"Mommy, help!"

Gossamer Glow did not want to die like this. Not with the last words she'd ever speak aloud being to call for her mother. Not with her mother less than five strides away, powerless to do anything to save her eldest daughter after she'd been pulled from her forelimbs. Not at the claws of these horrible, cold, dead things that were dragging her away, kicking and screaming. And not before she'd seen her fifteenth birthday.

Ironwood was doing his best to try and keep the wights at bay, but it was clear that, with just his bare hooves and basic guardspony armor, he was simply outclassed by the better armored, and very definitely armed, griffin wights that were attacking him. While it was taking a dozen of them to keep him at bay, they had another two dozen to deal with the rest of the group... weakest first.

Gossamer could feel her body getting cold. She'd heard a few of the veteran soldiers talk about the Black Feather War, and about horrors like these and what they could do to you. They said that if you were drained completely by a wight, then you'd likely become one yourself. She didn't want to become like that, but they were so strong... and she was getting so weak...

And suddenly, she was free, their grasping claws suddenly gone. Too weak to stand, she began to fall to the ground...

There was a blur of motion, and she felt herself caught by a pair of strong, warm, forelegs. Looking up, she saw the face of her rescuer... and promptly passed out...
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Giving the unconscious mare over to the other three mares (One was definitely the mother of the other three, but asides from that, there really wasn't time to take in details yet), Ruggiero turned to take in the surroundings. His spectacular entry (Five wights down in less than five seconds. Even with the element of surprise, that was still a new personal best!) had startled the wights, causing them to pull back from the large crystal pony they'd been harrying. They'd instinctively realized that an opponent able to slay five of their number so quickly was obviously the greater threat. As soon as they rallied, they'd immediately concentrate all of their efforts on defeating the newcomer.

Which was why he immediately went on the offensive.
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Ironwood had spent a good stretch in the army during the Black Feather War, so he'd seen some wild stuff, but this... this defied all comprehension.

The newcomer, dressed in armor so well-cared-for that it gleamed like new, in spite of the scratches on its surface indicating long use, had charged like a lunatic into the thickest concentration of wights, before the abominations had been able to brace themselves. His sword gleaming with magefire, he began weaving his blade about himself, striking down wights left and right like a farmer scything wheat.

The blade was very obviously enchanted, but anypony who knew anything about swordplay would tell you that having a blade that can cut through steel isn't much good if you're not strong enough, and skilled enough, to swing it effectively. More importantly, using a sword can be exhausting in the extreme, especially when you have to focus both on offense and defense in a massive melee like this one. A twenty-year veteran, armed with such a blade, might, and he'd stress this point emphatically, might have been able to hold his own against half this number for a few minutes, but no soldier that Ironwood had ever met could have ever been able to succeed against such odds...

But this stranger, whoever he was, was to the wights like a shark was to a school of tuna. It was almost impossible to follow, as warrior's blade weaved a lethal pattern about himself in short, devastating thrusts and swings. Not a single movement was wasted, not a single step was out of place. Wights who stepped forward with their weapons ready found themselves suddenly holding sundered spears, headless axes, or sword hilts bereft of their blades. Those who were slightly slower were dispatched instantly with a quick decapitation, while the faster ones might last as long as three seconds after they came within reach of his blade... and were instantly disassembled with a skill and efficiency that was equally awe-inspiring and horrifying.

And he never tired. That, more than anything, was what startled Ironwood the most. The warrior was tackling a small army of enemies who never tired, never felt fear, and did not feel pain... and yet, it was clear that between him and the wights he faced, it was this stranger who was the superior combatant. His stamina, skill, and discipline was sufficient to rival that of practically any military company in the world.

...And he could not have been any older than fourteen years old...
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Ruggiero could not help but laugh. This was truly the best night ever. A single misstep would mean violent, agonizing death. His enemies were strong, fearless, and without mercy. Their assault was unrelenting, and he could see his death on every blow he turned aside, and in the eyes of every foe he faced... and he never felt more alive.

...He idly wondered if this was what sex felt like. If it didn't, he'd be horribly disappointed...
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A loud noise sounded behind the remaining enemy forces. The wights suddenly stopped their advance, their numbers thinned considerably. They backed away from the young warrior, then split into two groups, allowing a thin opening through which a single warrior advanced.

It stood head and shoulders above the rest of its soldiers, and it held a definite air of command that the other wights had lacked. Ironwood noted the rank insignia upon the shoulders of its armor. This one was a captain, or had been before his death. Once it came within ten strides of the warrior, the wight stopped, and the remaining dozen wights began to form a circle around the two.

The taller wight spoke. "I am Bertrand, son of Bertrand, and of Gwendolyn. I hold the rank of Captain of the Black Feather Army, and bear the title of Earl of the Western Marches. In thirty seven years, and in seventy duels, I have never known defeat, save the one that ended my life. I challenge you to a duel."

Incredible. Ironwood had heard stories of how some, typically individuals of strong will, could retain some semblance of their sanity, even after becoming a wight. Such entities were typically much more powerful than their more lunatic kin...

The youth grinned like a five-year-old who'd just been given a shiny new toy, and responded, stating, "I am Ruggiero, son of Malted Barley, and of Galaciella Blackfeather. I hold no titles or rank, but I am confident that I've been in more fights in my life than you had hot meals in yours, and I've yet to meet my better. I accept your challenge."

There seemed to be the slightest hint of a smile on the wight's face as it went into a fighting stance, an expression and stance both echoed by the stranger, this Ruggiero. The remaining wights began to bang their weaponry against their chests as the two combatants began to circle one another warily...
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"So, how goes your research?"

Lady Midnight Black looked over her shoulder at the speaker. Of all the members of the Circle that the lady was required to associate with, she supposed that Lord Fly was the closest thing she had to a friend. The two unicorns had similar interests, after all: Lady Midnight Black was deeply engrossed in the research of the reanimation of corpses. Lord Fly, on the other hoof, was interested in the methods by which life could be preserved, and sustained, even when the body had been critically damaged. Had he different reasons for why he wanted to sustain the lives of others, this would have made him a respectable figure. Since he was a sadistic cannibal who wanted to keep his victims alive for as long as possible, he was obviously anything but.

Lady Midnight Black's arcane research lab was open to all members of the Circle who were interested in thestudy of the dark arts, and the mare had found that Lord Fly possessed an intellect rivaling her own. It was with Fly's help, for example, that she'd been able to discover a means by which to mass-produce wights, creating the forces that would be the backbone of the Circle's army in the days to come. With the old methods she'd had available, it would have taken decades to create an army of wights a thousand strong, but thanks to their combined efforts, she had succeeded in reviving every corpse she could recover from the Black Feather War, and convert every last one of them into wights...

...All ten thousand of them.

Looking at the object of her current research, she could not help but smile. They'd found the object in question hidden amongst Sombra's personal effects, just a few brief hours after the tyrant's death: While the rest of the city was dancing in the streets, the Circle had gutted the warlock's chambers, labs, and storehouses, hoping to discover the secrets behind his unnatural strength. While the majority of the knowledge they'd sought was still being deciphered, the discovery of the object in question had put all of Midnight Black's other research on hold...

After all, how often do you get to study a legend?

Turning her gaze away from the fragments of gleaming white metal, held aloft in a levitation spell, she answered, "Quite well, in all honesty. My original theorem has proven to be correct: In spite of being fragmented, the metal itself still retains a link to its power source. When the device was shattered, it simply rendered that link unusable without an interface. I believe that the hilt was the original interface, granting the holder the ability to access and control the power the blade itself tapped into. I've spent the last two days working on a spell that recreates that interface... and I have succeeded. I've already completed several experiments in which I was able to extract energy successfully." She gestured towards a set of glowing cubes in one corner, then chuckled and said, "In those alone, I have enough energy to craft a spell that would take the entire Circle a month to complete normally. I simply need to find a means of converting it from cosmic energy into necrotic energy, and we could significantly fortify our forces." Her smile became like that of a shark, or like the kind of fish that lives at the bottom of the ocean, the kind with more teeth than body. "I imagine that even Celestia and Luna would hesitate to challenge an army of ten thousand death knights."

A smile played across the stallion's lips. While Midnight Black hated admitting that she was still bound by such trivial things as the base desire to mate, she did find Lord Fly to be devilishly attractive, especially when he smiled. Tall, handsome, muscular, with a pure white body and a blonde mane and tail, it was obvious why he had a sizable harem of willing mares back at his manor. The mares in said harem were completely unaware of their keeper's true 'interests', thankfully, since even a group of gold-digging mares who were more than willing to rut him silly each night in the hopes of bearing his children and becoming his bride would have blanched at the thought of being wed to a cannibal...

...Their loss.

"Truly remarkable," the stallion admitted, looking back to the fragments of metal. "A pity that we lack the means of reconstructing it back into its original state." Tilting his head slightly to one side, he added, "At least, for now."

Lady Midnight Black, the Lady Spider, chuckled, then said, "Sombra actually had some interesting theories about that. However, it seems his use of dark magic without proper safety procedures ended up damaging his psyche, and that resulted in him losing interest in these fragments, and gaining interest into deepening his understanding of dark magic instead. He was well on his way to becoming something... other than a pony, when the 'emperor' came down and destroyed him. Still, what information I've gleaned from the notes is truly impressive, and was of great help in forging the interface."

Nodding, Lord Fly said, without a trace of irony, "An intellect to be envied, certainly, even if he was completely mad." Chuckling, he added, "Still, this is an excellent start: From the reports I just received from my spies in the Crystal Palace, Luna was definitely harmed by the dark energy we had infused into the wight. While the emperor lives, the curse placed upon him definitely caused something to happen to him: A marked change in appearance was observed when he was last seen. Details are sketchy, but I expect further reports to arrive shortly. Moreover, Celestia was somehow injured during a confrontation with an unnamed entity that originated from Luna's contact with the dark energy. The reports are sketchy there as well, but it seems that she has currently exhausted herself, and it may take some time for her to fully recover."

Her eyes widening, Lady Spider admitted, "An excellent start, indeed. Lord Scorpion has already begun preparing all of the other members of the Circle for our endgame scenario. While he would hesitate to strike down Celestia and Luna unless it proved absolutely necessary, with the power now potentially at our disposal, we should easily be able to force them to surrender their authority over the Crystal Empire to us, even if they were at their full strength."

His expression unreadable, Lord Fly asked, "How long until you've succeeded in creating a means of converting the energy into a usable form?"

"Forty-eight hours," Lady Spider said, grinning confidently. "In the meantime, I'll continue extracting energy from the Starblade. By the time the converter is completed, we'll have enough energy at our disposal to wipe out every major city in Equestria, if need be. By this time next year, we could have enough power at our disposal to make world conquest a possible long term goal." With a chuckle, she added, "In the meantime, the upcoming war will be a conflict that will go down in history: I imagine that, a thousand years from now, they'll still be talking about the Three Day War."