came rocketing out, the whip’s end wrapped around his ankle.

“You sold me out, you bù zhíqián de jìnǚ de érzi!” He screamed as he was slammed repeatedly into the ground.

“Crazy bitch, eh?” She hissed, pulling him in for a roundhouse kick to the gut. “Might as well make it four months, hmm?”

“Nasreen, my love, I swear I have no idea what you’re…” she promptly silenced him with a leg sweep that slammed him on his rear end, finally finishing off by wrapping one of the whips around his ankles and dragging his limp form away.

“Well guess what, lover!” She screamed, a hand waving to summon a portal to their homeworld. “You like the couch so much; you can spend the next SIX months there!” Her voice boomed away into the nether as she stepped through, Chen’s unconscious body dragging behind her before it slammed shut again, leaving Michael and Dietrich alone in the barely-existent plane.

“Jesus,” Dietrich coughed, turning over as his wounds sealed themselves up. “Chen royally fucked up zis time.”

“Eh, could’ve been worse,” Michael rasped, slowly pressing himself back to his feet. “Remember when he forgot their fifth anniversary?”

A shiver traveled down the back of Dietrich’s tattered suit jacket. “I try not to.”

“God, she’s scary when she’s pissed.”

“Jah, and you sure as hell didn’t help!” Dietrich glared at his brother as the other demigod helped him to his feet. “ ‘Bros before hoes‘? What the hell were you thinking!?”

“I’m not sure,” Michael replied, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he gazed around the nether. “But I think I know who would.”

His brother watching in confusion, Michael removed his jacket and extended his hands, allowing the cosmic winds to cascade around his bare skin. “Brother, what are you…”

The American raised a finger for quiet, his eyes closing peacefully. He scoured the winds whistling by his body, detecting them for any irregularities, anything to tell him that something was in the nether that should not have been. His conscious mind scattering with the winds, it was easy to find the small lump around which the little particles flowed, like a river around a large rock.

Smiling, he promptly turned and strolled off towards the lump, reaching out with one hand. “Aha! Just as I thought!” He announced, his brother standing idly by as he reached out a hand and plunged it into the tiny lump, watching it disappear into thin air.

“A pocket dimension?” Dietrich said, hand resting on the hilt of his blade. “The only vay that could exist would be for someone to make it.”

“And the only reason someone would make a pocket dimension out here…” Michael huffed, eyebrows hunching in concentration as his arm plunged deeper into the little hole in reality, feeling around searchingly. “…would be if they really, really, REALLY wanted to hide something…there!”

His brother grabbing his shoulders to help, Michael started pulling, his hand wrapped around something soft, yet coarse, and…squirming? “It’s alive, whatever it is,” he grunted, teeth clenching with effort as the thing in his hand fought to stay hidden.

“So it’s not for something, but for someone,” Dietrich grimaced. “But after all this craziness, what the hell could…I say, do you hear zat?”

Michael perked an ear up, still struggling with the thing. It was a very faint, far-off sound, obviously coming from deep within the pocket dimension, but it was definitely there. “Is that…laughter?”

All at once, the brothers fell backwards, sprawling atop each other with a stream of confetti, noisemakers, and chocolate milk exploding out of the little dimension with a loud “HONK!” Dazed, they pressed themselves to their feet, shaking off a bit of the confetti and squeezing as much of the milk out of their clothes as they could manage. “What was…” Michael began, and then he looked down at what he was holding: a disembodied bear paw, twitching spasmodically in his grip. “GWAH!” He screamed, dropping the limb and dancing away from it.

The laughter boomed overhead again. The brothers sighed at one another and turned to its source. There was only one being in this little corner of reality with both the massive amounts of magic and twisted sense of humor needed to pull off a prank like this.

“Hey, Discord,” they said at the same time.

The spirit of chaos popped into existence before them, his snake-like body roiling over and over again as his laughter boomed off into the nether. “Th-the looks on both your faces…priceless!” He howled wiping away a tear made of maple syrup before snapping the talons on his eagle claw. The bear paw promptly disappeared in a flash of green flame and reappeared in the middle of his forehead with a loud farting noise, pointing at the brothers as the spirit continued laughing. They waited patiently until finally the spirit calmed himself and looked them over, frowning.

“I say, if you’re not going to be surprised, the least you could do is get all mad like those pretty ponies back there,” he grumbled, the paw growing out of his head hooking a thumb at the pink orb behind him. “I mean, I did just come back from the dead and all.”

“Oh, we sort of figured you vere still alive,” Dietrich said with a wise, little smile. “Your magic is the only force powerful enough to make us say something we REALLY don’t want to say.”

“Plus, it’s not like the tidal wave of chocolate milk and sprinkles during the awards ceremony wasn’t a big enough clue.” Michael added with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, you insult me, Swarmy,” Discord said with a little pout, immediately conjuring a humongous flower into existence, which blossomed with a hurricane-force explosion of helium aimed at the pair. “Guess I’ll really need to step up my game around you two!”

“As welcome as your reappearance may be,” Dietrich said in the voice of a chipmunk. “Just how is zis possible? The Princess saw you die right in front of her!”

“Oh come now, my little bratwurst,” Discord’s paw landed on the blonde’s shoulder. Dietrich made a grab for it, following the arm up to the shoulder – and encountering only thin air. A claw tapped him on the other shoulder. Grimacing, he turned to it, only to find yet another disembodied limb.

“You should know by now that appearances can be deceiving, especially when I’m around!” The spirit’s voice announced from above. Dietrich reached for it, only to come back with a disembodied mouth, which promptly gave him a nice, slobbery lick across the face before all three body parts hopped out of his grasp to rejoin their master, the mouth snickering the entire time.

“Any time you wish to explain would be fine by me,” Michael said with arms crossed.

Discord sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, alright, but just for the readers’ sake!”

With a snap of a claw, a classroom materialized into existence around the three, with Dietrich and Michael seated in gum-covered desks while Discord donned a pair of thick-framed glasses and a knitted shawl, a ruler clenched in his paw. “Alright class, shut yer traps an’ pay attention! This will be on the final!” He shouted in a nasally, mildly-effeminate voice just as a paper airplane sailed past his head.

“That was you Dietrich, I saw!” He shouted accusingly, pointing his ruler at the blonde. The demigod promptly exploded in a tiny mushroom cloud. “Double nuclear detention for you, buster!”

“Heheh,” Michael snickered as his brother reappeared, covered in black soot just like in a cartoon.

“And as for you, Mr. Sawyer, you shouldn’t laugh at others’ misfortune!” Discord’s ruler promptly leveled on the man in the leather jacket. “It’s egg-laying duty for you!”

“What?” Michael clucked before something boosted him up in his seat. Flushing red with embarrassment, he quickly unbuckled his jeans and pulled a small white egg out, which promptly hatched into a dozen flying candy canes with wings, that in turn proceeded to dive bomb the pair. “DISCORD!”

“That’s Professor Discord to you, buster!”

“We just vant to know how you survived, you ass!” Dietrich yelled, coughing up a puff of black smoke.

Rolling his eyes again, the spirit of chaos snapped his fingers and the candy canes disappeared, along with the soot blanketing Dietrich’s face. “Fine. If you wanna waste a perfectly fine school day learning, then I digress.” The spirit promptly turned to the chalkboard, scribbling away until both he and the board disappeared into a thick cloud of dust. “Now, many of us Immortals know a spell which can be used as a last resort in the event of a near-death experience, triggered if and when we are mortally wounded.”

“Um, isn’t it impossible to mortally wound an Immortal by definition?” Michael asked with a hand raised. Immediately, a piece of chalk whipped out of the cloud and exploded in a burst of chocolate sauce, blanketing his face in syrup.

“STOP ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS!” Discord’s voice boomed from the cloud. “But no, actually: an Immortal in this sense of the word is just any being that doesn’t age and is very, very tough to injure by conventional means. Of course, just because it’s tough to hurt an Immortal doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Just look at me! And hell, at yourself!”

Dietrich nodded in understanding. “So by this definition, I take it the Princesses would count as Immortals as well?”

“Yes and no: I guess in a way, you could consider them Immortals, but by Immortal standards they are very, very, weak. Sure, they don’t age, but you’d be surprised at how easy it is to…hurt them.” Michael was surprised to hear a small hitch in the spirit’s throat as he continued, still within the safety of his chalk dust cloud, but he chose not to comment. “In addition, unlike most Immortals, they do not possess the power to link up with the metaverse as we can, choosing instead to stick with their own little world. As a direct result, they cannot use the spell I am detailing here, which requires an inherent ability to walk in the nether and sync oneself with the energies bouncing around out here.

“Also…” suddenly, a chalkboard eraser whipped out of the cloud, stopping to hover right in front of Dietrich’s face. A little cartoon foot poked out of its bottom, clad in an oversized Mickey Mouse shoe, and gave the blonde a decent kick to the nose. “Nobody likes a smarty-pants, Mr. Dietrich.” Discord chimed as the demigod rubbed his nose in frustration.

“So wait, this spell requires someone who can walk around in the nether, like we are right now?” Michael asked, bracing himself for some new, chaotic attack.

“Not quite: you need to have a certain bond with the energies running around out here, which needs to be built up by centuries of inter-universal travel. Only then can you gain the ability to utilize this spell, and then you still need a deviously clever mind to even come up with the idea of using it.” The dust finally settled, revealing a masterpiece of artwork blanketing the chalkboard: a highly detailed, richly colored mural depicting a muscle-bound, sunglasses-wearing version of Discord standing atop a pile of dead Waffen SS, an M60 machine gun blazing away in his hands and a boner made of bazookas launching rockets from his waist in every random direction, all while a mushroom cloud bloomed in the background and a bikini-clad, anthropomorphic Celestia, Luna, and Chrysalis clung to his legs.

“Da Vinci, eat your heart out,” he mumbled as he snapped his fingers and the classroom and chalkboard disappeared from existence. “Anywho, that’s why Celestia had no idea what really happened: she thought she was watching me die, but really it was just the spell kicking in automatically, using my last little shreds of magic in the moments before my body would have given out.”

“So, what does this all-powerful spell do, then?” Michael asked, still wary of not having been assaulted yet.

“Quite simply put, it scatters you: it breaks you down to your smallest particles and sets you adrift in the cosmic winds of the nether. Eventually, your particles are supposed to find each other in the stream and pull themselves together, reforming you at some random point in space and time somewhere, alive and well.”

“Random…that’s why you waited so long to use it!” Dietrich gasped. “You didn’t know where you were gonna vind up, or when! You might’ve reassembled after a few millennia had passed!”

“Correctamundo, you get a gold star for the day, young man!” The spirit promptly appeared in front of the blonde, pasting a sticker in the shape of a golden star on his forehead. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take for you to reassemble yourself, so you could wind up on the other side of the metaverse, millions of years having passed since you cast it! Plus, it’s basically running your body through a giant blender and throwing the pieces over a waterfall. So yeah, it hurts like hell.”

“Looks like you got lucky then,” Michael said.

“Incredibly lucky,” a shiver travelled up the spirit’s elongated, twisting spine at the thought of waking up in an entirely new geologic epoch trillions of light years from the little section of reality he liked to call home. “I wound up pulling myself together after just a couple days and passing through a few universes. Got back just in time for the awards ceremony.”

“But you’re back now, and that’s great!”

Discord arched an eyebrow suspiciously. “You seem awfully happy to see me whole.”

“But of course! The Princess was so torn up about your death, she’ll be overjoyed to find out you’re okay!”

The spirit cringed slightly, an odd sight on his usually laid-back form. “Yeah…about that…could we not?”

The brothers eyed him. “What?”

“Well, let’s just say Celestia knowing I’m alive makes things…complicated. So, if you don’t mind,” the spirit made to stride off right between the brothers. “I’ll just be taking my leave now.”

“Hold it,” the pair grabbed him by the shoulders.

“I told you the secret behind one of my little magic tricks, and you’re lucky you got that,” Discord hissed dangerously, an oddly animalesque look of ferocity spreading across his mismatched eyes. “Don’t push your luck, boys.”

The pair arched their eyebrows at the spirit, but promptly released him. “Fine, go on,” Michael said, waving a hand dismissively.

“Really?” Discord’s brow furrowed in suspicion.

“But of course,” Dietrich replied happily, brushing off the spot on the spirit’s shoulder where he’d gripped him. “You just go on your way, and we’ll just head back to Equestria and alert the Princess to ze fact that you’re still alive.”

“What.”

“It’s only fair, after all that time she spent lamenting your loss,” Michael added. “I mean, you should’ve seen what the grief made her do: it was really something.”

“Grief…” Discord’s eyes softened ever-so-slightly, his gaze turning downwards.

“Oh, but I’m sure it will end all her pain when she learns you’re still alive, and that you decided she just wasn’t worth keeping around and split,” Dietrich said, malice hinting along the edges of his voice. “I’m sure she’ll handle that SO well, especially after all she went through with your demise.”

“Shut up!” The spirit screamed suddenly, his rage manifesting as a tidal wave of boiling hot chocolate materializing from the nether behind him. The flash flood of boiling chocolatey goodness flowed right past him and wrapped around the brothers like hot tar. Yet when the wave abated, they were still grinning, covered head to toe in burns that swiftly healed themselves. The spirit glowered at them.

“What do you want from me?” He asked, his lips curling upwards slightly to reveal a razor-sharp snarl, gleaming in the semi-darkness.

“A favor,” the brothers replied simultaneously.

Author's Notes:

Come now, children, you didn't really think it was that easy to kill a draconequus, did you?

Next Chapter: Chapter LXVI: Lost Memories, Remembered Nightmares Estimated time remaining: 39 Minutes
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