Twilight sat at the crystal table, staring at a cup of tea that was rapidly growing cold. She could not seem to bring herself to drink it, or to even notice it entirely. She felt oddly numb. All she wanted was to be with her friends, to make sure that they were all okay. She knew that they were just several floors below her, safe in her castle, but that was not good enough. Fluttershy was weeping inconsolably, despite Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash’s best efforts to consolue her, while Rarity was bathing insessantly for reasons that Twilight could not fully imagine. Applejack was mostly silent- -in an ominous, brooding way. Twilight needed to be with them, to be the one to reassure them- -and for them to reassure here that everything she had just witnessed was right and just.

The door at the edge of the hall opened, and Twilight saw in the corner of her eyes the guards standing outside- -one of them a unicorn, his armor carved with arcane sybols that Twilight had only partially seen in the most ancient of books, and the other an earth pony with a powerful weapon mounted on his back that continually swept from side to side with his gaze, as if waiting to find an enemy to obliterate.

A light seemed to fill the room, though, and Twilight looked up. She saw Celestia enter, but shuddered at the her appearance. She was dressed in her normal regalia, with her elegant horseshoes golden jewelry, but with that horrible all-covering white armor. She was stunning, and beautiful, but at the same time terrible and frightening. Staring at her was like staring into the sun itself: to be dazzled, and to be blinded simultaneously.

The door closed behind her, and Celestia crossed the hall. It was Twilight’s dining hall, technically, although she had never used it for such a function. The crystal table in the center was far to long for her and Spike, or even all her friends, despite the vigor with which Rarity insisted that they use it at least once. She preferred the small wooden table in the kitchen.

“Twilight,” she said, as she approached, reaching out for her. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Twilight moved to hug her, but recoiled. Celestia looked down at her armor.

“Oh, yes,” she said. She stepped back, and her horn glowed. The armor separated from her body, coming off in a single piece. All the components were interlocking, so it stayed in position, folding neatly into a waiting heap, and Celestia stepped out.

It was the first time that Twilight had seen the princess without her crown and jewlerly. She looked almost like any other pony, only larger. Twilight hardly noticed that like herself, Celestia had both wings and a horn, unlike any but two other ponies in all of Equestria.

Only then did they embrace.

“Princess,” said Twilight, tears running down her face. She felt her teacher’s body against her; soft, but at the same time muscular and strong, warm, but not hot, and oddly hairless, save for the great white wings that were draped around her. It was comforting, and Twilight felt slightly better.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“I came to explain to you, my loyal student.”

Twilight looked up at Celestia’s smiling face. She seemed so calm, and so confident. Twilight could not help but trust her.

“That pony…”

“He was no pony,” said Celestia, darkly.

“I know,” said Twilight. “I know. I saw what he did, what he became…he was the one that attacked Cadence and my brother, wasn’t he?”

“He was. It was.” Celestia sighed. “It also attacked the castle last week. It made an attempt on Luna’s life.”

Twilight gasped. “Luna? Is she alright?”

“No. The creature did not harm her, but something is wrong with her…her mental state is deteriorating rapidly. I believe the creature’s influence is to blame, but I am not yet sure. However…”

“What?”

“A servant was critically injured. Cavern Melody.”

Twilight could say nothing. She only knew Cavern Melody distantly; she was a bat-pony who followed Luna when she was performing royal duties, always in her shadow providing what she needed. Her special talent was singing, apparently, and she was known for her kindness to all and her devotion to Luna.

“Is she…is she safe?”

“She is now. Her condition has improved, although the scars she experienced will be permanent.”

“How did it get past castle defenses?”

“That, I do not know. I was hoping for your insight on the issue.”

“Mine?”

“At present, we know that the creature has been in Ponyville for some time, and mostly maintaining the same form, that of a blue pony called ‘D27’. I was hoping you might be able to tell me a bit more about him.”

“I never met him pony-to-pony,” admitted Twilight. “But my friends all said he was actually really nice, if a little strange.”

“Nice and strange in what ways?”

“Exceptionally polite, I guess,” said Twilight, trying to remember how her friends had described him. “But…not quite right. He looked strange and acted strange, and his magic…” Twilight suddenly remembered the library. “Yes!” she cried. “His magic! That I remember. He organized my library!”

“Your library?” said Celestia, suddenly concerned and suddenly somewhat terrifying. “In here? With you?”

“I never saw him, but he left a note. I think I still have it…” she paused again, remembering. “But I couldn’t read the note. I read seven languages, but somehow only Spike knew what was on it. Apparently, he cast a spell to organize all the books, which is weird because he’s not a unicorn, at least not a normal one.”

“So he can use magic?”

“Yes,” said Twilight, racking her brain. “But…not like a normal pony.”

“How so?”

“Well, he could perform really complicated spells. Like organizing a library with magic. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to implement the organization code into each book and catalog ID- -”

“Yes, Twilight, I know.”

“Oh,” said Twilight, blushing slightly. Of course Celestia knew; she was the most gifted pony at magic ever to be born, aside from maybe Starswirl the Bearded, but only on several technicalities. “Well, he could do spells like that, but from what Rarity and the others said, he couldn’t even lift small things with his magic. He couldn’t use hooves, either. I don’t know what she meant by it, but Rarity said that he had ‘claws’. I still don’t know the spell he used to get them.”

“It wasn’t a spell,” said Celestia.

“Then what was it?”

Celestia sighed. “D27…that thing…it is a type of amorphous creature called a Choggoth.”

“A Choggoth?” said Twilight, mentally searching her mind. She knew countless animals and monsters, but had never heard such a name before, not even in ancient legends.

“From what I gather, it is essentially living blight. The claws and his appearance were both illusions created by an innate shapeshifting ability. Which you witnessed in its full form several hours ago.”

“Yes,” said Twilight, the memory crushing the part of her spirit that had managed to rise. “I remember that. How could I forget? Have your soldiers finished clearing the wreckage?”

“Yes, Twilight,” said Celestia, smiling. “I am happy to report that there were no deaths.”

Twilight shivered at how calm Celestia was able to say that; it was as though she had expected much worse.

“What can I do to help?”

“Help?” said Celestia, looking somewhat surprised.

“With rebuilding Ponyville. I can organize efforts to get the refugees housed until construction equipment arrives to being rebuilding. We can use the castle, but I’ll need supplies for that many- -”

“I appreciate your concern for your subjects, Twilight,” said Celestia. “For our subjects. But that is not what we need right now.”

“Then what do we need, princess?”

“Simple, Twilight. To defeat our enemy.”

“You mean D27?” Twilight was somewhat confused. “Princess, with all due respect, I don’t think that’s where we need to focus our efforts. The people of Ponyville need- -”

“Twilight,” said Celestia, her face expressionless. “Do you know what will happen if that creature returns?”

“No, I don’t,” said Twilight, her anger building slightly. “And I don’t think you do, either.”

“I do know,” said Celestia. “A Choggoth is a contagion. If left unchecked, it will spread limitlessly, consuming everything in its path. Every plant, animal, pony. Nothing will survive.”

“But…my friends said he was such a nice pony. And I trust my friends. I don’t think he would do that!”

“They were being manipulated,” said Celestia, calmly, as if she were talking to a child. “But you are correct in one aspect. D27 is a threat, but not immediately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before I could destroy him, he escaped into a parallel dimension. It is called the Gloame.”

“I have read about parallel realities,” said Twilight. “And visited one. Twice.”

“This is not like that one. It is more like Tartarus- -lifeless and inhospitable. The atmosphere is toxic and there is little light.”

“Why would he go to a place like that?”

“Because he can seal it off from entry. I have taken steps to equalize the time flow of the Gloame to Equestria, at least temporarily, but I cannot enter myself. No doubt he is preparing for an invasion.”

Twilight understood what her teacher was saying, but was having a hard time processing it. She had met evil before, on several occasions. She had faced Nightmare Moon, Discord, King Sombra, Lord Tirac, and even the shapeshifter Queen Chrysalis who had masqueraded as Cadence at one point. This was not new to her, but somehow, something was different.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“The problem is not currently lack of firepower, but dearth of intelligence.”

“Those weapons…”

Celestia frowned. “Twilight, I love you like a daughter. But there are some things you must never know. Do not concern yourself with the weapons at hand. Concern yourself instead with your task. It will be difficult.”

“I’m ready, princess,” lied Twilight, steeling herself for what was to come.

The spell broke with a violent snap. The force of it was like being in the very center of a bolt of lightning, and Twilight felt disoriented and deafened as she fell to the stone below. The world seemed to be buzzing and hissing around her. Over years of practice, she had grown accustomed to teleportation spells- -but hers were only short range flashes of motion. The Princess’ were far more powerful, and the range was substantially greater.

The disorientation from long-distance teleportation was, apparently, far greater than Twilight had initially suspected. Worse, there had been an indescribable but profoundly disconerning feeling during transit- -a kind of lag, almost, between when she vanished from just outside of her castle and when she appeared wherever she had gone. It was as though she had been somewhere else, but somewhere that was- -nowhere.

As an alicorn, however, Twilight was resilient, and managed to stand shakily but relatively quickly. Spike, meanwhile, vomited profusely almost immediately after rematerializing.

“Why couldn’t we just take a- -herk!- -chariot,” he said through his expelation of flaming liquid. “Like, I don’t know, somepony who’s sane!”

“You heard what Celestia said. We don’t have much time until the Choggoth comes back. And…” she looked up at the sight before her. “I don’t know if any chariots come this far…”

Before her was an immense opening in a sheer cliff. It appeared to be a cave, but was carved ornately around the edge with artwork that was ancient and terrifying by its design alone.

Twilight examined the area she found herself in. She and Spike had arrived on a ledge on the side of a mountain. Below, or opposite the black tunnel, was a view through endless stormclouds through which passed the spires of an entire range of impassible crags. Based on their surroundings, they seemed to be on the highest of the crags, a lifeless mountain of stone whose sides were almost exclusively sheer cliffs.

The wind was incredible. Even in the relative shelter of the ledge, it sounded almost as loud as the distant thunder and the echoes of the teleportation spell. Twilight ruffled her feathers against the frigid air, but noticed that the air coming from the decorated cave was warm. Somehow, that warmth was anything but inviting.

“Have I ever told you that dragons are cold blooded?” said Spike, shivering and wrapping his tiny arms around himself.

“Dragons are not cold blooded,” stated Twilight. “You’re endotherms like the rest of us.”

“Yeah, well right now, by blood is pretty cold.”

“Well, it’s warm in there…”

They both looked to immense entryway into the side of the cliff, and the darkness beyond.

“Why are we at a cave?” asked Spike. “Nothing good ever happens in a cave.”

“The Princess said that we needed to find information on Choggoths, and then sent us here.”

“Information? In a cave? Twilight, do you think this is even the right place?”

“The Princess doesn’t make mistakes, Spike.”

Twilight stepped forward toward the cave.

“I think I’ll stay out here,” said Spike.

“Fine,” said Twilight. “Just be sure to take notes.”

“Notes?”

“About the roc.”

“Rocks? Why do you need notes on rocks?”

“No ‘k’, Spike.”

She looked back and saw him slowly gain comprehension of what she was saying. Then, panicked, he looked to the sky.

“No, cave is better,” he said, running forward to catch up with Twilight.

Together, they passed into the cave, and left the dim gray light of perpetual mountain winter behind them. Twilight ignited the magic in her horn, producing light to illuminate their path. What she saw caused her to instantly stop in pure amazement. Lining the sides of the great hall at even intervals were bipedal statue-like objects made of rock and crystal. They were each nearly one hundred feet tall, and if they truly had been statues, that alone would have been impressive.

Instead, Twilight recognized the telltale marks on their design, if only from third-hand accounts in ancient texts. The way the joints connected the arms to the torsos, or the way the heads were built like pointed helms of special transparent crystal- -they were almost certainly golems.

“Somepony really has,” Spike gulped, “some…interesting taste in architecture.”

“Those aren’t architecture,” said Twilight. She did not know if she wanted to smile and approach one, or turn and run back out of the cave. The golems themselves were amazing artifacts, but Twilight was not blind to the stone axes that each one held before it. There was only one reason to build a golem with an axe that big. “I think we’re safe as long as they don’t start- -”

The heads on several of the golems turned, and with a sound like tumbling rocks, they stepped forward into the hall, lifting their great axes and standing defensively.

“- -moving.”

Twilight looked up at the magically animated creatures that were approaching her, and she charged her horn. They barely seemed to take notice, and Twilight was forced to fire a shot at the chest of one of them, summoning the full destructive potential of her alicorn magic. She hated to damage such a beautiful ancient treasure, a tribute to magical ingenuity, but it seemed to be necessary.

Her violet magic impacted the chest of her target, and burst apart into a shower of shining sparks. The rock beneath was heated and red, but the impact had not even slowed the golem. It did not even seem to have noticed.

The nearest of the golems pulled its axe far above its head, and Twilight projected a purple bubble of magic around herself and spike. The massive stone blade slammed into it with enough force to drive the sphere several feet into the stone tiles below, and the bubble instantly cracked and started to shatter.

The blow had taken its toll on Twilight; she had no idea that absorbing so much force with magic was so difficult, or that any magical entity could produce so much force. She felt as though the massive hammer had landed on her horn, driving it into her brain- -and her shield collapsed only moments after the golem drew its weapon away.

Twilight was sweating, and the world suddenly seemed to shift, as though the stone below her had been replaced with butter. She fell to her knees.

Another golem swung its axe from the side. Twilight did her best to summon a new shield, but the one she got was weak and pale, barely dense enough to stop wind.

In terror, Spike shielded his face with his tiny hands. “Please don’t smash us!” he cried.

The axe stopped. The golems stared downward at the pony and the dragon, their magical eyes looking like shadows on the internal facets of their crystal faces. Then, slowly, each of them returned to standing positions, their axes held at attention.

Twilight’s shield collapsed, and she looked up at the stone monsters before her. They no longer had any trace of aggressive posture; if anything, they looked like the silent guards posted outside Celestia and Luna’s throne room. Scary, but almost reassuring at the same time.

“Did…did I do that?” said Spike. He looked down at his hands, as if he had somehow cast a magic spell using them. Then he smiled, and pointed at the golem on the left. “You! Jump on one foot!”

The golem only stared back at him and remained perfectly still.

“Spike!” hissed Twilight. “Don’t push them!”

“Yeah,” said Spike. “Probably a good idea.”

They carefully walked past the golems, and Twilight could feel their eyes on her the entire time, as if they were still considering whether or not to flatten her. They seemed to have returned to a state of inactivity, though.

After they had gotten a good distance away from them, the golems began to move again. Instead of following Twilight and Spike, they took up their former posts in the alcoves against the walls, returning to their waiting position. Twilight wondered how many countless centuries they had waited there until she and Spike had arrived.

Ahead of them, the stone-tile floor suddenly seemed to rise. Something at the top glinted, and Twilight jumped back as she realized that a pair of reflective eyes- -one milky silver and the other gold- -were watching her, silently.

“Fall god?” said a voice that was spoken in a whisper but seemed to shake the foundation of the stone room. “Why have you returned to this place? To destroy more of my things, or to try to squeeze a tactical advantage from me? Go back to ruling your insipid sheep-ponies. I do not want you horrid form to darken my cave.” The eyes shifted, rising, and Twilight saw a dark, cloaked figure rise, apparently from a sitting position. “No,” said the voice. “No…you are not Celestia. Who are you?”

“I am- -I am Twilight Sparkle!” called Twilight. “Princess Twilight Sparkle. Celestia is- -she is my mentor. She sent me here for information.”

The figure seemed to sigh, and sit back down. “This is a new tactic. I know you, Twilight Sparkle. The hybrid princess, the bridge between two sisters. A puppet. Return to your masters, and tell them that neither they nor their proxy shall get anything from me.”

“A Choggoth attacked my village,” said Twilight. Then, deciding that it was best to sound bigger. “My kingdom. It escaped, but it will be back. Please, we need your help.”

“How many died?”

“Excuse me?”

“The death toll, you fool. Do you not understand my words? Did Celestia choose only the most simple of apprentices to bend to her will? How many of your subjects were slain?”

“None,” said Twilight, suddenly inexplicably angry. “Why would you even ask something like that.”

“Of course,” said the hidden figure. “But my assertion stands. Both of them. You are a fool, and must leave. Do you honestly think that your teacher wishes to stop the Choggoth?”

“Yes! She fought it herself!”

“Then you know little about the one who trained you. You have been deceived, as is her specialty.”

“You don’t know her!” shouted Twilight, her anger continuing to grow.

“I have known her for close to five thousand years,” said the voice. “And you have known her for what? Ten? You have only ever witnessed her as she portrays herself. You know not the atrocities that the false-god has perpetrated. You are merely an extension of her. You, like her, would use my knowledge to build new and better weapons to fight new and more lethal wars.”

“Twilight would never do that!” cried Spike, his outrage overcoming his fear of the shadowy figure. “You may know Celestia, but you don’t know her! All she wants to do is protect her friends!”

“Spike!” whispered Twilight.

The figure seemed to take notice. She stood, and looked down, her glinting eyes shifting about the room. For the first time, Twilight realized that the figure was blind.

“Who said that?” said the figure. She moved forward with surprising speed, her body lurching with reptilian motion. As she came into the light, Twilight saw that she was tall and bipedial, dressed in thick and dusty robes, one arm of which appeared empty.

As the figure got even closer, her face became visible. Twilight gasped as she realized that the hooded figure was a dragon. Her skin was red and black, but grayed with age and covered with scars that seemed to have come from a lifetime of endless battle.

“You are a dragon,” she said, tiny wisps of smoke drifting from the edges of her mouth. She stared down at Spike. “That is how you got past my golems!”

“You’re…you’re a dragon too,” mumbled Spike, staring up at the much larger and much more ancient dragon. Twilight herself was equally surprised. She had encountered dragons before, and though this one was at least four times taller than a pony, she was much smaller than most dragons. Most dragons could also barely talk, and spent their time in caves of jewels and gold- -this one seemed to have been sitting on a utilitarian throne of stone, and spoke as well as any pony.

“I am,” said the female dragon. “I am actually the Grand Magus of dragons…not that such a thing even matters anymore.” She turned to Twilight. “You can thank your Choggoth for that.”

The female dragon turned back to Spike. Though she could not see, it seemed that she had locked in his position by some other means. Twilight had suddenly become somewhat secondary. “Little one,” said the dragon. “Tell me. Were you brought here against your will? Are you a captive of this pony?”

“What?” said Spike, confused by even the implications of such an accusation against Twilight. “No! Twilight is my friend! No, she’s even more than a friend, she’s my family! She hatched me, and she practically raised me. I’m her number one assistant! How could you even say something like that?”

The older dragon paused. Then, something reminiscent of a smile crossed her lips. “A dragon who is friends with a pony?” She bent forward, and a pair of massive red and black wings emerged from two slits on the back of her robe. One of them was badly damaged, but she still managed to take flight and return to her throne. As she sat and retracted them, a light issued from near her eyes, and Twilight saw her exhaling red fire into her hand. The dragon closed her fist around it, and then released it, forming a hovering sphere that lit the area around her.

“Fine,” she said. “You have convinced me to offer a test.”

“A test?” said Twilight, suddenly much more panicked than she had been facing the golems or the ancient dragon. She had not studied for any kind of test; Celstia had not told her there would be one. “Do I need a quill? Spike, do you have the parchment?”

“Not that kind of test,” said the female dragon, unamused. “Just one question. A choice.”

“What kind of choice?”

“A hypothetical one. Answer carefully, Twilight Sparkle. Imagine that I could offer you one of two things. The first is a gift of absolute power over material things. I could give you the power of a god, more than any pony that has ever lived, even Celestia. You could remake the world in your own image, as you see fit. You could end all suffering, or you could cause endless suffering; what you do with the power to fundamentally rewrite reality is up to you.

“Or, I could give you absolute knowledge. I could give you the secrets of all things. You would know the nature of all that ever was, is, and will be. All of time would become clear to you, every fact, and every detail of every thing and every one. The caveat, as I’m sure you can understand, is that while the first option is only over material things, this one is only over the abstract. Knowing the future in its entirly means that every aspect of it becomes inevitable and removes the illusion of changeability.” The dragon leaned back. “Now choose.”

Spike leaned close to Twilight. “Pick the second one,” he whispered, blocking his mouth from the other dragon with his hand. “That’s the right one!”

“Don’t help her, little one,” said the elder dragon patiently. “This is her decision. It must be made by her, and her alone.”

Twilight thought for a moment. She had expected a kind of fact, or trivia, or even a riddle. This was none of those things, and it had put her off balance. It was not a matter of answering from memory, or formulating a solution, or understanding a strange linkage in words; it was a question about herself.

The moment passed into a minute, and then two, and quickly ten. Spike watched her in anticipation, biting his nails. The other dragon simply sat on her throne, her head propped on her one remaining hand, waiting patiently.

“I choose neither,” said Twilight, suddenly.

The dragon looked down at her, surprised. “Elaborate.”

“I don’t want either of them,” said Twilight. Then, deciding that her answer was unclear, added: “I mean, they both sound really good. But then I thought about them, and I realized neither one is actually a good thing. The first one- -yes, with that much power, I could surely protect my friends. I could help everypony, but nopony can stop all suffering. If I did, there won’t be anything left. I might not have known that once, but…it’s like with my friends. Sometimes we have arguments, and sometimes we face challenges, but we overcome them by working together, not by being alone. If I took that away from them, from anypony, there wouldn’t be anything left.”

“And you would refuse knowledge too?”

“No. Knowledge is my ultimate goal. It’s why I love reading and learning. But to get it the way you described- -there’s no effort, and no point. If I knew everything, there would be no learning, and that would take away one of the things I love the most. So I choose neither.”

The dragon looked down at her, and initially seemed angry. Then a smile crossed her face, and she actually started laughing quietly. “Spoken like a true mortal,” she said.

“Was that the correct answer?” asked Spike.

“Of course not,” said the dragon. “The question has no correct answer. Your mentor answered with the first option, but so did my most beloved friend Single Horn.”

“Single Horn?” said Twilight, remembering the name from only the most ancient of legends. “You mean the first unicorn? The Mare of the White Light? She was real?”

“Of course she was. And she was not actual the first of her kind.” The dragon sighed, releasing a small puff of fire. “Actually, I suppose that you rather remind me of her, in some ways.”

“Aw, come on, Twilight,” said Spike. “You could have known everything!”

“The question was hypothetical,” said the female dragon. “I was actually offering neither. Such gifts are not mine to offer. Nevertheless, although your answer was wrong, you have passed the test.”

“Really?” said Twilight, immensely relived that she had succeeded but also annoyed that she had gotten the question wrong on such an important test. She smiled. “I bet I’m the first one to answer with ‘neither’, though, aren’t I?”

“Second,” said the dragon, her smile fading. “I have asked that question to many. Only one other answered as you did, but for very different reasons.”

“Who?” said Twilight, aware that she would probably not recognize anyone the dragon spoke of. “And what reasons?”

“He said that he had no need for knowledge, and he was desperately afraid of power.” She paused. “The one who answered as such was the Choggoth you now seek to destroy.” She stepped down from the throne, and descended to the level of the floor, her talons clicking as she crossed the floor. “My name is Crimsonflame, daughter of Rageclaw. And I will help you. You may follow if you still wish to.”

She approached a blank section of stone behind her throne. It was simple and flat and thoroughly solid. Crimsonflame paused before it, seeming to stare at it for a moment even though she could not see. Then she raised two of her fingers to her mouth, and blew a small puff of red fire onto them. It stayed at the end of her long claws for a moment, and then shifted from red to a violet-blue.

Crimsonflame pressed her fingers against the wall, and the formerly smooth material burst forth with a molten seal, a set of impossibly complex arcane runes that formed a magical circle far wider than she was tall. The stone heated and melted, and twisted away, drawn back by the motivation of the symbols, which expanded outward. The end result was a circular hole, and a slightly inclined tunnel further into the mountain.

Seeming to stare into the darkness for a moment, Crimsonflame entered, motioning for Twilight to follow her. Twilight did, slowly, but found that Spike stayed behind.

“Spike?” said Twilight.

“Don’t I need to answer a question, too?”

Crimsonflame chuckled. “No, little one. You are a dragon, and one with a pure heart untainted by greed and malice. Alone, I would have allowed you in without hesitation.”

The turned blindly toward Spike, somehow knowing exactly where he was, and smiled. Spike smiled in return, and entered the tunnel alongside Twilight.

They passed through the tunnel for a significant distance, and Twilight was forced to ignite her horn. Crimsonlame, being blind, did not seem to need light, but she also did not seem to need assistance moving either.

Twilight eventually worked up enough courage to ask the questions that she could no longer contain.

“That spell you used to open this tunnel,” she asked, trying to be as polite as possible. “That was a spatial-lock seal, wasn’t it?”

“A version of it, yes. I am surprised you would recognize it. Only my fire may open it, and only at my command.”

“And the golems?”

“I built them. I command them. They are mine.”

“I didn’t know dragons could use magic like that,” said Twilight.

“Or at all,” said Spike.

Crimsonflame’s golden eye shifted to one side, and focused itself. Twilight realized that it was somehow mechanical, but for some reason the focus of its intent was into an especially dark corner of the room, not at Spike.

“Really, little one?” said Crimsonflame. “You know no spells?”

“No,” said Spike, seemingly a bit ashamed. Then his eyes lit up. “Well, actually, when I breathe fire on a scroll and burn it, it gets sent to Princess Celestia. Does that count?”

“Of course. It is an interesting choice of a first spell, though. Have you ever considered sending different objects, or sending them to different locations? Or storing the objects instead of sending them?”

“Storing them?” said Spike, confused.

“Like this.” Crimsonflame emitted a narrow jet of black smoke from her mouth. The smoke quickly fell to the floor, making a long black line, and then condensed and became solid, forming a tree-sized wooden staff.

“Wow!” said Spike and Twilight at the same time.

Crimsonflame sighed. She released a small spark and the staff ignited instantly, returning back to its state of black smoke. “Twilight Sparkle, you are correct. Modern dragons cannot readily use magic. They have forgotten it, or refuse to use it. I am the last that remembers the old ways. I am the last Draconian.”

That explained why she seemed different from a normal dragon. “There were more like you?” asked Twilight.

“Yes. Once.”

“What were they like?” asked Spike, his eyes widening.

“How to explain…” said Crimsonflame. “To sum up five million years of culture in so short a time…we were the first. One of the oldest races. Draconia was a nation, but more than that. It was an ideal. We focused our efforts into learning, and understanding, and building great works, and chaperoning the other sentient races as they arose. That was long before my time, though.”

“What happened to them?” asked Twilight.

“What happens to all societies, in time. Greed took hold, and depravity. We are a race of immortals- -we, in truth, have no need for cities or great works or philosophies. By my time, many of us had already fell to base instinct and become little more than animals. The remainder- -the true Draconians- -were fewer, but still strong. We were more like an order of knights or scholars by the time I was hatched.

“Though are society had decayed, that was the peak of magic. We understood the nature of things, and of our abilities, beyond what any pony has ever understood. My father, Grand Magus Rageclaw, was the strongest of them all.”

“What happened to him?” said Spike.

“He was killed by the Choggoths,” said Crimsonflame before Twilight could try to shield Spike from that information. “Although…even death could not hold him completely.”

“And the rest of them? Of us?”

“Also killed by Choggoths- -most of them by the actions of one named Oblivion. I was the only to survive, and even then, only barely.”

That statement truly frightened Twilight. She had initially been afraid of the Choggoths as monsters, but she had faced monsters before. That was a fact of life in Equestria. A creature that could bring such a powerful race to extinction, though, was something far more terrible than anything she had ever even considered possible. This was not some egomaniac attempting to conquer Equestria for its own means; they did not intend to rule. They only intended destruction. What Twilight could not understand, though, was why.

“Here,” said Crimsonflame, suddenly stopping.

“Here?” said Twilight, confused. They had stopped at another blank spot in the otherwise endless blank tunnel. There had been no doors and no exits, only stone walls.

Crimsonflame turned to her left, and stepped forward just enough to be within arm’s reach of the wall. She extended one lone claw to it, and when she touched the stone, an arcane rune erupted on its surface and the stone drew away. She stepped back, and motioned pointed, motioning for Twilight to enter.

Twilight hesitated, suddenly feeling a creeping fear in her spine. Entering dark portals guarded by mysterious figures almost never ended well for her.

“You came all this way,” said Crimsonflame. “Go in. Or turn back. I don’t much care. But I have a feeling this will not disappoint.”

Taking a deep breath, Twilight entered the room. It was definitely dark, and smelled strange- -not bad, but somehow familiar.

Snakes of red light poured forth from behind her, slowly skimming their way through the air and leaving trails of light as they passed through the room, splitting and dividing, revealing that it was indeed cavernous. Each one of them inevitably struck a lantern somewhere within, and the light shifted and grew brighter, filling the seemingly endless room with illumination.

With a gasp, Twilight realized what kind of room it was.

“It’s a library,” she said. “It’s a library!” She felt a familiar tingling in her nether regions and swimming in her head as she looked up at the endless array of shelves. They extended seemingly in every direction- -back father than she could see, as well as to both sides, and even upward, where the floor had been constructed something like a spiral column. The contents of the shelves were not exactly books as Twilight was familiar with, but they were close enough to recognize. Most were large and bound in something similar to metal, with strange inscriptions on the sides, but some also appeared to be tablets of stone.

Twilight ran forward to the nearest stack and took one of the shelves. It was heavy, and materially strange; even the pages were not made of paper, but something more like translucent flexible glass. To Twilight’s profound disappointment, though, she realized that she could not even remotely understand the text imprinted onto the pages.

“Pony,” said Crimsonflame, and Twilight looked up from the undecipherable text. As she did, she felt a burning claw contact the end of her horn.

The result was something like a mental seizure. Colors and images flashed through Twilight’s mind faster than she could comprehend or recognize them, and she felt herself mumbling sounds that had no meaning. Her brain felt as though it were being cooked, and her body shook, trying to pull away from the spell.

“What did you do?” she finally managed to mutter when the spell stopped. She was sweating, and panting. Her head ached badly, and she doubted that she would have remained conscious if she had not been an alicorn.

“I just gave you the ability to read Draconian,” said Crimsonflame, as if insulted by Twilight’s disrespectful tone. “And also several other dead languages. Do not waste or misuse this gift.”

Twilight looked down at the book she had been holding. She had dropped it onto the stone floor, but it remained open. What had moments ago been meaningless arrays of shapes now resolved into something that looked identical by was fully comprehendible.

“What about me?” said Spike.

“You are a dragon,” said Crimsonflame. “Reading Draconian is your birthright.”

“But the other languages?”

Crimsonflame smiled. “It has been so long since a dragon showed interest in my books,” she mused. “So, so long. Alas, you have no horn. I cannot transmit this knowledge to you so easily. Besides- -what is written by the trihorn is not meant for you.” She turned back to Twilight, who had been unable to take her eyes of the book, which was actually a rather dry study of geologic features that was now substantially out of date. “This library,” she said, “is the culmination of one hundred and fifty thousand years of collection. It contains the surviving works of my people, and those that I managed to salvage from the ruins of the Trihorn Empire, as well as precious few from the other races. Some contain things that are best forgotten, and others contain things that should not but have been.”

“How old exactly are these texts?” said Twilight, tentatively. Crimsonflame was surprised how excited the small purple pony had become over a collection of books. In a way, this Twilight Sparkle reminded her of herself, or at least what she might have been had the Choggoth War not taken everything.

“This wing contains everything up to my reawakening, many thousands of years after the Choggoth War. The other wing contains more modern things I have collected.”

“This is one wing?”

“The other is smaller. But in response to your question: the last Choggoth War ended one point two million years ago. Some of these go back millions of years before it- -some by hundreds of millions, although even I could not read those.”

Twilight’s legs shook, and then she collapsed onto her knees. “That’s not…that’s not just history, it’s…”

“What ponies call prehistory? Yes, I know.”

“But that’s an entire system of works, of history- -that nopony has ever even seen! There could be things in here that are written, unread, of profound and- -” She suddenly moaned, as if the strain of being surrounded by so many rare books was too much for her to take.

“Twilight, calm down,” said Spike.

“I’m- -perfectly- -calm,” said Twilight, hyperventilating.

“They’re organized by date,” said Crimsonflame. She crossed the room and acquired an appropriately sized chair, and sat down in it. “So start reading.”

The library had been empty for so long, longer than the lifespans of almost every creature in Equestria, and in a way, it felt good to have somepony finally using it- -even if that somepony was a pony. Some had tried to access it before, but Crimsonflame had denied them all. Most of them were like Celestia, who came seeking ways to build old weapons and spells of mass devastation, or ways to subjugate the minds of their enemies. These books listed many ways to do those things- -and many more things that were far worse.

Crimsonflame had not actually intended for the books to be read, except by her. She supposed it was her equivalent to the piles of gemstones and gold that her kind normally collected. Her only goal had been to safeguard the knowledge of her own age, to ensure that despite the loss of her people their knowledge did not vanish with them. There was surely no way to resurrect them, so this is all she could do in response.

If any being were meant to read them, she supposed it would be other dragons. For millennia she had waited, hoping that someday one would return seeking something more than jewels and gold or a cave to sleep in. At first she had hoped that there might be other Draconians, but that hope had faded; in all the countless centuries, Goldmist’s eye had never once seen another of her kind.

Those hopes had changed over time. When she had given up on her own kind, she had hoped that in time one would be born who bore a Draconian soul. She had even given up on that too.

“Do you have a kitchen?” asked a small voice beside her.

Crimsonflame turned her head toward exactly where the sound had come from- -she could not see, but could not stop the habit. “Yes,” she said to Spike. “Why?”

“Twilight’s been working really hard,” he said. “I was hoping to get her some tea.”

“Tea…” said Crimsonflame. “If only I had such a beverage. I do not, though. Only water.”

“Oh…”

“However,” said Crimsonflame. “Do not disparage the water of this mountain. It is the purest and clearest in all of Panbios- -well, ‘Equestria’ now. It filters for years through the gem caverns before it ever reaches my well.”

“Did you say gemstones?”

“Yes,” said Crimsonflame, smiling. “Unfortunately, they are all the food I have, so she will need to go hungry. You may have some, though, if you like.”

“Really?”

“Of course, child.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Me?” said Crimsonflame, somewhat taken aback. She had been alone for a long time, longer than most creatures with a soul safely could. It had been a long, long time since any being had offered her anything.

“Yeah. Water? Gems? I was even thinking of making a gem cake. I know a mean recipe.”

“A cake can be made of gems?”

“Of course. Well…supposedly.”

“Just some water, Spike.”

She heard Spike take several steps, and then he inexplicably stopped.

“Miss Crimsonflame- -Grand Magus,” he said.

“Yes, little one? Is there something you ask of me?”

“You’re blind, aren’t you?”

“To an extent, yes.”

“Then why do you have so many books if you can’t ever read them?”

Crimsonflame smiled. “I suppose for those like you, and her. Those who would read them, and those who will read them when I am gone. Besides, I have already read them all. I know what is in all of them. Sometimes I still try, though…” Her golden eye shifted toward Spike, and momentarily focused on him, showing her a distorted silhouette. He was indeed tiny, barely a hatchling. Then it focused on something else.

“That thing’s kind of creepy,” he said, stepping back.

Crimsonflame laughed. “I know. It was a gift from a madpony who I have to begrudgingly recall as a friend. It never looks where I want it to.”

“What…what happened to your friend?”

“He died in the war.” She sighed, and looked to where Twilight was. Although Crimsonflame could not see, she had been tracking Twilight’s location by sound. She had been reading diligently, studying each tome with great care and taking what Crimsonflame expected were notes. Crimsonflame had tracked her pattern of motion, following her mentally to the different sections of the library. In the darker corners of her mind, she had expected Twilight to immediately find the cerorian section, to attempt to read the manuals on the construction of devastating weapons, or to the shelves in the back where so many of the spell books bore the initials A.D. on their covers. Instead, she had watched as Twilight dedicated herself to researching the end of the Choggoth War, deviating only to acquire cultural works that better explained the races she was reading about.

“You are lucky to have a friend like her,” said Crimsonflame.

“I know,” said Spike.

“Do you have other friends who are ponies?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Spike. “There’s Applejack and Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy, and Rarity, oh, and the ponies in town too…”

He began listing names. Crimsonflame smiled. She recognized the tone that he had used to say the name “Rarity”. It had been a tone that she had once used when she was much younger with regards to a certain cerorian hero.

“…and Cadence, and Shining armor, and…well, there’s more…”

“You are on a dangerous road, little one,” sighed Crimsonflame.

“Dangerous? Why?”

“Surely you have considered it. Something within you must have realized it, if only distantly.”

“What?”

“That they are mortal, and you are not.” She stared into the distance, seeing distorted images that she could only partially comprehend. “That you could sleep for one thousand years and barely notice, but that these ponies live at most eighty, ninety years.”

“You mean…” Crimsonflame could feel Spike’s spirit drop. “You mean the others…Rarity…”

“This is the curse of eternity,” said Crimsonflame flatly. “To watch everpony you love age and die while you barely even grow older. Not just in war, but in times of peace.” She turned to Spike. “Which is why I must give you this advice. If this is all I can tell you, and I hope that it is not, take my words to heart. Never despair for their short lives. Treasure every day, every minute. Love them with all your heart. Laugh, cry, and stand with them when danger comes. Then when they finally leave you, remember them fondly, and hold those memories with you for as long as you live.” She turned to Twilight. “And her…this is why you are truly lucky. She has become a god, and shares your curse. Know that she will always be there for you. And give her this advice when the time comes.”

Crimsonflame stood.

“Where are you going?” asked Spike. Crimsonflame wondered what his reaction to her words was, if he was crying, or afraid, or still too young to understand them.

“One of my last living friends is about to arrive,” she said coldly.

As the sun set, a sphere of red light erupted on the precipice over the endless storms below.

“General, the shadows! No, they’ve got me! Help me! NO NO not my eyes- -”

D27 tried to focus, bringing his mind back to reality. The ones that had died violent deaths were always the worst, and the vast majority of the skulls he had stockpiled had died extremely painfully. This one, apparently, had been devoured by the shadows in the Gloame. D27 had never realized how painful that was until he had felt it through the long-dead pony’s bones.

Pain was pointless, though. It was something that belonged to the bones, not to him, and he refocused the division of his mind in charge of that particular skeleton on the task at hand. Its limited vision focused on the entrance to a clearly unnatural cave bordered with a style of carving that was almost certainly Draconian. Triangulation confirmed that he had arrived in an area that had once been home to an Aurasi manufacturing colony by the name of Vulcan before its destruction during the Choggoth War.

The smell of the air also indicated the faint presence of Order. The long-range teleportation spell that D27 had followed him had recently contained Twilight Sparkle. He was in the correct place. There was a different smell, though. One he recognized, but one that should have been impossible.

Without hesitation, D27 immediately entered the cave. The wind outside was cold, but the air inside was warm, as if heated from an internal source. The temperature difference was irrelevant, though. Temperature alone could not stop him.

On either side of the hall he noticed the presence of several Draconian golems, built on massive proportions. D27 searched the inventory of spells in the skull that he contained. The unicorn who had formerly possessed it had not been especially strong, and there was nothing inside it that would allow him to fight golems of such size and power. There was also no cloaking spell that would allow him to sneak past them- -which was not unusual; only one in several million ponies were born with the capacity to make themselves invisible, and D27 currently had none of them in his reserves.

Fortunately, the golems did not seem to react. There was a possibility that they did not entirely recognize D27 as alive- -or a possibility that they were expecting him.

As he approached the end of the cave, his eye adjusted to the darkness, and confirmed what he had only distantly expected to be possible.

“Oblivion,” said Crimsonflame, staring down at him from a stone pyramid that contained what seemed to be a throne.

“Grand Magus,” said D27, his own voice distastefully distorted by his present sub-pony form. A voice he hated hearing. “You look as beautiful as the day I first met you.”

“Do not try to flatter me, Oblivion. I have gotten old. You clearly have not.”

“Choggoths do not age.”

“How fortunate,” said Crimsonflame, still standing. D27 could tell that she was prepared to attack, if necessary. Her age was advanced, and even from a distance D27 could tell that the scars that covered her body were far more than superficial. She was a shadow of what she had once been- -but a single blow would destroy D27’s body. Not that it mattered. Even in Equestria it was one of several hundred.

“And,” he added. “I no longer use the name ‘Oblivion’. I am called D27 now. It was the name given to me by ponies, and I have become quite partial to it.”

“What you call yourself does not change what you are.” She glared down at him. D27 could tell that she could not see, at least not completely; one of her eyes was blinded by age, and the other replaced with an Aurasus eye, which in a Draconian would almost surely not relay proper images. He knew better than to think she was blind, though. She could almost certainly sense the Order in his body, even if it was only a trace divided amongst so many forms.

“I cannot believe that you are still alive,” said D27. “After all this time…”

“I am the last,” she said, the anger in her voice palpable. “You killed my people. All of them.”

“I know.”

She chuckled darkly. “Not even an apology, then?”

D27 was starting to grow angry, perhaps irrationally so. “What could I possibly say to you? What words would not be hollow? Nothing I may say, and nothing I can do, will bring them back.” He glared at her through his stolen, half-exposed skull. “And do not pretend that you did not play a role in my failure.”

“How dare you accuse me?!” roared Crimsonflame. “If it had not been for me, you would have taken the monohorns with you, and murdered three races that day!”

D27 stepped forward. “You changed the nature of the spell! Whatever it was you did, it interacted with something the trihorns were attempting! If the spell had been done properly…” he paused, remembering. His anger shifted to sadness. “But no…no, that isn’t true. It is my fault. I detected an anomaly in the source magic. I had exactly thirty two thousandths of a second to make the decision, more than enough. I could have changed the spell, but sacrificed the power output. I chose to maintain power at the cost of your lives.”

“And that decision saved all of Panbios,” said Crimsonflame. “Just at such a terrible cost.”

“Tell me Crimsonflame,” said D27. “How long has it been?”

“Over one million years, Oblivion.”

“That long?” said D27, surprised. He had tried to piece together timelines from what he had read of pony history, but he had assumed that the gulf in time had been at most one hundred thousand years. “I had no idea. The war, though. I died before it could be completed. How did it end?”

“This, I do not know,” said Crimsonflame, taking a seat in her ancient throne. “My defense of the monohorns nearly destroyed me. I was kept alive with magic, and technology, but was not conscious for the completion of the war. I know not how the survivors defeated Choggoth Void.”

“When did you awaken?”

“Long after the fall of Third Horn. I awoke into a new war. Infighting amongst the races of ponies. Death and destruction, and evolution, worse than the horrors of the Cerorian Civil Wars. Pointless wars of ideology and greed. Wars I could not bear to watch.”

“I am sorry. If only I had been awoken earlier.”

“To do what? A thing like you can never bring peace. You are a weapon, not a ruler. They were as much your wars as mine.”

“That is correct,” admitted D27. “I should never even have awoken at all. I was not supposed to survive the activation of the Weapon. All the simulations, all the calculations. I should not have survived. I wish I had not.”

“Why?”

“The regret. Knowing what I did to you, to the Draconians and trihorns. That is part of it. But…” he sighed. Somewhere in the Gloame, his amorphous true form was weeping. “My presence means that I must restart the war.”

“Restart it? Why?” said Crimsonflame, leaning forward. “The war is over.”

“No,” said D27. “No. The Finality Core has been activated for a second time.”

“Activated?” said Crimsonflame. She stood again. “That is not possible. I have seen the Core. It is inactive- -and Nil was surely killed in the blast.”

“The Finality Core does not need a Choggoth to catalyze its function,” said D27, shaking his skeletal head. “The Choggoth serves to create the Core, and to accelerate its function. A pony has betrayed us. The one called Celestia.”

“The false god,” said Crimsonflame, pausing. “I know her well.”

“And you let her use the Core?” screamed D27. “After everything I was forced to do, after everything you lost, you let her activate it?!”

“I could not stop her. And the Core did not activate. No Lord of Order was born into this world.”

“Even you are shortsighted, Crimsonflame. The Finality Core was damaged but not destroyed. Just because it was used against its function did not mean it was not activated. Above all things, it is patient. One hundred million years to a Choggoth is like a sunny afternoon to you, and one hundred billion is barely a blink to a Lord of Order. What she did started a countdown. It is waiting until it has enough energy from her and her sister, and from the Spheres. Then it will awaken fully.”

D27 did not know if Crimsonflame believed him, but she seemed to understand.

“Then what can we do?” she said at last. “Can the Weapon be used again?”

“It took the destruction of two races to barely charge it last time,” said D27. “Five million trihorns and eight thousand Draconian mages. Now we have one Draconian, and ponies. If I drained every unicorn in all of Equestria, it would barely dent the Core.”

“But you have a plan,” said Crimsonflame, frowning.

“The Finality Core is one of three celestial Spheres. The Red Sphere and White Sphere are needed to activate it. Without them, the Core is useless.”

“You want to destroy the sun and moon? You cannot be serious.”

“I am. It is the only way.”

“But the last time we spoke, you said destruction of the Spheres was impossible.”

“It was, then. Conditions are different now. The Spheres have been bound to flesh.”

“You are going to kill Celestia,” said Crimsonflame, smiling.

“Luna will need to die as well. But essentially, yes.”

Crimsonflame frowned. “You understand what will happen if you do that, though. Celestia is a tyrant who hides her lust for power behind noble intentions, and denies the brutality of her past. But she brought peace to Equestria, and she maintains it. If she is killed, the Equestria will fall. Infighting will begin again, and all pony kind will fall into endless cycles of violence and pain.”

“I know,” said D27. “But the only alternative is to absorb all of this word’s mass into myself and hope that I can defeat a Lord of Order on my own.”

“Could you?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. At that point, either outcome would be identical for Equestria.” He looked up to Crimsonflame. “Will you attempt to stop me?”

“My era has passed,” sighed Crimsonflame. “So has my influence. I do not care if you kill Celestia. In fact, I rather hate her. The death of her sister is unfortunate, though. But I understand why it is unavoidable. I only want you to know what the consequence of the path you are choosing are. Will you be able to live with yourself?”

“I am a Choggoth,” said D27, smiling hollowly, which likely looked through a grimace with his exposed teeth and jaw bones. “I exist to commit atrocities. I am disease, and I am destruction. Regardless of what I do, I persist. What happens to my ‘soul’ is inconsequential.”

“Have you seen the people you intend to destroy? Do you truly understand the ponies?”

“I tried to live amongst them. I saw what they are. You were correct about them. They are good creatures…and I now see that I can never belong with them. They must hate me, because I represent the antitheses of their love and peace. And yet, in their kindness, they don’t.”

“You tried to be a pony? That was a mistake, Oblivion.”

“I know that now,” said D27. “Because now I understand who I will be hurting. But it must be done. If I do not do this, this world will die.”

“I have always wondered,” said Crimsonflame. “Why is it that you are so obsessed with this world? There are surely countless others you could try to save. Others you surely will need to save, eventually.”

“No. Only this one.”

“But why?”

“I do not know. Perhaps a side-effect of my condition.”

“Condition?”

“I am insane, and cursed. A betrayer. I am sure you understand what I am, and not just a Choggoth.”

“I do,” said Crimsonflame. “More than you know.” Here organic eye narrowed. “Now the question is, can you do it?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you can,” said Crimsonflame, laughing. “Celestia is a fool. She thinks like a soldier. She’s probably preparing for an invasion right now.”

“She is. My watchers have seen it. Martial law, mass troop movement.”

Crimsonflame laughed harder. “She actually believes you would try to attack her in the open? You have never won a fair battle in your life!”

“I know,” said D27. Although he was a Choggoth, he was actually comparatively weak among his own kind. In a direct fight with Celestia, he knew that he could never win. She was the wielder of the Red Sphere, a living goddess. Defeating her was not something he could simply do. Although he had few if any memories of it, he doubted if he even had ever conquered a planet as Void and Nil did by simple engulfment. Even without knowing how he had conquered six worlds, D27 was darkly aware of how he would: he would infiltrate them, accelerate war and conflict until his client societies had weapons of mass destruction, and then turn those weapons against them. He had spent a great deal of time thinking about it.

“Then you are decided?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Do as you will. However, I would make a request.”

“You will be left out of the conflict, but only if I succeed.”

“Not that. What happens to me at this point does not matter so much. What I ask is that you speak to Twilight Sparkle.”

“The alicorn princess?”

“She is in my library as we speak, attempting to find a way to kill you.”

“As I expected. I refuse. What would I even say to her? That I am going to kill her comrade, and plunge her kind into a new dark age?”

“Celestia is more than a comrade to her. This golden eye has watched them for a long time. Celestia is as a mother to her. Would you kill her mother without even an explanation?”

“What kind of explanation could I offer for that?”

“At least try. When Celestia and Luna fall, the kingdom will fall to Hybrid and the Anomaly. That child will be expected to shoulder the burden of a god.”

“I was not the one who cursed her with a link to Order.”

“No, but you will be the one to destroy everything she loves.”

“Do you think I want this? I hate this war. I hate what I am, what I came from, I hate all of it! I would trade everything to be a mortal, a pony. I don’t know why Celestia would even ever choose this terrible fate. So no. I refuse.”

“Fine,” said Crimsonflame. “If you can’t do that, at least tell me something.”

“What?”

“The dragon she travels with. I cannot see him. What color is he?”

“Purple, with green accents and eyes.”

Crimsonflame smiled. “The same colors as my father.”

D27 did not fully understand the connection, but Crimsonflame seemed satisfied.

“Before I depart,” he said, reaching his partially fleshed hoof into his own head, grasping the unicorn skull that his tissue coated. With a squelching sound, he drew it out, and threw it to Crimsonflame. Even without her sight, Crimsonflame caught it in one hand effortlessly. “I won’t bother leaving traces, because you seem to know how to find them. That skull contains my tissue. Destroy it if you like, or don’t.”
“And what do I need this for?”
“If I fail, you will be the first to know.”

D27 initiated the destruction of his surrogate body. His flesh began to disintegrated, necrotizing and collapsing into gas. That particular body had served its purpose, and was no longer useless. Losing them was painful, but more convenient than trying to return them.

“It has always disturbed me how you do that,” said Crimsonflame, setting the skull beside her, its one blue eye staring back at D27. For a moment, he saw himself from both angles- -a skull with an eye of two triangles, and a rapidly decaying body of gaunt blue flesh clinging to mostly exposed bones. He truly was a monster, even in his own eyes. “But a warning. If the Core truly is activating, it will form a distortion in time. That is probably what awakened you. Even I do not know who else may be joining us.”

“I will keep that in mind,” said D27, just before his body disintegrated completely, leaving a set of long-dead unicorn bones to collapse to the floor.