Author's Notes:

I know it's been a long pause yet again. Unfortunately, for the last past months, I've not been feeling so well. Not that I'm sick or anything, just... rarely in the right mood for writing well. But a few days ago, I thought about this story, and a chapter idea came to me. I also had some interesting dreams... I suppose they acted as my motivation.

So, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The sun slowly crept up from below the horizon, the splatter of morning red wounding the pale-gray skies. The cautious silence of the night slowly faded into the new day. A chilly wind blew across the land, carrying fallen leaves, creating swirls of red, orange, and yellow. The early birds whispered among each other, their wary chirps filling the air with a sense of unease and uncertainty.

Clouds of black menacingly hanged above the city of Canterlot; low rumbles of an incoming thunder rolled over the Equestrian capital. From time to time, a light drizzle would wash the streets of the city, but the rain was yet to come in full. The usual smiles of the ponies were gone, replaced by sorrowful frowns and teary eyes. Most of the citizens of Canterlot were dressed in black attires, slowly making their way to the castle, keeping their heads down. The usual noise of the bustling streets was gone, only the shuffling of the ponies could be heard.

In the square before the castle, a crowd was assembled. They whispered among each other, soft cries were heard. Princess Celestia stood on the balcony of the castle, her expressions stricken with a mournful look. Her eyes looked at the center of the square where a plain dark-gray rectangular monument was being raised. On that monuments, words were inscribed in white: the names of the fallen.

Trottingham was the only place to suffer no casualties. The attack on Equestrian shores during the night was sudden and wide, all major cities assaulted by griffon soldiers. The ponies were not ready, their combat experience was negligible, and so they suffered many losses over the night, only barely managing to drive the griffons away. The lives were gone in the heat of battles under the starlit sky; the bodies of the fallen were collected and brought to Canterlot. In the name of those brave warriors, a mausoleum was built where they would rest in peace.

"War..." Celestia finally spoke, her heavy voice making ponies fall into silence as the crowd listened. The sun appeared, piercing the black clouds with crimson rays of light, washing the streets in an unsettling red tint. "It never changes. With each war, lives and resources are lost, swallowed by the abyss of death, never to return. Yesterday night, griffons attacked us, taking our lives... Our brothers, fathers, sons... They are the first losses, and there will be more."

A wave of whispers went through the crowd. However, ponies went silent as Celestia continued her speech.

"The brave souls that fought for us laid down their lives so that we may live and restore peace one day," she said slowly, looking up at the skies. "Their sacrifice is immeasurable to us, to the whole Equestria. As the Princess of Equestria, I announce that from this year onwards, this very day is the day of mourning and remembrance. We will honor the death of our protectors, and we will make sure that we end this war and return peace to our lands once more..." she closed her eyes and let out a slow sigh, "For now, all we can do is hope that we will not fall. We must train ourselves, our loved ones, our families and friends; we must prepare, all of us. We will not let them take more lives, and we will fight for what we believe in."

A rumble of thunder rolled through the city louder than before.

"And now... a minute of silence to honor the fallen," Celestia spoke and closed her eyes.

A lightning struck one of the castle's spires, the booming sound reverberating across the city. The sun disappeared behind the dark clouds. The rain, unleashed, started pouring down, filling the streets of Canterlot with many small streams and pools. Celestia stood under the rain as it soaked into her fur and mane. The latter became duller, no longer having its majestic ethereal flow. The tears of the alicorn mixed with the water from the rain, rolling down her face and dripping on the floor of the balcony.

Her thoughts were with the fallen. The worst that could happen happened — her dear subjects were dying. She had spent centuries protecting them, making sure they would live long and happily, and yet their lives were cut short by war. They would never see their loved ones again, they would never live their lives to the fullest.

What more could Celestia do to protect them? Years of practicing diplomacy seemed wasted, for they were not enough to prevent Equestria from taking part in a destructive conflict. Was it her fault? She couldn't help but think that deep down, it is. With her experience, she should've been able to prevent this tragedy, and yet she didn't.

Celestia sniffed and exhaled shakily, the sound of her breath deafened by another crack of thunder. The wind harshly whistled, blowing in her face, slapping her with fallen leaves. The pegasi stood on the dark clouds, watching as the rain washed the streets of the capital.

Ponies were silent.

Rushing out of the Equestria-Union portal, Andromalius quickly made its way to the castle. Ponies let him pass, granting him puzzled looks as they saw the ruler of an allied country almost gallop through the city. He paid them no mind, moving to the castle at a quick pace. Blood pumped in his head, deafening him with the rapid beat of his heart. He soon came to the square and saw the monument. In front of it, Celestia was sitting. Her mane flat, her gaze directed at the hundreds of names, and her royal regalia gone. Her ear twitched as she heard Andromalius approaching.

"I've heard the news, I... I came to help!" he quickly said, "We can still bring them back to life, right? J-just lead me to where they are and I'll do it!"

"It's too late. I couldn't do it," Celestia replied, turning her head to her nephew, "They're gone and there is nothing we can do about it."

"But let me try! I'll do it, I can fix it!" Andromalius said, his voice shaking with desperation, refusing to acknowledge the reality of the situation.

"Andromalius..." the alicorn hugged him and gently whispered into his ear, "Please, calm done, my nephew. It is not your fault."

"If I were there, if I just were there, I'd, I'd b-be able to do it!" he replied, shaking his head, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Leave the 'ifs" behind. We can't change the past," Celestia assured him, "Many tried, and even if we involve magic, terrible things can happen... Leave it be, and let us focus on the present. We can still prevent more deaths from occurring."

The hell stallion was silent for a while, quietly crying on the shoulder of his aunt. The dark thoughts didn't leave his head, planting guilt deep into his mind. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault — he didn't kill them. And yet, he could've prevented it from happening if he were on the frontlines, fighting for the ponies, using his immense power to protect them from harm. Instead, however, he was sitting in his castle, far away from the reality of war.

Was he a coward? Was he not utilizing his immense power to the full? Myriad of thoughts went through his head, each of them bringing a new view on the situation, possible solutions, and strategies. Would it be good for everyone if he went to war?

"I know what you must be thinking, but please, listen to reason," Celestia looked him in the eyes, "What if you were killed? You have a great importance, Andromalius."

"But I know strategy, tactics... I'd be able to do something even without fighting myself!" he replied with some aggression in his voice. "I, I know it's just from a game I played, but... I'd be able to do at least something!"

"Maybe you would, but you need experience, you need to learn," the alicorn sighed deeply, "I see that you are eager to help, and there is no way I can stop you from just going to the frontlines against my word, so... I have an offer for you. I will allow you to join the Equestrian Army and learn from the best generals we have. You are a younger mind, too — you might be able to come up with something new, something that would help with the tunnel vision many people of experience often have," she paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. "But for now, we must prepare here and not rush to our enemy. They are waiting for us to misstep, and then... more deaths will follow."

Andromalius' body relaxed slightly as he let out a deep sigh. He let go of his aunt and looked at the names on the monument. For a long moment, all he did was silently reading the many names of the fallen. Each word struck something deep in his heart, making it ache.

People say that one death is a tragedy, many deaths are a statistic. To Andromalius, it wasn't true at all — the individual tragedies piled up, affecting more and more people, and such waves could be felt through generations. Behind each name, there was a person. Someone with dreams, fears, desires, friends, family. Each of them was an individual, and their lives were destroyed in a short moment of battle. Their families and friends mourned them, and Andromalius was sure there was much more to it. Perhaps, he would meet one of them in the future and see for himself what consequences those deaths brought.

"I understand," he nodded, his voice calm and collected despite the storm in his mind. He turned back to Celestia and asked, "What can I do right now?"

"Ensure that ponies in your lands are safe. Develop your country. This is the most important thing now, Andromalius," she told him in a firm tone, "You can't go to war without a strong economy. I can already see dips in ours... Equestria wasn't ready. The Union might be prepared, but you have enough to deal with outside of putting resources into the war effort. Remember — wars eat up resources and lives like nothing else. You should be careful."

"I know," Andromalius made another nod. "And I will be careful."

"No rush, Andromalius."

"No rush."

Arantir was slowly walking along the shoreline of one of the major coastal cities of Equestria. He glanced with interest at the skyscrapers and other modern marvels like electric lamps, and even monorail. However, those soulless material things were not what he came there for. He was much more interested in the exchange that happened there yesterday night; the exchange of life and death.

He slowly stepped through the recent field of battle, inspecting it with his eyes. The sand and ground was soaked with blood; different weapons lay around; a broken down ship lay on its side nearby. The bodies were long gone, but the stench of death was as apparent as ever. The necromancer inhaled deeply and sensed the scent of iron, the most recognizable and familiar one. Despite the wind blowing, the scent prevailed, refusing to go away. However, there was something more...

From the wreckage of the ship, a sudden creak of wood sounded. Arantir turned his head, only to jolt back as a crossbow bolt pierced his neck. He stumbled a few steps back, disoriented and slightly confused. Once he regained his senses, he managed to see a griffon soldier hiding in the shadows of the ship, trying to load the crossbow with another bolt while using only one of his talons — the second one was limp, bent in a way it wasn't supposed to. He huffed and puffed, his eyes fixated on the pony as he struggled with his weapon.

Slowly, Arantir pulled the bolt out of his neck. Despite the injuries, the shooter was precise — the bolt struck through the windpipe, making the necromancer wheeze as the metal rod obstructed his breath. He let out a low growl as the tip exited the wound, finally letting it heal rapidly. Meanwhile, the griffon desperately tried to pull back the wet string as it slipped from his grasp.

With one flap of his membrane wings, the necromancer crossed the distance between himself and the shooter. Knocking the crossbow out with his magic, Arantir pinned the assailant to the wall of the ship. The griffon growled and groaned, struggling to break free, his paws dangling in the air helplessly. For a few long moments, the High Lord peered into the eyes of the griffon, making judgment inside his head.

"I might have a use for you," Arantir said coldly as a green glow surrounded the two. In a moment, they disappeared into thin air, leaving the crossbow and the unloaded bolt behind.