Chapter 21: Darkest Before the Dawn

The Ghost Rider was a predator.

Every inch of Ghost Rider was to be the perfect predator, to feed off of the corrupted and twisted souls who willingly spilt innocent blood. His appearance struck terror into them, his ability to work dark magic, and his connection to Hellfire made him a threat to even the most mighty of creatures. He could sense their dark souls, a trail he could follow to the the ends of the world, leaving them no place to hide from his judgement. His prey thought they were above punishment, out of reach of those they had harmed, but Ghost Rider tracked them down and had them experience the pain of their victims and their loved ones. Only death could release them, and dragged them into Hell.

Ghost Rider was efficient at his job, for no mortal being could compare to his strength and power. He was forged in Hell, his magic dark and corrupted by nature, and sought out those whose dark souls mimicked his own. Be them dragons, vampires, ponies, or griffins, none were safe from the wrath of the Spirit of Vengeance. He held power that only the oldest and the most dangerous of their kind could obtain, but even then they were still outmatched by him. No mortal could compare to an immortal in power and destruction; centuries of experience and knowledge separated them.

That was until tonight.

Ghost Rider sat upon his motorcycle, glaring at the immortal before him. He had fought demons before, vile and vicious creatures. Those who had needed to strike up deals to gain more power over other demons, while his power had always been a constant force; as far back as the first poor fool made a deal with the Devil. The demon he faced now, though... Compared to others he had fought before, this was a demonic god. The power rolling off of Blackheart was nothing like he had faced before; not even Fin Fang Foom measured up to this monster, and he had nearly killed Rider. The darkness radiating off of him was nothing like the Rider had felt before.

Nor had he taken a form Ghost Rider had been used to when dealing with other demons. Demons needed a host body to anchor themselves to this plane of a existence, a host that could keep them here even when the sun had risen, just like he needed Mac to survive the sun. When a demon took over the host body, the body would decay, rot from the inside, becoming the physical representation of the demon’s twisted soul. Even Rider obeyed this law when he took over Mac’s body, transforming the stallion's form to fit his own needs. Indeed, the changes were drastic, but they were necessary to allow the Rider to hunt and to use the full range of his powers.

Blackheart’s presence was beyond any that Ghost Rider had ever encountered in combat with a demon. Rider could not feel a vessel for Blackheart, no host body underneath it all to ward away the sun but even that was just a part of the reason for a host body. Demons were not of this world, meaning that they needed a vessel to remain here, to hold them here and to interact. Otherwise they were just dark spirits that could cause relatively little harm. That kind of strength was not natural; not even angels could survive here without some kind of vessel.

The only being that Ghost Rider had ever seen do this was Bleeding Heart, the Devil himself. The Ruler of all of Hell had powers that went far beyond what those who walked this plane of existence could understand. The power he held would probably meet the Sisters’ own strength, if not outclass them entirely. To face a creature with that potential of power, with such darkness radiating off them, would drive most opponents insane with fear and to run at the very thought of combat. Ghost Rider stood his ground, empty sockets watching Blackheart’s every move.

He was excited.

“The lapdog finally arrives,” Blackheart mused, pulling himself up straight and walking over to the very edge of the circle, an almost skip in his step. “I guess that army didn’t stand much of a chance if you arrived so quickly.”

The low rumble of the Hell-Cycle’s engine was the only answer Rider would give him. Ghost Rider just stared at him, chains whipping around him like the tail of a manticore ready to strike. Blackheart stood there in silence, furling and unfurling his claws, no fear in his body language, sharing the same primal excitement of combat.

“I see. Not much of a talker, are you?” Blackheart asked, continuing to flex his claws, his own tail whipping back and forth . “Without vocal cords it must be a strain to talk. No matter, the words of my father’s mongrel mean little to me,” Blackheart said, his voice the very definition of ease. He was completely calm with Ghost Rider resting just a few feet from him, no fear of the tool his father dispatched to deal with problems that were below his personal intervention.

Ghost Rider slid off of the Hell-Cycle, chains wrapped vertically around his torso and waist, the ends of them still whipping around and ready to strike. The motorcycle’s engine died as soon as he dismounted it, but the Hellfire around its tires burned brightly, still scorching the ground around it. The Hell-Cycle and the Ghost Rider were one entity. At least, they used to be; the connection between Rider and this new Hell-Cycle was weak. Though infused with his power while in motion, the motorcycle itself had not formed the kind of bond needed to operate on its own without Rider having to command the cycle. The magic used in its creation was a pure magic, much different than his own, leaving it inert to the true potential that Ghost Rider had.

The difference in height between the two was noticeable, with the Rider reaching just above Blackheart’s knee. With Rider’s host being considered tall for a pony, it was not often that Ghost Rider had to look up at his prey; rather they had to look up at him while they cowered. The difference in height and weight would be disconcerting to any other fighter, but the Ghost Rider was not a normal fighter.

Without a word, Ghost Rider and Blackheart started to circle one another, the perimeter of the circle keeping the distance between them. Both of them were guided by primal instincts, to defend one’s territory and to feed. In their circling, they watched one another, never completely fixated as to stay aware of their surroundings. They watched for that single second, that small mistake that would give the other the opening they needed to pounce to make the other their prey.

Ghost Rider could not help but revel in the feeling, the surge of energy that he only felt in combat where the prize was another's life; a life to be consumed to further the victor’s life and fuel for later battles. It had been lifetimes since he had an opponent that could stand up to him in such a way, that was worthy to be more than prey. Fin Fang Foom, as mighty and powerful as the dragon lord was, he was still prey. Large and dangerous prey, to be sure, but prey all the same.

As he took another step, the beginnings of a Penance Stare overtook him, so focused on the battle that he had given his enemy an opening. The Penance Stare was the Ghost Rider’s ultimate weapon, the way that he fed upon the souls of the damned. The Stare showed him everything that a particular soul had done, every good or evil deed that they had passed upon another, and if they were a soul worth devouring. A Penance Stare could only start two ways, the first being direct eye contact in which Rider could control when the Stare started; the only other way a stare could happen, without his control, was through direct contact with blood.

Flashes of what he could only describe as ‘random’ cascaded across Rider’s vision. Images of centuries gone by filled his mind. Acts of random chaos, deliberate evil, and love cascaded all around Rider trying to make sense of all the images. Forcing the invading visions back, Rider scanned the area for what he had come into contact with to start the Penance Stare. His hoof was covered in yellow blood, pooling out of the Lord of all Chaos, Discord.

Part of Rider hollowed to consume Discord’s soul. Discord was too weak and injured to fight back, to defend himself from Rider’s judgment, to prevent him consuming an immortal soul that was free for the taking. Looking upon Discord, it was easy to see how weak he was; his chest heaving, struggling to take in the most shallow of breaths, continuing to bleed out right before Ghost Rider. Wounded, alone, and easy. That was all the predator within the Rider needed to feast upon the easy meal presented to him.

Ghost Rider gave out a disgusted snort. “You are indeed guilty, Discord, Lord of Chaos, but judgement comes upon you another day,” Rider growled, forsaking the easy meal in exchange for the more dangerous one.

When he had stopped to gaze upon Discord’s soul, Rider’s instincts told him that Blackheart had used the opportunity to draw closer, if not ready to strike him at that very moment when he had been most vulnerable. Given the opportunity, Rider would have taken it, ready to drag Blackheart to him, to use his Penance Stare and win the fight before it had even started.

Rider whirled around, chains positioned to strike and glowing bright orange with Hellfire. The action wasn’t needed, though. Blackheart stood right where he had last been, watching Ghost Rider, waiting for him to ready himself again.

He had shown mercy.

A real predator would have taken such an opportunity to finish the fight quickly. What stood before Ghost Rider was not a demon, nor was he a predator. Blackheart was a naive boy, showing Ghost Rider mercy in order to have a fight with Ghost Rider. Rage built up inside Rider, an insult to his predatory nature to be treated in such a way. Whatever Blackheart was thinking was nothing but weakness to Ghost Rider. Weakness that just cost Blackheart his life.

Rider growled as he started to circle Blackheart again, the latter following suit; the barrier around Blackheart’s ritual spell kept them separated. Blackheart flexed his claws as he crossed in front of his captives, never turning towards them, keeping his full attention on Rider. He portrayed himself as a predator, but in that second Rider had seen his true nature, and it sickened him, making the task of devouring Blackheart’s soul less appealing.

Keeping pace with Blackheart, Rider saw another pool of blood within his path. If he touched it, he would once again be subjected to the Penance Stare. Looking to Blackheart, Ghost Rider gave out an nearly subsonic growl. This fight was looking to be the kind that defined a predator's life, but this prey was proving to be less of a challenge than expected. Watching Blackheart for a reaction, Ghost Rider deliberately stomped his hoof into the blood, beginning the Penance Stare.

Rider’s vision was filled with the life of another soul that was to be judged by him, to determine if they were to be consumed or spared. Images of a purple Pegasus with a blue mane, a cutie mark of a sun hidden behind clouds took up most of his mind’s eye; a constant memory burned upon the soul, a driving force for the soul’s motivations. The vision grew hazy, a tombstone appearing with Skylight written upon it. Grief overwhelmed it all, beating upon the soul like the waves of an ocean beating upon a cliffside. Like the image burned into the soul, the soul showed itself to be one filled with despair, regret, and anger. That grief, pain, and regret would have destroyed another’s soul, but for this one it was the fuel to keep it going, to never give in, and to fight on.

This was the soul of Agent Bentgrass.

As the Stare ended, Rider looked over his shoulder to find Bentgrass curled up against himself, shuddering, a makeshift tourniquet around his right foreleg. His one good eye was cloudy, unfocused, as he fought with every fiber of his being to stay conscious while he bled out on the forest floor. It would not be long till the life dribbled out of him and died there. In all honesty, it would be a mercy for Agent Bentgrass to pass on, to finally earn his long rest and to be with the one he loved.

Twin points of blue light appeared in Rider’s empty eyes, and the sound of sizzling meat filled the air, followed by the scream of Bentgrass. To have let Bentgrass die would have been a mercy, but within that soul Rider had seen willing acts of evil; though done for what Bentgrass thought was the greater good, they were still acts that Rider could call on to claim Bentgrass’ soul.

No matter the reason for extending Bentgrass’ life, it required using power he was not accustomed to using. Its use left Ghost Rider in a momentarily vulnerable state, one which any good predator would be able to see and pounce upon. A creature like Ghost Rider was a tool of destruction, not to be used to heal, and such actions left him temporarily lost to his surroundings; this was part of the reason Ghost Rider used it. Turning to face Blackheart, he snarled at what he saw.

Blackheart had not moved into a position to strike. He had not moved at all to do anything that might give him an edge. Instead, he stood there, waiting for Rider to continue. Every bit of Blackheart was uncharacteristic for a demon, which typically lived off primal urges to hunt, to feed, and to breed, urges that Rider was not safe from and had passed onto his host since he could not fulfill them. Though Mac didn’t act on them, much to Rider’s disgust.

Rage burned within Ghost Rider as he watched Blackheart. This was no predator worthy to be his opponent. Nothing about Blackheart made sense to Ghost Rider; a demon would have pounced upon him if he had been given such an opportunity. He wanted a fight, to fight a real predator, not an amateur demon who didn’t listen to his nature. Ghost Rider was going to kill Blackheart: not for the Devil, not for the countless victims who died by Blackheart’s claws, or those who were to be his sacrifices.

He wanted him dead.

Keep yer head in the game! came Big Mac’s voice from within Ghost Rider’s head as he resumed his motion. Don’t go underestimatin’ him. He’s the son of the greatest manipulator; he knows what yer expectin’! Big Mac said again from within Ghost Rider’s mind, an uncommon occurrence for Rider.

With the smallest amount of effort, Rider pushed Macintosh Apple to the darkest corners of his mind. Though Mac did not go without a fight, struggling against the mental barriers that Ghost Rider had made around him, he was an immortal who had had hosts before; it would take more than a strong-willed farmer to even chip away at the weakest of Rider’s mental barriers. Even with the added fuel of his sister and lover on the line, there was no way for Mac to break down Rider’s barriers.

With final steps, the pair had come back to where they had started, no action taken yet but knowing more about one another than when they had first started. Blackheart’s tail flicked back and forth as the flames around Rider’s head burned bright. Even without a single move against the other, the power both held was evident, waiting to be unleashed with terrible force.

Ghost Rider was tired of waiting.

He roared in primal fury, chains exploding out of his back and towards Blackheart. Their tips had either meathooks or batons attached, all glowing from the heat of Hellfire. Blackheart leaped backwards, outstretching one claw, and unleashed a stream of potent black energy that caught Rider’s chains, sending them flying in every direction, useless to attack him. With the imminent danger gone, Blackheart’s other claw rose up, and a cone of green energy lanced out to strike Rider.

The energy smashed against a red barrier, bolts of power spewing forth from Rider’s horn. Snarling in wordless challenge, the barrier turned into a bolt of red magic, neutralizing blast with the exact power Blackheart had used, leaving Blackheart open. Unhinging his jaw, Ghost Rider released a torrent of Hellfire towards Blackheart with the intent to turn him to ash. Bringing both claws in front of him, Blackheart shielded the attack, calling on his own defensive powers to deflect the fire storm Ghost Rider had unleashed.

As Blackheart concentrated on blocking the Hellfire, he didn’t notice the real attack coming for him. Chains erupted from the ground behind Blackheart, wrapping themselves around his neck, arms, legs, torso, and stomach, burning bright with the heat of Hellfire. Blackheart gave out a roar of pain as hooks dug into his scales, pulling him against the ground with such force that the sound of meaty impacts echoed out as bones broke. Ghost Rider cut off the inferno and instead lept over the magical barrier that had served to separate them. He landed firmly on top of Blackheart, making sure to break every one of his ribs.

“Pathetic,” Rider growled, the chains Blackheart had sent flying coming back and wrapping themselves around the demon as well. “Not worth the hunt,” Rider spoke as he leaned over Blackheart, getting as close as he could without touching him. “Now… look into my ey—”

Blackheart turned into smoke before the Rider. The chains that held him collapsed in on themselves as Rider fell to the ground, his prey escaping him. Rider didn’t have time to understand what had happened as the ground below him exploded, and a fist burst from the sudden rift in the soil.

Blackheart followed his arm out of the ground after Rider, fist still aloft as it came forth and punched the Rider, ribs cracking under the force. Before Rider could be thrown any further into the sky, Blackheart grabbed Rider’s bony tail and hurled him into the Everfree, trees exploding into splinters as Ghost Rider crashed through them. Blackheart landed just outside the hole he had created, black fires swirling in his claws. He threw them forward and gave Rider a taste of his own inferno.

Rider came to a solid stop when his momentum blasted him against a great rock, cracks radiating from his impact. He recovered himself just in time for the black flames to wash over him. The heat was intense, enough to burn the flesh right off a pony, roasting them alive without them even realizing what was going on; but this was not an average opponent, this was Ghost Rider. Fire was his element of choice. Or, to be more precise, his element was Hellfire.

Hellfire was unimaginable powerful, too vital and unfocused to be called magic as mortals understood it. The power came from Lakes of Fire within Hell, with Rider able to call upon those flames to serve his means. If used by a unicorn, or any other practitioner of magic, Hellfire could be used to make a spell exponentially more powerful, giving the magic added fuel for destructive purposes; but to call upon such power had just an equal chance to harm the caster, for it was within the nature of Hellfire to destroy everything it came into contact with. This was no problem to Ghost Rider; Hellfire was the fuel that powered him. Calling upon Hellfire was as natural to him as a fish swimming in water, as was to be destructive.

Hellfire broke through the inferno of blackfire, pushing back towards Blackheart with unnatural ease. Blackheart snarled in frustration as Rider stepped forward, pushing his advance, showing the gnat what true power was. As Rider approached, he could see a pale green light illuminating Blackheart’s free claw, which was flowing and shifting through a series of gestures, gathering power for a spell. Red bolts of power flew from Rider’s horn, striking the area near Blackheart. Chains burst from the newly-scorched earth, constricting themselves around Blackheart’s arm, burning orange. Blackheart roared in agony as the Hellfire burned him, but he kept fighting the Hellfire with his own flames, claws still gathering power.

Ghost Rider relished in Blackheart’s state, trapped in a losing battle, outclassed in every way possible. The upstart punk demon had two chances to end Rider, yet he ignored the predatory instincts of his nature and suffered the consequences of his actions. This was no predator, just a sheltered brat with eyes bigger than his stomach, and Ghost Rider enjoyed every second of Blackheart’s realization that he was to be a meal.

Green light flickered in Rider’s vision for a fraction of a second, as a wall of energy rose out of the ground between the two storms of fire. Instinct took over Rider, cutting off the Hellfire, jumping to the side to avoid the attack Blackheart had to be calling upon to summon just such a wall, and he would not be an easy target.

Ghost Rider had barely jumped out of the way of Blackheart’s wall when he was sent flying, crashing against the ground as the force kept carrying him further into the Everfree. Pale green light flooded his vision, sparks of power lanced across his body, carrying with it the intensity of what could only described as a bolt of lightning. Or bolts of lightning. As the green light sparked across him, each strike dealt an overwhelming, agonizing pain that surged through Ghost Rider’s body.

Pain was not a concept Rider was used to. Merely mortal magic had little to no effect on Ghost Rider, for he was a creature of dark magic and so common spells meant nothing to him. Nothing short of creatures such as Fin Fang Foom, Lord Tirek, or even possibly Twilight Sparkle could potentially harm Ghost Rider; though they would have to be well versed in magical arts with large wells of power to call upon to fuel the spells. Blackheart, however, was a creature of dark magic as well, and he seemed to be well versed in the magical arts to generate such a strike.

Skidding to a halt, Rider brought forth his own magical power, forming a barrier just around his bones and expanding it, breaking through Blackheart’s attack. While he was not well versed in the nuances of magic, he could power through just about anything thrown at him. As he broke through the spell binding him, Rider turned to face Blackheart again, but saw no sign of the wall of green energy that had broken their contest of fire.

Nor did he see Blackheart.

Cerulean energy sparked to the left of Rider. He held his shield in place as another lashing of power struck his shield and shattered it. That by itself shocked Rider; the shot Blackheart had presumably conjured took down Rider’s shield as though it had been made of tissue paper. The shock didn’t last long as pain overtook Rider again, sending him careening backwards, burning ozone filling his nostrils as well as burning leather. Rider’s chains whipped out to anchor him, to keep him from flying further from his target. Just as the first chains found their mark, unseen energy slammed down upon Ghost Rider, smashing him into the forest floor and creating a small crater with Rider as its center.

Stones cracked under the pressure the spell was bringing down upon Ghost Rider, trees uprooted from the sheer force of it all. Ghost Rider himself was surprised at the combination of attacks; it had been a long time since he had faced an opponent who could call upon the elements in such succession and be so well versed in using them all. The last time he had gone up against such skill with elemental force had been Zadkiel and other angels.

As skilled as they were, Rider had bested them, and he would best Blackheart as well. Red sparks erupted from Rider’s horn, bringing his own magic to bear. While his skills were not refined, or even broad as those winged bastards’, what he lacked in polished skills he more than made up with raw power. Blackheart might possess a talent for complex workings like angels; but a wrecker didn’t have to know how the skilled woodsmith carved the elegant dining set, he just needed to know how to use a sledgehammer and where to apply force.

Rage and hunger fueled Rider’s magic, fighting back the gravity spell and unraveling the working with sheer power. Red and purple sparks filled the air, clashing against one another as power was fed into the conflicting spells. Ghost Rider could feel Blackheart forcing more will and power into his working, but it was a fruitless labor: he had used a series of attacks that drew large amounts of energy, and Rider was just getting started with his own. With a roar of defiant rage, Ghost Rider channelled Hellfire into his magic, sending a surge of fire upwards, breaking Blackheart’s spell.

The outward explosion of magic left flames burning across the devastated landscape. Rider hauled himself out of the crater and scanned the area around him. Fire crept down Rider’s leather jacket, repairing the damage caused by Blackheart’s other lightning spell. He scanned the area for Blackheart, but the demon had already hid himself in the shadows of the Everfree. Ghost Rider knew Blackheart had the advantage when it came to sneak attacks; he wasn’t exactly built for stealth having a flaming skull for a head, and many of his prey had done this before. Letting out a grunt, Rider shot a bolt of red energy at the ground before him, gouging out the dirt the bolt struck. Red sparks danced across the ground, spreading outwards like the ripples following stone being thrown into a calm lake. The sparks moved outwards, creating a circle around three yards wide before disappearing.

Ghost Rider then leaned forward, opening his jawever so slightly, red and yellow sparks showering out of his mouth. Most of the sparks died instantly when they touched the ground, others hopped once or twice before fading completely. The sparks filled the circle, going just to the edge of where the circle had been laid out and no further than that. One of the jumping sparks tried to bounce outside the circle, but hit an invisible barrier forcing it back in. Rider waited until all the sparks died out, drawing a breath as the sparks finally disappeared. He sent another spark of red magic into the circle, hitting the same marks as before and another ripple of power moved throughout the ground. Rider then lifted one hoof and dug into the dirt where the circle would have been and broke the circle.

“Get him,” Rider said, and no sooner did the words leave his lips did the ground cracked within the circle and dozens of objects shot out in every direction. They pushed up the dirt all around, as though Rider had unleashed a horde of demonic moles, darting into the thick woods of the Everfree. Ghost Rider wasn’t skilled with complex magic, but this was not too complex of a spell, at least to him. If Blackheart wanted to hide, he could. All Rider had to do was wait.

The wait wasn’t long, as flashes of blue flame appeared within the woods, moving at incredible speed. Flames flashed in and out of existence all around Ghost Rider, bursting infront and behind Rider before he could turn around to face it, though he was not searching for the flashes. He remained still, waiting for his moment. Without his motorcycle, Ghost Rider was not incredibly fast—being a magical pile of bones—so giving chase to Blackheart within the woods would give a greater advantage to the demon, but Rider had long since learned how to compensate for that fact.

The flashes of blue kept moving around the Everfree, and all the while Ghost Rider waited. He was completely still; the only movements of any kind around him were his flames, still dancing in the darkness. A spark of red shot out from the Everfree, striking Ghost Rider in the left foreleg; Rider whipped around with a snarl, chains emerging out of his back and speeding towards the direction where the spark originated. As he did, blue flames erupted brighter than before as a deep howl broke the night, the kind of howl no living creature should make and which sent most bodies into a fight or flight mode, but Rider did nothing. He broke out into demonic laughter as his chains plunged into the darkness of the Everfree Forest.

Ghost Rider possessed may tools for his hunts, but his most useful ones, outside the Hell-Cycle, were his chains. They were a part of him and could act independently from him if given enough power to do so. He could make his chains out of almost any material, burning them into existence with the use of Hellfire and his own magic. He had used them to ensnare targets, to torture, and as a way to instill greater fear into his prey before consuming them. In this case, they were a hunting party to seek out Blackheart.

Blackheart came flying out of the Everfree, wrapped in bright orange chains that pulled him back towards Ghost Rider. The spell Rider had used moments ago was to create more chains, chains that would seek out Blackheart and corner him like a pack of wolves hunting in perfect unison. Once the chains had hampered Blackheart enough to where he could not move freely, they called out to their master to drag the demon back to Rider for him to consume.

Blackheart roared against the burning chains, thrashing against their might as the chains tightened around him like a constrictors. Rider let out a deep growl of his own; as tough as his chains were, Blackheart was still a demon, with strength that could snap the chains with enough pressure. More chains erupted out of Rider, hooks gleaming orange as they wrapped around Blackheart before sinking into his scale-like armor, burning Blackheart inside out.

This added to Blackheart’s survival instincts, digging his talons into the ground, struggling against the chains, using every ounce of his strength to hold out against Ghost Rider. The advantage lay with Rider, though: He had leverage and numbers on his side. Every passing second, the chains pulled Blackheart closer to Ghost Rider, to that limitless hunger.

“Give up, Blackheart,” Rider said in a low growl, as link by link slowly retracted into his back. “Your damned soul belongs to me.” Blackheart kept on struggling, leaving a trench in the ground his talons had gauged. He thrashed about, roaring with pure hatred in his voice as he drew ever closer to Ghost Rider, his red eyes focused entirely upon Rider.

A dark chuckle resonated from Blackheart, before turning in a bellow laughter of deep scorn which bounced off of every surface around the two demons. The laughter sounded as though Blackheart had captured Ghost Rider and was dragging him to his doom, instead of the other way around. Rider cocked his head, the chain links still sinking into his back, pulling Blackheart ever closer to his demise.

“Lost our mind, have we?” Ghost Rider asked.

“Fool! You still don’t get it,” Blackheart said, the laughter still echoing off the trees. Blackheart’s eyes then turned icy blue, the veins around them turning blue as well, only brighter. Frost appeared on his body, spreading outwards, frost mixing in with the black of his scales. Steam erupted around the glowing Hellfire chains. The dark aura of power that surrounded him surged, pushing further outward, pushing the magic of creation itself further way and replacing it with just darkness and bitter cold.

The frost that covered Blackheart’s scales crawled down the Rider’s chains, creeping down the lengths like an oncoming avalanche, without falter and destroying everything in its path. Steam exploded from each link of the glowing chains of Hellfire, as the frost turned into thick layers of ice. That was not supposed to be happening. There should be nothing able to combat the power of Hellfire, especially not any kind of ice magic.

Rider could feel the chill creeping down the chains back to him; the frigid touch made the predator recoil involuntary, showing weakness to his prey. Rider jerked his chains back in a panicked motion, breaking the frozen links before they could get any closer. Growling, Ghost Rider took a step back from Blackheart. The frost encompassed the son of the Devil entirely, his aura of power growing even colder with each passing second as Blackheart drew from this new source of energy.

“Do you think Hellfire is the only source of torment in Hell, mongrel?” Blackheart jeered, slowly stepping towards Ghost Rider, ice forming with each step. “There are creatures that are resilient to Hellfire: dragons most notably, and demons like you who can summon it at will. So how does my shell of a father deal with them?” The blue veins that appeared around Blackheart’s eyes started to spread further, showing off more of his dark anatomy. “As Hellfire was named after the Lake of Fire in Hell, I draw mine from the Frozen Lake of Hell… Cocytus.”

At those words, ice broke out of the ground all around the two demons, surrounding them in a frozen ring. The ice stood nearly ten feet tall, the top serrating into jagged spikes, that hissed and popped into place as the wall took on its full form. Rider looked down from the barrier and glared at Blackheart, unable to recall any mention of this power at all, but he could not deny the power that ice held. He felt the same dark powers as his own Hellfire.

Blackheart took another step forward, the ground freezing under his talons, ice spreading outwards and filling the small area. “Admittedly, it is not as catchy as ‘Hellfire’, but it should be more than a match for you, mutt,” Blackheart said with a light chuckle, azure blue aura forming in his claws, the temperature dropping all around them as Blackheart called upon Cocytus.

Ghost Rider growled again as his flames growing hotter in his anger. Blackheart had been toying with him from the very start, hiding this great power till it was truly necessary: the actions of a true predator, luring his prey into a false security, only to rip it from them and deliver the killing blow. To play him so masterfully infuriated Rider to no end, to be treated like… like…

Prey.

“Blackheart!” Rider roared, louder than any dragon, with more murderous intent than any demon could ever fathom. The ground trembled with Rider’s rage; Hellfire ignited the ground all around Ghost Rider that Blackheart’s ice could not consume. Chains exploded from Rider’s back burning orange with his vengeful fury, lashing out at Blackheart.

Throwing his claws in front of him, Blackheart called upon his demonic ice, meeting the chains with flashes of blue light that coated them in thick layers of ice. For every chain Blackheart froze, two more seemingly took their place, seeking to wrap themselves around the demon and drag him back to their master. Slashing the air in front of him, Blackheart sent a wave of Cocytus at the approaching chains, freezing them in dark ice.

Red and yellow flames met the wave of ice resulting in an explosion of steam, so hot and violent that the wall entrapping the two began to crack and falter under the demonic elements. The steam did nothing to slow the demons down, as flashes of red and blue illuminated the steam from within. They threw each other into the ice with supernatural strength and speed. The heat alone from the scalding steam would have flash-boiled any pony unfortunate enough to be inside of the circle of ice at the time, but these forces were propelled by magic and elements that went far beyond mortal comprehension.

The last of the ice wall fractured under the blows as Blackheart and Ghost Rider came smashing through. Blackheart had his claws wrapped around Rider’s neck, his claw glowing blue with the demonic ice freezing Ghost Rider as he slammed him into the forest floor. Once pinned, Blackheart slammed his fist repeatedly into the side of Rider’s skull, each blow creating spider web of cracks in the bone.

Pain was not a factor to Ghost Rider, his rage too intense to even stop to consider such minor details. The power infused within him mended the injuries to his skull, orange flames appearing in the cracks, healing them just as fast as Blackheart could make them. His chains were wrapped around Backheart’s body, glowing bright orange with demonic flames burning the demon’s scales. Just like him, Blackheart’s body was healing itself with the powers of his demonic ice, the wounds filling up with dark ice before molding back into black scales.

Hoisting Rider into the air by his boney neck, Blackheart slammed Ghost Rider into one of the many trees, breaking the trunk clean in two with the force behind the blow and the durability of Rider’s bones. Ghost Rider roared as Blackheart slammed him back into the ground, cracks spreading out from the impact. Lifting the Rider up again, Blackheart threw him towards the remains of the ice dome, slashing the air between the two. Cold magic lashed out from his claws, severing the chains that connected him and Rider, a hiss of steam escaping as demonic cold met demonic ice.

Rider tumbled away from Blackheart, using the severed chains to anchor him to the ground. Even with the chains, Rider skidded across the ground, kicking up a wide trail of dirt, though once settled he didn’t hesitate to open his jaws wide and let out a blast of Hellfire at where he had last seen Blackheart. Rider didn’t take the time to aim, or even glance at his surroundings; hatred and rage fueled his every instinct, his every step. He wanted Blackheart dead.

Blackheart answered Rider’s challenge with a cerulean blast of Cocytus. The two opposing forces clashed against each other in a monstrous explosion that shook the air itself. The resulting blast of steam filled the air around them, so intensely hot that trees exploded as the water and sap within flash-boiled and the bark ruptured. Rider growled as the mist obstructed his view, losing track of where Blackheart was visually, but with the amount of demonic energy at work Rider could still sense the Son of the Devil. Turning towards a strong point, Rider unleashed another torrent of fire from his mouth at where he could feel Blackheart.

As expected, Blackheart returned Ghost Rider’s attack with his own demonic element, resulting in another explosion of deadly steam. With no flesh to worry about, the steam did nothing more than annoy Ghost Rider, fueling that rage within him to kill Blackheart. Hellfire was Rider’s main tool when hunting corrupted souls, for Hellfire was a tool meant only for destruction nothing more; but he was a predator, and a predator had many tools to slay their prey.

Sparks of crimson magic surged around Rider’s metal horn, calling forth his magic to fight. He might not know complex spells, but with the hatred flowing through him and the natural destructive nature of Ghost Rider, he didn’t need to know much to cause harm. Bolts of crimson energy flew from his horn, giving off high pitched whistles as they flew through the sky with their deadly payloads. Explosions rang out from each of the strikes as they missed their intended target, detonating with a rattling explosion.

As powerful as Ghost Rider was, with his control of Hellfire and almost unlimited reserves of magical energy, he did have his limits, and a constant use of those powers did tend to wear him down eventually. He might be able to go longer than most magical users throwing around this amount of magic, but between calling upon Hellfire, healing himself, and taking on an opponent that was equal to him in strength, if not greater, those wells of powers were running dry. That, and he was on a time limit. Part of Rider knew that the night was coming to an end. The battle in Canterlot had absorbed most of his time, and soon the sun would be rising again, and he would be forced back and his host would resume control. Though the morning sun wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

A barrage of red energy flew from Rider’s horn, peppering the area where he sensed Blackheart. Rider knew that Blackheart could avoid the attacks, or raise a shield in time to deflect the powers, but that would take time, time that Rider could use to his own advantage. Turning back to where Blackheart’s captives were, Ghost Rider channelled his will and focused it in the direction of the Hell-Cycle.

A roar of an engine ripped the air, and the illumination of fire erupting out of the motorcycle’s exhaust pipes from deep within the woods as the Hell-Cycle came to life; wheels churning dirt could be heard as well as the motorcycle came for its master. Turning to where Blackheart was, Rider let out another barrage of explosive red energy, the area where Blackheart stood completely decimated, bearing scars of Rider’s fury and rage.

Without the constant collision of fire and ice, the steam had already begun to dissipate, lacking a constant source of fuel to keep it going. Between the exchange of powers, the area where Ghost Rider and Blackheart had been fighting looked closer to a warzone than a place where wild energies and animals could be found. The land would bear the physical scars for years till the forest could recover, but the magical scars of two such powers fighting with pure hate would not disappear for generations.

Blackheart stood at the very edge of the decimated area. Ice had formed around sections of his body, shielding him in frozen armor. The ice lay thick on his claws, elongating them into razor sharp points that glowed maliciously in the moonlight. The temperature around Blackheart had dropped even further. Ice spread out in every direction around him, climbing up the remains of trees and inching forward with every second. With the ice growing all around him, it was easy to see that his eyes had reverted to red, the veins around them still glowing blue with the dark ice he had called upon, fueling his power.

Rider doubted that the attacks he had made forced Blackheart into this state; such magical attacks were beneath creatures such as him. Just like Rider, Blackheart sensed that time was almost up, and whatever plans he had for this world had to be enacted soon, otherwise the sun would undo all his hard work. Demons and the magic they used could not last in the sun as far as Ghost Rider knew, and, when that light shone upon the land, both he and Blackheart would be forced back into the darkness. Rider was anchored to this plane through Mac, while Blackheart had no host to rely upon. He would be subjected to the most painful death a demon could suffer, outside of Rider’s Penance Stare, before being sent back to Hell where his father would be waiting.

As the Hell-Cycle rolled up next to him, Ghost Rider’s were locked eyes with Blackheart’s. There was a mutual understanding between them, that the next few moments would decide their ultimate fates.

Blackheart’s back exploded with a pair of icy wings, jagged, sharp, and as unforgiving as the frozen tundras of the far north. Hail rained down in the remnants of the blast, brimming with dark potential. Rider was upon his motorcycle within a fraction of a second, the engine roaring in power as he charged at Blackheart.

Blackheart's icy wings stretched out and gave a mighty flap, propelling Blackheart high into the dark skies above, the cold power returning to his claws as he readied a strike. Rider pulled hard on the handlebars, revving the engine through its cycle till the Hell-Cycle was put into a wheelie, wheels blazing with Hellfire. Rider didn’t travel more than a few more inches before the front wheel jerked upwards as if slamming into a solid surface. Instead of stopping, the Hell-Cycle started to rise into the night air, leaving that trail of fire behind it, as though the Hell-Cycle were still traveling on solid ground.

As Ghost Rider made his way skyward, Blackheart threw a claw before him, unleashing a storm of ice shards upon Rider. Chains met the incoming shards of ice; attached to the end of them was an iron rod, the tips glowing orange with Hellfire, smashing the ice into powder as Rider powered on.

As impossibly large and cumbersome as Blackheart’s wings looked, they provided a great deal of speed and agility to his flight, for, before Rider could get within a few yards, Blackheart shot straight up into the air, claws extended, never letting up on his storm of ice. Rider roared in return, joined by the roaring of the Hell-Cycle engine as they climbed higher into the dawn sky.

Ice kept raining down upon Rider, as Blackheart darted in the sky, never staying in the same place for long, to keep Rider moving and on the defensive. Chains met each of the ice shards, breaking them as Ghost Rider maneuvered his way through the air, trying to close the distance between the two, trying to wrap his chains around Blackheart and consume him.

Ghost Rider could feel the dawn growing closer, that magic the sun brought which would force true creatures of darkness away, meaning that he had to end this quick. Thankfully, there was still rage to spare within Ghost Rider to fuel his powers, and the rage within Macintosh Apple added to Rider’s power. Rage was an amazing tool for magic users, making spells so much more lethal and powerful as the user intended to kill. That rage could also be used to infuse magical tools to make them greater, such as a enchanted motorcycle.

Sparks of red danced across Rider and the Hell-Cycle, red fire exploding out of the Hell-Cycle’s exhausts, the red and yellow flames around the wheels turning white hot as the engine roared with greater intensity. The trail of fire the Hell-Cycle left also turned red, leaving a burning path across the night sky, making hard turns here and there, going up and down like a demonic roller coaster, and he was catching up to Blackheart. Ice kept streaking through the air, joined with dark blasts that looked like living shadows. Chains met the ice in turn, a crude shield of red energy materializing in front of the Hell-Cycle, the edges of it rough and ragged.

“Blackheart!” Rider roared, as the distance began to close between them, a mere twenty yards separating the pair. Blackheart’s red eyes grew wide as he realized Rider was gaining on him, his wings flapping harder, trying to distance themselves again, but it was no use. Rider proved to be the superior predator. In an act of desperate survival, Blackheart threw everything he had at Ghost Rider. Ice, black magic, acid, and bolts of lightning flew from Blackheart’s claws, but they were feeble compared to the power coursing through Rider at that instant.

The distance became ten yards, chains finding holds on Blackheart, wrapping around his legs and tail, dragging him back so that more chains could latch onto the spawn of the Devil. Blackheart howled as the chains, glowing with Hell-Fire, enveloped him and brought him closer to Rider. Standing on the seat of the Hell-Cycle, Rider leaned forward, ready to pounce.

Three yards, chains bound Blackheart’s arms, torso, and neck, dragging him closer to Rider. He thrashed about like a fish on land, and as powerful as the new Hell-Cycle was, it was not ready to take on a demon like this and would soon break course with Blackheart's thrashing. Instinct took Ghost Rider, and he lept from the Hell-Cycle onto Blackheart’s back; he had been aiming for his chest, to use the Stare on him right away, but the demon thrashed at the last second and changed Rider’s destination. The chains around his forelegs had fully encircled Blackheart, holding the demon too him.

The two struggled in the air as the connection between Rider and the Hell-Cycle was lost, sending the motorcycle plummeting to the forest below. That didn’t matter to Rider: nothing did except his prey. Chains tightened around Blackheart, glowing with the heat of Hellfire. Ghost Rider could feel that demonic ice trying to take hold of him, but it was far too late for Blackheart, far too late to change anything.

“I might not consume your soul, Blackheart!” Ghost Rider bellowed, forcing Blackheart to face Rider’s approximation of the east. “But I will give you a painful death!” Rider roared in malicious glee, as the pair of demons fell down to the ground below.

Rising up, forcing back the darkness of night, came the golden sunlight of Celestia’s sun; the golden light burned brightly as darkness became light. Ghost Rider could feel the changes, the light undoing him, pushing the Hellfire out of his chains, pushing the darkness that was the Ghost Rider back into hiding beneath the flesh of his host. The entire event was painful to Rider, but it was nothing to what Blackheart had to be feeling.

Blackheart was screaming and howling in absolute agony, scales beginning to burn in the sunlight, turning into a grey and greasy mess that smelt of rotten meat. The Cocytus ice hissed and exploded into steam when the golden light fell upon it, unable to survive in the direct sunlight. Finally, Blackheart burst in a comet of blue and purple fire, which joined the red fire that engulfed Ghost Rider, changing him into Mac.

“Damn you Rider! Damn you!” Blackheart howled, right as the pair of them slammed into the ground with a meaty crunch.

Mac was exhausted, every nerve in his body screaming as he came to. He could hear his bones snapping back into place, the pain of it adding to his agony. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he was too thirsty, in too much pain to do so. It had taken a lot out of him to remain conscious during the transformation, to see all that Rider saw; he wanted to make sure the bastard was dead even if it cost him his secret.

Pushing himself to his hooves, he faltered for a second, his legs still mending, but he caught himself before he could fall. He was just dimly aware of his surroundings, the sunlight upon him and the dirt shifting beneath his hooves. His vision, though, was still blurry, and a ringing in his ears kept him from hearing anything at all. Still, he took a wobbly step forward, shaking his head to clear it and blinking to regain his sight.

Slowly, his vision started to return, and he could make out the most basic of objects. True enough, he was standing in a clearing, everything around him looking as though it had been through Hell and back.That made him chuckle. There was a figure on the ground not too far away from him, and a little further four large trees.

Mac’s mind snapped back in an instant as a cold surge went through him. Ghost Rider and Blackheart had somehow managed to fall right in the clearing Blackheart had made for his ritual, and four set of eyes were staring down at him. Sometime in that cold surge his vision had returned, and he could clearly see Twilight, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy staring down at him, each with a look of surprise, maybe except Rainbow Dash. His eyes found Applejack, her mouth slightly open as she stared at him, and all Mac could do was stare back.

The first time he had seen his sister as Big Mac in a long, long time.

He stood there, motionless, waiting for her response. Anger? Joy? Sadness? Mac had no idea. He never planned on this; out of all the ways of revealing he was still alive, never did he think it would be in a crater of demonic fury after she was nearly murdered. Lost for what to do, Mac just stared up at her, waiting for her move.

Applejack just stared down at him from where she was chained, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she tried to form words but nothing seemed to come to her. What did one say to a dead brother who turned out to be a demon? After a few tries, she finally licked her lips and took in a breath, and Mac waited for the worse.

“Ah can’t believe it… Rainbow was right… you were the Ghost Rider…” That surprised Mac. He didn’t think Rainbow had ever told Applejack that he had become the Ghost Rider. Looking over at Rainbow Dash, she just shrugged at him, and it didn’t seem right. None of these was a reaction he had expected. Looking down at his hooves, he tried to realize what was going on.

His hooves were black.

That bastard! Mac thought in joy, He made sure to save just enough magic! Mac had to fight down a cheer. He was not Big Mac: he was still Wild Blaze! He looked up at the four mares and just smiled.

“Yes, she was,” Mac replied, his voice that of Wild Blaze, keeping himself from sounding to gleeful. “Now, before you turn me in, how about I get you down from there?” Mac stepped forward, his mind hard at work trying to figure out how to even get them down from their bonds. As he set his hoof down, a shock went through him that sent him scrambling backwards on pure reflex.

As he stepped back, Mac tried to put weight on the hoof that had been zapped, but the pain was so intense that he nearly blacked out from it. Raising his right hoof up, he saw that it had been burned, badly. Flame was already coming over the wound to heal it, but it shouldn’t have had to. There was nothing around him that would have been able to hurt him, now that the sun was up. Looking from his hoof, the stretch of land between him, and the others, his stomach twisted and he had to fight back the bile creeping up his throat.

The ritual circle was still there. The shield protecting it was still there as well.

“Th… that shouldn't be there,” Mac said, looking down at the spell still at work, the dark hues of purple still twisting around and protecting the circle from all harm. A spell powered by dark magic. Looking up at the sky, the sun’s rays were shining down upon it, the golden light bathing it. No demonic power should have withstood the light of the sun. There was just no way!

“How is that—”

Sharp, debilitating pain sliced through Mac. He would have screamed, if another stab had not shot through his throat. Over the next few agonizing seconds, what felt like blades pierced through Mac’s body. Blades kept shooting up from under him, going right through his body, impaling him over and over. Sometime between the bursts, Mac realized that his hooves were no longer touching the ground, and that he was suspended in the air.

He could hear the screams of Applejack and the others, a mix of fear and anger in them all, and it did not take a genius to figure out why. Cold started to encompass him, coursing through the blades that stabbed him and created barbs within him. Throughout all the pain that was consuming him, the cold kept building; not the cold of the temperature falling, but the slow cold that came over those knowing that darkness, true evil was close.

“Hello… mongrel,” said the cold and harsh words of Blackheart.

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much to Arbarano Jake the Army Guy, and TotallyNotaBrony for all their hard work and amazing edits! Without them, this chapter would have been far, far worse.

I re-wrote this chapter about three times, and I really like this chapter, probably my best since War in the Heavens.

I should have the next chapter completed in one to two weeks, and will hopefully have this story done by the end of March.

Hope you have enjoyed this far!