***

We are a band of heroes, united in common cause. And live or die, we do so as heroes.
The Avatar, The Avatar of Albion.

***

Point Alpha. 10:07.

There was a momentary shocked silence as Elliot’s words sank home. None of the troops were quite certain how to react - some of them looked relieved, and others looked suspicious. A few even aimed their guns hesitantly at him.

Elliot looked at the Doctor, who was scanning him.

“Is that you, David?” the Doctor asked, narrowing his eyes at the man.

Elliot, for his part, rubbed the back of his head with a wry expression on his face. “Biologically? Yup. Philosophically? Possibly. Theologically? Not touching that.”

The Doctor frowned. A few troops chuckled, but most remained uncertain.

“I can try proving it,” Elliot said. He motioned to a few men and women in patchwork plate armour, standing at the back of the room, staring at him with a mixture of relief and suspicion. “The Knights over there will know if this is really Albion doing this.”

A moment later, he held both arms out slightly, and there was suddenly a flare of light as he began glowing, white light flaring from his body. The Knights of Albion drew their swords and knelt at once, and the Doctor looked from them to him, raising an eyebrow.

“That would be a yes, then,” he said.

“Hello again, Doctor,” Elliot said quietly, smiling at him. “I’d ask how things have gone, but I guess the answer’s pretty obvious.”

“I suspect so,” the Doctor said. He looked at the Alicorn mare with a raised eyebrow. “And I believe this is…”

“Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria,” the mare said serenely. “Here as representative of Equestria, and Commander of your reinforcements.”

“Horse shit!” Vinyl Scratch yelled out. At Luna’s questioning gaze, she faltered slightly. “Uh… I mean… ‘horsefeathers, your highness’?”

“I get it's hard to believe,” Elliot said, holding up a hand, “but it's true. Luna is here as a representative of… well, another Equestria. One that didn't turn into the Solaminan Empire.”

“Parallel Universes,” the Doctor said softly. “Yes, of course, that makes sense.”

“It does?” Vinyl asked with a raised eyebrow

“Yes,” the Doctor said, glancing at her. “The quantum signature of both this portal and the Princess you've brought with you seem to be different to that of the Solaminan portals we’ve encountered, or the residents and former residents of the Empire.”

Vinyl blinked. “Uh…”

“In layman’s terms, she's from a different world because different worlds have different energy,” the Doctor said irritably. Vinyl nodded slowly - it didn't seem like she understood it any better, but at least she wasn't arguing with him.

“So… she’s telling the truth?” someone else asked.

“That would seem to be the case,” the Doctor said with a raised eyebrow. “Well, now. I believe there must be quite the story to tell.”

“Maybe,” Elliot agreed, “but not right now. We’ve a battle to win.” He paused. “Where's Hell Blazer?”

“Attempting to cast defensive spells,” the Doctor replied. “He said not to interrupt him.” There was a pause. “With more swear words.”

“Sounds about right,” Elliot said quietly. “And Lyra?”

The Doctor paused for a moment. “Ser Eric needed support at Point Gamma. If I am not mistaken, I believe the enemy are likely testing it as a weaker defensive position.”

Elliot nodded slowly. “Your instincts are usually right about this.” He turned to Luna. “Let them know it's safe to start sending them through.”

Luna nodded, and headed back for the portal.

“That what's safe?” Vinyl asked, sounding somewhere between confused and irritated. “Safe for who?”

“That it's safe to send those reinforcements she mentioned,” Elliot replied with a wry grin.

“Reinforcements?!” someone else repeated.

“Oh yeah,” Elliot said, his grin widening. “We’re about to get help, guys.”

***

Canterlot Staging Area. May 7th, Year 3 of the New Diarchy Calendar.

Celestia tensed slightly as Luna returned, an expression of determination on her face.

“Howdy Lulu,” Discord said, saluting Luna ironically.

“Sister,” the Lunar Diarch said quickly, ignoring the Draconequus, “we have made contact with Elliot’s forced.”

Celestia nodded warily. “Is it going well?”

“We’re ready to have the troops send through,” Luna confirmed, and Celestia smiled at that. “I… believe it will go well.”

Celestia’s smile faded slightly. “You believe?”

Luna sighed. “It is… very early, far too much so to tell exactly how things shall progress - just know that we can send the forces through with no fear of them being attacked, though I would have Discord make a separate portal for the Starlit towers, we’re currently inside a building.”

“I’ll send them directly,” Discord said with a nod, looking mildly irritated to be spoken of as though he were not there.

Luna nodded gratefully. “I must return - I suspect there is much to do.”

She turned and headed back through the portal quickly. Celestia sighed, hoping things would turn out well, and motioned to Charlie Horse, who trotted forward to her.

“Your highness?” he asked, looking concerned and determined all at once.

“Form ranks for infantry deployment, Commander,” she said grimly, looking down at him. “You're moving out.”

***

Point Alpha. 10:11.

When Luna returned, she found Elliot in conversation with several individuals. One was the old stallion in his leather coat, while another was a dark haired man in a brown cloak, wearing pieces of what could only have been battered plate armour: one of the ‘Knights’ Elliot had mentioned.

Another was a grey-haired human in bulky black combat armour, carrying a bulky weapon Luna could only assume was one of the human projectile weapons (“guns”) Elliot had told her about. He had a grim expression, and glanced at Luna with outright suspicion.

Elliot turned to look at her as she approached. “All good?”

“Yes,” Luna replied with a nod. “The troops will be coming shortly.”

“Good to hear,” Elliot said with a smile. He turned to the group. “Right - you lot are in charge of helping to deploy the Equestrian reinforcements to the various defensive points.”

“There will be… difficulties,” the plate-armoured human said.

“I know, Jared,” Elliot replied. “Which is why you will make sure that Knights of Albion are deployed with them to reassure people that these guys are on our side.”

The human - Jared - nodded and turned away, striding to a group of similarly attired people. Elliot turned to the grey-haired human.

“I can rely on your skills with regards to holding the line, right, Joe?” he asked quietly.

“Always,” the man replied. He looked at Luna. “Are you sure we can trust them, sir?”

Elliot nodded once. “Yes. I am. I wouldn't have brought her here if I wasn't sure.”

The old man sighed. “Yes, sir. I’ll trust you on this one.”

Elliot slapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” He turned to Luna. “Point Gamma isn't far. We can get there soon if we start now. If what the Doctor says is right, they'll need our help.”

Luna nodded. “Lead the way.”

Elliot nodded and headed off, Luna following, sword drawn.

“You have no weapons,” she pointed out to Elliot as he strode ahead of her.

He looked down at himself. “I also have no jacket - they must've been left in that clearing in the forest. Not that it matters.”

“But - how will you fight?” Luna asked.

Elliot glanced back at her with a wry grin. “I’ll think of something.”

***

Point Gamma. 10:30.

Lyra raised a shield as a hail of spells flew towards their position. Another group of Ivory Guards had begun an attack on Point Gamma, marching in unison: some wore the green-decorated armour of the last group, and others wore armour with red hoofprints. Most, however, were wearing undecorated white armour - they were new recruits, derogatorily referred to as “whiteplate” by their colleagues. They, unfortunately, were only a little less dangerous than their more experienced colleagues.

Lyra grimaced with the effort of holding the spell in place as the enemy Unicorns rained heir spells at her - she’d become adept at shields that hardened as they got hit, but softened when they weren't. Still, she couldn't hold for long.

“Albion 2 to Red Leader, now!” she yelled into her microphone.

Somewhere above her, she heard the faint whoosh of Pegasus wings flapping as Resistance Pegasi flew overhead. A few fell, spells striking them from the sky, but most managed to drop their payload of C4, explosions scattering dozens of approaching Ivory Guard. Nonetheless, they continued their advance with dogged determination, shields raised in a latticework structure designed to block most assault.

Eric and a few other soldiers were firing on the approaching column, Eric holding a bolt-action rifle scavenged from a fallen soldier. With a grimace, he fired another round, and then placed the now-empty weapon on the ground, drawing his sword.

“Ready for close!” he called as the Guard approached. Around him, the other soldiers drew bayonets and other makeshift close-assault weapons.

The Ivory Guardsponies continued their advance, shields glowing around them, until at last they were within a few metres of the BDF line.

Finally, a cry went up; “SPEARS DOWN! BREAK RANKS! CHARGE!”

The Ivory Guardsponies lowered their weapons and broke their ranks, their shields expanding out towards the BDF positions in mini-shockwaves that smashed barricades and knocked troops back, only for the Ivory Guardsponies to jump them and stab them where they lay. The Unicorns who had previously been generating the shields switched to ranged combat, firing waves of concussive spells into the rear of Lyra’s group. Men were knocked over by concussive spellfire that threw them to the ground. Eric growled and took a shockwave on the shoulder, before charging into the enemy as they reached him. He barrelled one Earth Pony to the ground, and stomped on their helmeted head, crumpling it with a sick crunch. He drew his sword, decapitating another pony with a swift slice, before hacking through a Unicorn’s shoulder.

Nearby, Lyra swept her dagger out, stabbing one Unicorn through her faceplate’s eyehole. She sent a spell into an Earth Pony, blasting them off their feet, and then turned, bucking another to the ground before stabbing them in the throat. Breathing heavily, she created a shockwave that sent a few more flying.

Nearby, Kraber was firing his LMG, before the thing jammed. With a growl, he dropped the weapon, pulling a heavy pistol out and shooting first one pony, then another, and then a third. Another charged him, but he took the tackle like a pro, grabbing the pony around the waist and lifting him up, before throwing him at another pony with a heave of effort. A spell impacted near his feet, and with a roll he grabbed a fallen soldier’s SPAS-style shotgun and fired it point blank into another pony’s head, obliterating it, helmet and all.

“Fok off!” he swore. “If your fokkin’ kont of an Empress wants me that badly, she’ll have to fokkin’ send bigger than you varknaaiers!”

He shot another pony as he yelled, and a couple of other troops ran up to join him, creating a mini-line of fire that forced a few of the approaching Ivory Guard into cover.

“Kraber, get back into cover!” Lyra yelled angrily. She sent a concussive spell in the direction of the approaching column that blasted dirt and rubble into the sky. “What the hell are you thinking?!”

“I’m dead already, Lieutenant,” the Afrikaner replied with a chuckle. “These little Kontgesigs just haven't got the balls to convince my body of that.”

“Well, don't tempt fate,” Lyra snorted. “We still need your body.”

“Mmmmmgo on….” Kraber chuckled, and Lyra blushed.

“Not like that!”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant,” Kraber said. He racked the shotgun, and fired again, blasting another charging Unicorn off of his feet.

Lyra groaned and turned, raising another shield that caught a few spells before they impacted. She pushed outward again, a shockwave knocking a good three or four ponies over. She saw Eric, his sword burning, as he cut through pony after pony, and she found herself grateful that she had him here: Iron Clads were already formidable troops, and Eric had always been one of the best. She grimaced slightly as another concussive spell hit near her, sending more debris everywhere.

At the rear of the enemy formation, she could see more Ivory Guardsponies, another group coming to back this one up. Nearby, she saw Gregory Nox, the Aeronaut, block a spear thrust and club his attacker to the floor, only for a spell to throw him backwards into a wall, where he stirred feebly. Nearby, she saw a soldier impaled on a spear fall, as the Ivory Guardsponies spilled over the barricade, only for her troops to engage them.

She groaned: with no reinforcements and her numbers thinning here, she didn't see a way she could hold the line. She opened her mouth, ready to call for the retreat -

- and then a midnight blue blue landed amongst the oncoming ponies, creating a shockwave that blasted a good two dozen away, throwing the hapless Guardsponies into walls and across the street, scattered like bowling pins.

Lyra’s eyes widened as she saw who was responsible for what she’d just seen. The midnight blue Alicorn glanced her way, narrowed her eyes slightly, and then with a flash returned to the fray, carving through Guardsponies as she did so.

“The fok?” Kraber said. “That - isn't that a -?”

“Luna!” a Resistance pony yelled. “Princess Luna has returned!”

“Luna!” another yelled. “Luna!”

Lyra had no words. Princess Luna was dead, wasn't she? She'd been dead for years - there was no way -

A concussive spell went off near her head. She grimaced - more Guardsponies were coming - and these ones were backed by Crystal Golems. They were constructed - or grown, either term worked - out of misty pink and white crystals, that had been grown, shaped and carved into various geometric shapes. These shapes had then been fused together to form hulking bodies - one looked like a giant Earth Pony, roughly hoof-like constructs smashing into the ruined ground as it walked. The other looked like a Minotaur, a giant club in its crystal hand - or possible fused to its hand, it was hard to tell. Both of them shimmered with ethereal light that seemed to come from within their opaque forms, and the ground was shaking under their heavy footfalls. A few BDF troops paused - not even Luna’s presence seemed to cheer them. Crystal Golems were deadly.

The Minotaur shaped one growled, barrelling towards the lines.

“Coilgun!” Lyra yelled, and Eric grabbed the discarded, battered Coilgun that Alex Everett had used, bringing it up and firing. The shots rammed into the Golem, blasting chunks out of it, but still it advanced, the damaged sections regrowing.

“Where's the handler?!” Eric yelled.

“It doesn't have one!” Lyra called back. “Thing must have an auto-repair spell!”

The thing kept barrelling at them, and Lyra tensed, preparing to dodge - but then a figure swept in, charging at it, and with a mighty crack the Golem was forced backwards, a flash of light flaring out. Lyra blinked, shocked, as she realised who the flash of light had been.

David Elliot was standing in front of the barricades. His dark hair was blowing in the backdraft of his own fast movement, and his hands were glowing with golden energy.

“Albion,” Eric murmured from near Lyra. “Albion is here!”

“Albion!” other troops called out.

“David!” Lyra yelled.

The man ignored all of the cries, focusing on the golem. Behind it, he could see Luna, still dealing with the majority of the Ivory Guard, but more would come and quickly. He held out a hand, a glow beginning to envelop his body -

And then with a flash of light, the battered form of David Elliot was replaced by the Avatar of Albion. The longsword Excalibur extended from his hands, its name etched into the blade in gold and a ruby set into the hilt. His body was covered by beautifully ornate silver armour, and a hooded burgundy cloak flew about his shoulders.

“Servants of the enemy,” this being intoned, bringing his sword forward in challenge, “stand down or be destroyed.”

The minotaur construct let out an inhuman, echoing noise, and charged straight at him. He tensed slightly as it swung at him, and then leapt upwards, above the horizontal swing. He landed behind it, bringing Excalibur up in a swing that carved through crystal and made the thing roar in irritation. It turned and brought its club down on him, but he blocked the blow easily, and then with a sudden riposte he removed the thing’s arm: one minute it was attached, and the next it landed on the ground, useless. It roared, and he grimaced as it lashed out again, forcing him to block.

Behind him, the pony-shaped golem charged, heading straight for him. He seemed to notice this, and shoved backward at the giant Minotaur construct, before leaping again, leaving the pony-construct to ram into the Minotaur and knock it to the ground. Stunned, the pony-construct could do nothing as he landed gracefully stop it, stabbing down into its crystal skull and splitting it in two down the middle.

The pony-construct slowly slumped to the floor, all control terminated. The armoured figure returned his attention to the minotaur golem. In three swift moves he removed the creature’s remaining arm, then brought it to its knees, before removing its head. The pieces trembled for a moment, as though trying to self-repair, and then they stilled.

The Avatar looked up at Lyra with a wry grin.

“Lyra,” he said, almost conversational. “It is good to see you well.”

Lyra didn't know how to react. She had begun conditioning herself to the fact that Elliot might well be dead, and yet, here he was.

“‘You'll think of something’,” the Alicorn - the mare who couldn’t have been Princess Luna - called to the Avatar, trotting up from the lines, where she had apparently forced the enemy into retreat. “I see what you meant.”

The Avatar only shrugged. “I was not, strictly speaking, inaccurate.”

The Alicorn - it can’t be Luna - shook her head slightly, a smile of her own gracing her features. She looked at Lyra.

“Greetings,” she said. “I am Sidera Somniata Luna, Princess of Equestria and commander of your reinforcements.”

“Re-reinforcements,” Lyra repeated, her jaw working spasmodically. “I… what?!”

“Fear not, Lyra,” the Avatar said. “This is no trick. Should we survive this day, our fortunes will have finally turned in this war.”

Lyra could say nothing, so busy was she looking at a man she thought was dead, and a mare she knew was dead. Finally, her mouth opened.

“What the bucking hell.”

***

Point Alpha. 11:40.

A column of Royal Guards were marching into a small confined space. True Grit, his horn glowing as he helped lift the giant shield, was not a fan of this. His armour felt ten tons heavier than it ought to have, straining under the weight of the shield, and the air was hot and sweaty. Ahead of him, he heard Steady Hoof straining with the weight of the shield as well, the Earth Pony forced to simply hold it on his back.

The shields were reinforced both by metal and magic - they were about two and a half feet wide and six feet high, designed to block attacks by enemies rather than be any use as portable defenses, and the extra weight made them more useful, even if they were a pain in the flank to carry. Against a lot of contemporary enemies, Shieldbearers had largely become useless, or at least that was what True Grit had learned during his crash course in their operation. Griffons could fly over them, and Minotaurs were taller than them. Qilin could be stopped by them, until they started using climber tactics, and Moles just undermined. Nonetheless, against ponies, they were expected to be at least moderately useful - at least until new devices could be constructed and brought to bear.

It was bad enough carrying these shields through the streets of Canterlot, from the barracks to the palace courtyard. The portal itself… that had been a different matter.

“Y’alright, Grit?” Steady Hoof asked.

Was he? Going through the portal…

Like stepping through water - the cool liquid brushing over his fur and yet leaving him dry. He felt strange, for just a moment, and then he found himself somewhere else entirely…

“Yeah,” Grit replied. “You?”

“Yeah,” his friend said breathlessly. “This thing’s buckin’ heavy.”

“I hear that,” Grit said with a wry grin. He strained his neck slightly to see what they were marching into.

He could see Commander Charlie Horse, talking with something that might have been one of these humans he’d heard about. The thing was tall, wearing what might have been black combat armour of a material that Grit had never seen. A pony in a leather jacket of some kind was standing next to him, looking tired.

“Looks like they might be discussing movement,” Hoof said from in front of him. “Wonder what we’ll be fighting.”

“Ponies,” Grit said quietly. “Past that, Celestia knows.”

“I wonder if she does,” Hoof said with a sigh.

As he said it, Charlie Horse turned away from the human and the leather-coated pony, and turned to address his troops.

“Alright, troops!” he called. “Troops from the First Regiment! I want Cohort One and the Shieldbearers to increase the fortification of the area around this building, along with Marksponies from First and Second Cohort! Fifth Regiment! Sternguard and Hornburg, take troops from Third and Fourth Cohort and reinforce the outer positions…!”

True Grit tuned out his voice as he began hefting the shield to the door, Steady Hoof with him. A large doorway opened, and a moment later, True Grit was outside…

… and he had stepped into hell.

Weary looking ponies and more of these humans were manning ramshackle, battered barricades. Metal constructs not unlike broken carts were lining the streets, which were themselves made of stone and what might have been some other material - marble? Sandstone?

The sky was burning - smoke and the orange tint of fire was in the sky, giving the vague impression of having stepped into Dantneigh’s idea of the Underworld.

At the direction of their Cohort leaders, ponies began ramming their shields into position, the six-foot shields plugging gaps in the barricade. Stronghoof was pointing at gaps, and shouting orders.

“What the buck happened here?” Steady Hoof said quietly, his eyes wide and full of shock.

True Grit had no answer for him.

***

Command Post Regal, Solaminan Line. 12:05.

At CP Regal, a gathering was taking place. All of those present were tall, willowy pony figures, winged, with horns emerging elegantly from their skulls. They wore universally blood red armour, covered in black embossed wing designs that matched the war paint on their horns and wings.

These were the “Chosen”, brought closer to the light of their beautiful mistress: some called them False Alicorns, and neither moniker was entirely inaccurate. They were not true ascended - by magical means and the will of their goddess, they had been forcibly lifted to the plane of Godhood. They were a sisterhood of the chosen few, those who served their Goddess in their entirety, whose very beings were dedicated to her will. Their lives were forever bound to service - there could be no other life. Still: they were the closest the average pony of the Solaminan Empire could get to goddesshood, and Solaminan Church decree had declared them alicorns with the blessing of Solamina herself. The chosen instruments of Solamina, to bring righteous fury down on the heads of those who would defy or subvert the Empress’ will.

The regal Chaplain Lemartia was the leader of this group: a circlet of gold sat upon her alabaster brow, the symbol of the Imperial Star placed within it. Her eyes were cold blue, glancing hither and thither between two of her kindred, Sisters Avelina and Aurelia. Her expression was stern and judging.

“The word?” she asked quietly, her voice betraying the barest hint of an Appleoosan accent. Such… attachments were often hammered out from the Chosen, like impurities in a blade of Aurichalcum.

“Sister Seraphia is taken with the madness,” Avelina reported quietly, bowing her head. “She begs you see her through.”

“Is this so?” Lemartia asked Aurelia, who bowed too.

“Yes, sister-Chaplain,” Aurelia said quietly. “It will be soon.”

“The ‘madness’,” Lemartia said, snorting slightly. “Bring the chosen to me.”

Aurelia bowed again, and turned away. A moment later, she returned, a cloaked and hooded sister with her. The hooded sister was shaking, and sparks of light could be seen beneath the hood, illuminating a bloodstained suit of armour adorning a fire-orange mare. Lemartia nodded slowly.

“I see it is so,” she said quietly. “Very well. We will begin.”

***

…STOPTHENOISESTOPTHENOISESTOPTHENOISE…

There was noise and blood. Noise and blood. The smell of that stinking

is this me

oil. The blood of friends of a hundred battles on her armour, stinking bodies festering, burnt fur, burnt feathers, armour rent, pain, stinking, the smell would never come off, blood, fire, smoke, blood, fire, smoke…

“Sister?”

is this me

A voice spoke to her. The word ‘Sister’ touched her mind.

Sister. I am Seraphia. I am a Chosen of the Empress.

“Sister, are you listening?”

I am Seraphia.

“Yes,” she forced herself to speak, her own voice sounding strange in her ears.

“Listen.”

Blood and fire and blood and fire and -

“You know what happens. You know what you are experiencing. Focus on what you are.”

She could feel it. The Change. The fear and secret hope - the ascension, the moment where we become as our Goddess, the terror of not knowing whether she would emerge, renewed, reborn, Ascended…

“What is your name?”

Seraphia.

She couldn't speak. The noise and the fire, bodies and the stink, flies buzzing, buzzing, duty first, EMPRESS AND COUNTRY AND THERE WILL BE NO -

The Change was upon her. Her mind was clouded, like a thousand images flashed before her eyes at once.

BLOOD AND FIRE AND BLOOD AND FIRE AND -

“What is your name?!”

“Seraphia.”

“The madness will claim you. You know that.”

Oh yes. She had spoken of it often - how she felt the burdens of this war, how she feared falling - why did she fear it? - and how she knew it was inevitable. She had been Marked.

“I know.”

“Channel it. What has brought this?”

The then became the now.

Why wouldn't they just stop fighting?

“Stop!” she yelled instinctively at nothing. “Stop fighting! Let us help you build a new world! Why won't you -?!”

“Sister, focus!”

She tried. She tried to make then then and now now, but now and then blurred until neither was the other and both were one and all merged into a haze of blood and fire, blood and fire, BLOOD AND FIRE -

Solamina: Empress, Goddess, Mother, Sister -

“Sister!” the voice called to her from the world beyond the voices raging in her mind. “Sister!”

She could feel the burning within her body. Power tore at her, like she had not felt in a thousand battles. Her mind drifted, beyond the confines of flesh, beyond into memory…

I am a warrior, I think. I am -

A dead Griffon child lies at my feet, an outlying village burns in the distance, a banner flutters in the wind, an arrow is lodged in my side, my armour is rent, my blood is spilling on the floor, the eye is staring at me accusingly.

A griffon warrior, stripped of his armour and his sword, spits on the ground. There is a flinty look in his eyes. A smirk. As if he knows what’s coming and it couldn’t matter to him at all, and that incenses me more than anything somehow. He knows I am beyond hope -

-beyond hopes of the heights any pony could aspire to. What must be done - what we were born to be

Why? Why did they fight? They must have seen, must have known it was hopeless, as a GODDESS AMONG THE LIVING STRODE THE FIELD WITH A HOST AT HER BACK -

Then why did we kill them?

They were our enemy and we will kill them all.

What made them that?

It doesn't matter: we were strong. They were weak

Who was right?

You survived. You were stronger. That makes you right.

The blood is spilling, and my sisters are dead around me, and we are in a city, another banner flying from a tower. Griffon artillery booms and thunders in the distance. I am bleeding. I am about to die. But I do not die. I live. I am a god.

“Sister!” The voice was stern, distant but close. “What are you?!”

I was a filly once - but the filly and her home fell to the ground on wax wings. Burning, burning, and clouds melted to vapour and disappeared, and nothing was left. She was alone, but she survived. She had nothing. And she fell, then rose when the bright orange liquid melted her and revealed my horn and my wings, and the face of a new life - I rose, I flew and I danced among the skies and I knew then and I know now -

She forced herself past the noise. The Change was coming, as fearful as the tsunami, as fiery and tumultuous as the breaking of the world, and it hurt like dying, but it felt like living - it was orgasm and it was birth and death and -

I am not Seraphia.

“I… am… a weapon… the Wings of Solamina… to rule the sky…” she hissed, her voice warping. “I… I am… death to my enemy. Death to my enemy! Death to my enemy! DEATH TO MY ENEMY!”

And a flare of light exploded in her heart.

***

To an outsider, the cloaked figure whispered to the Chaplain, sparks flying from within her cloak. The sparks became a glow, sickly light emanating. The False Alicorns surrounding the figure stepped back, save Lemartia, who raised her head and spoke again.

And then the light flared, erupting into what might have been a star itself fallen to Earth. The cloak incinerated in a flash flame. The False Alicorns raised a shield that surrounded them and flared against that light as though the fires of hell burned against them. Unnatural flames washed over the shimmering skin of their shield, flowing like oil on water. For an instant Lemartia swore the fire was caressing the shield, as if tendrils of flame were attempting to penetrate the protective field and reach for them.

And then it faded - and there she was.

Where a fire-orange Alicorn had once stood, now a mare of deepest, bloodiest scarlet was floating, an ethereal mane that shifted and writhed like a wispish cloud of blood on water flowing from her head. Her body was adorned with twisted black armour and jagged wings burst from her back, blood red feathers reaching out as she flared her impressive wingspan. A mouth pulled back to reveal jagged teeth, and eyes opened to reveal slit pupils of burning orange swimming in a sea of the deepest black.

“Sister,” Lemartia said quietly. “Name thyself.”

The jagged toothed mouth grinned, the lips pulling back slowly to reveal more of the unsettlingly predatory fangs. The eyes narrowed. A voice like razors scratching the inside of a metal chasm spoke.

“I am Cherubael. I am here to kill.”

***