The only sound that could be heard through the court of the sun was Fluttershy’s sobbing.

She sat against the far wall, cradling Empyrean’s limp body in her hooves.Tears streaked down her face to fall across the dead prince’s mutilated neck. Her fragile form was wracked with sobs.

Twilight watched her, not sure what she should do. It wasn’t just that she had no idea what to do with Fluttershy—she had no idea what to do with anypony. Or even herself. The Elements were black and inert. Twilight and her friends were just another six ponies. Even if they were some of the strongest soldiers in the world, what good were soldiers now?

Fluttershy broke the silence with a cry. “He killed him!” She looked down at the tiny pony she held. “He wasn’t dangerous,” she said softly. “He couldn’t hurt anyone. He was just a child.”

Twilight crossed the room to where Fluttershy sat, then leaned down beside her. “I know, Fluttershy.”

“How can anypony do that?” Fluttershy said, looking up at Twilight. “He just... he just...” A fresh set of tears rolled down her face, and she broke down and started to sob once more.

Twilight had passed the fight to Celestia, but for now it seemed she was still in charge. If she didn’t give orders, nopony would. “Get her away from him,” she said to Applejack. “All of you, get some rest. I know the sun is up but it’s barely three in the morning. All of you will find medical attention and get checked out.”

Applejack opened her mouth to protest.

“All of you,” Twilight said. “Dash, you look like you can hardly fly. Rarity is limping. And even you have limits, Applejack.”

“So do you,” Applejack said. Twilight didn’t doubt that they could hear the weariness in her voice.

“I’ll be out in a bit.” Twilight regretted the lie as soon as she spoke the words. She wondered if Applejack could still tap honesty, or if she just knew Twilight well enough. “I have work to do.”

“Twilight—”

“I have work to do!” she shouted.

Rarity put a hoof on her shoulder. “Is this... about Spike?”

Of course it was about Spike. How could it not be about Spike?. “No,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s not about Spike. It can’t be about Spike. It has to be about the continuity of our entire species. About restoring our way of life. I have to save the world, Rarity. I can’t afford to be bothered by a single baby dragon who is already dead.”

Were it not for her ability to suppress her own emotions, Twilight knew she would be crying. “Get to the army,” she said. “Find out what needs to be done and make sure it gets done. Chain of command until Luna gets back is Noble, Unimpressive, Starlight, Midnight. Find out... find out who’s still alive and let them know they’re in charge. Applejack speaks for me.”

“Twilight,” Rainbow Dash said, “you need—”

“—To be alone,” Twilight finished. “I need to be alone.” Nopony stopped her as she began to walk toward the exit.

When she got to the door, Fluttershy spoke. “We’re going to kill him,” she said. Twilight looked back to see that Fluttershy was on her hooves again. She was looking at Twilight, her expression confused. “We’re going to kill him,” Fluttershy repeated. Slowly, Twilight nodded.

Twilight looked at Applejack. “I’ll be back in the morning,” she said. The doors to the court of the sun boomed shut behind her as she left. Twilight much preferred leaving the rest of her sentence unsaid.

Then, you can tell me if my parents are still alive.

Titan hadn’t lied. The mountain had been turned into a plateau.

It hadn’t really been a mountain in the first place, or at least not a natural one. When Celestia and Luna had imprisoned Titan and Terra, the magic of their prison had inexplicably centered on a single point—the Dark Heart of the Everfree Forest. The one place Titan and Terra had forbidden to them in their childhood. Celestia and Luna had both been somewhat disappointed to find out that it was just the geographical center of the Everfree.

Still, she couldn’t explain why the nexus of energies that composed Titan’s prison had chosen to gather there. Just to be safe, Celestia had also used the Heart as her workbench when she altered the fundamental properties of the world. She had made the clouds more malleable, the animals more docile, and kept the monsters contained. The Dark Heart of the Everfree Forest had held all the enchantments that helped her turn the world into a paradise.

She had created the mountain as a monument, of sorts. A protective shell of stone over her enchantments, and a tombstone for her own mother and father. For the more intelligent denizens of the Everfree, it was a warning. The heart of your home is mine. If I wanted more, you could not stop me. Stay away from ponykind.

Whatever Titan had done, the entire top of the mountain had been sheared away, leaving a perfectly flat plateau rising over a hundred feet off the ground. The surface was so smooth it might as well have been polished. Celestia briefly wondered where he had put the rest of the rock.

Celestia’s hooves touched down on the stone, and Discord appeared beside her, content to hover. He was oddly still, staring intently at their opponents.

Across from them stood her parents—or at least, Celestia had thought they were her parents. Whether or not Terra was actually her mother was up in the air at this point. Perhaps Celestia could ask her before killing her.

Titan and Celestia both wore near-identical sets of conjured earthpony warplate, modified to fit the alicorn form. Titan had, after all, been the one to teach her the spell in the first place.

Terra moved first, but not to attack. Her horn glowed for a moment, and the moisture in the air around her coalesced, coating her in a thin layer of water. The water solidified into a black bladecasting robe. That Terra would prefer a robe made sense; that was what Luna wore, after all, and Terra had taught her everything.

Terra spoke. “Celestia,” she spat. “Do you have any idea what this creature is? Allying yourself with him isn’t just desperate, it’s insane? He’ll—”

Titan tried to kill her. He was fast, and there hadn’t been much distance between them to begin with. Celestia hadn’t even seen him beat his wings. Zenith wasn’t even cast. Singularity angled towards her bare neck, a lightless void intent on extinguishing her.

Before Celestia could throw herself out of the way, Discord was between them, holding the end of Singularity in an outstretched claw. There had been no indication of his motion; no flash of light, no blur of movement. He simply occupied the space he had not only a moment beforehand.

Celestia stepped back, shocked at Titan’s use of such underhanded tactics. Terra looked just as surprised as Celestia was. Had Discord not intervened, she would be lacking a head.

Titan’s actions told her that he did not believe victory was guaranteed. He was trying to win, which meant it was possible for him to lose. Discord’s intervention was the first time Celestia had ever seen her father stopped from doing anything.

“Now now, Titan,” Discord said with a smile as he uncoiled to his full height. “Why don’t you pick on somedraconequus your own size?”

The world around them darkened as Singularity drew in light. Celestia felt a tug towards the blade. Titan looked at Discord the same way he looked at everything else: as though he was an insect. The effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that Discord was twice Titan’s height. “You wish to test your might against the King of the World?” Titan said. “So be it.”

Discord simpered at him as he struck a mockery of a heroic pose. “You know, Order,” he said. “I do so love your sense of drama.” He beckoned to Titan with a claw.

The space between them exploded. A ripple of concussive force tossed Celestia backwards, and she managed to tuck herself into a ball and roll to her hooves about a hundred feet away. Tiny bits of stone pelted her coat, but her earthpony magic was more than strong enough to protect her from any actual harm. She looked up to see the clouds above them parting as if they had recently been disturbed.

She drew Zenith just in time; Terra was on her in moments. With a flash of neon green light, Exogenesis met Celestia’s blade as Terra came to a halt before her. They exchanged a basic series of blows, and Celestia noted with satisfaction that Exogenesis was channeling less power than her own weapon.

Their blades locked against one another in the air before them, and Zenith bore down on Terra. “Sister,” Celestia said, tasting the way the word sounded for the first time. “Are you also my mother, or was that all a lie?”

Terra smiled despite the fact that she was at a significant disadvantage. “Most of what we told you was lies,” she said. “But that one isn’t. You are my daughter, not that that means anything to an alicorn.”

“It means something to a pony.”

Terra barked out a humorless laugh. “I’m well aware of how attached ponies are to their children, Sunshine. But how could you understand what it is to be a mother? Luna is barely a hundred; you can’t have had children while we were away. Who are you to tell me I’m doing it wrong?”

Celestia thought of Twilight, murdering Esteem as she carried the sky on her shoulders. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “What about your other parent? Your sibling? Were they as crazy as you?”

Terra’s eyes hardened. “This will be embarrassing,” she said.

Celestia was thrown off balance as the stone beneath her liquefied. Her hooves began to sink into the thick fluid as Terra swung at her with Exogenesis. She blocked the swing with Zenith, then tore free of the viscous stone with a flap of her wings. Another flap brought her to land back on solid ground.

Terra bounded across the pool of liquid and took another swing at Celestia, and Celestia caught it on Zenith once again, preparing to retaliate with superior force.

She didn’t get the chance to. Exogenesis split into two separate parts as it held Zenith, and one of them came through the air towards her. Celestia threw herself back to avoid the blade, but Terra had obviously been expecting this. Her hoof connected with Celestia’s face.

It was a strike delivered with the strength of an alicorn, and Celestia was thrown backwards over fifty feet as the sharp sound of the blow rang in her ears. She came to her hooves just in time to meet another one of Terra’s advances.

Celestia met Terra with Zenith raised to block, but Terra split Exogenesis into two parts once more. They circumvented her blade, and she pulled Zenith back to block one. The other sliced her foreleg off at the knee. Blood spurted out of the severed limb, and without the weight at the end of her leg, Celestia lost her sense of balance for a moment.

Without hesitating, Celestia drove her intact foreleg into Terra’s head, crushing most of her face and sending her windmilling into the stone below. Using unicorn magic, she pulled her severed foreleg back into place and earthpony magic reknit the flesh and bone together.

“Surprised?” Terra asked as she got to her hooves. “Everything you know about fighting you learned from me. I daresay Luna is still better at this than you are.” Her face crackled and popped as the bones reknit themselves. “And you think you’re going to win just because you’re older?”

Celestia regarded her mother. It was true—Terra did outclass her. Terra probably had all sorts of tricks to play, all manner of fighting styles and war-spells that Celestia had never even seen.

But Celestia was still stronger by a noteworthy margin. And as long as she played it safe, she could survive until Terra ran out of tricks. There was nothing her mind couldn’t learn, given time.

She brandished Zenith. “No, dear sister. I’m going to win because I’m smarter.”

It wasn’t over. Not yet.

Twilight trudged through the hallways of Canterlot Castle, examining the six-pointed black crystal that she floated before her. Equinox. The Element of Magic. Rendered inert.

She could still cast the blade, and she could still tap pegasus and earthpony magic. But the true power of the Elements of Harmony was lost to her. Titan had broken them, somehow.

She needed to fix them, and she needed to find out exactly how Titan could stop them. Nothing else mattered: not commanding the army, not crying over Spike, and not her.

Her. By now the name Twilight Sparkle felt strange to her. It was her name, certainly, but had she been the pony to command the Army of Equestria? Was she the pony who had challenged a god and murdered General Esteem? And was that pony the same pony who used to tuck Spike in at night?

Twilight stopped walking and leaned against a wall as she collected her thoughts. Now was not the time to undergo another identity crisis. Reason dictated that she was likely never going to reconcile Twilight Sparkle the student with Twilight Sparkle the godslayer. Her trivial emotions were nothing in the face of the greater threat.

She didn’t need to be happy. She didn’t need the assurance that what she was doing was right. She didn’t have time to regret releasing Discord, or killing Esteem. The world was on the precipice of disaster, and she would do whatever it took to make sure ponykind got to live through another day. Whatever it took.

She came to Celestia’s study, and was shocked by how little it had changed since she had been there last. The room was little more than a miniature, carpeted library outfitted with a table and a desk, but it was also where Twilight had taken most of her lessons. The room she had grown up in.

A quick sweep of her magical senses, and she found what she was looking for in the wall behind the main bookshelf. With a thought, Twilight tore the entire wall and the bookshelf away.

Safely hidden within the walls was a tiny square safe made completely out of what Twilight assumed was pewter. She reached out with her magical senses again, noting the composition of the enhancements made to safeguard the box. The familiar feel of Celestia’s gorgeously complex magic greeted her mind.

Twilight crushed the magic under her own, snuffing out every last vestige of Celestia’s power. After dealing with Titan’s protective enchantments, Celestia’s were almost primitive. The safe popped open, and Twilight gently lifted the perfectly preserved tome within.

She swept the rubble away from the writing desk, then used a spell to repair the chair she had broken and sat. There was only one true account of pre-Discordian time left to ponykind. Only one book that referenced the years of Titan and Terra. If answers existed, they were in this tome.

The book opened to the first page with a thought, and Twilight began to read:

My name is Astor Coruscare, and I write these words in moonlight to both ensure that they be preserved for eternity and to scorn the enemy of the crown, Princess Luna.

As soon as her eyes began to move across the page, Twilight felt the impression of magic against her mind. She drew away, wondering for a moment why the magic seemed so familiar to her. The answer that came to her was startling: it felt like her own. Astor Coruscare had enchanted her own journal.

Tentatively, and with many safeguards in place, Twilight opened her mind to the spell.

Astor tasted dirt and blood.

“Maybe that’s your talent,” Clarion said as he put a hoof on the back of her neck and held her face against the ground. “Maybe your name should be Punching Bag.” The other children in the yard laughed.

He lifted his hoof, then kicked her in the side. Astor involuntarily spat up a little blood and rolled weakly away from the blow before curling up into a ball. Not for the first time, she wished she was an earthpony. Clarion Call was so strong. She wished she could be that strong. She wished she could hurt him back.

Instead she was a unicorn. She’d learned a bit of magic. She could use it when putting the dishes away to set the glasses on the top shelf, and that was about it. She couldn’t use it to hurt Clarion, and so it was useless.

“Get up,” Clarion said. “Show us your flank. Let’s see if you have your punching bag cutie mark yet.” He grabbed her and threw her to her hooves, and Astor stumbled woozily as she caught her balance. One of her teeth felt loose from where he had stomped on her face.

“Blank,” he said, examining her flank. “Guess we’ll have to keep going.” The ponies in the yard cheered, and Astor made a mental note of everyone present. They’d get what was coming to them.

Clarion tackled her. Astor saw the attack coming, but it wasn’t like she was fast enough to move out of the way. It wasn’t like she could fight back against the burly colt. She was powerless.

Her head rang as it bounced against the dirt once more. Clarion climbed atop her and struck her in the jaw, and Astor bit her tongue for the second time that day. “I could snap your horn off,” Clarion said.

At this, the other ponies in the yard grew quiet, and Astor felt a twinge of real fear; Clarion never went this far. A unicorn’s horn took months to regrow.

“You’re already a talentless freak,” Clarion said. “Let’s make you a magicless one too.” Astor trembled, hating herself for how little she could do. “No,” Clarion said finally, “Putting the dishes away is all you’re good for. Maybe I’ll choke you instead.” With that, he began to push down on her neck with a foreleg.

Astor began to struggle, thrashing about with her legs and beating them against his side, but it was no good. “I could do it, you know,” he said. “I could say I didn’t know how much I was hurting you. I could say I thought it was a game. The worst they could do is conscript me, because I’m just a kid. I’d get out of here and get to join the army two years early. No one's going to take me home anyway.”

Astor’s eyes widened as he spoke. He couldn’t kill her, he was just a bully. There were other kids around—at least a dozen of them. One of them would do something. One of them was sure to see he was taking it too far. Her vision began to go fuzzy.

No one said anything. They were all going to watch her die.

Astor realized that Clarion was right—he could get away with killing her. Everypony knew that he wanted to join the army anyway. Not that any of them had a choice—they weren’t about to get adopted any time soon, and the orphanage wouldn’t keep them past the age of sixteen.

She had no mark, no parents, and no possessions—was her life or death really going to mean anything anyway? Why would she even want to survive in the first place? So that she could get up tomorrow and live another day as the useless, friendless, talentless Astor Coruscare? So she could proudly put the dishes on the highest shelf before getting beaten half to death out in the yard? Everypony who knew her was standing around and watching her have the life choked out of her, uncaring. So why should she care?

The answer that came to her had little to do with Astor Coruscare. She didn’t want to let Clarion win. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. She wanted him to live out the next two years in the orphanage, watching as nopony came to take him away to a loving home. Barring that, she wanted him to die.

Astor lifted a foreleg and gestured wildly to the area behind them, and she tried to form words. It failed, but she managed to mouth Sundance nonetheless.

For all his talk, Clarion’s eyes widened in fear. Astor noted with disdain how afraid he was of getting in trouble. He should’ve been afraid of getting killed.

Clarion turned to look for their caretaker, and Astor immediately mustered her strength and threw his leg off of her neck. She took a single, excruciatingly painful, gasping breath before Clarion’s head whipped back around toward her.

“Hey!” he said. He still had her pinned to the ground. Astor would only get one chance.

She wrapped her two forelegs around his neck, then drove her horn into his neck.

She didn’t get it all the way in—Sundance had forbidden her from sharpening her horn—but it was still enough. Clarion staggered back as she wrenched her horn free, as she felt his blood spurt out of his neck and all over her face. Astor stood, gasping painfully for more air as Clarion flailed around on the ground before her.

She must have hit his vocal chords — instead of screams, he was making raspy, gurgling noises and clutching his throat. Astor watched him, noting with a certain sense of satisfaction that nopony in the yard came to his aid.

It wasn’t enough. The amount of blood coming from his neck seemed like too little to Astor. The wound might not be fatal, especially not to an earthpony.

Astor needed it to be fatal. If Clarion healed, he’d come back and kill her. She needed to make sure he could never hurt her again.

Once she had caught her breath, she calmly strode over to him and pressed down on his neck with a hoof. She lowered her horn, preparing to push it through his flesh until she hit an artery.

She was knocked off her hooves before she could, by a pegasus even larger than Clarion.

“Titan’s heart!” Sundance cursed as she set Astor on the ground. “What is wrong with you, Astor? You could’ve killed him!”

Astor looked her caretaker in the eyes. “I was trying to kill him.”

Sundance turned to her assistant caretakers, who were just then landing in the yard. “Get him to the hospital,” she said. Then she rounded on Astor. “Inside. Now. Everyone inside.”

Astor was one of the few children at the orphanage with her own room. After months of fighting with every pony she had been paired with, Sundance had simply opted to let her be alone. It was not a reward—the orphanage, full as it was, could not just give her a room built for two ponies. Instead she had been moved into a refurbished supply closet. Her room was less than a third the size of a double, but she preferred it. She liked to be alone.

The only thing occupying the tiny space was a bed and her books. They weren’t hers, of course—she didn’t own anything. She didn’t even have a keepsake from her parents, like most of the others. Astor always made fun of them for crying over their little trinkets—lockets, blankets, Orange Pekoe even had a little model sailboat. Secretly, however, she would have liked to have even a little proof that they had existed, once.

Instead she had books. Astor had learned early on that most books were useless — books about gardening, or history, or stories about valiant princes rescuing distressed damsels. But even the orphanage had a couple of books on magic.

The problem was to learn magic she’d had to learn math, and sciences, as well as needing a dictionary to navigate the more complicated passages. One of the books was written in the old tongue, and so Astor had hoarded a couple books on that, too. Soon, every available space in her room was crammed with books. All because she wanted to learn some magic, in hopes that maybe it would help her hurt Clarion until he went away.

She wiggled the tooth that Clarion had almost knocked free. It was too loose, and Astor made an exercise out of tearing it out with her magic. Maybe if she practiced, she’d get good enough to rip somepony else’s teeth with her mind.

Then she began to read. She was good enough now that she could hold the book in the air and read it at the same time. This particular tome was about moment-fields: Astor was unable to create one herself, but she could still appreciate how they worked, and why they were more efficient than a simple wall of force.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the turning of the lock in her door. Astor never understood why Sundance needed to be able to lock them in their rooms — where would they go?

Sundance stepped into the room and sat down in the only place that she could — next to Astor on the bed. There were bags under her eyes, and her mane was disheveled. In her mouth she carried a bucket, which she set on the floor. “Clarion is going to survive,” she said at last.

“Shame,” Astor said.

“Don’t say that, Astor.” Sundance said. She pulled a cloth out of the bucket and wrang it out with her mouth. “Stay still,” she said through the cloth as she began to wipe at Astor’s face.

“I’m going to die now,” Astor said after a time. “Clarion is going to kill me.”

Sundance dropped the bloody cloth back into the bucket. “Clarion Call is a bully, not a murderer. I told you to stay away from him. And you stabbed him in the neck.”

“He was choking me,” Astor said. “He said that if he killed me, they’d probably conscript him. He wants to join the army, you know.”

“Clarion is a troubled colt,” Sundance said. “And you’re smart enough to know not to get involved with him.”

Astor reached out with her magic and pulled the cloth out of the bucket, then began to wipe at her tender neck. “So it’s my fault, then? My fault for being a talentless freak?”

“That isn’t what I said, Astor. Still, he hurt you more than he usually does. Why was he so angry?”

“I didn’t do anything. He’s an angry pony, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Sundance sighed. “It’s never nothing with you, Astor.”

Astor considered continuing her lie. Sundance could probably be made to believe her for now, but she wasn’t sure Clarion would keep quiet. She decided she’d tell the truth. She was, after all, a little proud of herself. “He told me that my parents were probably still alive,” she said. “He said that I was only here because they didn’t want me. That nopony wanted me.”

“Astor, you know that isn’t true.”

“Spare me,” she said. “Are you going to adopt me?”

“Astor—”

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “I broke his rattle.”

Sundance looked at her in horror. “What?!”

“His rattle. The one with the little blue dots on it. I turned it into ashes. It was the first time I’ve ever lit something on fire with my mind. Then I told him that his parents didn’t want him either, because they were dead. And he started hitting me, and then he tried to kill me. I decided that killing him was the only way to make sure he never got to hurt me again.”

“Astor, that rattle was the only thing he came here with. He valued it more than anything.”

“I know,” Astor said. “That’s why I destroyed it.”

Astor wrung her blood out of the cloth and deposited it back into the bucket. For a time, Sundance was silent.

“You hit his vocal chords,” she said at last. “He’s an earthpony, so they’ll heal, but he won’t be able to sing for months. That’s what makes him feel special, Astor.”

“You’re trying to make me feel sorry,” she said. “I’m not sorry. Why should he get to feel special when I don’t? Why should he get a stupid rattle? He’s going to come back and kill me, and I don’t even care.”

“Don’t say that, Astor.”

“It’s true. Nopony likes me and I have no talents. If I died how long would it take you to forget about me? How long until my name got mentioned for the last time? Can you tell me the names of all the orphans who have turned sixteen and gone off to war? Or have you forgotten them, too?”

Sundance stood to leave. “You have no idea how much it hurts, Astor, to see them go off to war and die. All of you grow up being told that nopony wants you, and so that’s what you do. But it isn’t true. I wish I could make you see that.”

With that, she left, locking the door behind her.

Astor Coruscare was powerful.

She floated in the center of the orphanage’s main hall, bathed in the light of her newly awakened magic. Around her orbited several dozen books. She had one of them open and was reading all about bladecasting when they came to collect her.

Two pegasi, lightly armored and bearing the encircled sun of Titan’s army, strode into the room. Between them was a pink-maned, white-coated alicorn. Astor had never seen an alicorn before. “You’re Princess Celestia,” she said.

Celestia regarded her for only a moment, her face expressionless. “Kneel,” she said at last.

Astor considered her words. “Why should I?” she said. “If you’re here to execute me, I die if I kneel and I die if I don’t. If you’ve decided to conscript me, then will my bad manners really change your mind?”

Again, the princess’s face did not betray her thoughts. “Leave us,” she said.

Nopony spoke. Sundance as well as Celestia’s guards both left immediately. Celestia continued to regard Astor with her cold stare, and Astor began to feel like a child for the first time in years. Suddenly floating in the center of the room seemed silly.

“Astor Coruscare,” Celestia said. “You killed a colt.”

“He wasn’t a colt,” Astor said. “He was older than me.”

“He was a colt, and you are a filly. Children both. You will tell me why he is dead.”

Astor was amazed at how Celestia could make such a musical voice sound bland and lifeless. “He tried to kill me,” she said, “so I stabbed him in the neck with my horn.”

“You killed him with magic.”

“I did,” Astor said. “He survived when I stabbed him in the neck, but I broke his voice somehow. His special talent was singing. When he came back to the orphanage, he tried to kill me again.”

“And that’s when you got your mark?” Celestia asked.

Astor nodded. “I was dying,” she said. “He was choking me to death in the kitchens and I couldn’t stop him this time. And then I felt all warm inside, and suddenly I felt all good.”

Celestia nodded. “An awakening.”

“I had so much magic,” Astor said. “I started floating and my eyes were hot. Clarion got scared.”

“He backed away? It was not in self-defense?”

“He backed away,” Astor said. “But I knew that he’d try again. He’d come for me in my sleep or stab me with a knife. So I grabbed him with my magic,” she said, remembering. “I pulled him in all different directions. He came apart.” There had been blood everywhere.

“I see,” Celestia said. “Do you know how highly your magical power measures?”

“No,” Astor said. “They gave me a scale to use, but I broke it.”

Celestia nodded. “Yes, Astor, you broke it. You are an extremely special unicorn.”

“Valuable,” Astor said. Celestia cocked her head. “I’m valuable. You want me to fight in your army. And if I don’t you’re going to kill me. That’s why you’re here.”

Celestia began to step closer. “Essentially, yes. Magical talents are extremely valuable, and you are the most valuable magical talent. I had come here prepared to appeal to you as an orphan. I was going to tell you that everything would be okay and that I was going to care for you now. I had intended to make you feel wanted and to offer you a home.”

Astor swallowed. “You aren’t?”

“I am,” Celestia said. “But now that I have met you, I see that I can make what you will find to be a far more compelling offer, one even more true. It was in the way you refused to kneel, the way you float instead of sit, the way you described killing Clarion Call. This will make you less inclined to rebel.”

She stepped inside Astor’s bubble of books and leaned down. “Power, Astor. If you come with me, become my pupil, and do exactly as I say, you will become the strongest mortal pony to have ever lived. I will teach you to kill your enemies, and you will make my enemies yours. You will never want for food, shelter, or attention, and you will be respected by your allies and feared by your rivals.”

Astor looked up at her. The offer wasn’t something she had to think about. “I accept,” she said. “But I have a question.”

“Refer to me as ‘Your Highness’.”

“I have one question, Your Highness.”

Celestia nodded in approval. “Ask.”

“You weren’t clear. Is this a conscription, or an adoption?”

Terra supposed it was nice to finally spend some sisterly time with Celestia, even if it was locked in her older sister’s legs and plummeting toward the ground at near supersonic speeds.

The hair on Terra’s back burned, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the heat of Celestia’s passage or the lightning strike. Taking the fight to the air had been an act of foolishness on her part. What exactly had compelled Past-Terra to battle her daughter in the sky when she was Queen of the firmament eluded her. Past-Terra could be a bit of an idiot, sometimes.

The ground was coming up fast, and Terra was not thrilled by the idea of impact. Typically, the ground and her got along swimmingly—she was Terra, after all. But something told her that the Terra-Earth relationship would suffer if she ended up decorating the forest floor, a discolored puddle as thick as a coin.

In the moment before they passed the treeline, Terra acted. She liquefied the dirt beneath them as they broke through the canopy, snapping branches and setting leaves aflame. They hit the ground with enough force to pulverize Terra’s flesh and send liquefied earth fountaining into the air around them. Celestia fumbled as they struck, and Terra broke free of her grip and let the earth pull her into its embrace. Her torn flesh re-knit itself and her burns healed as she was engulfed in darkness.

The flowing soil was not so kind to her daughter. It enveloped Celestia, flowing up her coat and sticking to her in thick strands. Celestia beat her wings frantically to escape as it pulled her under, tearing herself free of Terra’s entrapment. She shook the liquid dirt from her armor as she landed on solid ground.

Terra emerged from the pool fully healed and told the ground to solidify with a tap of her hoof. It froze beneath her, reverting to a form not unlike the one it had held before. Terra didn’t need the ground to be solid—she could walk on water, after all. But focusing on her hooves would be an unnecessary distraction.

“You know,” Celestia said. “You really should have seen Discord coming. A walk through the palace gardens would have told you he’s been here all along.” Burning leaves fell to the ground around them, embers and ash drifting in a sea of green.

Terra snorted even as she wondered why Celestia was stalling. “The gardens?” she asked. “Do I seem like the kind of pony who is into gardens?”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “You’re mother nature.”

“Oh, Celestia,” Terra said. She cast Exogenesis. “Nature is hardly mine. It never has been, least of all now. Tell me, why try to start a conversation? What are you waiting for?”

Zenith flared into life before Celestia. “I’m narrowing down every possible action you can take,” she said. “Figuring out how to give you a problem you can’t solve.”

“Oh?” Terra said. “Let me help you, child: two possible outcomes exist. One, you fail to kill me. Titan returns after defeating Discord and you die. Two, you succeed in killing me. Titan returns after killing Discord and you die. That’s what happens when you play the immortal game, Celestia. Titan wins, and you die.”

Celestia smiled faintly. “We’ll see.”

She crossed the distance between them with a flap of her wings, and Exogenesis flared as it deflected Zenith. Terra fought like a cornered manticore. Her bladework was feral and frantic; Exogenesis was rarely in one place—or even one part—for long. It clawed at Celestia’s guard, desperately trying to work through her defense.

Her efforts were to no avail. Fighting Celestia was like fighting a mirage. Celestia’s style focused not on power or speed, but duplicity; over half her strikes were feints of some kind or another, and every time Terra intercepted them, she was forced into a more compromising position. Every step forward cost her two steps back.

Terra did not give her the advantage so easily, however. She dodged and wove under Zenith just as often as she caught it on Exogenesis. When she did hold Celestia’s blade on her own, it was to lash out with her hooves or skull—and in purely physical combat, Terra far outclassed Celestia.

They dueled as gods. The trees around them might as well have been kindling, so often did Celestia shear through them with her ever burning blade on her path to Terra. Mundane fire was hardly a nuisance, and Terra strode with single minded determination on her quest to kill her daughter. Ashes fell through the air around them. Blood matted their coats. They never ceased.

“So,” Celestia said over the sound of their clashing blades. “You said you were good once. What happened?”

Two parts of Exogenesis dove through the air towards Celestia, and she pushed herself backwards with her wings, crashing through two trees in the effort to avoid Terra’s blade. “My father happened,” Terra said as she rejoined her blade. “He arranged a very bad marriage for my past self.” Terra couldn’t help but grin at the way Celestia’s eyes narrowed. Celestia was all too easy to toy with when it came to matters of the past.

Celestia dove at Terra, and Terra spun away from Zenith and backhoofed her daughter across the face. Dirt dragged under Celestia’s hooves as she rolled back to her hooves and skidded to a halt. Terra watched her jaw snap back into place with a satisfying pop.

“That,” Terra said lightly, “and he gave me the order to strike ponykind down. It took decades to get the numbers just the way our dear father wanted them. I had a tendency to overdo things, you see, and then we’d have to breed them back to proper numbers.” She leapt at Celestia, and Exogenesis collided with Zenith in the air between them.

“But it wasn’t just about statistics,” Terra hissed over the sizzling blades. Her eyelashes caught fire; she ignored them. “Titan wanted to send them a message, so he ordered a generation gap. Every pony under nine years of age at the time of the directive had to die. If the month of torture didn’t clue you in, our father has a bit of a cruel streak.”

“It’s all his fault, is it?” Celestia asked. Exogenesis flickered.

Terra growled. “No. I own my actions. Titan doesn’t understand how ponykind can resist when the battle they fight is so hopeless; but I know. I’ve seen so many mothers and fathers put themselves between me and their infant children, knowing that they are about to die. Knowing that they can’t stop me, but trying nonetheless. Fight to survive. It’s part of their design.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Celestia said. “I’m going to make you helpless, and then I’m going to cover your nostrils and shove my hoof down your throat.”

Terra smiled. “That’s the Celestia I raised. I get so tired of hearing your self-righteous justifications for why you should rule the world. No amount of good you can do can make up for the sins of our past. I’ve wiped entire species off the face of my world.”

Celestia’s mouth twisted into a grimace of disgust. “And you’re proud of it, Terra. How?” Celestia shouted.

A jolt of magic coursed through Terra as Exogenesis went out. Her hair was singed off as a wave of engulfing flames poured forth to envelope her. Terra called air under her tattered wings and threw herself backward, casting the flames back at Celestia as she flew away. Celestia stepped through the fire unscathed—sunfire never hurt Princess Celestia.

“How!” Celestia screamed. “How could you have ever been good!” She thrust Zenith forward along with her foreleg.

A searing white stream of liquid flame erupted from the tip of her blade and poured forth with an immense roar. Terra sprang off the ground with the strength of a colossus to avoid the blast. With beads of sweat gathering on her forehead from concentration, Celestia swung the beam towards her.

It cleaved through the trees of the Everfree Forest, instantly transforming every trunk it touched into a puff of ash. Leaves and grass dozens of feet from the flames caught fire. The ground beneath the beam glowed as it was reduced to molten glass. No, Terra thought: sunfire never hurt Princess Celestia. But it always hurt everything else.

How could you have ever been good? Past-Terra could be a bit of an idiot, sometimes.

As the beam died, Celestia shot through the air towards her. Despite her godly resilience, half of Terra’s coat had been reduced to singed stubble. Terra growled as Zenith and Exogenesis flared against one another, green and gold light fusing to burn together as a miniature star.

Celestia pushed Terra’s blade to the left with her own, then struck Terra with a foreleg coated in telekinetic energy. A thunderous crack rang out through the forest as a ripple of concussive force threw Terra to the ground. Terra twisted in the air to land on her hooves.

Too late, Terra realized that the ground beneath her had been turned to molten glass.

The quadruple shock of pain as the boiling slag enveloped her legs shattered Terra’s concentration. The pain travelled upward as each of Terra’s legs was burned off well past her hooves. Her mind registered one thought before all others: Celestia had tricked her. Treacherous little bitch. Terra propelled herself into the air with a sweep of her wings so powerful it sent a wave through the molten earth.

Apparently Celestia wasn’t finished. With the talent of a thousand-year pegasus, Celestia called lightning from a clear sky, drawing out a thunderbolt as thick around as she was. It struck Terra head-on, and electricity overwhelmed her senses. Her eyes sizzled and popped, the sticky fluid running down her face.

Celestia wasn’t just fighting her. Celestia was trying to kill her. Here. Now. In the back of Terra’s mind, a voice screamed a single word: survive. She hit the ground.

Celestia threw another roaring stream of liquid sunfire. Terra felt it coming even if she couldn’t see it. She tried to move, but she was so slow. This wasn’t right. She had to survive...

Terra was cremated alive.

If she screamed, it was lost in the sound of Celestia’s spell as it burned away the air around her. If she felt pain, it was only momentary; the fire burned away even her nerves. Terra felt her bones warp and crack under the heat, wrapped in her charred muscles. Melted fat ran off her body and vaporized. If she was going to survive, it would be at Celestia’s mercy.

No killing blow came. Terra’s body knew how to put itself back together, how to drag the remnants of a pony together and turn ash into flesh. Her bones splintered and snapped back into place as her muscles filled out, and Celestia did not kill her. Her organs began to toil away inside her as blood flowed through her veins once more, but Celestia did not kill. It was only once Terra’s eyes flowed back into their sockets that Terra saw why.

Titan stood above her with all his terrible countenance. His mane wreathed his face, a blazing white corona set around two eyes that burned amidst darkness. Great black wings stood stalwart, rimmed at their tips with ether. Singularity was extended before him; holding Zenith in the air above Terra. Protecting her.

Terra looked at him and suppressed a shudder. How could you have ever been good. Past-Terra certainly was a fool; for the only fate worse than being Titan’s daughter was being his wife, and she was both.

“I,” Titan said, “am not amused.”

“Name?” One of the guards asked.

“My name is Astor Coruscare,” she said. “I’d like to speak with Major Compromise.”

The guard looked her over. Astor wore no uniform, and today her mane was a shade of bright red. “No,” he said.

“I urge you to reconsider your response,” Astor said. “I’m very important, you see.”

“What I see,” the guard said. “Is a rankless child attempting to interrupt an important meeting being held by the acting head of the army. Get out of here.”

Half the time and twice the effort it takes me to sneeze, Astor thought. That’s how long it would take me to kill you, little pony. “Valiant!” she called out.

Valiant had been speaking with a soldier of the army. He appeared to excuse himself from the conversation before striding towards Astor and the guard.

“Get us in,” Astor said to him.

“And who’s this?” the guard asked, looking Valiant over. His eyes took in a black-robed, white unicorn somewhere close to Astor’s age of sixteen.

Valiant gave a polite half-nod, half-bow. “I am sir Valiant, Knight Commander of the Natural Order. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The guard laughed. “You?” he asked, “a Knight Commander of the Natural Order? I suggest you take that robe back to its owner before he gives you a whipping, boy.”

Valiant did not appear offended in the slightest. “The Natural Order does not consider age a substitute for experience or skill. I request that you allow Astor and I into the inner ring to speak with Major Compromise.”

At this, the guard’s laughter redoubled. “Is that so? Tell, me, Sir Valiant, what kind of knight of the Natural Order requests anything from a lowly guard like me?”

“A well-mannered one,” Valiant said.

“Just my luck!” the guard shouted. “I got the only polite knight out of the whole order. Any of the others would have killed me by now, right? But not you. Oh you are too kind, Sir Valiant.”

“Thank you,” Valiant said with a nod. Astor started to grow impatient.

“Scram,” the guard said. “I know for a fact that the Major doesn’t have any Knight Commander with the army.”

Valiant nodded again. “I am not with the army. I have been assigned as Astor Coruscare’s knight protector, so that she may continue to hold no rank during her stay here.”

“Look, kid,” the guard said. “I don’t care what story you two have cooked up. You keep running your mouth and I’ll have you both strung up by your ears. Understand?”

Valiant regarded him coolly. “How stupid,” he said quietly, “can you possibly be?”

Finally, Astor thought.

The guard’s jaw fell open. “What did you just say to me?”

Valiant continued to speak, his voice calm and level. “No pony would dare impersonate a Knight Commander of the Natural Order. I am young, yes; and so your doubts as to my rank are not entirely unfounded. But if you were to consider for even a moment that there is the slightest chance that I am who I say I am, you would have treated me with a little more respect. Just in case.

“You could have excused yourself, checked my identity on the ledger, then returned informed; and yet you did not. Do you understand that while in this camp I am the word of King Titan?”

The guard looked from Valiant to Astor, uncertainty showing on his face. “I’ll check the ledger,” he said, “but if—”

“No,” Valiant interrupted him. “You will not. You will decide here and now whether or not you believe what I am saying is true. If you allow me through and I am an imposter, you will be punished by your superiors. If you turn me away and I am not an imposter, I will invoke the wrath of Titan.”

“That means he kills you,” Astor said. It’s almost like a logic puzzle, Astor thought. I wonder how often guards get those on the job.

“That’s exactly what an imposter would say,” the guard said. “You don’t want me checking the ledger.” Astor noticed a bead of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“It is,” Valiant said. “But it is also a pointless cruelty, if I am who I say I am. Doesn’t that fit the descriptions of a knight of the Natural Order that you’ve heard?”

“I...” the guard looked around frantically. “You can’t expect me to...”

“Three seconds,” Valiant said.

“Okay!” the guard shouted. “Just go! Major is going to have my ass for this regardless.”

“Thank you,” Valiant said as both he and Astor strode past the guard. “You will undoubtedly wish to check my weapon.” His robe fluttered, and thirteen pieces of metal neatly stacked themselves onto the ground. “Thirteen pieces of thunderbolt silver.”

The guard looked down at the metal, and Astor knew exactly what thought ran through his head: only the owner of the blade could manipulate it with telekinesis.

“Consider it a rare kindness,” Valiant said as he turned to move deeper into the inner circle. “That I will forget your face.”

“Well,” Astor said once they were well on their way to Major Compromise. “That was almost mean of you, Valiant. I’m surprised.”

Valiant raised an eyebrow. “I was doing him a kindness,” he said. “Any other member of the order will kill him if he shows that much disrespect. I taught him a much-needed lesson. Still, I would like to use my power for something other than being your bully for once.”

“I hear Firkraag is getting restless again,” Astor said. “How does slaying one of the strongest dragons in the world sound?”

“Impossible, even for you and me. I was thinking more along the lines of rescuing a damsel. Something that makes the world a better place.”

“And instead you’re stuck opening all the doors I can’t blow down,” Astor said. “Perhaps I should ask Celestia for a rank.”

“Princess Celestia,” Valiant corrected. “Titles are important.”

“All knights say that,” Astor countered with a smile.

“Tell me,” Valiant said. “Why are we about to interrupt a meeting between Major Compromise and all his most trusted officers?”

“You hadn’t already guessed?”

“I have my suspicions,” Valiant said. “The greatest of which comes from the fact that you don’t wear jewelry.”

Astor looked down to the necklace of large beads around her neck. “You’re so observant,” she remarked. “But this is just for the worst case scenario. I’m just going to tell the major that I’m taking command of the army.”

Valiant stopped in his tracks. “You have got to—no, you know what? I know you enough to know that you aren’t joking.”

“Well,” Astor said, stopping to face him. “Let’s hear your objections.”

“You can’t,” Valiant said. “It’s insane! Celestia put you here so you’d learn how the army works, not tear it apart from the inside out!”

“Celestia doesn’t ever do something for just one reason,” Astor said. “And I have learned how ponies make war, Valiant. I’m going to make some improvements.”

“By staging a coup? Can you hear yourself speaking right now?”

“I can,” Astor said, growing irritated. “Celestia gave Compromise this army so he could take the Everfree Verge. He has failed to take the Everfree Verge. I’ve deemed it necessary to step in.”

“You’re doing this to impress Celestia.”

“Why else do I do anything?” Astor asked him. “You are my knight protector and you will do as I tell you. And right now I am telling you to stand idly by while I seize command from Major Compromise. You can do that, yes?”

“When Princess Celestia learns of this—”

“Don’t presume to know the Princess better than I do, Valiant. Now come.” She turned and swiftly began to walk away.

“This is crazy,” Valiant muttered before following her. “I don’t have my blade, Astor.”

“You won’t be needing it. Your job is to stand idle, remember? You’re a Knight Commander, and if you stand near me I look important by proxy.”

“You can’t take whatever you want just through looking important, Astor.”

“I know that,” she said. “But I can take the rest through power, intelligence, or sex appeal.”

“Sex appeal?” Valiant asked. “Is that why you walk the way you do?”

“Yes,” Astor answered. “You’d be amazed at how easy it is to get a pony to do what you want when their sole interest is taking you to bed.” Take the hint, Astor thought to herself. “Back there you got us through the guard because he thought you were a Knight Commander of the Natural Order.”

“I am a Knight Commander of the Natural Order.”

“Irrelevant,” Astor said. “The position is not something real; like our unicorn magic, it is an invention. The rules of bladecasting, which were selected in a fashion that is seemingly arbitrary, cause ponies to look upon you with respect simply because of the color of your robe.”

“What are you getting at?” Valiant asked.

“I am the strongest unicorn alive, and yet I hold no rank, and so in many ways I am powerless. Compromise is a major, and this imaginary position gives him a very real store of influence. But he’s proven he can’t use it anymore, so I’m going to take it away from him.”

“And then you’re going to win the Everfree Verge?”

“Yes,” Astor said. “If a single pony can influence others by the way they dress, and the way they act, and the way they are spoken of, cannot an army? Where is the robe that demands our enemies reconsider? Where is the title that will bring them to their knees without a drop of blood shed? I propose that an army is not unlike a pony.”

“You sound like you’re a book all of a sudden.” Astor ignored him.

The inner ring of Compromise’s camp was constructed around the ruins of an ancient town that had apparently been burned to the ground by Firkraag in one of his more active years. The result was a collection of barely-habitable stone ruins that served as housing for the army’s commanders.

The central structure, the bare remnants of what had once been a keep, was where Major Compromise held his war talks. Nopony was allowed in or out while they were ongoing.

Astor threw the doors open with an excessive amount of noise and magical flare. Inside, over a dozen ponies stood around a large round table. At their center was Major Compromise, an aging unicorn with a green coat and a blue mane.

“Major Compromise,” Astor called out as every pair of eyes in the room turned to her. “Your failure to consult me before making the decision to retreat was about as ill-advised as the decision itself. Celestia will be most displeased.”

Establish yourself as a being of power and authority; let the disparity between the pony they see and the pony you act like intrigue them.

“Coruscare,” Compromise growled. “I told you I’m not interested in teaching a filly the intricacies of battle. Get out of here before I have you strung up by your ears.”

An effective counter; he made you appear little while ignoring your claim to authority. If only he had challenged it. Ah, well, nothing to do but make him appear childish as well and drive the Celestia bit home.

“You act childish, Compromise. Attempt to harm me and I will have you hung for treason and then quartered for heresy.”

Enough time has passed that they will all have noticed the bladecaster standing at your side. Let them ask, who is this mare who threatens the major with death?

The major stared at her, mouth agape. Astor didn’t blame him: she had, up to that point, played the eager student. “You dare,” he said at last. “You dare accuse me of betraying the crown?”

And now, answer their question.

“I am right hoof of Celestia herself, and I speak with her voice,” Astor lied. “I do not accuse you of betraying the crown. I convict you of it.”

If you’re lucky, he’ll argue against the treason and not the authority.

“I have done nothing to betray my King and Princess! You speak nonsense, Coruscare!”

That was easy. Let’s make him angry.

“Princess Celestia instructed you to take the Everfree Verge. You are about to order a retreat.”

“Staying in the Verge will result in a loss!” Compromise cried.

“Retreat guarantees one!” Astor shouted. “Or have you forgotten that, Compromise?! Do I need to remind you that when you retreat, it means you lose!”

Unless you win, in the end. But we won’t let him in on that.

The major’s face was growing red. “You dare talk to me that way?” he bellowed. “I am the veteran of a decade of war! I commanded decisive victories at Hocksgrad and Midland!”

Belittle him.

“Neither of which were won by retreating, if I recall.”

“Bitch,” was all the major said.

Time for the most potent weapon of all: blatant lies.

“Princess Celestia suspected your incompetence,” Astor said. “But even she did not think it would be this bad. Four defeats in two months. Three villages lost to Princess Luna. Your failure is indefensible and drastic actions must be taken to ensure you do not hinder the crown’s aims any longer.”

“You have no authority,” Compromise said, fuming.

“On the contrary,” Astor said. “You have no authority. I am stripping you of your rank and its privileges. You are to return to the capitol immediately. If you do not follow this order, I will invoke the wrath of Celestia.”

Please, Astor thought. Oh Celestia please! Her mind went to the heavy beads on her necklace. There were exactly twenty of them.

Major Compromise cast his blade. “I’d like to see you try, well-born bitch!”

Displaced air swished around Astor as she came out of a teleport only inches away from the major. His mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was a soft gurgle before his eyes glazed over. He collapsed into three neatly sliced pieces of pony, and a torrent of blood rushed out around Astor’s hooves as they hit the floor with a meaty thud.

I grew up in an orphanage, Major, Astor thought.

Her blade, Sangrophile, hovered in the air. Astor had used it to cut towards her, and as a result her face and mane had been covered with blood. She shuddered with pleasure as the warm beads ran down her face, tickling her cheeks. The ponies gathered around the table looked on, motionless.

Not all power is imaginary, she thought to herself.

“I am going to tell you exactly what I want to happen,” Astor said to her new underlings. “And you are going to make it happen. It is through this method that we will win the Everfree Verge. If that isn’t how it worked before, that’s how it works now. But please, feel free to make suggestions; my doors are always open.”

The ponies around the table were silent. Astor could feel Compromise’s blood pooling around her hooves. She licked her lips.

“The pegasi will begin clearing a weather zone three times as large as needed above the camp. The unicorns will begin lighting triple the current amount of campfires at night. The earthponies will set up every tent we have rather than only the amount we need, and they will space them such that they fill the new area.”

Nopony spoke, so Astor continued. “They will do this as we move towards Stirrup Valley , as if to attack Bridleburg.” Astor looked up at the table of ponies again and waited.

A nearby officer took the bait. “Bridleburg appears—”

“To be an easy target, yes,” Astor said. “The enemy wishes us to engage there so they can flank us with a surprise contingent from the south. Elementary, really; but we aren’t going to attack Bridleburg, we’re just going to make it look like that’s what we’re doing. And our foes will hesitate to attack us when scouts report an army three times its previous size is camped at their doorstep. They will assume we got reinforcements from the capitol, then wait for us to engage.

“But we won’t. By moving into position to attack us from the south, they will leave the main stretch of the Verge lightly defended. We will then send our two hundred best unicorns, and a courier pegasus for each, to take the river south. They will operate in teams of twenty and, starting from the north, they will scorch and desolate every piece of fertile land in the Verge.”

“You can’t be serious,” a pony said.

“I am. The enemy has demonstrated that they are committed to the Verge, and they will split their contingent to deal with our guerrillas rather than attempt to force an engagement, especially when they think our numbers have tripled. They will fail, however, and every piece of edible food between here and the the end of the Verge will be consumed within the space of two months.

“Luna controls an ouropolis, Cumulon. This means that with a committed force of earthponies, they could re-sow the land. To that end we will also dam the river.”

“You’re going to turn the Verge into a wasteland,” an officer said.

“I am. Over the course of the next four months the enemy will suffer starvation, desertion, and poor morale. We will convince them we have a strong foothold here while forcing them to spread their forces thin. With our backs to a supply line, we will be relatively unhindered.”

“This is vicious,” the same officer said. “Nopony makes war like this.”

“Exactly,” Astor said. “They won’t expect it, and they won’t know how to react. They’ll still control the Verge, and they’ll still have the larger army, so standard practice dictates that they wait for us to make our move. But we won’t. We’ll starve them out and then strike when they begin limping back to safer territory.”

“If they think we’ve reinforced,” he said. “They’ll think the master general has taken a larger interest in the Verge. They may respond in kind.”

“They won’t be able to feed an army on scorched earth,” Astor said.

“I didn’t mean soldiers,” he said. “What do we do if Princess Luna takes the field?”

Another pony barked out a humorless laugh. “What any army does when The Slayer takes the field,” he said. “Die.”

“I will kill her,” Astor said.

The officer stopped to look at her. “You’re not serious?”

“I can best Princess Celestia in single combat,” Astor said. “My ultimate purpose in this war is to kill her sister. If Luna takes the field—” Astor looked down at the blood she stood in. She wanted more. “—She dies.”

Not for the first time in her everlasting life, Celestia found herself frustrated at Titan’s power. It just wasn’t fair. It never had been.

Titan struck her with a hoof encased in concussive force, and a wave of shattering bones travelled through her body as she was tossed backwards like a broken toy. She barely managed to block Singularity three more times before she collided with the ground, and Celestia struggled to right herself. She faced Titan, ready for another attack, but he held back, standing several dozen feet away.

“Not my daughter,” he said. Celestia was unsure if he was referring to her or Terra. She worried for a moment that it was both—ponykind was in big trouble if Titan ever learned to do more than one thing at one time.

Singularity split and came towards her, over two dozen shards of pure blackness. Celestia didn’t get the chance to react—every smooth, lightless fragment of her father’s blade was transformed into confetti long before it reached her. The colorful paper spun and flapped about like a flock of butterflies in the air between them.

“I wonder sometimes,” Discord said as he popped into existence between them. “If you ponies just have a different definition of the word ‘fun’. Why else would you all be doing this—” he made a sweeping gesture to Celestia, Terra, and the burning forest. “—if you don’t like doing this. Why do anything that isn’t fun?”

Celestia resisted the urge to sigh with frustration. “You’re supposed to kill him,” she said to Discord. She didn’t know what a fight between Titan and Discord looked like, though she was more than a little curious. In the past, no magic Celestia had employed could even hinder Discord, let alone send him running.

Titan was still. Terra struggled to her hooves.

“Not going to happen,” Discord said, suddenly behind her.

“No,” Celestia whispered. “You have to.”

“I’ll give you three days,” Discord said. “Three days without Titan to get Twilight and her friends ready.”

“The Elements won’t work,” Celestia said, remembering the dull black crystals affixed to their armor.

Discord chuckled. “That’s because Twilight’s got them on automatic,” he said. “She’s going to need to put them on manual.”

“Don’t play games with me, Discord!”

“Oh no?” Discord said. “But isn’t that what you’re doing right now? Playing your little game? Nothing has beaten Titan at your game. Ever. But I’ll try,” he whispered. “Just for you.”

“Bastard,” Celestia said. “You never wanted us to win.”

“Believe me, Celestia,” Discord said as he stepped out in front of her to face Titan. “It will be much more interesting this way. Yoohoo!” Discord called out to Titan.

Titan regarded Discord coolly. “Do you know, Order,” Discord said as an apple popped into existence in his claw. “Why you assume that this apple will fall when I let go of it?” Titan said nothing. “Because,” Discord said, “every other time an apple is released in mid-air it has fallen. And why do you assume that an apple will behave the way it has in the past?”

Discord took a bite of the apple as he strode towards the King. “Because that’s the way the world works,” he said. “That’s the order. Identical situations produce identical outcomes. The world behaves the way it has in the past. But why do you believe that? Well because,” he said, grinning. “That’s the way it’s behaved in the past!”

Discord stopped walking a short distance away from Titan. “The world will be predictable because the world has always been predictable. It’s a circular argument, you see, which makes it invalid. Watch.”

He let the apple tumble out of his hand. It fell, just like he said it would, through the air and toward the ground. But when it landed, it became a unicorn’s severed head. Adult male: red mane, white coat. Titan closed his eyes.

“Order is not inherent to our world,” Discord said. “‘Natural order’ is an oxymoron. The only truth is that there isn’t any. The only thing natural is chaos.” He took a step closer to Titan and leaned in. “Stop breaking my rules, Order.”

“Dot not call me Order,” Titan said. “Discord. You think that you can hurt me. You think that you can taunt me with my dead son. You cannot. You think that you can win this world from me. You cannot. Despite all your claims that you are chaos incarnate, you have always been entirely predictable, my enemy. And your greatest weakness is that you can never change.” He opened his eyes. “I do not suffer the same flaw. I am Order no longer.

“My name is Titan,” he said as Singularity darkened into life before him. “And you should not have dropped the apple.”

“Good news,” Astor said as she entered Valiant’s chambers. “I outrank you now. Lieutenant Coruscare.”

Valiant sat in the center of his room, sharpening a shard of his blade. “You don’t outrank me,” he said, his eyes focused on the silver shard in front of him. “I’m a knight and you’re a soldier. Different castes entirely.”

“But,” Astor said. “I’m officially the right hoof of Celestia herself, now.”

“Princess—”

Astor waved a hoof. “Whatever. She’s Master General Princess Celestia to me now anyway.”

“And do you actually call her that?” Valiant asked.

“In public, yes. Celestia tolerates a great many things from me, but undermining her authority while she is present isn’t one of them. I’m a good little monster.”

Without looking up, Valiant switched the piece of his blade for another one. “You heard about that?” he asked.

“Astor Coruscare!” she cried. “Celestia’s little monster. A fine nickname to be given by your enemies, I think.”

“I disagree,” Valiant said. “But I don’t think you care. I take it our stay in the capitol is almost finished?”

“After my triumph in the Verge I’m getting my own army to take the North. What’s that big stretch of land north of the Everfree Verge called?”

“The Heart,” Valiant answered. “We’ll be getting closer to Firkraag. And his brother, Exakktus.”

“And I should care why?”

“Because they’re brothers, and the two strongest dragons in the world. Each of them can reduce an army to ash, Astor. And they stay out of one another’s territory, which is the friendliest relationship between two dragons I’ve ever heard of. The last time Firkraag was seen was a month ago, when we were pulling out of the Verge. He levelled an entire village of almost a thousand ponies.”

“I’m not a knight, Valiant. I don’t care about dragons.”

“Oh?” Valiant said. “The last time anypony saw Luna, she was driving Exakktus back into his lair. She is The Slayer, after all.”

Astor frowned. “I always thought that was just a catch-all term.”

Valiant shook his head. “Even among Titan’s knights, Luna is legendary. Celestia plays chess. Luna slays dragons. Still, she hasn’t managed to kill Exakktus or Firkraag yet.”

“So Luna may still be in the Heart,” Astor said. Killing Celestia’s sister would make her the end of the war. She would fulfill her purpose. Celestia would be proud.

“She may,” Valiant said, “But either of the dragons could make your life extremely difficult. And they’re far more likely to target us than Luna, seeing as they know she’s a threat.”

“If they do,” Astor said, “then we kill them. Simple enough.”

“Hardly,” Valiant said. “Still, it’s said that Firkraag’s hoard could buy a kingdom, and that it contains the purest thunderbolt platinum known to ponykind. The blade a pony could make out of that metal would have no equal.”

“Money and power,” Astor said. “I never took you for the type, Valiant. Aren’t you always talking about making the world a better place?”

Valiant laughed. “The only reason I seem like such a good pony is because every time you see me I’m next to you, Astor. I like the uniform, by the way.”

“Really?” Astor said, looking down at her pure white button-up coat and cloak. “I think the gold trim might be a bit much. At least I don’t have to wear a silly hat.”

“What about a hat that isn’t silly?” he asked. “Maybe a bicorne, or an admiral. Gold trim along the rim, you’d have to turn your hair white, of course, though if you did we’d match—”

Astor gave him an icy stare.

“Er,” Valiant said. “Maybe we’ve been in the capitol a bit too long. Perhaps it’s best we just go straight to war.”

Captain Mercurius landed before Astor and said, in a voice tight with fear, “We’re under attack.”

Astor regarded the captain. His wings’ sides and belly sported numerous scrapes and cuts, some of which were still bleeding. His mane was in disarray, but that was not unusual for a wing commander. They lived in the air, after all.

“Where is your flight?” Astor asked.

“Dead,” he said, wincing. “Three pegasi. Their leader...”

“Mare? White with a blue and red mane?”

Mercurius nodded. “I see,” Astor said. “Arcbolt is Luna’s greatest flying ace, and she is proving troublesome indeed. I presume that they are advancing from the North?”

“And west,” Mercurial said. “Six thousand at least. They must have somehow cut through the Verge.”

“Indeed,” Astor said. “Are your wounds mortal?”

“No, ma’am. I can still fight.”

“Then rally the camps. Tell the ponies to prepare for battle and await the orders of their commanders.”

Mercurius was taken aback. “Ma’am?”

“You heard me, Captain. If any of my ponies express the same doubt, remind them that I have never lost in the field. Act as though this is part of my plan.”

“Is it? Part of a plan, I mean, ma’am?”

“No,” Astor said. “This will be a bloodbath. But we will win,” she added upon seeing the look on his face. “Now go.” She tapped her magic and teleported away.

Astor came out of her teleport in the center of her command tent and was glad to see that most of her officers were present. “I will assume from the looks on your faces that most of you already know we are under attack,” she said. “Luna has apparently decided she can take us by surprise. She was right.”

She looked around at all of them. Astor had hoof-picked her war council for their competence. “Which is why the survival of every pony in this room and Celestia’s campaign in the Heart depends on your ability to listen to what I am about to say. Understand?”

Astor got a solitary nod from every single one of her commanders, so she began to give orders. This battalion would be a sacrifice to draw Luna into overextending, that battalion would split its second and third ranks to close and flank. This battalion would need to fight on the move, that one would need to form a phalanx. They were outnumbered. They were outmanoeuvred. But Astor’s had pushed her soldiers harder than any commander in the Royal Army, and they were better trained to work as a whole.

She’d never lost a battle. She’d never given ground. She was fully aware of the fact that if she could win this battle, Luna’s forces would be scattered and split, and Astor would take the entire Verge. She was Celestia’s little monster, and she was not about to disappoint her princess.

It was a short meeting. When she was finished, Astor teleported to her rooms. It was there that she kept her weapons. Sangrophile she kept on herself at all times, but she had other ways of killing ponies. Four metal discs, sharpened and enchanted for additional maneuverability. Two retractable hoof blades with enchanted holsters: superheated to discourage close quarters combat. Two dozen poison-coated needles: fast acting paralysis to take a pegasus out of the sky.

By now it was no trouble for Astor to manage the complex array of straps that made up her underarmor rig. She was dressed in less than a minute.

Valiant burst through her door just before she took the field. He was panting, and his eyes were wild. “Astor,” he said.

“Ah,” she said. “Glad you’re here. You can come with me; I’ll be breaking the morale of an entire battalion. I’ve never actually seen you fight other than in practice, you know.”

“No,” Valiant said. “Astor, you have to turn the army the around. We have to go south, now.”

Astor took him in. “Explain,” she whispered.

“It’s Firkraag,” he said. “He’s left the Verge, flying fast for Saddleburg.”

For a moment, Astor was confused. It didn’t take her long to figure out exactly what Valiant was trying to say, however. “Valiant,” she said. “If we retreat now then Luna will be able to drive us out of the heart completely. She’ll take Saddleburg.”

“And?” Valiant asked.

“And a pile of ashes is less useful to our enemies than a functional mining town.”

Valiant looked at her, stepping away. “You can’t be serious,” he whispered. “This isn’t a field of crops, Astor, this is a village of ponies.”

“The population of Saddleburg is two thousand, four hundred, eighty three. Luna’s attack force is at least six thousand.”

“No...” Valiant said, shaking his head.

“I can prove, mathematically, that I am making the right decision, Valiant.”

“They’re just a number to you? One village dead is just a statistic?”

“Do you know,” Astor said, “what it will mean if I win this battle? Luna will lose the Heart. Titan’s kingdom will have double the population of Terra’s. And I will have done it. Celestia will—”

“Celestia? That’s what this is about?”

“That’s what everything is about, Valiant. She made me!”

The muscles in Valiant’s neck stood out against his skin. “She despises you!” Valiant shouted.

Astor drew back. “W-w-what?” she said, hating herself for stammering.

“I spoke to her a week ago, Astor. She’s in the Heart.”

“She isn’t,” Astor said, shaking her head. “I would know.”

“Princess Celestia hates this war, Astor. She hates killing ponies. I don’t even think she wants Luna to die. You’re doing the work she doesn’t want to do, and she hates that too. She doesn’t want a little monster, Astor. She wants a sister.”

“Liar,” Astor whispered. “You want to kill Firkraag. You want to slay the dragon, save the village, and get the magic sword. And you’d take my moment of triumph from me to do it.”

“You think that’s what this is about? Two thousand ponies and you think I want a sword?”

“Your village is going to die, Valiant. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Get out of my way.”

Valiant looked at her. “You can’t do this, Astor. You aren’t a god. You’re a seventeen year old orphan filly with a—”

“Get out of my way!” Astor hit him with a hammer blow of telekinesis, and he was thrown against the wall before crumpling to the floor. She began to leave.

“Monster,” Valiant said, coughing. “You. Little. Monster.”

Astor stopped, but didn’t turn around. “I’m surprised it took you so long, Valiant,” she said. “To see what the whole world already knows.”

Astor had the power to destroy.

Tendons snapped as Astor tore a hoof-blade out of an earthpony’s neck, and blood spurted onto her face. She spun and sheared another enemies head off his shoulders with Sangrophile, indulging in the thrill of mortal combat. With a thrum of magic energy, her discs left her side to slice more ponies to ribbons.

Astor leapt back into the fray, breaking Sangrophile and launching its blademotes into three more soldiers. She yanked the motes upwards, and each tore its way out of the top of her enemies in a miniature fountain of blood. Another pegasus came at her, and Astor blocked his foreleg with a hoof-blade. He screamed as his flesh sizzled against the superheated metal. He screamed louder when she drove its twin into his stomach and twisted.

A nearby pony began to give orders. Astor wanted chaos. She teleported into the center of his abdominal cavity. He made no sound as his vital organs were torn asunder, and bits of pony were flung violently onto his men as Astor emerged. Without hesitation, she sent twenty blade-motes into the surprised enemies. Each of them exploded, and much more than twenty soldiers died. The enemies began to break form and run. Astor had been right; these weren’t trained soldiers. These were peasants.

She moved on. A retreating force was as good as dead, and Astor was not about to run out of enemies to kill anytime soon.

Her second mind caught any attack that came her way. Her first mind was dedicated to killing ponies as quickly as she possibly could. It was easy for her, really—ponies were incredibly fragile creatures. She could have killed them with her hooves. She didn’t though, that would be too slow. And it was no fun when they stayed in one piece.

Pegasi fell out of the air to splatter on the ground around her as she tore her enemies apart. She had to use a spell to keep her mane out of her eyes after it and her coat became slick with blood. Rarely did Astor get to treat herself to such a prolonged amount of time in the the field.

Every pony gave her the same look before they died. It was fear, obviously, but fear came in many different forms. It wasn’t the fear of a bigger, more powerful pony—Astor knew that fear. It was closer to, but still not quite, the fear of a hurricane or an earthquake. It was the same way Astor imagined the villagers would look up at Firkraag as he came to devour them. It was the fear of a monster.

Astor reveled in the bloodletting. She forgot about Valiant, and even what he had said about Celestia. She stopped worrying about victory, or even her own troops. They were well trained to work with each other as a unit. They would serve their purpose.

Her senses in combat were keen, and Astor knew that it had been nigh on an hour by the time she first started to tire. Oddly, it was never the ache in her muscles that told her that her strength was fading, or even the strain on her minds. She wouldn’t notice it if her pace didn’t slow. This time, she took a blademote across a shoulder.

She rewarded her attacker by slicing him neatly into at least seven pieces, painting the world around them crimson. She tossed a set of conjured chains at an enemy magical talent, then teleported behind him and drove two hoof-blades into his spine. His cartilage sizzled and popped around the hot metal before she kicked him off of the blades and onto the ground. A javelin came her way, and she used her magic to push it back along its course, skewering a pegasus through their collarbone and out their flank.

Astor felt a rough, dry pain in her throat, and she realized she had been screaming the word “die” for near on twenty minutes.

Astor killed and killed again, punishing her enemies for daring to make war against war’s one true master. But for every pony she killed, another would take their place. She found herself tiring more with every kill. She couldn’t stop, though: her strategy depended on this section of Luna’s army putting out a weak offense. Every soldier she didn’t kill or send fleeing in terror was one that her own forces had to deal with.

Her opponents took note of her sluggishness, and the small number of minor wounds she had accumulated. It gave them hope, and they pressed the attack more often than not. Astor found herself surrounded, dedicating far more time and effort to defending herself than committing murder. She wondered briefly if she would die. It seemed like such a preposterous idea. She couldn’t die. Not her. Not to ponies.

Celestia’s arrival could not have been better timed. Her entrance was not grand or showy; she simply landed on the ground next to Astor and said in her divine voice, “Fire.”

Astor called up hellfire. Celestia called down sunfire. Together they cleared the area around them in a matter of seconds. At the sight of Celestia, the enemies began to flee.

“You are too deep in the enemy lines, Astor Coruscare. This was a risk even for you.”

“I deemed it necessary, Princess,” Astor said. “If Luna’s forces fail to break through my left, she will have lost much of her advantage.” She eyed the Princess carefully, trying to detect any hint of pride, or anger, but with Celestia it was always too hard to tell.

“You abandoned your command,” Celestia said.

“I deemed them competent enough to act in my absence. My value on the field cannot be ignored.” No doubt Celestia knew it was true; she must have seen the bodies.

Celestia tilted her head. “Are you alright, Astor? You’re covered in blood.”

The question took Astor by surprise. Celestia had never asked her if she was okay before. “Yes,” Astor answered, smiling. “Yes, I am.” Covered in blood. It slid down her face in warm rivulets and soaked her mane. “Now, on to the work at hoof?” She gestured to the fleeing soldiers with Sangrophile.

“Of course,” Celestia said.

Astor had never fought with the Princess before. Now was her chance to show Celestia just how much she’d learned. How worthy she was.

Astor went in first, reinvigorated by Celestia’s presence. She hacked several ponies to bits before Celestia caught up with her, then threw her discs into the throng to collect more blood. Celestia would see what she was capable of. Astor would make sure of it.

Killing came so naturally to them that Astor could scarce believe they had never fought together before. Celestia would attract the attention of the enemy soldiers, drawing their eye with her godlike countenance. She’d deflect or outright ignore their attacks, never slowing. Astor would blink in and out of their ranks, slaughtering them by the handful before anypony noticed her presence.

They were perfect together. Astor wished it could have lasted longer. Unfortunately, her own forces overtook them after little more than a quarter hour had passed.

“We’ve won,” Astor said through ragged breaths. A smile crept over her face. “I killed them by the hundreds.”

Celestia looked around them at the field of corpses. “Yes,” she said. “You did. You did exactly what I taught you to do.”

“Princess?” Astor asked. “Is something wrong?”

Celestia looked away. “Clean yourself up, Astor Coruscare.” With that, she spread her wings and took flight.

Astor stormed into Celestia’s chambers, slamming the door shut behind her with magic. “You have been—” She froze. Standing over Celestia, not ten feet away from Astor, was the King.

Gravity could not have brought her to her knees quickly enough. “Your Majesty,” she said. She turned to Celestia. “Please, Princess, forgive my indiscretion. I had thought one of my underlings was intruding in your chamber.”

King Titan turned his gaze toward her, and for the first time in her life, Astor got a good look at the King of the world. His irises glowed with an inner white light. His mane was made of nebulous white ether that stretched down his neck and across the tips of his wings.

When he looked at her, Astor felt an inexplicable fear. Not the fear of a pony, or even of a monster, but of something stranger. It was the fear of death’s inevitability and the fathomless dark of the deepest ocean. Astor had just accomplished the crowning achievement of her lifetime, and Titan made her feel insignificant.

She didn’t know how it was possible—she was warded against invasive mind magics. She also had no idea how she wasn’t able to sense Titan before entering the room. A being of his power should have been impossible not to detect from miles away.

Now she was in very real danger. From what she had heard, King Titan would not think twice about executing her for a simple breach in conduct. And he could, too. Astor could kill ponies by the hundreds. Titan could kill them cities at a time.

“Repeat thyself, pony,” Titan said. Astor cringed. Celestia rarely used her divine voice in full, but when she did the effect was almost musical. Titan’s made her mind feel as though it was chewing rocks.

“I...” Astor began. “Princess Celestia was absent from her council, so I sent a runner to request her presence. I assumed that he entered her Royal Highness’s rooms without permission to look for her. He had done so once in the past.”

“Interesting,” Titan said. “We cannot tell if thou art being dishonest. Where didst thou findest her, Celestia?”

“An orphanage,” Celestia answered. “We know nothing of her origins. They were considered... unimportant.”

Titan tilted his head slightly to one side as he looked at Astor. “Relinquish the hold on thine form, pony.”

Astor hesitated. If Titan wanted to kill her, he wouldn’t need to use magic. Still, unicorns never released their own bodies. The hold was intrinsic; stopping it would be like stopping her own heartbeat. She did as she was told.

Immediately, Astor was enveloped in the King’s telekinesis and lifted into the air so that she was at his eye level. He began to spin her around slowly, examining her.

“Tell us, pony,” Titan said. “Who were thine parents?”

“I don’t know, Your Majesty,” Astor said as she was spun upside down. “They were killed at the outset of the war.”

“Thine name?”

“Astor Coruscare, Your Majesty.”

“Coruscare,” Titan said. “Did thine parents leave thee anything?”

Astor briefly recalled burning Clarion Call’s rattle, so many years ago. “No,” she said. “Nothing.”

“Indeed,” Titan said. Astor felt a ripple of magic travel through her body. “The hoof of a god is in thee, Astor Coruscare. Thou art no simple unicorn.” He dropped her unceremoniously to the floor, and Astor grunted involuntarily.

Titan turned to Celestia. “Have a capable stallion impregnate her within the season. Deliver the infant to us when it is born. Beyond this she is forbidden to have children. Find any of her living relatives and sterilize or destroy them. Have we made ourselves clear?”

Celestia nodded immediately. “Yes, my king.”

“And execute the pony who has entered your chambers in the past.” Titan’s horn glowed, and the ceiling was broken into hundreds of bricks that were pulled apart and suspended in thin air. He left, shooting skywards and sealing the ceiling behind him.

“I don’t understand,” Astor whispered from her place on the floor.

“He and Terra play a game that is beyond you or I, Astor.”

“But a child?” Astor asked. “Why?”

“I don’t know, Astor. But we need to convince him that you are dead. We’ll kill you in battle, and you’ll leave the army and go into hiding.”

“No,” Astor said.

“What?”

“No,” Astor repeated. “I’ll do it.”

Celestia’s gave her a look of horror. “You would give him your newborn child?”

“Yes,” Astor said. “My place is here, with the army.”

“No, Astor,” Celestia said. “It would be monstrous.”

“And I’m your little monster!” Astor cried. “I don’t want children, I want to be by your side!”

“I know what you want!” Celestia shouted. “You think I didn’t encourage it? You think I didn’t use you with it? I am immortal, Astor!” Celestia shook her head. “A village of two thousand, dead. And today I saw you, hacking them apart, grinning.”

Astor took a step back. “You were with me,” she said. “It’s what you wanted from me.”

Celestia closed her eyes. “Ponykind deserves more than what I have done to you, Astor. I’ve turned you into a monster.”

“No,” Astor said, shaking her head. “No. I’ve done everything you wanted and more. I’m your most trusted lieutenant! I’m supposed to kill your sister.”

“I’m sorry, Astor,” Celestia said. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am for what I have done to you. But you cannot be my lieutenant any longer. You must leave the army and live your own life.”

“No!” Astor shouted. “This is what I want! Better a monster than a pony!”

“I’m sorry, Astor. You have to leave.”

“But you,” Astor said, her voice cracking. “You adopted me.”

“I conscripted you. I’m sorry, As—”

“No!” Astor screamed. The two parts of Sangrophile flared into life around her. Before she realized what she was doing, she was swinging them at Celestia. “Stop. Saying. That!”

Zenith met Sangrophile, but Celestia had not been Astor’s match for years. Astor broke Celestia’s guard with ease, forcing her against the wall. She crossed her blades over Celestia’s neck.

“Tell me again!” Astor screamed as tears burned against her face. “That you’re immortal!”

Celestia shut her eyes. “Astor...”

“Lieutenant,” Astor said. “And you won’t do this to me. You can’t just take back everything you taught me. You can’t just undo what you made me. I’m your little monster, Your Highness, and I’ll win this war and kill your sister even if I have to drown ponykind in its own blood.

“And you,” she said, pressing her blades into Celestia’s neck. “You are going to rule when I am done. I will give you the world. And you, Celestia. You’re going to love me.”

Astor vanished.

“You were right,” Astor said as she appeared in Valiant’s rooms. “She despises me.”

From the looks of things, Valiant had been packing. He stood when Astor entered. “Astor?” he asked. “Are you crying?”

Astor realized that she was. “She can’t even look at me,” she said, turning away. “I tried to kill her.”

“What?”

“No,” Astor said, turning back to Valiant. “I didn’t try.” If she had, Celestia would be dead. “But I threatened her.”

“You didn’t,” Valiant said. He began to pace. “You have to go back. You have to apologize. Princess Celestia is reasonable.”

“No, Valiant. She wants me to go into hiding. She wants the world to forget me. But I won’t let her. I won’t be remembered as the pony who named a scale.”

“What happened to doing whatever Celestia told you to?”

Astor put a hoof to her temple. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing!” she shouted. “This war will go on for decades without me! I need you,” she said to Valiant. “Bring me a list of the ten strongest stallions in the army. They have to be unicorns.”

“Astor,” Valiant said. “What are you talking about?”

“I have to have a child,” she said. “I need to—” She swallowed. “Get pregnant. My suitor will have to be a unicorn of considerable strength.”

“You leave a village of two thousand ponies to die,” Valiant said, “and you expect me to find a stallion for you to take to bed? You’re out of your mind.”

“What was I supposed to do, Valiant? Turn the entire army around and lose the Heart. Fail Celestia? I am Lieutenant Coruscare, Valiant. Do you think that any part of my position requires me to value pony life? Does it surprise you so much that I am what I am?”

“I know you,” he said. “You aren’t a monster. Stop talking about children and go to sleep, Astor. I’m not making you any list.”

“Why not?” Astor asked. “Jealous?”

“What?”

“Come now, Valiant. I know what you want. So does Celestia—or did you think it was a coincidence that she put us together? Yes, Valiant Coruscare, you would make me powerful children indeed.”

Valiant gritted his teeth. “I am the strongest male unicorn in this army, Astor. You know that. You wouldn’t need a list.”

“You think so?” Astor said. “I’ve never seen you fight a real foe, Valiant. Have you ever even killed anypony? All you ever do is go on about making the world a better place. But you never will.”

“I don’t want you,” Valiant said. “Not anymore.”

“With or without you, this is going to happen,” Astor

“Don’t do this, Astor. You’re acting insane.”

“You want me,” Astor said. “You’ve followed me for years, Valiant. You don’t want to make the world a better place, you want to make me a better pony. You want to fix me. Well this is your chance. You’re a knight, so prove yourself—slay some of my enemies and call it a quest.” Astor turned towards the door. “Except you can’t,” she said as she left. “I already got them all.”

Astor woke up the next morning and decided that she was crazy.

She was a staunch advocate of using logic; and her actions the previous day truly had no logical explanation. She’d left an entire village to burn in dragonfire. That made sense; it was easy to defend her decision from a tactical viewpoint. It was even easier to blame Celestia: the Princess had never taught her any sort of ethical code. It was, and had always been, victory at any cost.

Still, Astor knew that by almost any pony’s standards what she had done was evil. Indefensible, even. How would her soldiers think of her when they learned what she had done? Coupled with the heavy losses they’d sustained in battle, Astor doubted she’d be their favorite commander for long.

Celestia despised her. Celestia, who had given her a home. Astor had done everything the Princess wanted and more, but apparently Celestia no longer wanted a useful tool. Astor wondered what Celestia did want, if not her.

She’d threatened to kill her Princess, which was truly absurd. In hindsight, her actions weren’t so surprising. It had been a stressful day. Astor had cracked.

And now she was left to pick up the pieces. Valiant would need an apology, as would Celestia. Displaying humility would almost definitely win them back over to her side; it would bring her more in line with the pony they wished her to be. It would mean they were winning. She decided to start with Valiant. No doubt after she had taunted him he had gone off to sulk someplace within the camp.

She tried not to think about the baby as she got out of bed. Above all other things, it bothered her the most that she had been willing to give Titan a child. What would the Astor Coruscare from the orphanage think, to see her so willingly abandon an infant? Something along the lines of monster, to be sure.

Astor was a monster; there were two thousand dead ponies of Saddleburg to attest to that. But without Celestia, that was all that she was. A masterless monster. What was the point anymore?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door. A glance at the clock told Astor that she had slept in almost two hours. She didn’t mind; she’d earned it. “Enter,” she said, swinging open her door with a touch of magic.

“Ma’am!” the runner said, standing at attention. “Sir Valiant has returned to the army. He has requested your presence outside.”

Astor began to dress. “Valiant left the army?”

The runner raised his eyebrows. “Yes, ma’am. He said he was carrying out your orders. We did not think to question a Knight Commander of the Natural Order.”

“My orders,” Astor said. Prove yourself. Slay some of my enemies and call it a quest.

Astor blinked out to the center of the camp and began to look around frantically for Valiant. A large group of ponies was crowded around something, and she reasoned that was her best bet. “Valiant!” she shouted as tried to push her way through the crowd. “Valiant!” The ponies around her weren’t budging.

Astor let out an exasperated sigh. “I am Astor Coruscare!” she shouted.

Every pony close by immediately turned to face her, then backed away. Silence descended over the crowd of ponies as Astor slowly strode to their center. The crowd broke to reveal Valiant.

He was covered in blood. Burns ran along one side of his face and down his neck. He had removed his harness and turned it into a cord, which he was using to drag a massive red dragon’s head.

He’d slain the dragon Firkraag. Alone.

Astor shook her head. “Not possible,” she said. “You told me only Luna could fight Firkraag or Exakktus.”

Valiant nodded. “When two beings come into conflict, Astor,” he said. “It is more than power that determines who lives and who dies.”

“How?” Astor said.

Valiant shrugged. “It’s a secret. One you wouldn’t want to hear anyway. Now,” he said. “You know the old language. What is the word for ‘slayer?’”

Astor stared at him. “Carsomyr,” she whispered at last. “Sir Valiant Carsomyr.”

Fourteen shards of what Astor could only assume was thunderbolt platinum tore their way from Firkraag’s severed head and assembled before Valiant. “Carsomyr can be the name of my blade,” he said. “I would rather be Valiant Coruscare.” He fell to his knees.

Astor could scarcely understand what was happening. Valiant was supposed to be weak. Yet he’d slain a dragon that even Luna hesitated to meet in combat. And now...

Held aloft by Valiant’s magic, a single blue diamond floated towards her. When it was halfway between them, several shards of Carsomyr shot through the air, and pieces of the gem fell away to reveal a four-pointed star. Astor’s cutie mark.

Valiant looked past the gem and into Astor’s eyes. “Marry me.”

Terra was in mortal danger. It wasn’t something that happened to alicorns often. It wouldn’t be happening now, were it not for the fact that Titan was fighting Discord high above them, under the black sky.

Celestia caught her hoof and struck Terra in the chest. The air was forced out of Terra’s lungs as she was sent flying backwards. Zenith pursued her, over a dozen points of white-hot light. Celestia followed it.

Terra rolled to her feet and split Exogenesis to deflect her daughter’s blade. Celestia touched down in front of her, pivoting to kick out with her hind legs, and Terra ducked beneath them before lashing out with her forelegs.

Her daughter caught them, broke them, then smashed her head against Terra’s. Celestia’s speed, coupled with her strange ability to know what Terra was about to do, was proving irksome. Yes, Terra thought, you’re winning because you’re smarter, Celestia. Tear my hind leg off, just like that. Watch my blade flicker and die against yours. Nevermind your extra century and a half of power. You’re just that smart.

The first biological imperative was survival. All Terra needed to do was stay alive as long as possible. Titan would send Discord away just as he had before. Then he would find her. He always found her. He had said as much, when he made her his wife.

Terra fastened her leg back onto her body, then backed up until she found more even footing on which to duel Celestia. She kept Exogenesis close to her body, wary of any tricks that Celestia might try and pull. At this point, hurting Celestia was out of the question. Survive.

She did. Zenith came at her again and again, but Terra endured. She was burned, broken, and torn apart on more than one occasion, but she always got back up. For all of Celestia’s maneuvering, she didn’t manage to kill Terra. It was too difficult a thing to do when Terra was focused completely on staying alive.

Finally, Titan descended once again.

Something was wrong, though. Titan didn’t speed through the air—he fell. He didn’t land on the rock beneath them so much as he crashed into it, thudding dully against the stone before coming to rest. Terra and Celestia both stopped to look at him: he had landed only several dozen feet from their position. Titan struggled to take a single, ragged breath. Celestia’s eyes widened as she turned back to Terra.

With a brilliant explosion of light, Celestia hit Terra with another beam of sunfire. Terra managed to shield against most of the blow, but was still thrown backwards. Too late, she realized what Celestia was going to do. Terra took to the air to see Celestia standing next to their father. “No,” she breathed.

Her pegasus eyes saw all. Zenith was plunged into Titan’s chest, aiming directly for his heart. It sunk into his body: six inches, a foot, two feet. Terra sped towards them, but she was too slow. Celestia was killing him.

Titan rolled onto his belly, ignoring Zenith as his motion caused the blade to nearly cleave him in half. Singularity darkened the space between he and Celestia. Celestia looked up from Titan to his blade, and for once, the expression on her face was an honest one: surprise.

Titan thrust his blade forward, and Celestia screamed as her chest collapsed around the length of pure darkness. Terra landed near them and looked on in fascination.

“To think,” Titan said through labored breaths, “that you would die so easily. That for all your machinations I need only play dead to destroy you.”

Singularity pulsed, pulling Celestia farther onto the blade. She choked, and a trickle of black ichor ran out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin.

“It is over, Celestia,” Titan said. “This is the end.”