Spike and Twilight were carried on a silver palanquin, walking under its own unnatural power on metal arms and cloven hooves. Shrouded under rattling mailed curtains in a parody of royalty deposed, they were bound in heavy chains, and muzzles locked their jaws.

Twilight looked at Spike, remorseful for what happened in the field, and hoped he knew how she felt. What possessed her to lash out like that, she had no idea. Spike could not see her, his head bound to stare skyward, gasping through a tight muzzle.

Through the fort, a myriad of figures watched the palanquin’s march, wondering who was so important. Warriors from across the Old World and far north were gathered here, pausing their drills and practice. Northmen, traitors and cultists from the southlands, and pilgrims came to their holy land of the North.

Twilight looked up when Spike started grunting, twitching his head with what small movement he could make. She followed his sight.

For a moment, Twilight saw something beautiful. A titanic cathedral of gleaming stained glass windows in a riot of colors, polished-white architecture, and skyscraping spires.

Twilight almost smiled in amusement, imagining some calm scene of church-goers from Norsca and the Wastes. This was buried under a swelling dread. She felt His anger, His impatience, His satisfaction.

Archaon was waiting.

How did this even happen? Rainbow Dash thought.

Get in, play the part, find the Elements. That was the plan. Twilight and Spike going beserk from nowhere, Pinkie Pie devouring Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle right before their eyes? It all just happened too fast even for her, and none of it was remotely cool unlike some of the unexpected fights they kept getting into. Then, a formation of horsemen careened headlong into the lot of them, grabbing them up in sacks and lassos. One thing after another.

Fluttershy rampaged like a mare possessed after Twilight’s strike on her, breaking into the fort in pursuit of their captors by the time she recovered. She was alone, however, and was quickly surrounded by the monsters and warriors of Chaos who brought her low, like Norse longships battling a great sea kraken with hook and harpoon.

Play the part, Rainbow thought, wriggling her wings under their binds.

She resisted her very conscience, telling her to turn into something huge to fight and free her friend before she was dragged away. Rainbow clamped her eyes shut until a loud clang and stifling of noise signaled that some great doors had shut.

“Bow before the Three-Eyed King.”

Rainbow beheld a warrior of brutalist form, even compared to those around him, who were in personalized and decorated armor reflecting their patron gods, or the pantheon.

Great ivory horns curved skyward from a gleaming brass helmet, staring down at the creatures before him with luminescent eyes. Armor black as night crunched as he descended a staircase of bone.

The entire building was a disgusting parody of a cathedral. Buttresses made of spinal columns corkscrewed into the steeple. Each length hung with tinsel of twitching hands.

A serpent-daemon slithered down behind Archaon, the tap-tap-tap of its wooden staff, carried by three hands, beating a song without melody. One of its mismatched eyes, swollen fit to burst, glared at Rainbow Dash.

It spoke, though it’s mouth didn’t move. Those gnarled jaws could never form mortal words.

“Kneel.”

Rainbow suppressed her gag reflex just looking at it, and complied.

“The wayward mare returns to her master,” Archaon said.

Rainbow risked a look at the warrior, who brought Twilight to stand. The living palanquin rested flat. Why did he allow Spike’s muzzle to be removed and not hers? Something symbolic, perhaps. A sign of domination.

“Do you know why I sent no one after you?” he asked, brushing the blood-caked mane from her stoic face. “Because I believe in destiny, that all things spiral toward that center, no matter how long it takes, or how hard you try to swim against it. Though clearly, it took you quite a long time.”

Archaon took a glance at Spike. “A winged Kroxigor. You will fit nicely in my army.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Rainbow’s cheek. We’re still pretending, right?

“I am not a Lizardman,” Spike snarled, remaining on one knee with head bowed. “But I will be a weapon at your disposal.”

Archaon chuckled. “I approve of this.” He rounded on his attendants. “Ingethel, gather the subcommanders for a briefing in the citadel at sundown. We’re accelerating our deployment.”

“By your word,” the daemon hissed and slithered away.

“The reptile will follow me, and…” Archaon took a quick glance at the lineup, then to the soldiers who brought them in. “There are supposed to be six of them. Where is the pink one?”

The mess building of Fort 17 was designed to accommodate hundreds at a time, to feed a garrison strong enough to hold its section of the Bastion Stair, despite the impossibility that the mountain-wall could come under attack. With the arrival of Slaanesh’s champion, Sigvald, it had been converted to work under a single master.

A small army of cooks worked the kitchens with ingredients ranging from the crimson fruits in the fields beyond the walls, to pieces of slaves to appease the champions’ fondness of human flesh.

To those unfamiliar with the cooks of the Decadent Host, the kitchens would appear to be a panic of frantic underlings, appliances in disheveled piles and spillage of pots making the floor slick with mess. However, the kitchen was in a practiced factory of work. Moppers made swift passes, keeping the floors tolerably messy. Every delivery left on an immaculate platter, each meal masterfully made, for everything had to be perfect.

“Idiot!” Gustave le Grande smashed a plate on the floor before one of the cooks as eh was about to send it out. “Ze core of this is medium-rare, not well done!” He flicked the cook on the forehead, cutting a wound with a talon to mark his imperfection. “Make it again!”

The cook bowed quickly and ran off to his station. Gustave strode along the aisle, glancing back and forth to scan the work of his underlings. The Decadent Host was the living display of the perfect army under the greatest of men. They would not be sustained on the gruel suffered by lesser soldiery.

Gustave himself rarely worked among them, for his cuisine took a special skill, and no mere mortal was worthy to taste it. His skill, his creations would only be enjoyed by kings, by gods..

“Gustave!”

Hrongeth strode through the back entrance, his armor a clashing riot of colors and polished to a mirror shine. He was an old warrior, his face a geography of scars, mapping one hundred and twenty years of battles and glories won, but walked with a brazen arrogance about him.

“Word from the Magnificent One!”

“Blessed is he!” chorused every worker in earshot.

A pair of slaves rolled a gurney in, covered in a slowly rising and falling sheet. Thick, oozing tentacles dragged along the floor from underneath the cover.

“Oh, a special request?” Gustave inquired, curiously circling the gurney. “Come, speak! What is his word?”

“He wants you to make this into a steed worthy of Him!”

Hrongeth tore the cover away.

A grotesque candy-creature convulsed, at the torchlight. Its body bloated with throbbing lobes and tumors. Its middle was nailed open to the stretcher like a dissected subject, somehow still alive. Everything below its ribcage appeared to be a single, massive cavity, the taffy lining black and hardened by fire.

“Sacre bleu!” Gustave exclaimed. He eagerly studied the wretch, listened to the desperate breath under the crushing weight of its mutated blubber.

“Animate confections,” he muttered. “I thought it was only possible with meat-puppets.” Gustave pushed the gurney-bearers aside. “I must begin immediately!”

“A messenger will be by soon with details. Be careful,” warned Hrongeth, his voice a little less jovial. “It’s a big eater.”

“I will, et merci! And what are you all gawking at?! Back to work!”

Workers flew back to their stations as Gustave rolled the creature to the lower floors of the mess hall.

It groaned out his name several times. Gustave ignored it as it must have simply heard Hrongeth call his name.

“Pin… kie… Pie.” it then gurgled.

Gustave glanced down at its melted face. It glared back with its one working eye

“Ahm… Pink-eeee,” It repeated.

Gustave rolled his jaw. This thing? Pinkie Pie? “How about you prove such a thing, oui? What was my dish, going to the National Dessert Contest?”

“Eee… clair.”

“And who ate the combination piece right in front of Celestia?”

“Me… No regrets…”

“My, my, Mademoiselle Pie, you’ve taken quite the fall from grace, which for you might be about four inches.” Gustave chuckled. “And here I thought I would never see you again, but I should have known Death wouldn’t take someone like you. You probably talked him to his breaking point and he sent you back.”

Pinkie weakly shared his smile.

Gustave pushed the gurney through the doors to one of the specialized store rooms. Preserved corpses of men, ponies, and worse hung upside down near the ceiling. Piles of barrels and crates of preservatives, salt, and spices towered high in the corners. At the center, the latest victim was strapped nude to an angled slab. A host of jointed metal arms loomed over him, each appendage ending in a scalpel’s blade, needle point, or drill. Sweating, and gasping through a gag, he unblinkingly watched Gustave.

“Joe!” Gustave barked.

The stallion sleeping on a pile of flour sacks jolted awake. “I’m up! I’m up! Aw, jeez,” he yawned. “Everything’s been set up and I’ve been waiting for you for the better part of…” He glanced at an hourglass perched on the nearest barrel. “Two hours! What have you been doing up there?”

“Supervising the incompetents. Put this preparation on hold immediately! We have a special request from the Gilded One.”

Joe leapt to his hooves, his exhaustion forgotten. “Ooh, it’s been a while! I’m gonna guess it’s on that roller.”

“Oui. Tell me, have you ever dreamt of walking, talking, living desserts?”

Joe scratched his chin, then shivered. “Once, as far as I can remember, and it wasn’t a good one.”

“Perhaps it was more of a vision, than just a dream!”

Gustave shoved the gurney to Joe, revealing the mutation-ridden creature.

“Oh, King-Queen above... “

Gustave felt the eagerness swell in his breast. Tears welled in Joe’s eyes, and his breath staggered.

“This will be our greatest work,” Gustave said, sinking his claws into Pinkie’s cancerous flesh. “Now hurry! We must begin while inspiration is still hot!”

Joe rushed to unstrap the naked man. Numbed with a powerful drug cocktail prior, he slumped over Joe’s back like a ragdoll.

“I know just what to bring,” Joe beamed as he took off to return the slave. “Don’t start without me!”

The instant the doors slammed shut, Gustave rolled Pinkie Pie behind the operating table, and spun the tool apparatus backwards. Pinkie whined in fear of the mechanical spider of surgical tools she couldn’t look away from as she could barely feel her own neck.

“Fear not, mon cheri,” Gustave cooed, a wickedly ecstatic smile smearing his face. “You are among friends here, and we will make you beautiful!”

Gustave took a scalpel and needle arm in each claw, and the blade descended.

Rarity was the first to be brought out of the stable, not by the brute force of the warriors, but asked by a single man to follow him.

She heard him talking, but did not listen as she trailed him, walking on auto-pilot. Her mind was still a whirlwind of anger, hope, and other nauseating feelings. The image of Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo being pulled out of Pinkie Pie’s stomach was still burned in her mind. One, a crushed ball of daemon-flesh, the other, a half-digested ruin.

“Rarity!”

Her head jerked up, and she glared at Egrimm van Horstmann’s grimace which vanished soon after he finally had her attention. He looked to be Imperial, by his accent and face. A silver moustache with curled ends graced his lip.

Rarity noticed the soft, fuzzy carpet under her talons, and metallic eyeballs following her from the walls.

Horstmann rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath as he opened one of many doors. “The traumatized ones never listen.”

Rarity expected the room to be filled with the arcane nightmares of Chaos, like shrunken heads, and tentacled furniture. In truth, it was surprisingly austere. Expensive silken robes of various patterns hung on a rack, ornately carved wooden seats with velvety cushions beckoned her to relax her aching legs. Aside from a few hanging charms and glyphs inscribed on the walls, the only looming fetish of the Dark Gods was the mark of Tzeentch engraved over a desk buried in books and scrolls.

“Please, sit,” Horstmann motioned to the seats. After that, as far as Rarity cared, he could have buggered off to parts unknown.

She sank into the nearest armchair with a moan of relief, stretching and cracking her talons. For the first time in what felt like ages, she felt the need for sleep coming on.

“You and your friends were picked up among the Dread Blooms,” Horstmann explained. “Nasty plants. Come too close and the smell fills one’s mind with murderous thoughts. Eat them, and they warp the body.”

The warm scent of jasmine tickled Rarity’s senses. Horstmann returned with a silver tray levitating onto the short table before her.

“But, once separated from the vine, they turn inert in about a month and the leaves make a good tea. I wonder, how were you not influenced by the smell?”

Rarity’s eyes fell to the floor. “Smell… Um, I don’t have to breathe.”

“Truly?” At the flick of a finger, Horstmann floated over a shard of crystal glass under Rarity’s nose. It didn’t fog.

He grunted. “Tell your compatriots their effects, next you meet them.”

Rarity attempted to reach for a cup, and slapped herself in the face in the process. She still held her severed arm, and it had extended, as her mind ordered. In frustration, she simply levitated a cup into her other hand.

Rarity took a sip. It was reminiscent of Acai. “May I ask why you’re being so kind?”

“Mostly the Everchosen’s orders,” Horstmann explained. “You’re all important to him, for reasons he has yet to reveal to many of us. But I trust his judgement, and I’m always willing to see another wayward soul brought under the Raven’s wing. And before you ask, yes, your sister lives.”

Rarity’s hand shook at that, nearly spilling her cup. “How do you know we’re related?”

“She can still talk, though not much. My apprentices are doing what they can to restore her.” Egrimm leaned back with a grin, twisting the end of his beard. “Those stupid doctors in the south with their saws and scalpels. Can you imagine how much better everyone would be if they let the arcane arts into medicine? Even those pus balls of Nurgle might be of use.”

Rarity’s lips curled in the merest of smiles. “I’ve often thought about that.”

“Good, good.” Horstmann reached into the sleeve of his robe and presented a black box, no larger than a mouse. “I’ve been meaning to incorporate these gems into my research. Have a look.”

Rarity took the box, and her eyes widened at its contents.

A single purple crystal shimmered back at her. It was all too familiar.

The Elements, she thought.

“It’s a beautiful thing, no?” Horstmann asked.

“It is.”

Once securely in hand, the gem flashed a blindingly. Horstmann shielded his eyes.

“It has an affinity for you!” he exclaimed. “You just might be able to help me. I have five others much like it.”

Rarity looked at Horstmann with a grin of anticipation. “They’re all tied to me and my friends. We’ll make them work.”

Three hours into work, Pinkie Pie had to be sedated. Gustave and Joe had worked on live and conscious canvases many times before, and had been accustomed to working quickly. Keeping the specimen alive for as long into preparation as possible was critical. Once death gripped them, they had mere minutes before rigor mortis made the meat tough.

But now they had time, and killing the subject was to be avoided. Four days after the canvas was rolled in, their creation was ready to be awoken.

Joe read aloud from the checklist of Sigvald’s demands, and items of their own input while Gustave helped Pinkie Pie groggily roll off the operating table.

“He wants you combat effective, so we sharpened your claws, stacked on red gummy strips for more muscle mass, and, in addition to replacing your stomach lining, we put the taffy through the puller. Hrongeth says you’re a ‘big eater’ and that you ate two of his men, but we didn’t have anything to go by. So, care to give us a ballpark on how much you eat?

“I dunno,” Pinkie sleepily muttered, licking her repaired lips. “Like, twice my weight in a day? And I don’t remember eating anypony recently. It’s pretty memorable.”

Joe and Gustave exchanged looks. “Regardless if you remember it, that’s a frigging weapon inside you.”

Joe flipped to the front page of his list.

Height start: 6’4”

Height end: 7’3”

Weight start: 1,538lb

Weight end: 2,296lb

He rubbed a hoof to his temple. “Oh jeez, another troll-gut to feed.”

“Nah, guys,” Pinkie smiled. “You don’t have to worry about me. I can get by on anything, wood, rocks—”

“Non, non,” Gustave grunted with Pinkie leaning heavily on him. “Sigvald has his eyes on you. He won’t have those he wants eating off the ground.” He shivered and sighed. “We’ll have to make the time to cook for you too.”

Pinkie looked between them, the exhausted air about them, bags under the eyes. They pulled long hours just for her. “I really appreciate all you did for me,” Pinkie said, mustering the strength to stand on her own. “I should pay you guys back somehow.”

Joe chuckled somewhat brokenly, pacing and biting his lip. “We just don’t have the time. We have assistants, but between supervising the regulars, and the Mirror Guard, our performance is gonna drop, and once he sees his food isn’t perfect anymore, he’ll probably throw us to the spawns! I've been with him for eleven years! I can’t go out like that! Why are you laughing?“

“Because,” Pinkie covered her mouth to stifle a snort. “I just figured out how I’ll repay you. Rarity and I would help each other out some nights. She’d have somewhere comfy to meditate, and I… Well, I wouldn’t have to deal with hunger pains all night. Maybe you can rest there too?”

Before Gustave could mention their lack of time again, Pinkie wrapped a foreleg around him, hugging him close. “I mean, think about it. You guys are Sigvald’s top cooks. If you take time out to rest instead of running yourselves ragged, who are the soldiers to complain? His needs come first, and you don’t wanna make a bad dish.”

Pinkie slapped her stomach, sending ripples not through fat, but jellified bones. “You can stay right here!”

Gustave wriggled free, chortling at her suggestion. Pinkie’s smile dimmed for a fraction of a second.

She took a breath to explain and, less than five minutes and one Pinkie Promise later, she had lunch. Sensing their nervousness, she didn't indulge, making quick gulps to get them packed away as soon as possible. It must have been in the back of their minds that she might betray them and bite down with half their bodies still beyond her jaws.

Looking down, she expected to see the rotund gut they filled out. She found no such thing. Instead, she was slim and, surprisingly, toned. Occasionally, a hoof or claw-shaped imprint would press outward, then sink back into discrete form, the only indication that there was anything inside. She knew there was a word for this, on the tip of her tongues; something from the old comics. Ham-something.... Hammerspace. That was it.

A couple of flashes of yellow light inside told her that Joe had applied the ward spells to stave off her digestive acids.

Pinkie Pie had promised to go for a ‘stress test’ which they described as amounting to simply getting a feel for the new body outside.

A new body. For the first time, Pinkie felt odd about that. Like this wasn't her's, but some suit she was controlling. The oddity was forgotten, and she giggled at the thought of a tiny version of herself pulling levers in the brain of a candy-Pinkie suit.

For cover, she took one of the spare, clean body bags. While cutting it into a wider tarp, she addressed her passengers.

“If everypony is comfy, I’d like to welcome you to Pinkamena’s Mobile Inn and Suites, totally trademarking that by the way. I’ll be your host today, and hopefully this experience will be enjoyable for all of us.”

Joe chuckled at her formality.

“Please take note of the only exit above, and that regurgitation can be provided should any passenger wish to disembark. Please keep from making any harsh movements as heavy or sudden agitation may cause the suite to suddenly become quite… hostile. This is beyond management's control.”

“Right…” Gustave muttered, suddenly a little more mindful of the slithering feelers populating her gut.

Pinkie snappishly donned the makeshift cloak. The cowl barely managed to get past her poofy mane, enough to darken her face. “Thank you for your cooperation, and enjoy your stay.”

Navigating the halls, she overheard her food’s idle chatter. Joe took up most of it, sleepily congratulating them both on a job well done. Gustave was less enthusiastic, and Pinkie wondered why he seemed reluctant to be eaten by a mare he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

Within minutes of leaving their talk ending, Pinkie felt the soft vibrations of Joe’s snoring. Shortly after, Gustave’s breathing became soft, and he gave errant twitches in slumber.

“Finally,” Pinkie whispered, both at her passenger’ peace, and finding the back exit to the mess hall. It was a long way up. About halfway, she glanced back. There must have been a hundred and fifty steps behind her and she hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Turning back up, the steps had vanished ahead. Impossibly quickly, the way up became a tunnel of oozing, pulsating meat, rippling light the throat of some massive creature. Pinkie immediately lost her footing and collapsed, digging her claws into the sticky, soft floor. The confusion came on too quickly. Was the building alive? Did Joe know about this?

Tentacles as thick as barrels sprouted from the very walls, reaching up and up to the door, which broke and widened into a massive fanged maw. Piercing screaming heralded two giant fillies being crammed into the iron mouth. Thunderous groans of hunger sounded far below.

Pinkie shut her eyes and buried her face in the floor, awaiting the inevitable, to get pushed down by the monster’s quarry.

It never came. The instant she blinded herself, it all stopped. She took a cursory glance around. All concrete and steel.

She reached the exit in the time it took to blink, slamming the door behind her hard enough to crack the frame.

What was that? she thought frantically, chest heaving.

She trotted across the square before the exit as quick as inconspicuousness would allow, weaving through the crowds of misfits and freaks.

She had to find the others.

On the fourth day, Twilight could feel herself slipping. Four days without the opportunity to feed.

Coming to the Bastion Stair, which was evidently the metal wall’s name, the supply of wildlife rapidly dwindled as forests and suitable mountains gave way to ashen plains. Twilight had experimented with her options. Applejack was rancid, Rarity had no blood to speak of anymore, and Rainbow Dash was simply adamant in her refusal. Pinkie Pie had actually offered to be bitten once, but her blood couldn’t be called that, more like a slurry of sugar-water so saturated there were still solid crystals within it.

That morning, one of the guards dropped a sealed blood bag in her trough, which she seized immediately. Maybe her pronounced fangs gave it away. The taste was fresh, sweet, and energizing, and oddly familiar.

Halfway through the bag, Rainbow Dash had gotten into an argument with one of the guards, a slaaneshi who had taken an invasive liking to her figure and belligerent attitude since his posting.

By the end of it, fists were flying.

Rainbow copied Fluttershy’s form, then shrank herself a bit as the transformation threatened to tear the roof off the stable. In quick order, she had all five guards pinned under her claws, slowly squeezing the breath out of them.

“Go to whoever your boss is and tell them we’re only allowing ourselves to be kept here,” she snarled. “We don’t need any looking after, and you,” she pressed a bladed finger against the slaaneshi’s chest. Even the slight pressure drew blood. “You’re making me want to break out of this place just to show you what’s what!”

Rainbow let them stand up and shooed them to the doors. “Go on! Tell ‘em we don’t need you!”

The slaaneshi was last to leave, giving Rainbow Dash a smirk and a cat-like growl before slipping out.

Rainbow assumed normal form and got back in her stall. “Seriously, I was practically cutting him open and he still doesn’t get it?”

Applejack laughed, sitting down now that the show was over. “He probably gets what danger he was in. He was just into it.”

Rainbow groaned and planted her face against the wall. “If I wake up one day and he’s mounting me, I’m ending him.”

“Hear, hear.” Applejack agreed.

The doors on the other end of the stable flew open, and a ponyoid form covered by a tarp stumbled in. It sobbed and belched in a sickening combination.

Pinkie Pie tore away the tarp and, ignoring the glad and questioning voices of her friends, fell through the door of Rarity’s stall.

The sorcerer had been silent and meditating since she returned on the third day. The moment before Pinkie landed in her lap, she jolted to consciousness.

Pinkie choked out gibberish, wetting Rarity’s torso with tears and syrupy drool. Rarity ignored the mess and consoled Pinkie as best she could.

Rarity was also struck by the turn around in Pinkie’s appearance. Last she’d seen the candy mare, she’d been mutating before her eyes after packing herself full of Dread Blooms in a frenzy. Now, she looked to have been remade by culinary masters. A bouncing mane of cloudlike cotton candy framed a soft-cheeked and subtly rosy face. Her very body was fragrant and her coat sheened with alternating shades of pink.

“Rarity, what happened?” Pinkie coughed. “I keep- I keep seeing them. Sweetie and Scootaloo… Did I- did I- Please tell me I didn’t eat them!”

Rarity gasped at such remorse. She wiped Pinkie’s eyes and explained Sweetie and Scootaloo’s condition, and the effects of the Dread Blooms. The Elements were theirs for the taking. That cheered Pinkie up a little.

Rainbow Dash was at the stall door with fading anger. Hearing Rarity’s answer, she simply snorted and went back to her stall again. There would be time to get Pinkie’s side of the story later.

The stable entrance slammed open with a shout of “Where is it?!”

Rarity gulped and brought Pinkie to a kneeling position, telekinetically cleaning up her face.

“Pinkamena, dear, I forgive you, and right now you need to be strong. The man up there thinks he owns you, and you need to play along. She smiled with Pinkie’s nods. “Remember, the Elements are in our grasp!”

Pinkie nodded and entered the central aisle, and felt her sorrow melting away on sight of him.

He was really pretty. Golden armor perfectly mimicked the chiseled musculature exposed at his joints, round and studded like crab chitin. Six warriors flanked him, each wearing similar armor and shields, all polished to a mirror shine.

One of them carried a jeweled saddle.

He smiled. “Can you talk?”

“Yes.”

“Come. Do you know me?”

“You’re Sigvald.”

Before him, Pinkie obeyed his orders. “Teeth. Claw. Turn.” and so it went. Pinkie felt good that Gustave and Joe might be spared. She had yet to hear a complaint.

“Were the chefs with you, coming here?" asked Sigvald.

“Yeah,” Pinkie said sheepishly. “I can get them if you want, and maybe you can give your compliments?”

“Not now,” the prince said, rounding on the other ‘ponies’. “The Everchosen demands your presence. You will demonstrate these ‘Elements’ to him.” He turned to his adjutant. “Saddle her.”

While the others were filed out, Pinkie reluctantly accepted the saddle. Sigvald vaulted onto her back, a weight she hardly noticed.

“Mirror,” ordered Sigvald.

One of the warriors was in position in a heartbeat with his shield held up to them both. While Sigvald preened, Pinkie Pie beheld her new self for the first time. She gingerly touched her face and tapped the sharklike pearly whites in her mouth.

Before the reins bit was crammed in her mouth, she felt Joe and Gustave being kneaded deep within. The sensation had sunken into background noise until now.

You guys earned this, she thought. Then, she was chewing on wood.

The martial square covered a square kilometer. Transparent tiles covered rows of skulls from enemies of the Blood God, forced to look up into the boots of the warriors who slew them, gathering for more wars against their masters.

Spike strode toward the center with the Elements. The Swords of Chaos, Archaon’s elite corps, covered three sides of the perimeter in their hundreds. A giant was posted at the entrance, and two to either side of the Archaon’s stand.

He distributed the jewels to their owners. Rainbow Dash’s lightning bolt, Twilight’s star. Spike placed the bare butterfly gem in Fluttershy’s palm. She wouldn’t be able to wear the necklace anyway.

Rarity was last. Taking her gem, she held Spike’s claw tightly. She wanted to say thank you, to kiss him and celebrate.

It was finally over. Normality, harmony, among the Warriors of Chaos.

Spike smiled briefly, and took position behind the lineup.

Spike’s time with Archaon had been mentally, and physically taxing. Interrogation, skill assessments, it was all relatively… civilized. Lieutenants, officers, logistics; the ‘government of an army’ one of his mentors put it. Archaon had an acumen for administration and order, rather than the underlings just following the bloodiest sword.

Catching him without his helmet on explained it. He was of mixed blood, Imperial and Northman. Something about, ‘The north and south will meet in the Everchosen’s blood.’

Once Spike returned to his place, Archaon signaled for the demonstration to proceed.

An array of targets were set up on the unoccupied section of wall, fifty meters before the group, letting out into the orchards beyond.

Hopes soared as the Elements seemed to recognize their bearers, altering the size of their golden frames to accommodate mares’ statures. Even the Element of Kindness sprouted long chains, allowing Fluttershy to tie it round her tree-trunk-thick neck.

The Elements glowed and hummed as the bearers called on their power, crescendoing to blinding light and shrieks. Rarity smiled ear to ear as iridescent trails reached from gem to gem, uniting in satisfying pops of eldritch sparks. Her eyes followed the end of her rainbow reaching to Fluttershy’s element.

Rarity’s smile vanished.

Fluttershy’s element did not react. The machine-pony shook it in confusion, growling pleas for it to wake up.

Rarity’s rainbow sputtered, unable to find its partner. In a wail of loss, it slammed back into the Element of Generosity, cascading through its sister elements in a shock-wave that blew their wearers to the ground.

Twilight hit the dust hard, crashing on her shoulder. She swam in and out of consciousness, but slowly rose to her hooves, nursing a headache. The others were more slow to come back to, with pained groans.

Blinking stars from her eyes, Twilight spotted one of the Swords’ warriors already approaching.

She paled. They’ll take them.

Fluttershy was audibly mumbling, staring into her element. “I’m not bad… I’m still me. We’re trying to save the world. I… Did I… When did I stop being kind? I’m trying to keep myself together!”

Red tears gathered behind her eyes, and the Element of Kindness fell from her claws.

“Spike,” Twilight telekinetically catching the falling gem. Its weight flared her headache. “Can you fix this?”

Spike glanced askance at her.

“There’s got to be someone who can fix these, right?” she growled.

Desperately, Spike tried to think. The Elements didn't work because... because of Fluttershy. She forsook Kindness for hatred. He swore under his breath.

“Is there a problem?” the warrior demanded, his hand drifting to his side where his axe hung menacingly.

Damn it.

What now? What’s Twilight trying to do? She knows I can’t fix them, I’m not even attuned! The only thing I have that might do anything is…

Then he had it.

“Girls... let me take a look,” Spike said smoothly, taking the Element of Kindness in claw.

Fluttershy was still fuming, teeth gritted in impotent rage as Twilight presented the Element to Spike. Applejack, Rainbow and Pinkie Pie looked confused at first, but followed suit. When he finished his circuit with Rarity, however, her hand briefly grazed his claw, and her eyes flashed in recognition.

“They’re just dirty, is all,” Twilight quickly blurted, blocking the warrior's view of the Spike's work. “They don’t work if they’re too filthy, bends the light incorrectly. Spike’s just cleaning them.”

“You’re a shit liar. Step aside.”

The warrior pushed her aside, just in time to see all six Elements disintegrating into the wind with a blast of emerald dragonfire.

Spike looked up at him, smoke curling up from his mouth, and grinned maliciously.

“Oops.”

“Treachery!”

His axe flew to his hand as if by magic, and he turned to face Applejack’s sudden charge as her hoof shifted. Steel foiled bone, and his shield dented against Spike’s punch.

Before the warrior could even think about counterattacking, a violet lance of magic from Twilight struck him, punching a bloodless, smoking hole right through his forehead. The warrior dropped with a crash of metal.

Archaon stood from the stands, simply looking on as the noose tightened. Twilight met his gaze briefly, and could almost imagine the punishment to come.

Broken from her panic by the sudden commotion, Fluttershy fired her claw’s hellcannon into one of the giants, washing it in an explosion of warpfire. Despite little outward damage, the creature drunkenly stumbled to a halt, confused and whimpering. It looked down at the Swords of Chaos, its allies. It began crushing them, screaming in terror.

Time for the failsafe.

Fluttershy grounded her claws and shouted, “Get on!”

She scanned the chaos lines, spotting many twirling hooks and harpoons. She’d learned from her mistake. Staying too long in one place let the northmen bring her down.

Keep moving, she thought.

“We’re up!” Spike exclaimed from her back.

The first step she took, the sky raged. Clouds turned to vortexes, and lightning surged like veins in furious skin. She ignored it and bolted for the perimeter, bowling over the Swords.

A few soldiers’ hooks found their marks, latching into Fluttershy’s joints. She didn’t allow them to regain their footing and simply dragged them across the square. Twilight and Rarity shot off the more tenacious handlers with lightning and magic blasts, leaving a trail of broken chains and tumbling warriors behind them.

Rarity felt the Winds of Magic howl, swirling up to the sky. She looked up to the eye of a storm, rapidly building up a fiery ball of lightning. She turned to warn Fluttershy.

However, lightning moved faster than sound.

Fluttershy lost control of her body mere meters before the gate. Coruscating lightning, reaching from the roaring sky, sent her limbs slack and gears squealing in protest. The twin thunderclap of her fall and the lightning heralded the scarring of the field. Tiled skulls, torn from the ground with her skidding, rolled and clattered wide across the square.

The Swords surrounded the fallen beast in quick order, finding her passengers pinned under her body.

Rainbow Dash was a blur of warpstuff, desperately trying to take form with Fluttershy’s claw on top of her. She looked up with oxygen-starved eyes as two warriors stood over her.

“It’s choking,” one said.

The other, wearing a burnished iron helmet with steel-tipped horns, simply chuckled, and punched her in the face.

In the wake of Fluttershy’s fall, Pinkie Pie was rolled over like a tube of toothpaste, coughing up Joe and Gustave with a sluice of clingy saliva.

Joe glanced around at the warriors looming over them.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?”

Pinkie groaned, “Nuh-uh.”

Was he not merciful?

Archaon sighed at the sight of the heap across the square. He didn’t have long to ponder as the earth shook beneath his feet.

“ARCHAON!”

Archaon about-faced to meet the roar. Wreathed in lightning, Kholek Suneater stood a head taller than the surrounding structures. Clad in black iron and wielding a titanic warhammer that had served under the previous Everchosen and struck down the gates of cities in a single blow, the dragon ogre was the avatar of destruction. His hammer smoked from its most recent strike. Just that bit of suffering inflicted made him grin for a moment.

Four shaggoths, none even reaching his shoulders, fumed at his side, impatient for violence.

“When do we make war on the southlanders?! I grow weary of your waiting games! You dabble in all these strategies and bureaucracy, but I have a pact to fulfill!”

Archaon raised a palm to the mountain god and said cooly, “Hail, Sun Eater, and Star Crusher. Your concerns align with mine, and you will wait—” Archaon intentionally paused a fraction on the word, letting Kholek’s choler spike, “—no longer. Tomorrow, we march south.”

The dragon ogres howled in jubilation, stomping clawed feet and bashing massive maces and battleaxes to the ground. Kholek himself reared up on his hind legs, waving Star Crusher over his head, bellowing a roar that every soul for miles did hear._____________________________________________________Balthasar Gelt was never a humble man, but he did not brag… much. In the wizarding world, bragging was a sure-fire way of getting one’s projects sabotaged by jealous or angry colleagues looking to one-up, or shut up the competition.

But now, no one could deny he had every right.

From Erengrad on the Sea of Claws, to Fort Jakova at the World’s Edge, Gelt oversaw the building of a mountain range. Such an idea was the brainchild of a mysterious woman who passed the idea on with a scroll.

At first, the idea seemed almost childish. Just build a giant wall. But to infuse it with holy magic, that made it viable.

Extensive testing of the magical wards had been undertaken, and the coronation day came, at Erengrad. In the middle of festivities, of drink and congratulations, the gateway exploded. Enough masonwork to rebuild the Imperial Palace was destroyed, just long enough for a panic to start.

Gelt remained calm, and laughed as the stones slowed to a halt mid-flight, and gingerly floated back down, rebuilding the gate seamlessly. He revealed the name of the wall then, the Auric Bastion.

The rest of the evening, the ‘demolition’ would be known as Gelt’s stunt.

The night went on with smaller exhibitions of projects the Colleges were developing. Liquid fire-throwers in heavy tanks on an infantryman’s back, armored fists imbued with charged crystals that shattered target dummies in a single blow, and even a sort of powered harness a man could wear that would let them lift heavy loads or walk for hours without tiring.

By now they already had simple power containers, harnessing the power of magic, and rechargeable by any magic wielder. If the Imperial Census was true, that over twenty percent of the pony population were unicorns, the Empire could be on the verge of near-infinite energy. And that meant that the wizards needed to constantly empower the Bastion’s defenses could feasibly be cycled out for these near-miracle ‘batteries’.

The final event was a parade of the defenders of this section of the Bastion. Mostly Ostlanders in black and white livery, scarce in the way of modern weapons characteristic of the less prosperous province, but no less proud in their stalwart defense of the Empire’s frontier. The rest were Nordlanders of the 4th Marine Regiment, brandishing heavy halberds and wide-brimmed feathered hats.

The end of the procession was marked by a Celestial Hurricanum stopping before the onlookers. Gelt stood atop it, and offered it as a gift from the Celestial Order, to the Royal Sisters.

The town of Schonfeld was on the Imperial side of the Bastion, and had recently had a surge of real estate sales as a result of the defenses being raised. Most buyers were Kislevite nobility, for it might actually be safe from the constant attacks from Chaos and Greenskins they would otherwise face.

Celestia and Luna made their stay in the mayoral palace, as humble a place as the mayor, as the palace was built in the same style as the rest of the town.The only thing giving it a unique presence was the shallow hill its foundations were built upon.

Under cool moonlight, Celestia slept in one of the guestrooms while Luna’s ‘day’ was just getting started with the rising moon. She fancied taking to the local tavern whose doors never closed, and stick to the anonymity of the shadows while sampling some drink.

Before the mirror, she quietly fixed her mane in common buns. She had acquired a taste for the modern style after witnessing some of the locals boasting the same.

Luna squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath—and then nearly coughed when the sudden foggy smell of incense invaded her nostrils. She wrinkled her brow at it. Someone must have been burning some powerful stuff.

Glancing to see if Celestia was bothered, she noticed the stream of vapor coming in through the window, and flowing with unnatural intent toward her sister.

“Tia!”

The stomp of hooves and flash of magic woke the sun princess with alarm. Luna contained the churning smoke in a shimmering bubble. It coalesced into a needle-point, and popped into the shapes of five distinctly colored gemstones, a horned helmet, and a massive golden chain. The latter’s unexpected size and weight shattered the containment field, and cracked the wooden floor on impact.

The helmet was instantly crushed under the chain. Scraps of meat flopped out, which suggested that the better part of a head was still inside.

Celestia backpedaled off the bed, quickly coming to a standing position. She stared, her face inscrutable, at the floating items.

“Tia!” Luna exclaimed. “Those— Those are the Elements of Harmony!”

Celestia just stared.

Luna walked closer, manipulating the larger of the five gems to face her. “This is Magic; I would know it anywhere!” she almost babbled excitedly. “And Loyalty, Honesty, Ki…”

She trailed off, glancing at Celestia. “Tia?”

“I know, Luna,” the Princess of the Sun replied, her expression grave. She stepped forward, rotating the helmet around. The eight-pointed star was emblazoned in brass across the face.

“If Spike managed this… then Chaos must have taken the Elements from Equestria after all,” she said. Her eyes fell on the enlarged golden chain of the Element of Kindness. “They’re all there. Twilight is in the far north, perhaps even the Wastes.”

Luna’s face fell. “The Arch-Traitor,” she whispered.

Celestia said nothing. Her eyes slowly fluttered closed, and a single tear rolled down to mar her pristine white cheek.