From a dreamless, dark sleep that felt like forever, the mare returned to the land of the living. Pain wracked her body; fire clamped down onto her leg with its piercing fangs. Her muscles resisted any and all efforts from her to move them, each heavy as a boulder weighing her down. A solitary ear flicked above her head, which proved that she should still be able to move.

The mare took a deep breath and summoned up her willpower. Gritting her teeth against the dragon’s jaws clamped on her rear leg, she fed all of her effort into moving her right foreleg. With her eyes still pressed tightly, she concentrated on each and every muscle, the tickle of short grass beneath her hoof, the texture of the ground the grass grew from. Agonising seconds later, she found purchase enough to press into the ground and push herself up a few inches. She raised her heavy eyelids enough to finally crack her sleep-encrusted lashes apart and absorb her unfamiliar surroundings.

The first thing she noticed was the light—rather, the lack of it. In the gloom of her immediate vision, she wondered if she had even opened her eyes at all. She blinked a few times, her pupils seeking any errant light rays they could. Seconds passed, gradually allowing her to make out different shades. There were solid blacks, lighter greys and even some dark brown smudges in the blurred tapestry before her.

She moved her left foreleg out from underneath her chest and grimaced at the intense tingling that accompanied the return of one’s blood flow. Her head pounded from the exertion of being lifted against its will. The pain of her rear leg intensified when an involuntary shudder ran through it. She let out a quick gasp and collapsed, clenching her teeth. Her breath escaped in short puffs while she willed away the unwelcome sensation.

“Move no more, ground-pony, lest thou be rendered lame evermore.”

The mare’s eyes flew open at the harsh voice. Her ears perked toward the darkened canopy. She blew a tuft of dark mane from her face and turned her head, the left side of her muzzle resting against the cool dirt.

The first thing she realised was that the pony must have been standing nearby since before she woke up. He had not made a single sound until his voice shocked her to attention. A set of greyed legs stretched up above her, inciting her to raise her eyes and her neck the smallest amount. What next caught her eye was the peculiar set of wings attached to his sides—they were like none she’d ever seen. She couldn’t be sure in the lingering gloom, but they appeared… Scaly? Webbed, even?

Her eyes resumed their ascension and came to rest upon the gaze of her company. A pair of glowing butterscotch eyes glared into her own. Another shiver ran through her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away. There was something hypnotic about that gaze: the way his slits for pupils pierced into hers, the way the hue of his irises seemed to shine like moonlight in her shadowed surroundings.

“For what purpose didst thou come here? What incentive hast led thou to trespass upon Our blackened sanctuary?”

Incentive? Trespass? Sanctuary?

With a groan, the mare let her head fall to the ground once more and closed her eyes. What is this… pony talking about? Her mind still very much in disarray, she attempted to string together a coherent sentence.

“Who… are you? What is this… place?”

The stallion snorted. He crouched before the mare, his front legs bending at the knees. He flared out his jagged wings and stared her full in the face. “Thou cometh into Our domain, yet knoweth not where thou lie? Art thou ignorant, nay, reckless?” He stood once more, again snorting. “Thou draggeth thyself upon shattered limbs into Our home. Pray tell, why dost thou attempt this?”

The unusual speech made the mare’s head pound even worse. What is he saying? I was wrong to come here?

“My home…” She coughed for a few seconds, the force upon her stomach muscles racking her body with new pains. “Please… we were attacked… dragons came and—and burned our houses all to the ground. I saw…”

She let out a whimper while prior-restrained liquid built in volume at the corners of her eyes. “They’re dead. The dragons took them and… and…”

Unable to continue, the mare wailed and buried her face into the ground. A small, salty puddle spread over the damp soil beneath her face.

“O Brother, be’th not so direct upon Our charge. Verily, she hath suffered through an ordeal of great magnitude.”

Another pony landed next to the first. Her coat matched that of her partner’s. Her dark-blue mane lay slung over her back and about her shoulders, accenting her own amber eyes. Lengthened lashes spread from the corners of her eyes.

“She hath invaded Our home, trespassed upon Our sacred land. Be it not reasonable to demand clarity?” the stallion asked.

“Surely thy subject’s condition ought be taken into account, ere you proceed to glean knowledge from her?”

While the dark ponies argued in their unusual dialect, the mare covered her ears and cowered. Memories flashed through her mind—memories of smoke, flame, ash and dust. The screams of her brethren and the roars of her oppressors took over her senses. Her heart began to race again.

“...Take this mare under thine own wing, then. I shall resume surveillance of the wood. Mayhap there be others of yon kin who seek to breach Our territory.” The stallion let out a final snort and sprang into the sky with a mighty leap. He unfurled his wings and flapped rapidly; soon he was beyond earshot of either mare.

“Thou wilt forgive mine brother—times art few and far between that We play host to a non-hostile visitor.”

The mare on the ground looked up at the pony and shuddered as those gleaming amber lights peered into her. She breathed in deeply, as much as her lungs would allow. She released the breath, glad for the sensation of her racing heart beginning to slow.

“I promise I’m friendly,” she said. “Please tell me—who are you ponies?”

The standing mare clapped her front hooves on the ground. She bent her knees and spread her wings. “I am clept as Clear Night. Thou just witnessed the departure of mine brother, Starwind. We art of the humble race of Thestral, in this darkened wood whereupon We dwell.”

She stood once again and tucked her wings away. “Anon, dear filly, pray betoken me thy own identity?”

Her head still swimming from the elaborate language, the mare scrunched up her eyes and propped her front legs against her forehead. After a moment, she lowered them and stared into the face of her guardian.

“Mulberry. ...My name is Mulberry Pie.”

The sun blazed high and bright over the crystal arena. Stands continued to fill with citizens and tourists alike. Pegasi soared overhead and settled down into their own positions above the others, at Princess Aura’s request. Unicorns and Earth ponies mingled in the lower stands, closer to the imminent action. Much chatter and general merriment roved around the air, which continued to increase in volume as more spectators arrived with every minute.

“Isn’t this exciting, Aura?”

Cirrus flitted down before the royal box and gave a bow to each pony within. He raised his head, adorned with a shining silver helmet. “I can’t wait to get out there and show what I’m made of!”

“I can’t wait to see you in action either, Cirrus. I’m so excited to see you fight without your life on the line for a change.”

Aura nodded to Cirrus and flashed him a pearly grin. Next to Aura, Star Swirl and Portia looked upon the eager pegasus in his full set of barding. Beside Clover, Celestia remained silent.

“Wherever did you obtain such attire, young colt?” Star Swirl asked. “Surely you did not bring that armour with you all the way from Cloudsdale by yourself?”

“No, sir,” Cirrus said. “That would be much too heavy. No, my parents and my brother brought it with them for me.” He straightened and held his head high. Sunlight glinted off his helmet, sitting above a series of segmented criniere about his neck. Draped over his back and extending down his sides was a peytral, guarding his chest, and a flanchard across his flanks.

“Do you really need all that, Cirrus?” Aura hopped down from her throne and took a stroll around him. “This all looks like it may have been more useful back… well, you know. I thought jousting was only supposed to be for show and fun?” She poked at the solid steel body plates, his strips of shoulder and neck protection, even eyeing the way the flanchard curled down around—

“Oh, sure, Aura.” Cirrus nodded and circled around to face her, jerking her vision up to his with a start. “But just because it’s a mostly harmless sport for entertainment, that doesn’t mean accidents don’t happen. Those poles can really hurt in the right spot. Far better to be safe than sorry, right?”

The princess giggled. “You, worrying about safe? Oh, you crack me up, Cirrus. Perhaps I should make you my jester instead of my knight.”

“H-hey!” Cirrus took a step back as everypony chuckled together. “I’ll show you that I’m serious! Where is Prince Rend?”

“Um, Cirrus—” Aura started.

“Let me at him—round one!”

“That eager to go, are you?”

Cirrus’ ears almost touched the sky as he stiffened. Everypony trained their eyes onto the newcomer, who had flown up behind Cirrus. He clamped his jaws together and turned slowly. Oh, don’t tell me…

The adolescent griffon landed upon the box’s edge and spread his forelegs.

“If you are so eager to meet your demise, why wait? Let us open the jousting with a bout that these ponies will never forget.” He drew a talon across his chest.

“My son,” Sunder rumbled, jerking the attention of the crystal box’s occupants back to himself. “I think it would be best if we allow the natives to demonstrate how exactly a joust is supposed to go down. You do not want to risk disqualification for incorrect manoeuvres, do you?”

Rend snorted at his father, his tail flicking from side to side. “Pah. How difficult can it be to hold a pole under my wing and charge my prey down?” He turned to Cirrus and took a step forward. “Besides, the colt wants it—he said as much a few seconds ago.”

Cirrus opened his mouth to retort—

“You will wait your turn, Prince of Griffonia, lest I forbid you myself from competing!” The voice of the king rolled over the arena like approaching thunder. A shadow covered the box as he spread his monstrous wings.

Rend made a sound in the back of his throat and took a solitary step back. His eyes roved over the three unicorns, the taller alicorn, the princess and his prey, all watching him intently.

“...As you wish, Father.” Rend gave the barest of imperceptible bows before leaping into the air and flapping his wings. He leered down at Cirrus; piercing yellow forced its way into Cirrus’ own silver. “Do not harbour any illusion of your safety. I will get my turn with you soon enough, pegasus.”

Cirrus matched his rival’s glare until he had departed, then lowered his head and let out a deep sigh. He looked up at the sound of approaching hoofsteps, then smiled as Aura draped a wing over him.

“Should I stymie my son’s involvement, Your Highness?”

Aura and Cirrus turned to the king. His golden eyes betrayed no emotion. “If he insists on being unsporting about his attitude, if it is your wish, I will embargo this engagement.”

Aura lowered her wing from Cirrus and stepped back. “What do you want, Cirrus? This is your decision. Rend seems determined to humiliate you at any cost.”

Cirrus stamped a hoof, stiffened and raised his head. “I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. If I can face a changeling horde, I can face the prince.” He jumped into the air and hovered a few feet above them. His pristine cornflower-blue coat and silver mane shone in the noonday sun beneath his armour. “I will match him in combat… and may the best of us win!”

Glances and nods were exchanged around the box.

“So it will be, then.” Clover walked up to the edge of the box and assessed the crowd. Most of the stands had filled, with pegasus ponies still flapping about, trying to find seats. She looked back around. “Are we ready to begin?”

Aura clopped two hooves together. “Yes, Clover. Onward to the action!”

The audience roared as ponies and griffons met two at a time in the arena’s centre. The fighting varied mostly between two pegasi or two griffons, though a number that could be counted with the horns in the royal box also occurred between a griffon and a pegasus. Every victor received raucous applause, though the vanquished were still rewarded with a more subdued acknowledgement of their participation.

Cirrus watched the fighting from his position on the jousting ground’s edge. As his duel drew ever closer, he could not restrain the butterflies that had decided to hatch within his stomach and flutter around. The latest duel had been a heart-pounder for him in particular; his father, Blaze, found himself up against a lithe, deadly looking female griffon. With wing use forbidden except to hold their lances, flying was out of the question for both parties.

Blaze had thundered toward his opponent with a ferocity that Cirrus had never seen in his father. The scarlet stallion seemed on fire as his mane whipped in the wind behind him. He might as well have not even been wearing his barding, for all it encumbered his rush. Yet his opponent also streaked completely undaunted toward him. Although fifty metres initially separated them, they converged within four seconds. Twin lances found purchase in each of their desired target’s chests and shattered, and a tie was called after both competitors lifted themselves from the ground and shook limbs.

Blaze went to stand with Cirrus and Cumulus, who had also fought but defeated his opponent, a crystal pegasus stallion roughly his own age. The father looked upon his two sons and smiled during his approach. A slight limp marred his steps, though his grin could not be wider.

“Father, are you all right?”

“Yes, Cume,” Blaze said as his son wrapped a hoof over his neck. “I’ll be a little sore for a day or so, though. Nothing serious, I promise.” He stepped back and broke the embrace. “Congratulations on your own victory, son. You do me proud. Cirrus—” he waved a hoof to his youngest while tilting his head to the side “—come over here for a moment.”

The pegasi trotted along the barrier’s inside as the flugelhorn announced the beginning of the next round. Blaze draped a wing over Cirrus and held it there while they walked. “I know you’ve done this a lot back home,” he said, “but today will be completely different. Running on solid ground is vastly different than running on clouds. You’ll find yourself able to grip the ground and push off harder as you run, so your speed will be greater. You’ll have greater balance overall too, so you can focus more on where exactly to land your lance.”

The crowd’s ensuing roar drowned out his next words. Both pegasi glanced over the barrier to see a yellow pegasus sailing through the air while a brown one bowed to the spectators.

Blaze resumed once the hubbub settled. “Since you’re going to be fighting a griffon as well, I thought I’d let you know something. I assume you’ve noticed how they don’t wear any armour?”

“Yeah.” Cirrus nodded. “I thought at first that they were just showing off, but now that I think about it… none of them have been limping away like you or any of the other pegasi, even though you’ve all been covered in barding.” He paused. “...Are they actually really that tough?”

“It appears so, son. You might knock a griffon down, but they won’t stay down for long.” Blaze reared up and places his hooves upon Cirrus’ shoulders. “Be exceptionally careful out there against your opponent—from what I hear, he has a fierce temper. Even if you defeat him, I want you to retreat immediately afterward, if only to save your mother’s heart.”

Blaze laughed and clapped Cirrus’ right flanchard. “I know you can take care of yourself—Hurricane knows you proved yourself against the changelings—but you’ll always be Dewdrop’s precious little colt. Now off you get. Steel yourself, keep focused, and you’ll come out on top.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Cirrus nuzzled his father, then immediately took off back to the loading gate. “Tell Mother not to worry about me!” he called over his shoulder.

Blaze grinned after Cirrus, then launched himself into the air to find and sit with his wife.

Seconds later, Cirrus landed at the eastern barrier gate, where Cumulus still waited. He offered Cirrus a smirk upon his brother’s landing. “You can do it, Cir. Put those times you’ve knocked me on my own flank to good use. ’Twould be embarrassing to lose this bout when you’ve defeated your victorious brother before. Unless you’re getting… soft?”

“Soft, you think?” Cirrus lowered his eyebrows as if to frown, though a playful grin of his own broke the illusion. “I am Princess Aura’s personal knight! I shan’t be beaten by the likes of that arrogant prince.”

“Better check yourself then, ’cause it looks like you’re up next!” Cumulus trotted over to a makeshift wooden rack, holding a variety of lances. He waved a hoof over the selection. “Take your pick. Choose wisely—if Father told you anything about griffons, now is the time to take his advice.”

Cirrus trotted up and scrutinised the selection of wooden poles. The grin beneath his helmet faded while he rubbed his chin. Their skin can’t be pierced… they can only be knocked down… they’re comparatively agile…

His eyes roved over a long, skinny lance, a well-rounded lance and a shorter, thicker one. Each sported a ball on the end. The skinny one had a simple, smaller grip, while the thicker ones had longer ends protruding out from behind the grips, as if to keep them balanced. He lifted the long lance, barely feeling it beneath his wing. This is too long and lightweight. At best, I’ll only annoy Rend.

He replaced the skinny pole and picked up the mid-sized lance instead. It had a decent width to it, fit snugly beneath his wing and had a lengthy amount of its shaft behind the wing-guard, which seemed to balance out the weapon. Cirrus considered it for a moment—swinging it around in his grip, trotting back and forth—before also replacing it on the rack.

That left the shortest one. After lifting it from its place, Cirrus felt gravity’s effect far more as he held it below his left wing. The thick pole was roughly an eighth as wide as it was long, and had close to half of its overall length situated behind the wing-guard. He moved his right wing in front of him and held the pole in both before him, instead of at his side. The remaining shaft behind the wing-guard, he braced against his chest. He gripped it tight, then ran forward a little, pivoted and ran back to his starting place.

“This one. Yes, this is the one.”

Cumulus’ eyes opened to the size of potatoes. “That one? Really?” He flew to Cirrus and place a hoof upon his shoulder. “But you need both wings and the support of your chest to wield that one! Why, it weighs almost as much as you do! Not even Father opted for it.”

“It might seem an odd choice,” Cirrus began, “but I have to use it. Dad told me—”

A loud blare pierced the air. Both pegasi jumped.

“Looks like you’re up, Cir.” Cumulus gave him a gentle slap on the peytral. “I hope you know what you’re doing with that thing.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.” Cirrus winked, then trotted up to the barrier gate. “Trust me.”

Holding the mighty wooden shaft with both hooves, Cirrus flapped his wings, exerting more force than normal to get off the ground. Into the middle he descended, landing at his post. The dirt depressed with his weight. Fifty metres ahead, Prince Rend of Griffonia landed at his own starting position. He stood on his hind legs and waved with a lengthy piece of extremely thin wood.

He must be thinking to get me based on range alone. Amateur. Cirrus shook his head and readied his weapon in front of him. He heard the crowd murmuring to themselves—saw Rend’s confused expression even at his distance. He blinked to clear his eyes and pawed the ground, then bent his knees. He glared at the armourless griffon ahead of him, also lowered as though ready to pounce, his lance tucked beneath his left wing.

Cirrus held his breath, his hooves pressed firmly into the ground. The lance gripped in both of his wings began to falter as his small muscles strained with the weight. His vision narrowed to a tunnel, containing nothing but Rend and the weapon in front of him. All noise ceased, leaving nothing but his pulse pounding in his ears.

Paaaaaaaaa—

Wait until the horn stops…

—aaaaaaaaaaaarp!

With a cheer from the audience, both Cirrus and Rend raced toward each other. Cirrus galloped as hard as he could, feeling each and every step plant the ground and ascend again. The lance lifted slightly with the breeze he generated, its weight forced back into his peytral further. He measured his speed at half the griffon’s; Rend closed the distance with unprecedented speed, his elongated, ball-pointed pole a twig to Cirrus’ log.

Cirrus looked into Rend’s eyes. Rend curled his beak upward as he thrust out—

At the last second, Cirrus flicked his lance down and to his right side.

Rend’s lance bounced off the thick, plank-like protrusion. He lost his grip as it slid through his wing, then fell to ground behind him while his momentum continued to carry him forward.

Cirrus grunted from the glancing blow, but continued his gallop until he reached the end where Rend had begun. He pivoted, lowered his lance and began to pant heavily, stopping to observe Rend reach his own opponent’s initial launch point.

The spectators cheered, snippets of yelling reaching Cirrus’ ears.

“Wow, neither of them fell down!”

“...hasn’t happened yet today…”

“Did you watch how he was holding that thing?”

“...prince looks a mite angry.”

Cirrus watched as Rend flapped back down the track and stooped to retrieve his weapon. He grasped it and twirled it around in the air above his head, before thrusting once more toward Cirrus. That cruel smile he’d worn when they’d met had all but vanished.

Cirrus leaned against his post and set down the lance. He brought a wing up to his face and wiped, extracting beads of sweat already dripping down from under his helmet.

You’d better do it this time, colt. He won’t fall for that a second time.

With a quick glance up at the crystal box, he met Aura’s gaze. The princess had her front hooves upon the railing. She raised one of them and waved at him, her teeth and coat almost blinding him. He returned the gesture quickly, then immediately reverted his attention to Rend; he was already in position, lance held at the read. Cirrus shook his head and again grasped his lance.

Paaaaaaaaa—

All or nothing, Cirrus.

—aaaaaaaaaaaarp!

For the second time, blue hooves rushed to meet twin claws and paws. The ground shook with the audience’s stamping—no encounter had been pushed to a second bout before.

The nerve endings in Cirrus’ wings screamed in protest as he held the mighty rod in front of him for a second time. His legs strained to propel him forward, once again heavily outmatched by Rend’s own powerful hind legs. The griffon was closing fast, his beak curling upward again—

Cirrus watched the lance bearing upon him extend, perpendicular to Rend’s body. His eyes widened beneath his helmet. Acting on instinct, he did the first thing that came to mind: he ducked, skidded on the dirt and thrust his lance sideways. The skinny lance sailed over the top of his head while his own weapon smashed into Rend’s hindquarters.

The thick, weighty lance shattered upon impact, sending reverberations flying up Cirrus’ wings, down his back and to his legs. With a yelp as though struck by lightning, Cirrus immediately dropped what remained of the splintered shaft and clasped his wings to his side. He trotted on the spot for a moment, before turning his head toward the sudden increase in volume.

All throughout the stands, ponies were on their hooves, stamping as hard as they could. Cheers pierced the air, along with whistles and other noises. It seemed that not a single member of the crowd remained seated.

As the applause continued to wash over the ground, Cirrus slowly turned to face his vanquished foe. Rend had dropped the lance again and come to rest a good five metres from the impact. His momentum had carried him forward even while the lance’s impact had sent him further off to the side of the running track. He raised himself up to his feet, spread his wings and snapped his head around to view Cirrus.

If looks could kill…

“That’s it! You’re mine!”

Rend’s screech pierced through the crowd’s continuous euphoria even as he leapt forward and beat his wings hard, right toward Cirrus. With talons open, he collided with the still-stunned pegasus and sent them both sprawling in a pile to the ground a short distance away.

Immediately, the audience’s elation vanished in a sea of gasps and strangled cries.

Cirrus gasped and widened his eyes. On his back with the shrieking griffon on top of him, he waved his wings and hooves wildly. Finding himself unable to move, he could do naught but raise his forelegs to cover his face as giant brown wings beat above him and lengthy talons slashed at him. He let out an agonised cry when one of them opened up his right leg from the top of his hoof to his armpit. Crimson liquid spurted over his face and rapidly began to pool beneath him. In desperation, he swung out his left hoof, connecting with the side of Rend’s head.

Shaking off the glancing blow, Rend quickly resumed his assault. His beak streaked toward Cirrus’ throat—

Bang!

Rend flew back away from his hapless victim. He rolled for a few metres and landed in a heap in the dust. He shook his head and looked around, then his own eyes widened.

The pink-maned alicorn from the royal box stood over him. Her pink eyes flashed a venomous shade of green. She bared her teeth, exposing sharpened canines.

“How dare you attack an honorary royal family member like that! He had you beaten!”

She lit her foot-long horn. More of that toxic colour enveloped Rend and lifted him from the ground. He struggled in her magical grip, then started to splutter as he felt his neck tighten.

“He… I-I… you—”

“Release my son. Now.”

A shadow fell upon the pair as they both looked up at the mighty griffon descending toward them. With a landing that shook the ground, he extended his wings again, dwarfing both. “I will decide how to punish my own flesh and blood,” he growled. “If there are no objections?”

The alicorn held his gaze for some time, then released her grip. Rend gasped as the acidic light dissipated and he fell to the ground. He lay there, quailing before his father and his oppressor.

“Leave us. Tend to your own wounded charge.”

The alicorn gave a short bow, shot a final glare at her small foe and departed.

Sunder watched her for a moment, then rounded on Rend.

“You, cub, have shamed and disrespected our noble and glorious race in the presence of those who have shown us only the kindest of hospitality.” His claws clenched around Rend’s body. “You shall be returned to Griffonia immediately. Upon my return, we will speak further of your future, and if you deserve to ever succeed me.”

He released a claw and waved behind him. Two other adult females flew up beside him.

“Escort my son home,” Sunder continued. “I want him out of my sight within a minute.”

The griffonesses bowed and each placed a claw upon Rend’s shoulders. He snarled and shook them off.

“I can fly by myself!” He spread his wings and turned back to Sunder. “Have fun playing with your food, Father.” With Sunder’s narrowed stare upon his back, Rend soared into the sky, over the arena and eastward out of sight, his escorts in hot pursuit.

Sunder breathed a drawn-out sigh, before turning to the growing gathering nearby. He folded in his wings and paced over to the colourful pile, crimson still spreading out from beneath it. He stopped short as the congregation turned to face him, fear in their eyes. He bowed his head and sank to his knees, his ears ringing with the audience’s hushed whispering.

“I cannot offer a great enough apology to any of you for my son’s brutal behaviour.” A clenched claw covered his golden chest. “I put too much trust in him to keep his emotions in check, it seems. If there is anything I or my pryde can do for you, name it and it shall be done.”

Seconds passed, in which nopony spoke. The only sound apart from the crowd’s continual mutterings was the feeble whimpering that continued to filter through the injured pegasus’ guardians.

Sunder looked up to meet two small, glistening sky-blue eyes.

“P-please… just let us be for a minute. C-can we discuss it l-later?”

Sunder nodded at Aura’s soft, shaky voice. He flapped into the air and—

“Hold it!”

Everypony looked up at Celestia as she flew in front of Sunder and barred his path, her horn alight once again.

“Do you think there will be no repercussions from this?” she hissed. “Your son—the prince of a foreign land—just tried to eviscerate one of his hosts. If he has been sent away, you should pay his apology!”

Sunder frowned, then a slow smile crept over his face.

“In the wake of this incident, I suggest that now would be an opportune moment for our own match to take place? We’re here, there’s a score to settle, the audience grows restless… How about it?”

Celestia hovered in place, her rosy eyes narrowed. After a moment, her horn’s light faded and she descended to the ground. She turned to Aura and bowed. “Princess Aura, I humbly request that the griffon king and I be permitted our duel at this time.” She shifted her gaze to Sunder. “If I win, he and his kin are indebted to you and your kingdom to aid in troubled times, should they ever arise.”

“And should I claim victory?” Sunder asked.

“Then we forgive you on your son’s behalf. And you still owe Princess Aura some smaller favour.”

“You would have me fight to restore my son’s honour, then?” Sunder let out a deep, thundering laugh. “Rend has no honour to fight for—that is clear to me now. No, we will fight purely to gauge the difference between our strength, My Queen, as we would have before. And I will acquiesce to any request that the Crystal Princess makes of me, regardless of the outcome.”

He glanced down at Clover, Star Swirl and Portia, now helping Cirrus to his hooves. Blood from his nasty gash continued to trickle down the ruined blue flesh.

“I must also make this up to young Cirrus somehow. He is a most unfortunate victim.”

“You know, dear colt, you remain admirably calm,” Zebedee said as he smeared a glob of thick brown paste over the gash in Cirrus’ leg. “Many would panic after suffering such harm.”

“Hey, it’s not so bad. At least I know I beat that—ouch!” Whatever insult about to leave Cirrus’ mouth was averted when the paste came into contact with the torn skin beneath his coat. He sucked in a sharp breath while his leg twitched in the zebra’s grasp “That stings! What’s in that stuff, anyway?”

“Flowers of yarrow and roots of mandrake—with this, your leg is freed of pain or ache. It will also shield against infection’s spread, so in fear of agony you need not tread.”

Zebedee finished the application and rose to face the others. “Cirrus’ leg will knit and mend in due time… yet never again will it be completely fine. Though he’ll again strut largely unfazed, a slight limp shall mar him the rest of his days.”

“The rest of my days…”

Half an hour later, a bandaged and splinted Cirrus sat in the crystal box with Aura and her family. “I guess I can’t be your knight anymore, can I, Aura?” He sighed and curled up in his seat, his right leg outstretched. “Well, it could be worse—it could have been one of my wings instead.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe, Cirrus.” Aura nuzzled his shoulder. “If Man—Celestia didn’t interfere when she did, you could be… you might…” She dropped her head and choked back a light sob.

“Yeah… you’re right. I’ll be sure to thank her when she’s finished tearing the king a new—”

“Aura, it’s time.”

From Aura’s other side, Clover tapped her on the shoulder. “You should raise the shield now. This is going to be quite a melee.”

Aura nodded and fluttered off her throne to float a metre above the royal box. Before her at ground level, the queen and the king stood twenty paces apart. Despite the stands once again full of apprehensive ponies, silence blanketed the arena. All eyes were fixed on Sunder and Celestia.

Aura lit her horn, shining with the pendant at her neck. A shimmering, transparent blue shield covered the ground and surrounded the combatants. To test the shield, Sunder flew up to a point and pressed a claw against it, then threw a balled-up fist at it. He smiled as his blow yielded no noticeable results, and gave a short bow to Aura before turning back to his opponent.

Celestia watched the shield go up and saw Sunder punch the hemispherical walls to no effect. She looked up to Aura and gave a single nod. With the princess’ return nod, she bared her fangs at Sunder and dropped her disguise in a flash of emerald flames. While a collective gasp arose from outside the shimmering dome, Mantissia heard none of it as she slowly paced toward Sunder.

“It is not too late to surrender.” She flicked her tongue across her fangs and spread her wings.

“Spare me the humour, changeling. I have awaited a challenge for too many years to back down from you.” Sunder lifted his own wings and clasped both claws together, stretching them out above his head. His shoulders rolled backward and emitted a loud pop each. “Now I shall know for sure if I am truly the apex predator of this world.”

Mantissia opened her mouth and belted out a short laugh. “Ah, I believe that title goes to my kind. As the ultimate parasite, I will show you how it feels to be preyed upon. Beware of overconfidence, for it may just bring about your downfall.”

They bent their knees and flicked their tails. Two sets of wings rose into the air. Narrowed gold met green.

Sunder beat his wings and rushed toward Mantissia with a screech that pierced her mind. Before she had sufficient time to react, one of his fists connected with her chest. She tumbled through the air for a second, then stretched her wings again and regained her bearings with a shake of the head. She looked up to see Sunder already upon her again, his talons ready to carve her head from her neck.

She ceased buzzing her wings and immediately dropped altitude. She glanced up and saw Sunder swipe the space where her head had been half a second earlier. Her wings buzzed again and she ascended right back up. Her twisted horn pressed against the behemoth’s skin, but glanced off the solid hide and sent her rolling away from him in midair. They quickly rotated to face each other, fangs bared and beak open.

Sunder rushed Mantissia again, both of his claws open to clasp her head. She leaned backward and felt the breeze as he shot over her, then lifted her rear legs and kicked his undercarriage. He flew up a short distance from the thrust, though he hardly appeared to have felt it at all as he bent his head and leered down at her. He shifted his weight and pressed his rear paws against the barrier’s ceiling, then kicked off. The extra force granted him enough speed to smash head-first into Mantissia, throwing her back toward the ground.

Rolling around quickly, Mantissia hit the ground hard on all four hooves. Her knees bent so far that her stomach touched the dirt, a cloud of dust poofing up around her. A fine layer clung to her abdomen as she rose and straightened, revealing a small crater. She jerked her head up to see the king curling his beak into a wide grin as he rushed to meet her. She leaned sideways, her wings blurring while she shot to the left.

Immediately in her wake, Sunder landed in Mantissia’s fresh crater, further deepening it and puffing up more dust. He frowned and turned his head, searching through the opaque air for his foe. His eyes widened as a black hoof smashed into his beak and thrust him off-balance. With a screech, he raised a single wing to steady himself, then brought all fours back to earth.

“You do not disappoint, my dear queen.”

Sunder shook off the blow and flicked his tongue across the tip of his beak. His eyebrows lowered as he found a flat spot where a previously sharp point had ended the curve. “You chipped my beak... no matter—I have neglected the whetstone for too long as it is. Now I have an excuse to sharpen it again.”

“More than your beak needs sharpening, Sunder.” Another hoof flew through the lingering plume of dust and slammed into his chest.

Sunder did not even flinch; he grabbed the offending hoof with his left claw and squeezed. Five pronged talons dug into the black chitin in his grasp, eliciting a hiss and a sharp grunt from its owner. “Indeed. How about these? Sharp enough for you?” He increased the pressure of his grip, then thrust out toward Mantissia and released.

She flew backward, clutching her hoof as the dust finally settled. She ran a quick glance over the damage, thin green gauzes lining the place where Sunder had dug in his talons.

“I see I am not the only one of us with natural armour. You may pose more of a challenge than I thought.”

Sunder guffawed. “Indeed. Your hoof should be in tatters right now. Colour me impressed.”

That’s it… keep laughing…

While the air rang with Sunder’s mirth, Mantissia focused on his heart. Her eyes flickered a deep red, her vision becoming shades of green. The outline of Sunder’s beating heart glowed a faint pink inside his light-green form. She drew upon her natural urges and inhaled. A thin, wavy ribbon left Sunder’s heart and connected with her own. She looked down at her scratched-up hoof, her teeth gleaming as the green scores lightened and faded. With a quick blink, her eyes reverted to their usual green and her sight returned to normal.

“What did you just do?”

Sunder clutched his chest and frowned at Mantissia. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her repaired chitin.

Mantissia looked back to Sunder and gasped a contented sigh. She waved a hoof in front of her. “I told you not to get overconfident, yes?”

Sunder snarled and leapt toward her, talons outstretched wide enough to wrap around her body. “Playtime is over!”

Mantissia’s wings shimmered as Sunder drew close. She took the smallest of instances to appreciate his speed before she thrust above the ground and catapulted her forehooves into his back while he passed beneath.

Sunder’s added momentum carried him further than he anticipated; he collided with the pulsing wall and let out a grunt, winded against the solid blue cage. He turned—

Mantissia’s full weight smashed into his exposed underbelly. The blow expelled Sunder’s remaining breath and forced him against the barrier once more. A series of cracks spread from the impact’s epicentre, expanding its reach like a web weaved by a hyperactive star spider.

Mantissia let out a puff of satisfaction and removed her shoulder from Sunder’s stomach. She zoomed out of range and, panting gently, lowered herself to the ground. She chuckled to herself and dusted a hoof over the dirt. Ahead of her, Sunder pulled himself off the wall and also dropped to the ground, chest heaving and breathing ragged.

“Not—guh—bad, Mantissia… you’re fast, I’ll give you—hah—that.” He sucked down a deep breath and rubbed his stomach before steadying his stance. “I see now why the princesses had such a hard time with you. But you will not take me by surprise again.”

“I would be disappointed if you let me, to be perfectly honest.” Mantissia sneered at Sunder and lowered her own stance. “Come on—” she waved her hoof toward herself “—show me the true ferocity of your kind.”

“You want true ferocity?” Sunder stood high on his paws and spread his wings, claws clenched to his chest. “So be it.” He inhaled a long, drawn-out breath, lifted his head, arched his back and closed his eyes.

A piercing screech echoed around inside the dome. Mantissia covered her ears and turned away, the sound ringing in her head, every nerve in her body vibrating. When the shriek finally subsided, Mantissia turned her head and eyed her adversary. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

Sunder’s body gleamed with a bright golden aura. He dropped back to all fours and opened his eyes. The same aura swirled around within them, smoking with a golden mist. With a great exhalation, he trained his gaze upon his stunned opponent.

“Prepare to meet your maker, My Queen. You’ve opened up the Lion’s Heart.”

Before Mantissia could so much as move, Sunder was in her face, his wings disorienting her while his claws blurred across her body. She could do naught but scream while she was battered back and forth; Sunder opened up wound after wound over her chest, legs, back and throat while he moved at unprecedented speeds. Green blood flowed from every gash in Mantissia’s chitin. Pain flared from every muscle beneath her natural armour.

With a loud cry, Mantissia lit her horn. A small green burst of light engulfed her and flashed in Sunder’s face while she collapsed at the other end of the arena. Angry tears leaked from her eyes as she shook all over. Pieces of her chitin had been shorn clean off her body, exposing sinew and wide emerald rivers that wasted no time staining the dirt beneath her.

A second later, a thump shook the ground. She looked up to see Sunder—now aura-less—extending a claw to her head. She trembled as he wrapped his talons around her throat and lifted her into the air. Though Sunder panted as though he’d flown for days on end, Mantissia saw the victory in his eyes.

“Do you... submit, Mantissia? Or shall I—hah—continue this torture?” He brought his other claw to her throat and pointed a single talon to its base.

“N-never…”

Sunder smirked. He puffed for a moment, then removed his second claw from her neck and held it out to the side. “Admirable resolve... but futile in the end. You will concede my victory!”

He swung his claw back to deliver the final blow. It rushed in, eager to take a green bath—

Mantissia raised a leg to defend. The hole above her hoof stretched its diameter, then retracted around the talons, inches from slitting her throat. She smiled at the way Sunder’s eyes widened while he comprehended her action. With a vicious scream, Mantissia twisted her leg.

A crack like thunder sounded.

Sunder’s own roar almost burst her eardrums. He threw her away and backed off, staring at his claw, then at the ground where all five talons lay.

“Y-you… my claw… h-how—”

Shimmering green enveloped the tip of Sunder’s tail. Feeling the strange sensation surrounding the tuft of hair, he glanced over his shoulder.

The tail shot underneath his body to below his chest before he felt the pull on his tailbone. His wings spread wildly while his paws were pulled out from under him. He slammed onto his back, pinning his wings. As he raised his head, he saw the glowing tip of his tail in the grasp of Mantissia’s leghole. It shrank slowly, until he had no hope of pulling it out.

Green fire blazed in the queen’s gaze while she surveyed her captive.

“I am the guardian of the Crystal Empire.”

She sealed the hole tighter. Sunder howled.

“I am a mother to one hundred children.”

Sunder’s body floated in front of her. His wings and paws were also surrounded by green, holding them back.

“And though you have pushed me to the absolute limit in this form, I will best you without even using my own ultimate power, for it is so great and terrible that even I fear to use it again.”

She tugged on his tail and brought her free forehoof forward to meet the approaching stomach. Black chitin met soft fur. Sunder gasped while he bounced back in midair from the impact, then felt the second pull. Again and again, Mantissia sunk her hoof into Sunder’s tender abdomen; again and again, she reeled him in and pulled him forward.

With a final cry, she tugged on the tail once more and sunk her forehead into his flesh. What went in black emerged a deep crimson. Her aura dissipated, allowing Sunder to fall to the ground, heaving and clutching at his gut.

Mantissia’s wings slowed to a faint buzz, then spluttered to a halt. Her hooves touched soft dirt and she bent her knees. With a colossal inhale, she pictured the Crystal Heart in her mind. Cerulean light enveloped her and spread over her wounds. Damaged chitin shed and re-grew over her numerous gashes. The blood staining her horn vanished.

She opened her shimmering blue eyes and directed the excess, freely flowing love over her opponent’s broken body. The puncture in his stomach closed up and healed—not even a scar remained.

Sunder sat up, his eyes and mouth agape at his undamaged body. In disbelief, he stared up at the one who had bested him, yet also saved his life.

“What is this… this… this miraculous force?” He took another moment to survey the rest of his wounds. His tongue found a familiar point on his beak. He glanced at his mangled claw, only to find all five talons as they were before the fight. He heard the buzz of wings and recoiled on the ground, though it was not a malicious green that greeted him.

“I can manipulate the power of love in any way I see fit. I have used it to end life before, when I was a desperate, insane fool. Now, like Princess Aura did to me, I use it instead to save you and offer mercy.”

Mantissia straightened and held her horn high. Her wings lifted, but did not buzz.

“With the power of love at my and my children’s disposal, we will keep this Empire safe from any and all threats. This is the promise I made to Princess Aura, on the day that she spared my life. Accept my mercy and admit defeat, King Sunder.”

She smiled and extended a hoof. Five full seconds passed before he held out his claw and grasped it… gently.

As Mantissia pulled Sunder to his feet, the shimmering blue shield around them faded. All around the combatants, the stands were silent. Ponies and griffons alike sat motionless. Every gaze rested on the pair.

Mantissia turned to Sunder. “You were a fine opponent, My King,” she said. “I underestimated just how much of a challenge you would put up.”

“And I most certainly underestimated you, My Queen. The Lion’s Heart has never failed me before.” He released her hoof and bent his front knees, wings spread. “I yield to your superiority. For your mercy, Princess Aura will always have an ally in Griffonia.”

“I am sure that she will graciously accept.” Mantissia returned the bow with a short curtsey. When they arose, the griffon and the changeling noted the eerie silence that lingered over everypony.

Mantissia brought a hoof to her mouth and chuckled. “We sure gave them one heck of a show, huh?”