Twilight Shadow strode down the street in silence. There was no more need for words or proclamations, no more need for threats. She had lain her iron shod boot down upon the throat of the world and begun to press - it would submit, or it would be made to submit. Her servants - her shadow touched citizens - gave way before her step, parting like an ocean before the prow of a ship. Umbra stood resolutely at her side, resplendent in armor forged from pure shadow. She too wore no expression upon her face but silent resolution, and it was a fitting expression given the grim work that lay before them.

Said grim work took the shape of the pure white granite walls of the inner city, reaching up two hundred feet and more. The walls themselves were lined with trebuchets and catapults already raining stones and barrels of burning oil down into the inner city. One such stone hurtled towards her, and she glared at it as it tumbled through the air. She did not slow her step, but merely seized the powerful magics deep within her and smashed it aside with a single hammer blow of power, completely wrecking a nearby building with the redirected projectile.

Twilight huffed out a breath of exasperation before continuing her walk toward the walls. Would that she’d brought Rainbow Dash with her - a sonic rainboom could have cleared a section of the wall and given her an opening. Unfortunately, she’d needed somepony she could trust to keep an eye on Winterlight and ensure the personal loyalty of the Shadowbolts. So it was up to her to do what was necessary. Up to her to take the blood on her hooves, the death, the inevitable destruction. To take responsibility.

Again.

Before her eyes the terrified gaze of Filthy Rich floated for a brief hallucinatory moment and vanished as her last step took her within sight of the western gates of the Inner City: closed fast against her forces as ten thousand crossbows, borne by those militia that had managed to escape the first assault, glistened in the midday sun. Twilight’s eyes closed, and she could feel her shadow-touched warriors slowing to a halt, having seized only the western half of the city - almost bisecting the great city in a perfect line. Beyond that line, the sights and sounds of citizens and guards falling back slowly drifted away.

That was irritating to say the least, but if she could not crack the Inner City there would be no point to the rest of it. She had no time for a protracted siege or a long, drawn out and bitter campaign against an entrenched foe. This had to end today, lest those messengers who had undoubtedly escaped returned with forces too great for her to handle. So she planted her hooves and exhaled a deep breath and called to her power.

She’d done this once before at Ponyville, but there she had been hampered by her own worries for her fellow Equestrians. Worries that had indeed been well founded, given the incredibly depressing number of losses in that action. Goddess forgive me, she thought with a taste of bitter defeat in her mouth and felt a spark of rage and anger. If only the other creatures in the world could just have wanted to live in Harmony and not plot and scheme behind Celestia’s back. If only Tantalus could have survived, perhaps she would not have had to do this alone.

If only there had been some other way.

But there was no sense in sitting around and moping about the tragedies of the world. Her mind called to the Shadow within her, and it came forth in an intense pulse of power. Darkness spread out from her hooves and the world around her slowly grew darker as the Shadow sucked in the light and drowned it. Here in the dark, the world could be so much simpler - so much more pleasurable. Here in the dark, the world did not need to be fearful - it could be warm and inviting and gentle. The touch of a lover, the kiss of a friend, the soft sweetness of cuddling up to somepony special and sleeping deeply and without fear.

So few creatures knew the true wonders of the Shadow, but Twilight was more than eager to educate them. The darkness spread into the buildings and alleyways around her, casting the world into a dim light reminiscent of midnight rather than the midday dictated by the sun’s path. Now… call forth the Shadow. The thought whispered through her mind, the connection with Umbra deepening and strengthening with each moment that passed. From beneath her hooves the pure and elemental power of the Shadow slowly seeped up from the ground.

The power was physical - it was tangible enough to touch and feel - and slowly morphed into formless shapes… or at least, she would see them as formless. The shapes began to grow in number and size until they reached the height and general mass of a pony and slowly took on the form of one. Nearly an entire hour passed as the featureless black ponies grew one by one out of the shadows, moving in utter silence to form a single column in the street.

Twilight wondered, even in the midst of the mind-twisting spell she was forming, just what the soldiers on the wall were thinking. Very good, daughter… simple, but they will serve. It will not be long until you can call far larger and more powerful creatures out of the Shadow to serve… Umbra’s voice in her mind was warm and soothing and made Twilight’s heart race with pride. Now attend to them. Remember, you can shape them. They will require flight. Twilight nodded a little. The creatures she’d formed so far were little more than shells of power, so she considered them carefully.

Wings would be very difficult to build out of power. Good practice, but why should I waste the energy? There’s got to be a better… Hmm… What did Celestia always say? Use what you’ve got on hoof. She turned her eyes behind her, to the many griffon converts who were taking cover behind buildings or awaiting the command to attack and felt a slow and cruel smile cross her face. Was she not trying to bring every creature in the world together? Perhaps it was time she began to improve the griffon race a little bit.

She turned to face Umbra, and Twilight could not describe the look upon the face of her beloved Mother as anything other than the deepest throes of love and affection. “Oh goodness, daughter,” Umbra whispered, her hooves sweeping Twilight up and swinging her about with a dark giggle of excitement. “That does sound like fun!”

Scipio Skytalon clicked his beak and gripped firmly at his spear as they strode down the hall formed of perfectly polished marble. Nervous didn’t begin to describe how he was feeling at the moment - and stunningly, even Gilda was more than a little awed as they proceeded into the very heart of all Griffondom. “The fuck’s goin on, bro?” Gilda whispered in a tight voice, the sound amplified by the polished walls and columns that marched down the sides of the rooms in perfect, regimented order. “There hasn’t been a Caesar in two thousand bucking years!” There she was again with those Equestrian mannerisms, but this was no time for humor.

Father didn’t even turn around. He simply kept walking and left Scipio to try to explain. “I know, but that doesn’t mean there couldn’t have been,” he said as quietly as he could - Father pushing open a pair of ancient wooden doors carved with relief images of Roamanus and Hawkwing, the two Caesars of old. “The Council of Kings has always had a rule wherein any of their number could be empowered to name a Caesar in times of great crisis. The only problem is they cannot name another King to the post, nor can they name themselves, and the vote to provide such power must be unanimous.” Much to his astonishment, Gilda was paying rapt attention to his words as golden marble gave way to warm and polished wooden floors and walls lined with massive bookcases.

Here, the history of the Empire was written in excruciating detail - every victory, and every defeat lain down with unimpeachable honesty. Of all the vices of the Griffon Empire, the one virtue no creature could deny them was they had never tried to falsify their past. Gilda cleared her throat and glared at him, and Scipio hurriedly continued. “That way, the only time they could bestow that power was when our very survival was in jeopardy, as only then would they be willing to surrender all of their own power. And you would know all of this if you’d payed attention to our tutors.” He frowned a little at her - the one thing he could never understand was Gilda’s antipathy to learning.

She snorted a little at the last comment, but her twitching beak and darting eyes was more than enough to make it clear that she understood the stakes. “So why th’ fuck do we need to be there?” she huffed out, and Scipio could only roll his eyes and glare at her as they walked. He was not about to have to explain the obvious to his sister, especially when she ought to have known what the answer was.

For three agonizing minutes they glared at one another until Gilda’s eyes subtly shifted and she looked away for a minute to stare incredulously at her father. “No way. Dad can’t possibly think we’d - ” She snapped her beak around the words and nearly tripped over her own feet. Scipio’s shield arm swept out and gave her something to steady on for a moment before they kept walking. “Bloody hell,” she whispered as her beak snapped tight and her eyes narrowed to near slits. Scipio couldn’t blame her for that look - he had no doubt he looked the same.

For the next several minutes, their walk proceeded in silence. Scipio was glad for it, focusing instead on trying to figure out where they could retreat to. The first wave of attackers had to come from somewhere. The entire eastern fortress line is probably compromised, and there’s no telling what capabilities they might have for corrupting others. In his mind, a map of the Griffon Kingdoms and the many surrounding lands came to life as he walked automatically, not even noticing as the furnishings became richer around him.

The intelligent answer would be Equestria, even if almost no other griffon commander would consider it. Celestia, in spite of the fact that she had been their most implacable foe for countless centuries, was no friend to the dark powers and had never failed to give sanctuary to those in need. It would be a bitter pill for the griffons to swallow, but he had no doubt in his mind that Celestia would grant them use of Stalliongrad as a rallying point for whatever Legion assets had survived. There, they could rest, rearm and plan their counter-attack under the protection of the Sun Queen.

More likely though, the chosen Caesar would attempt a fighting retreat. In principle, this wasn’t a terrible idea - but in practice, it would be a nightmare. Trying to get all of the remaining plebeians to safety was going to take every ounce of the Legion’s strength without trying to keep their foe off balance. Assuming Scipio could talk him out of it, the next best strategy would be to appeal to the Diamond Dogs for aid. The vast plains of the western lands were absolutely riven with the Dog’s tunnel system. There, underground, they’d be nearly impossible to find. Scipio could easily take the lessons painfully taught to the griffons by Commander Hurricane and engage in hit-and-run strikes, disrupting supplies and blockading the Rubicon River. Without the river to carry supplies and foodstuffs, Roam would become a weight around the neck of the Dark Sun, and they could use it to drag her back down into the pit from whence she came.

Scipio’s mind swam with travel routes and battle plans - a lifetime of training and preparation leading to this moment. Gilda was still tight-beaked and twitchy as a fledgeling, but Scipio could not blame her. They were about to walk into a room full of the thing Gilda hated more than school - politics. Scipio didn’t much mind politics, but he was no fan of the maneuvering and jockeying for position of which his father was so adept. Still, he was reasonably certain about what to expect. Even during the end of the world, the Griffon Kings would find something to argue about.

What he actually got, on the other claw…

The pitch black wooden doors swung open, and Scipio’s attention was snapped out of his planning. He wasn’t one hundred percent prepared to speak to the Caesar, but he was prepared enough that he ought to find himself in a position capable of doing good. The wooden floor gave way to ancient white stone, the very same kind of granite that the outer walls were built from. A semi-circle of thirteen chairs - six to the left, six to the right, and one in the center - were positioned around a single column of bright sunlight shining down upon a symbol carved into the stone itself: where the thirteenth chair sat.

Eleven other figures were seated in each of the other chairs, and his Father quickly took his position in the empty seat. Scipio’s eyes went to the final empty chair - where a golden helmet lay, gleaming in the sunlight. A massive and beautiful war-spear was laid across the simple seat alongside it, where it looked like it hadn’t been moved in centuries.

The Lance of Arthur. The Helm of Roamanus.

Twelve sets of griffonic eyes were watching the artifacts. The same twelve figures turned their gazes to Scipio and Gilda standing in the doorway, Scipio still uncertain as to what was going on. Then the light intensified, and from out of the dust motes a new figure faded into existence. Her eyes were as pure and vivid blue as the clear summer sky, her coat as white as the driven snow. Her sharp ears twitched a little and a mysterious smile blossomed across her face as her legendary figure strode out of the sunlight itself to stand before the throne of the Caesar.

Scipio’s eyes went wide for a moment as the White Doe cast her eyes to the other twelve kings. “You understand the gravity of the situation then, if you have called for me in the old way.” Her voice flowed across the stones like the whisper of the wind through the trees. Twelve nods responded to her question, and the kings bowed their heads to her as one. She nodded, as though this was the appropriate response - though Scipio could hardly believe her eyes. “Then he is the one. Intriguing.” The White Doe’s tone turned to a lilt as she focused that pure gaze upon Scipio.

Scipio had never before felt himself so thoroughly judged, so utterly examined by a single gaze. It was like being directly under the hot noonday sun with not a scrap of shade or cloud around to mitigate it. Not even when Celestia herself had looked upon him during a diplomatic visit with a much younger Gilda had he felt such a thorough accounting of his soul. Blessedly for his sanity though, Gilda - his glorious, wonderful little sister - burst through that accounting with her usual charm and grace. “What th’ FUCK is going on here!? Who in the name of Tartarus is this?” Her talon lashed out to point at the White Doe, and a stifled sigh drifted out of Father’s beak.

The White Doe turned that piercing gaze upon Gilda, and his sisters next words died in her throat. Gildas beak hung open slightly, and she was driven back two steps just from the merest glance of that ancient regard. “I am called the White Doe, young griffon,” the Doe spoke, her tone firm and slightly chiding. “And I have no time to explain precisely what is going on. Know this though, far greater forces are now at work than have been seen in this world since the time of Discord. Umbra has moved against the free creatures of the world and seeks to corrupt all life to her dark domain.” The Doe’s eyes darkened for a moment, and her voice broke softly as she spoke, turning her head away. “And worse still, she has taken the most powerful Shade in all of her history under her guidance.” Silence reigned for a few moments, until the Doe spoke again. “Kings of the Empire. You have heard my council. What will you decide?”

The Kings looked at one another for a few long moments. “What choice have we?” croaked one, his voice harsh. Then he stood and strode forward into the column of light, his eyes fixed upon Scipio. Lecius Broadwing’s voice was like gravel churning over as he spoke. “I hope she is right about you, boy.” And then… he bowed his head, his leg bending to knee and his talons pressing over his chest where his heart would be. He spoke softly, but firmly - obviously committing to his choice - and stunning Scipio in the process.

“Hail Caesar.”

The world shook beneath Scipio’s feet, but he did not falter nor did he fall. One by one, each of the other Kings stood and repeated the gesture. One by one, each of the other kings spoke the ancient words of recognition until only his Father remained in his chair. Scipio dared not look toward Gilda, wondering why it felt like a great pressure had rooted him to the ground. He wished to ask them why, he wished to ask what the White Doe had said to them that had driven them to this choice, but his throat could not find the voice to speak.

His father stood and strode into the ring - his bright golden eyes flashing with a fierce pride. He bowed to his son, a little more deeply than the other kings and pressed his talons over his heart. His beak parted, and the words tumbled out of it… “Hail Caesar.” And it was done. There was nothing Scipio could do to change what had happened now. The pressure slowly eased from his chest and freed his vocal chords. As one, the twelve Kings rose from their bow to regard him with a level gaze.

The White Doe slowly strode into the column of light and moved back behind the throne of the Caesar. Then she too raised her hoof and dipped her head deeply. “Hail Caesar Scipio Grifficonous, Third Caesar of Roam. I would beg leave to hold council with Your Mightiness that we might save as many souls as it is still possible to save.” Her voice was soft and surprisingly deferential, but Scipio was not fooled. She too was playing a political game here, as deep and thorough as any of the Kings might have undertaken. But none of that mattered one whit.

Scipio turned and handed his spear to Gilda, who was now staring at him in disbelief. He was about to test just how far his political power truly went. “I name my sister Gilda my First Counsel, and pass to her the weapon of my youth.” A stifled gasp rose from one of the Kings, but was silenced immediately. Gilda damn near dropped the spear at those words, and a muttered curse and glare gave Scipio a little thrill of joy. He decided to layer it on a bit thicker. “For there is no other griffon in all of the Empire who I can trust to be as honest and forthright with me.”

Gilda’s cheeks blushed a bright cherry red, and she gripped at his spear while muttering some kind of dire threat. Scipio turned back to the throne. His steps took him toward the artifacts, his talon brushing across the bruise on his head. Perhaps it had been the Fates toying with him this morning when his helm had nearly been cleaved from his head. A reminder that whatever temporal power he might attain… he was still as mortal as any other creature.

His talons lifted the helmet and gently seated it upon his head and grasped the long haft of the ancient spear - a tingle of… something running up his arm. The spear itself appeared to glow with a faint golden light, but there was no time to consider what that might mean. They both were heavy with the weight of more than mere metal - an ancient responsibility. The comfortable, familiar weight of command settled over his shoulders. The Kingdoms - no, they were Kingdoms no longer.

The Empire could be saved, but he would need to act quickly.

Scipio spoke sharply as he turned toward the doors. There was an enemy to fight, and an Empire to preserve, and no time for politicking. “We must make haste. I would take your council, Ancient One - but it will have to be on the way.” Scipio turned toward the door and Gilda and the White Doe fell into step behind him. The now powerless Kings remained in the ancient throne room as the Praetorian Guard filed out of the room at his side. “Our time runs short, and our foe will not be idle.”

Scipio did not even consider that the Kings were not falling into step alongside him, as the doors to the throne room slowly swung shut.

The screams were the most unusual part of the process so far. They were somewhere in a realm between arousal and pain, combining the elements of each but not belonging to either category. It was a fascinating dichotomy, though not one she had studied before in detail. She made a quick mental note to rectify that lack later on, when she had a few moments to dedicate to it. As an additional curiosity, many of the other converts were watching those being… changed… with a mixture of awe, jealousy, and fear. Curiouser and curiouser. She’d have to speak to Mother later about this sort of thing, as she seemed to have a long and storied experience with the process.

Fortunately, the results were spectacular enough that the minor annoyances remained minor. The griffon subjects were adapting quickly to their newly minted forms - once they cleaned up their arousal and fluids from the physically intense experience. The hooved forms were unusual for those creatures used to talons and feet, but perhaps the fact that these new bodies had been built from the power of the Shadow helped. They were monstrously strong and quite swift on the trot, and the griffons’ much wider and larger wingspan made them surprisingly powerful in the air. All in all, Twilight was pleased.

The only hitch was the transformation process. She needed to streamline it if she wished to make this more useful. Still, it would serve for now. The hundred or so griffon-ponies stood in a perfect square formation, awaiting her word. Before, they had obeyed her out of dedication to the Shadow. Now… now they obeyed her as their new Goddess. “Open the gates.” The words flowed from her lips, but did not sound like her voice. She spoke with the voice of Umbra. The new creatures - Ponygrifs? Grifasus? She’d have to come up with a good name later - spread their black wings wide and swept up into the skies.

Twilight smiled fondly up at them, and a moment later Umbra materialized at her side. “Not bad,” Umbra’s voice cooed softly into her ear, sending a shiver down Twilight’s spine. “They’ll need refinements, but that sort of thing always does. I must admit you’ve got quite the flair for it. I don’t suppose you’re going to give your friend Fluttershy some siblings, hm?” That brought a blush into Twilight’s cheeks… she hadn’t even been thinking all that hard when she’d forcibly transformed Fluttershy into… well, Twilight didn’t really have a name for her yet either. Still, that was a fair point. Fluttershy was an entirely new life form, and Twilight was not entirely certain if she could still breed with other ponies.

That was an intriguing thought, actually. Her eyes followed her dark creations as they soared up to the walls, crossbow bolts raining around them. She would definitely need to institute some kind of breeding program in order to ensure best results amongst the new creatures she was beginning to create. Perhaps a bit of cross-breeding with her fellow Equestrians too, she was certain she could find a few volunteers. The shadow creatures slammed into the wall defenses, and Twilight shook the thoughts from her head.

It was time to go to work.

Twilight’s horn lit with a blazing light as she reached out to the Shadow deep inside her new creatures - all of whom were hurling themselves at the griffon guards upon the walls of the gates. It really wasn’t much different from her old teleportation skills…. she was simply teleporting through the Shadows of her own creatures. The spell took hold, and just as it had before, she could feel the subtle wrench in her guts as her body transmuted into pure energy and rushed through the ether. A moment later, she reappeared in a flash of violet and white light amidst her new creations - now atop the wall.

The armored and armed griffons retreated a step as she slowly strode forward, and she could feel the heady rush of power through her body. It was almost as good as making love to Mother… almost. “Put down your weapons, children,” she gently chided the griffon Legionaries, in her very best motherly voice, “and give in to the allure of the Shadow. Or else… Well, I’m afraid I haven’t the time to waste trying to convince you.” The words dripped from her lips, and she wondered what the poor Legionnaires were thinking.

Perhaps it was the empty white void that was her eyes - or perhaps it was the dripping violet and purple mass that was her Shadow-touched mane. Perhaps it was the appearance of the new race of creatures forged from pure shadow and power and the bodies of their former friends. Whatever it was, the opposing forces broke like a bad hollandaise sauce and ran. Or at least - some of them ran. The rest quickly fell back, bristling with spears and shields to cover the hasty retreat. Twilight sighed dramatically and released a rush of power through her horn, intending to blast them aside.

But the blast she had been expecting did not come. Instead, a wave of shadow power exploded from the tip of her horn and smashed into the front ranks of soldiers like a wave of liquid. The soldiers screamed, and Twilight could not describe the sound as anything but sweet. The shadowed blast turned from liquid energy into some kind of strange and sticky… stuff, that writhed and grabbed at their limbs. Twilight stared for a moment in surprise at the goo… until it began to grow and engulf those it had attached itself to.

It was fascinating to watch the stuff, apparently feeding off of the fear - and perhaps, excitement? - of the soldiers. It grew and grew, like her own Shadow, until there was nothing but a cluster of black blobs pulsating and stretching as the poor wretches within struggled. The struggles slowly ceased, and Twilight could feel the dozen or so Griffons being brought over to her Shadow slowly but surely. A feeling which conjured a wide smile on her face, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, wonderful! I dont even need to harm them!” That was a truly happy thought, and she did a little dance in place to celebrate it.

One of her new creatures coughed softly and nodded toward the massive mechanism that controlled the gates. She grinned slyly and built up the power in her horn once again. Her voice was soft and husky, and she could feel her excitement growing by the moment. “Yes. Let the fun begin again.” The next blast of magic was exactly what she had been expecting, and the gears and cogs of the gate-machinery sprung to life. Slowly, achingly pulling open the gates - forced by her magic to overcome the locks upon it. The mechanism gave off a great moan and finally snapped… but it was already done.

The Inner City gates stood open, and her Shadow touched flooded in.

Even as the Legion began to move to his will, Scipio knew he would not have time to save everyone. There were simply too many griffons to get everyone out of the gates…. so his next order was both inevitable and heart breaking. “Clear the outer walls to the east as best as you can!” he thundered at one of the Wall Centurions. “And get every griffon you can out of the city over them, through them, whatever. Wreck the city behind you - raze buildings, clog streets. Do whatever you can to slow them down!”

The Centurion nodded and gave a wingtip salute before dashing off down the hallway. Servants of his house continued to divest him of his Guard armor, replacing it with the gold-plated and much filigreed armor of a King. Or in this case - an Emperor. A bright, blood red cloak now hung from his shoulders with the golden rampant griffon stitched into it. He felt utterly silly wearing the thing, but it seemed even a Caesar was chained by Tradition.

But there were benefits to that Tradition as well. “So - you say this… resistance force is headquartered in the White Tail Wood?” Hearing that Equestria was beset by this foe as well had been disturbing in the extreme. Celestia was apparently off trying to find the means to combat it in some far foreign land while General Armor and Princess Cadenza held the line back home. Still, it was more than heartening to hear that the Equestrians were not taking this invasion lying down. Leave it to a pegasus to have the balls and the guts to go right from a conquered town to trying to fight back against the conqueror..

The White Doe nodded once. “Yes. That is where you must take your finest warriors. Follow her, support her, teach her, and guide her while I cannot.” The Doe lowered her head, her eyes infinitely sad. “Would that I could be there for the poor child. But events are moving far swifter than ever before, and I must rally the free creatures of the world against Umbra. Meanwhile, you will be able to carry on the battle against your foe.” Her voice was thick as she spoke, and Scipio could only shake his head a little. They would all have deep regrets before this war was over, and the feelings of a young filly were among the least of them.

Still, Scipio was looking forward to taking the little pony under his wing. It would be a good distraction from the necessities of war. “Then I shall send the rest of the Legion to Cloudsdale and Stalliongrad. I would deeply appreciate if you would go ahead of them to inform the Princess of our imminent arrival so we do not end up in a tense stalemate.” Scipio felt his beak tilt up in amusement. “The last thing we need is an utterly unnecessary battle.”

The White Doe nodded, her delicate mouth opening to speak… but her head whipped around to stare into the west. In that split second, her entire demeanour changed - gone was the gentleness, the soft eyes. Gone was the poise and grace, replaced by a fierceness that radiated anger. “Our time has run out. Umbra’s Shade is about to open the eastern gates. You must order the retreat immediately, lest they entrap you upon the walls.”

Scipio’s beak fell open, but he did not hesitate. He stood quickly, turning to face his guards. “Praetorians! TO ARMS!” he screamed out, grasping his spear and quickly striding from the room. “Gilda, we’re out of time! Hurry your ass up!” he screamed down another hallway as he rushed down toward a beautifully crafted stained-glass window depicting a heroic battle scene. Scipio smashed the thing without a moment of hesitation as a torrent of tromping boots scrambled up behind him. Scipio turned and quickly picked Gilda out of the crowd of shining armor and bristling spears. “Deliver these orders to all of our forces!” he began, stepping up on the edge of the shattered window.

“We are to retreat to the west of the city! All Legions will report to their designated emergency rally points immediately! After one hour, all odd numbered Legions will travel to Stalliongrad in Equestria! All even numbered legions will travel to Cloudsdale! All citizens are to be directed to Stalliongrad… but if they choose to go elsewhere, we cannot stop them. Nor can we aid them.” There were a few mutters at that, but they silenced at his glance. “The Praetorian Guard will meet me at Hawkwing’s Crossing, and we will be travelling to a secret location. The Legions are to support the Equestrian military against encroaching Shadow forces. We shall maintain lines of communication via messenger bird.”

Then he paused and took a deep breath. “The spirits of Hawkwing and Roamanus be with you all. Now go.” He pointed with Hawkwing’s spear, and three dozen of his guards flew out of the shattered window at frightening speed. His eyes followed them for a few moments as they split in midair and dove to many places in the city below. His eyes searched the crowd… but the White Doe was gone. He exhaled deeply before turning to the remaining guards. “We have a long flight ahead of us,” he said softly, and Gilda nodded. There was an anger in her eyes… a steely glint he knew he would have to deal with later.

But what other choice did he have?

Scipio spread his wings wide and dove out of the window, catching a warm updraft and swooping off into the western skies. Behind and around him, the Praetorians formed up to defend their Caesar.

There was no saving Roam now. All they could do was avenge her.

The Shadow-tainted griffons streamed through the broken east gate of the Inner City, no longer a wave of madness, but now a wave of purpose.They spread like a thick, black oil through the dense white streets of the Inner City - and at their center a dark purple unicorn, armored and clad in sinister armor, strode without fear. The Legions of Roam quickly fell back before the horde, as whatever citizens were left in the city fled blindly into the west.

In the Outer City, there was no such safety. The horde of converts quickly began to overtake the now unprotected citizenry as the Legions took to the skies to retreat over the barely held western walls. In the alleys and streets of Roam, Shadow-tained creatures dragged families from their homes and took them to the central locations where they would be shown the Truth of the Shadow. Sometimes, though, they did not even wait for that.

There was little blood spilled. Only a precious few were able to resist the hordes for long - and even they were not immune to the dark power and rending claws of those they fought. What little resistance met the darkness was quickly crushed under talon. Fathers watched, pinned to the walls by spears and leeringly tainted griffons as their daughters and wives were converted - screaming in arousal, pain, and more - to the Shadow.

Even as the horde seized the Outer City, they found fewer and fewer converts, and many tainted griffons took to the skies. They seized stragglers, or simply plucked children and those who were weaker away from their family groups in raiding parties. Soon though, there were no other griffons to take. The Outer City had emptied of all but those loyal to the Shadow. With no one left to capture, the conversions began in earnest.

No creature was spared the Shadow’s touch, regardless of age or gender or appearance. The bright pink mane and lustful eyes of the one who led many of the ‘ceremonies’ became the ultimate sign of defeat for those that had been captured. One by one, struggling and fearful families had their wills and minds bent and broken to the power of the Shadow. As the sun began to set, the city descended into an orgy - not of violence, but of sex and debauchery not seen in the world for thousands of years.

Innocent children’s games became the means to select mates - sometimes multiple mates. Gangs of young griffon boys surrounded every beautiful griffon girl, each taking their turns with their enthusiastic new playmates.

But In the Inner City, after what few foolish citizens had remained had been dragged off to the conversion sites, Hawking Tower’s gates and doors remained closed against the darkness.

Twilight Shadow let loose another torrent of power, finally shattering the front gates to the Tower. Without a word from her, a column of the finest griffon soldiers she could muster - most of them converted Legionaries - strode through the gates with purpose and grim resolve. Twilight followed them immediately, already feeling weariness start to take hold of her. Today had sucked far, far more energy out of her than she’d originally thought it would.

But as had been the case for that same day, Umbra was there - gently supporting her with a kind hoof. “It is almost done, child,” she whispered with far, far more warmth than Twilight had heard out of her before. Twilight felt her smile broaden a bit and focused herself - she would be strong enough to get through the final challenges of the day. Then… then she could rest, even if only for a little while.

Twilight’s steps took her into the central hall of the tower, and to a sight she had not expected at all. The central hall was disturbingly similar to the one in Canterlot Castle. The broad sweeping stairways, the elegant architecture. It was nothing like the normal griffonic style and spoke of the hooves and horns of pony-folk constructing it. Atop the main stairwell of the hall, twelve figures stood - each wearing the shining gold and embossed armor of the greatest griffon generals. But it was the crowns they wore that told the tale of who they truly were.

These were the twelve Kings of the griffons.

Immediately, Twilight was struck by their calm. Their gazes pierced her without fear or hesitation, each amongst them bearing the war-spears that were the weapons of the Legion. They had no guards - no other soldiers surrounded them or stood with them. Twilight felt her steps coming to a stumbling halt and felt a moment of… hesitation. What was going on here? Was this some sort of trap?

One of the kings stepped forward - just a single step, but enough to single him out. “Darksun,” he growled, his voice rasping like a file. Twilight stared in puzzlement, until she saw the recognition in Umbra’s eyes. Another name her Mother had once held? “After two thousand years since your atrocities against the Griffon Empire, you return to take your vengeance.” The aged griffon’s eyes closed for a moment and opened as he continued to speak. “But you will find no satisfaction here.”

Umbra strode forward, and Twilight matched her step for step. She was here to stand for Equestria and for all innocents. She would not let her Mother stand against these foul overlords alone. “Surrender the Spear and the Helm to me, old one,” Umbra’s voice purred out, reeking with sexuality and suggestions of far greater pleasure than even Twilight had experienced, “and I will ensure your conversion to the Truth is painless.” Twilight could feel her cheeks flushing, even as Umbra’s Shadow seethed with raw power and sexuality…

And the griffon King laughed.

Umbra’s face was a study in shock, and Twilight could feel the confusion from Mother. “They are gone, Darksun,” the same griffon growled at her, his eyes agleam with pride. “A new Caesar now carries them, and he is now long since gone. The Empire will be reborn, and you will once again fall.” His last words he spat out at her, his feathers rising and his beak snapping at the air in triumph.

A thrill of fear and concern ran through Umbra - so powerful that Twilight could feel it - and could no longer hold back her actions. She grasped her power once again, and felt the rush of Shadow and Magic flowing through her. She was tired, yes, but she would not allow these creatures to threaten the one she loved. “Then fall to Shadow, you barbarian King,” Twilight snarled out at them, and let loose the same burst of Shadow magic she had felt upon the wall - a massive spray of black energy surged toward the assembled Kings.

All twelve figures dodged away from it in a blur of speed, leaving the shadow-goop to writhe and seethe upon the stairwell. The King who had spoken smiled in a bitter sort of way. “No. We will not give you the satisfaction, Traitor.” His eyes turned to the other griffons, and he nodded once. “It has been an honor my friends. May we meet again in the Fields.” Twilight stared at him and wound up another blast of power…

Only to have it sputter out as she stared in horror. Each of the twelve griffons paired off with one another, and as one they drove their spears into their opposites’ hearts. Shock seized Twilight, and disbelief was all she could feel as the twelve griffon Kings stood framed in the windows of the main hall. One by one, they reached out to clasp talons with one another as dark blood flowed down their chests. And as one, they spoke two final words - words which rang throughout the hall, trembling the ground with its quiet power.

“Hail, Caesar!”

And just like that, the griffon Kings were no more.

Pinkie Pie quietly finished off the chocolate frosted cupcake with a lick of her lips. The treat was much denser than anything the Cake’s had made, but it was a good kind of dense. Kinda red-velvety. The milk was as delicious as anything from Equestria and washed the last of the sticky sweetness of the cupcake down her throat. She had to admit, they could bake a mean treat here in Roam.

The barkeeper carefully washed and stowed the empty milk glass and wiped the crumbs of the cupcake off of his bar as darkness began to fall upon the City of Roam. Pinkie Pie turned and leaned on the bar, sighing in exhaustion. “What a day,” she grumbled out, rubbing at her eyes. The city was a cacophony of sexual sounds, as those new citizens of the Shadow worked out the initial burst of aggression and energy. Tomorrow was going to be even busier as the citizens had to now restore their city and get back to something resembling their lives.

Sure, they’d have a lot more fun and parties now, but that didn’t mean that food didn’t need to be served, or houses repaired, or any of the other important day-to-day stuff. Pinkie smiled with a little bit of nostalgia, remembering how ponies in Ponyville often thought she didn’t do anything but goof off. Being the Number One Party Pony in town meant a lot of prep work, even in addition to her usual job at Sugarcube Corner. It meant invitations and balloons and lots of confetti had to be prepped and made and carefully positioned for party emergencies.

Pinkie sighed softly again, trying to banish the blues that memories of Sugarcube constantly conjured up in her. “Want to talk about it?” Barkeep said softly,\ in a gentle sort of voice as a glass of some clear liquid crossed the bar. Pinkie blinked at him in surprise, the barkeeper still laconically polishing a glass. “It can help sometimes to talk about it,” he continued, his gentle eyes surprisingly understanding. “When you’ve done somethin’ you’re not terribly proud of.”

Somehow - Pinkie didn’t quite know how, but she was sure it was the Shadow - she knew that Barkeep had done something like that himself. Probably a long, long time ago. She eyeballed the clear liquid and drank it down, the burning of hard liquor searing down her throat and giving her a counterpoint to the deep pain she was feeling flowing down the link from Twilight. “His name was Carrot Cake,” she said softly, not wanting to look at anything but the bar.

A second glass of the clear liquid crossed the bar, and Pinkie was thankful for it. Maybe it was right to mourn a little for a city they’d had to kill to save everypony. Just like it was right to mourn for a pony who’d died because they had to save everypony. So she picked up the glass and took a deep breath. “It was just a couple of weeks ago…”

The White Doe stood silently upon a stone ridge, her eyes watching as the thick black energy of the Shadow poured itself over the Eternal City. For a moment, she mourned for those who had been lost to the Shadow and felt tears stream down her cheeks to splash upon the mountainside.

Sacrifice was never easy, and there would be so very many that would be called to sacrifice. Her thoughts went to the little orange filly who had been forced upon the stage of history - who had already lost so very much and would undoubtedly lose more before everything was over. Even though hope for the world had been saved today, it was never easy to accept that some would have to be lost to save it.

Roam had fallen, and for it the White Doe wept for a time.

Then she turned and felt the steel resolve in her heart. It was a long journey to Canterlot, and she had little time to spare. Darkness was already engulfing the world, and the single ray of hope for them all had not yet realized what she would have to do.

The Doe lept into the wind, and vanished.

Author's Notes:

Phew. This one took time to write. But hey!