I continue to stare at the moon in disbelief as its various sized fragments float away into the depths of space. I want to slap myself, to wake up from this horrific dream. But it’s not a dream; it’s not even a nightmare: The moon is gone. The Resistance base is gone. Almost ten thousand of its members are dead.

And it’s my fault.

It physically hurts to count how many Resistance members surround me. Thirty exhausted, crying, miserable fighters who are in no shape to fight anyone.

Thirty… out of ten thousand.

How many more would still be here if you hadn’t talked, Silverspeak? How many would still be alive and able to fight? How many childre-

No! I shake those thoughts from my head. I can’t think about such things. If I hadn’t talked, Beakbreaker would have been tortured, ripped apart into tiny pieces and then reformed to start the process all over again. I didn’t have a choice.

Didn’t I?

Movement catches my attention. Turning, I see Onyx looking over the others. As the head of the Resistance, he needs all the help he can get to deal with this catastrophe. Wondering if I did the right thing by talking will help no one, but some good can still come from this: If I do everything in my power to help Onyx and the others rally, then we might yet find a way to turn the tide, even at this late hour.

Taking all my doubt, my worry, and my ever-growing guilt, I shove them aside, locking them away inside a tiny recess of my mind where I can deal with them later. For now, getting everyone going takes priority over everything else.

I hurry to Beakbreaker. “Are you alright?” I ask, looking her over. “Are you hurt?”

Beakbreaker shakes her head. She’s fine, physically. Emotionally shaken, but not to the degree that everyone else is.

“We’ll get through this, Beakbreaker,” I assure her. Then I slide Gusty off my back. “Gusty? How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” he sighs, sounding so much older than he really is.

“Hang in there,” I say, putting a firm hoof on his shoulder. I look to Chrysalis, and see that she doesn’t need my help. She has no emotional attachment to anyone in the Resistance, and is perhaps the most psychologically stable of us all. Yet, as an empath, she isn’t immune to the misery and suffering surrounding us. She seems unnerved by it all and unsure what to do.

Leaving Beakbreaker, I head to Onyx, seeking to give him the emotional boost he needs, but I find it unnecessary: He’s already standing, pulling himself together. Or, at least, trying to.

“E... Everyone,” Onyx stammers, trying to keep his voice steady. “We need to move. We’ll... We’ll regroup in the throne room.”

Perhaps it’s the commander’s tone Onyx has adopted, or perhaps it’s the realization that sitting out here isn’t going to help anyone, but the survivors of the Resistance but on a brave face as they head deeper into the rubble. Some go quickly, some stumble, and others are barely able to put one hoof in front of the other. They’re all fighting not to break down and cry.

They’ve lost everything... and it’s my fault.

I try to shove the thought aside as I follow them.

The ruins of Canterlot show no signs of life, or signs that anyone’s been through them in years, but hidden within the crumbling stones are secret tunnels that the Resistance have built over the years. I stick close to Beakbreaker as we head through them. It’s several minutes before we emerge – to my astonishment – into the throne room from the Royal Palace. Though the walls are cracked, and the ceiling’s mostly been replaced with dangling foliage, the room still stands, most likely from magic embedded within the walls to protect the princesses.

It takes a half hour for everyone to gather inside the throne room, save for Spike, who burrows into the ruins above to keep a gaze on the horizon. Once we’re all inside, Onyx sets up a small command post on a fallen chunk of pillar where Celestia’s throne used to be. With trembling hooves, he spreads out his maps, intel, and other useful items.

I head over. “How are we doing?”

He gulps. “N-not good. We have minimal supplies and... and thirty four survivors.” He sniffs and wipes away a stray tear. I want to comfort Onyx, to offer words of encouragement, but I don’t know what to tell him; I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in charge of a resistance fighting a force thousands of times larger than your own. Such a responsibility would tax a younger pony to the breaking point. For an older pony like Onyx, it must be overwhelming.

“We could have gotten more out,” Onyx whispers to himself. “If we had been faster or more organized, we-”

I put a hoof on his shoulder. “Onyx, don’t. That talk isn’t going to help. We should focus on what we can do.”

“Do? Do?!” Onyx shouts maniacally, more tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. “There’s nothing we can do, Silverspeak!”

All small talk throughout the hall dies out as the survivors turn to us.

“There’s thirty four of us!” Onyx stammers. “Thirty four against Hundreds of thousands!”

Gold Wing starts to wail from the shouting. Beakbreaker rocks her legs, trying to soothe the infant.

“We’ve lost our leaders! We’ve lost our base, we’ve lost almost all of our equipment... we have nothing!”

“We have each other,” I say quietly, turning on my charm. “As long as there’s just one of us, Mangus hasn’t won.”

“Mangus?” Onyx’s puzzlement briefly overrides his despair. “What in Equestria are you talking about?”

Oh no... I haven’t told Onyx or anyone else about Mangus. I almost did when approaching the moon, but… Well, they need to know.

“Mangus Bluehorn is alive,” I say.

Onyx takes a step back. “What?!”

The rest of the Resistance are equally as shocked.

“I thought I killed him years ago,” I continue. “But he survived. He joined Black Fang and then killed him. He’s been leading this war ever since, pretending to be Black Fang, and manipulating Iron Hoof into doing what he wants.”

“And when did you learn about all this?!” Onyx demands. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“I found out when Chrysalis and I went to Manehattan. I was about to tell you when… when that spell hit the moon.”

Onyx gives a nervous, nearly-hysterical laugh. “Wonderful. Just wonderful. Now we have to deal with two psychopaths and their deranged followers.” He shakes his head. “Celestia, this can’t get any worse.”

“No, it can’t,” Beakbreaker says. She’s gone to Onyx and put her own hoof on his shoulder. “Which means that it can only get better.”

“How, Beakbreaker? Tell me, how can it possibly get better?!”

“By finding Mangus and killing him.”

“Oh, sure. We’ll just go up to his door, knock, and blow his face off when he opens it.” Onyx’s hooves hammer the table as he tries to vent his frustration. “We don’t even know where he’s hiding.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “Mangus and Iron Hoof’s main base are on a remote island somewhere to the north.”

“And how do you know that?”

“One of Iron Hoof’s lieutenants told me,” I say.

“How do you know he wasn’t lying?”

“He wasn’t.”

Even in an emotionally compromised state, Onyx knows of my ability to detect when someone is lying. I’ve had decades to perfect that side benefit of my charm.

“That’s a start,” Onyx admits with a defeated sigh. “But we still don’t have the resources to take Iron Hoof or Mangus on.”

“What do we have?” I ask, trying to keep Onyx focused. Judging from the sun’s position above, we have three, maybe four hours before Mangus unleashes his plan to wipe out the Resistance for good.

“We have the Vengeance,” Onyx says. “It’s a battleship we’ve kept hidden in case of emergencies. But one ship will be ineffective against an army.”

“Then we’ll deal with that when we need to. What else do we have?”

“There’s a storage area nearby,” Onyx says, pointing to the room’s south wall. “We’ve been stockpiling whatever we could find over the years: guns, spears, bows; it’s all surplus and outdated, but they can still kill.”

“Then they’ll have to make do,” I say. “We’ll figure something out.”

Onyx doesn’t share my enthusiasm. “No, we can’t,” he says.

“Don’t-”

“This is reality, Silverspeak! We can’t rely on fantasies or the power of friendship and love to get us out of this!”

“And I’m not saying we should,” I say. “But we have a ship, we have weapons, and we have our ingenuity. We’ll figure something out.”

“Whatever it may be, we will have to act fast,” Chrysalis interjects. “Preferably, we should take off now and develop a plan en-route.”

Gusty slowly walks over. “Always did my best thinking in the sky,” he says. His attempt at a joke falls flat, but the fact that he’s trying is encouraging.

“Even if we had a hundred ships, and every member of the Resistance at our side,” Onyx says wearily, “it wouldn’t be enough.” He shakes his head. “There’s just no way we can win.”

That’s not what the survivors need to hear. They’re watching our every move, listening to our every word, desperate for something, anything to hold onto. But Onyx has killed that longing, I can see it in everyone’s eyes. They know they have no chance of winning this fight, that to even try is suicidal. Some relish the idea, but the others are silent, lost in grief and despair.

They’ve run out of hope.

I need to do something. Turn the tide against the hopelessness that’s washing over everyone. But what? Just telling them to trust that everything will turn out okay isn’t going to work this time. They need something concrete and solid to clutch, something believable, something that can give them the motivation to keep trying.

I think I can give that to them.

“You’re right, Onyx,” I say, raising my voice so that everyone else can hear it. “We can’t win.”

“Gee, thanks,” Gusty sarcastically moans.

“But there’s one thing we’ve all forgotten: Celestia.”

The others look to me, wondering what I’m talking about.

“Celestia is our trump card,” I say. “The one individual who can defeat Mangus, Iron Hoof, and their army.”

“But we have no idea where she is,” Onyx says.

“When I was talking to Mangus, he revealed that Celestia, the Bearers, and the rest of the Royal Family are being kept on his base. If we can get it to and free Celestia, she can end this war.”

Onyx wants to believe me, but he’s not letting emotion impede logic. “But she was still captured by Iron Hoof in the first place. She isn’t all-powerful. How do we know she can stop them?”

“Because she almost did once before,” I say. “Isn’t that right, Chrysalis?”

The queen nods. “Celestia only fell because she was exhausted from wiping out the arch-dragons. With them gone, she can easily handle anyone who fights her. And if she can free Luna, Cadence, and the Bearers, then no force on this earth can stand before them.”

The crowd murmurs amongst themselves.

“I wish it were that easy,” Onyx says, hating himself for having to speak the truth, “but assuming we can even find this island, it will be the most heavily defended fortification on the planet. We will never be able to break through their defenses.”

“We have to try,” I say, raising my voice once again. “If Celestia were here, she wouldn’t give up. She would do everything she could to save her subjects, even if she had to give her life.” I point to the light streaming in from a crack in the roof. “Mangus’ plan to wipe us out will begin in the next few hours, and when it happens, we will lose. No matter what happens, we must try.”

There’s a long silence as everyone thinks among themselves, trying to decide if my words are truthful, or a fool’s hope. Some want to believe. Others don’t. But most seem uncertain. I know the feeling: There are few things worse in life than feeling hope, only to have it torn away from you, leaving you worse off than before.

Hope, the one thing we need, is in some ways more terrifying than despair.

Onyx finally makes up his mind. “I don’t know how we can possibly pull this off,” he admits. “But Silverspeak is right. Even if we die, I’d rather be on my hooves, screaming and fighting, than sitting here and crying while waiting for the end.” He surveys the crowd, looking into the eyes of comrades, friends, and soldier’s he’s worked with, fought with, and bled with for twenty five years. “Who’s with us?”

A few brave ones step forward hesitantly. A moment later, more and more come forward, lifting the hopes and spirits of others. By the time the remaining few step forward, I could see the fire of determination burning in the eyes of everyone.

Onyx surveys them all, and he nods with the ghost of a proud smirk. “Very well... We fight.”

There are no cheers or hoof-bumps, no jubilation or ecstasy, just a cold, unyielding determination to emerge victorious.

Nobody is going to take their home away from them without a fight.

With a goal to work towards, the survivors are quick to unveil their stash of weaponry. Two dragons take hold of a stone chunk lying on the floor and drag it aside, muscles bulging at the effort. Beneath is a deep vault filled with all manner of weapons, armor, and equipment.

“Been filling that up for twenty five years,” Gusty says with a toothy grin as if he’s a foal in candy store. “Just in case we ever needed it.”

The dragons leap in and toss out the weapons and gear, giving whatever is needed to whoever asks, and in minutes every surviving member of the Resistance is dressing themselves in armor, loading up their weapons, and slinging bandoleers around their bodies. Already armed as I am from our excursion to the research facility, all I take is additional ammunition for my weapons.

I’m halfway through loading my bandoleer when I realize I’ve forgotten something. Quickly yanking open a pocket of my vest, I pull out the syringes Silver Scalpel gave me. A quick look-over, and I sigh in relief. They’re still intact and undamaged. I put them back into the pocket and press down hard on the velcro holding the strap cover in place.

Chrysalis comes up. “Your words were quite effective,” she says. “But do you really believe this plan will work?”

“It has to.”

“If it doesn’t, we lose everything.”

I don’t need to be reminded of that. “I’m just glad you’re coming with us,” I say.

“And why would I not? This is my greatest chance to get my vengeance on Iron Hoof.”

Onyx comes over, dressed up and ready for battle, two shotguns strapped to the side of his body armor. “We’re almost ready to move out. This island, Silverspeak: do you have any idea where it may be?”

“I’m afraid not. I only know it’s somewhere in the northern seas.”

Onyx nods, disappointed. “Gusty?”

Gusty hurries over as fast as the combined weight of his armor and guns will allow. “Yes?”

“I need you to get the Vengeance ready to go,” Onyx says.

“Oh, she’s ready,” Gusty says. “You think I never checked on her when I came down here? All you have to do is press a button and she’ll start up, engines purring like a kitten.”

“And the fighters?”

“They’re itching to blow Iron Hoof’s face off.”

“Good... that leaves us only one problem: finding this island. Iron Hoof will have had his unicorns cast a spell of concealment over it.”

“Then we’ll find a way through it,” I say. “There’s a counter to every spell.”

“That’s the thing,” Onyx explains, “These spells are very powerful; only alicorn-level magic could remove it. Without an alicorn, or an army of unicorns, it’s impossible to break through. Our base was protected by Luna’s spell to make sure Iron Hoof couldn’t find it.” He curses, biting his lip. “I still don’t understand how we were found.”

My heart pounds.

“Perhaps he figured out that was the last place we could be,” Beakbreaker suggests. “He’s had twenty five years to search for us; there’s nowhere left down here where we could hide.”

Onyx shakes his head. “There are still plenty of places to hide. If he guessed, it would be a trillion-to-one shot. He wouldn’t commit his resources to random chance.”

“Then what else could he have done?” Chrysalis says. “If we can do what he did, our search will be far shorter.”

“That’s the problem,” Onyx tells her. “The only way around a spell of concealment is for someone who knows where it is to tell you. Someone must have told Mangus where we were; there’s no other...”

Onyx trails off.

“Onyx?” Beakbreaker asks. “What is it?”

Onyx doesn’t answer her.

“Onyx, this ain’t time to become the silent type,” Gusty jokes.

Onyx turns to me, his eyes meeting mine.

Beakbreaker looks to me, then back to Onyx. "Onyx, what's going on?"

Sweat pours down my forehead.

Onyx is shaking, barely able to hold himself together.

“You... told Iron Hoof where we were...”

I raise my hooves. “Onyx...”

“You told him where we were!” Onyx shrieks.

Everyone in the room goes silent.

Gusty’s frozen in place, his eyes wide with rage. Beside him, Chrysalis stares at me, equally stunned.

Beside them both, Beakbreaker stares at me, horrified.

My wife, my greatest friend, looks at me as if I’m a stranger.

I gulp, my heart racing. Instinct yells at me to run, but I can’t.

“Onyx, please, I can explain...”

Onyx starts towards me, eyes so full of hate that I take a step back without realizing it. He’s not interested in excuses or justifications for my actions.

He wants to hurt me.

“Yes,” I say. “I told him. But I had no choice! Mangus, he threa-”

Something slams into my face and knocks me to the floor. I try to rise, only to be kicked in the face. Then two hooves grab me and hurl me through the air. I hit a fallen statue and fall to the ground.

My spine! Oh Celestia, my spine!

I try open my eyes, blinking to wipe away the tears, and find myself surrounded by the survivors of the massacre on the moon.

I quickly raise my hooves, desperately turning on my charm. “You all have to understand, I-”

I’m cut off as the survivors swarm me, their furious howls drowning out my words. I try to shout out, but a fist hits me in the face. And then another, and then another. Feet and hooves punch and kick at me again and again.

Claws rake me, slicing through skin.

I cry out and spin, trying to get away. But hands grab hold, refusing to let go as I’m hit again and again.

A deafening gunshot, and it’s like a sledgehammer has hit me in the gut. I cry out, falling back, as another gunshot echoes through the hall, my ears all-but screaming in pain.

“Stop!” I shriek. “Stop!”

A pony snaps his shotgun open to reload it. He isn’t listening to me! No one is!

With a desperate howl, I spin as hard as I can, yanking my legs inwards, tearing free from the others. Landing, I leap up, beating my wings as hard and fast as I can. I have to get out of here before they-

Gunshots rake my wings, and I fall, crashing hard, my head banging into the unforgiving tile.

Everything goes numb.

I scramble, trying to get onto my hooves, but I can’t move properly; I can’t control my legs. It’s hard to see. The exit... where’s the exit?! There! I see it! But there’s no way to get to it; it’s blocked by the mob running towards me.

“Stop!” I yell. “Please! I-”

Gunshots hit me. I fall back, slamming into a pillar as more bullets keep hitting me.

I scream, trying to cover my head and-

A hoof slams into my jaw, knocking me away from the pillar. I hit the floor once again, but this time I’m back on my feet. These survivors... they’re not going to listen to reason, and they’re not going to stop until I’m dead. I have to defend myself, and if I have to hit-

Onyx? He... He’s the one who hit me?

The stallion who was once my friend hits me again, slamming his hooves into my snout, my mouth, my neck, trying to shatter bone. I try to throw him away, to shove him back, but he’s too good. He’s older than me, but his cybernetics more than compensate, letting him move with the speed of someone in their physical prime.

I need to fight back. I need to defend myself... but I can’t bring myself to hit Onyx. I can’t make-

Another punch, another blast of pain, and I crumple against the pillar, blood flowing from my nose and mouth. And then Onyx’s hooves are around my throat, squeezing as hard as he can, veins bulging in his neck and eyes. He’s not going to stop until I’m lying on the floor in a lifeless heap.

The cheers from the others only egg him on.

I grab Onyx’s hooves and pull as hard as I can, my artificial muscles bulging. But it’s not enough! Onyx’s robotics are stronger than my own!

My vision pounds.

“It was... her!” I gasp. “I only did it to save Beakbreaker!”

Onyx doesn’t care.

“Mangus was going to torture her if I didn’t!” I wheeze.

“And you think that makes what you did okay?!”

His hooves squeeze even harder, and I can’t breathe! I struggle with all my might, trying to break free. If I don’t get out of Onyx’s grip in the next few seconds, I’m going to die!

My vision goes red.

I faintly hear a yelling rising above the shouts and jeers from the survivors. Through the blood-red haze, I can just make out Onyx glancing over his shoulder. Someone’s shouting at him, but I can’t hear anything but my heart pounding harder and harder.

Onyx looks back to me.

Red’s turning to black.

Can’t breathe...

I can’t...

And then Onyx’s hooves pull away.

I gasp, falling to the floor, gagging as I gulp down air, wheezing, my throat raw and partially crushed.

“You all know what he did!” Onyx yells to the survivors. “Silverspeak admitted that he betrayed us! That he revealed where we were!” He points at me. “He is the reason so many of our family and friends are dead!”

The crowd howls unanimously.

“Now we have to decide what to do with him,” Onyx says. “Spare him... or kill him.”

The yells and roars that fill the hall leave no doubt as to the Resistance’s wishes.

“You’ve heard them, Silverspeak,” Onyx says. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Blood pools on the stone beneath me as I look to the others, desperate for a friendly face. But I see none: Even Gusty, one of my oldest friends, glares at me with disgust and rage.

“Gusty...” I wheeze. “Please...”

He steps back into the crowd.

I see Onyx pulling something from his vest from the corner of my vision.

It’s his shotgun.

A blast this close will turn my head into shredded meat.

“Onyx, please... I didn’t mean for any of this to happen...”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he growls.

He points the gun to my head.

I scramble back, hitting the pillar. And then I’m crying without wanting to, tears streaming down my cheeks. Oh Celestia, he’s going to kill me! Doesn’t he understand?! It was an accident! An accident!

“Stop.”

Chrysalis emerges from the crowd.

“This is none of your concern, Chrysalis,” Onyx growls.

“It is not worth wasting a bullet on him,” Chrysalis says. “Or a spell, or the slice of a knife.’

“So what are you suggesting?” Onyx demands. “That we forgive him?”

Chrysalis shakes his head.

“Then what are we to do with him?”

Chrysalis studies me, as if trying to see into my soul. “Leave him.”

“What?!”

“Leave him behind,” Chrysalis says. “Let him live with his failure, until the guilt eats at him from the inside out, and he is left a nervous wreck, whimpering and begging for death.”

“And what’s to stop him from coming after us?” Onyx demands. “What’s to stop him from making things worse?!” He looks back to me, the gun shaking.

“Then chain him up if you must. Make it so that he cannot follow. But you will need every bullet, every spell, every ounce of strength if you are to have any chance in the fight to come.”

“No,” Onyx says. “He doesn’t deserve it! He doesn’t deserve mercy!”

“Perhaps... but he has given us the location of Iron Hoof’s base. Consider it a trade: Your only chance of survival for his life.”

Onyx wavers, looking to me, then to Chrysalis, and then the others. He doesn’t know what to do.

I don't dare move.

Onyx eyes me for a moment longer, his gun shaking in his hooves....

And then he lowers it.

“Stormwing. Groundscrapper. Go get the chains.”

The crowd boos as the two dragons hurry away, giving a voice to their rage.

“Silence!” Onyx yells.

The crowd doesn’t listen.

Onyx raises his gun and fires.

The crowd is instantly silent.

Turning to me, Onyx lowers the gun. “I once fought for you, Silverspeak,” he whispers. “The Resistance believed you weren’t worth saving, that we should kill you. Even Green Wing believed that. But I told them they were wrong. I said you were a good pony. That you would do great things once you were freed from Iron Hoof’s control... But I was wrong.” He shakes his head, unable to believe his own words. “There were many who said we would all have been better off if you were dead… and they were right. We all would have been better off if you had died back in Canterlot.”

Onyx shakes, tears falling from his cheeks.

“We were friends, once, Silverspeak... but it’s your fault that that everyone I loved on that moon is dead.”

He fires. My right leg buckles beneath me. Another shot, and my left is blown apart. He fires twice more and I fall, my hind legs ruined.

“I hope you die out here, alone and afraid.”

The dragons return.

Onyx stands, wiping his tears away. “Take him outside,” he snarls. “Make sure he can’t leave.” Then, to everyone else, “Everyone, move out. Let’s get this done.”

The dragons roughly yank me from the floor and drag me away, one shoving a magic inhibitor ring over my horn. The hall empties as the survivors leave. Those who do glance back at me only give me looks of disgust and hate.

Chrysalis regards me. But there’s no anger in her, no resentment. I saved her life once; perhaps she views this as returning the favor.

Then the moment is over, and she turns away with the others, leaving only Gusty behind. He watches me go, but makes no move to come after me.

There’s no sign of Beakbreaker.

The dragons drag me outside to the ruins, and to the edge of the rubble, where they quickly attach chains and shackles around my neck and remaining limbs, and then lift a giant boulder, sliding the chains beneath before they let go, almost a ton of weight holding them in place.

Stopping only to scowl at me for a moment, they leave me, going to Spike, who is heading off into the rubble towards the rising form of an old zeppelin, accompanied by a few fighter craft.

It isn’t long before they’re aboard. And when they are, the zeppelin flies away, heading north until it’s a small blip on the horizon, and then vanishes.

Everything is still.

Wind blows through the ruins of Canterlot, rustling my mane and tail.

I’m alone. There’s no one within a hundred miles, no one to talk to, no one who will listen to me, but even if they did they wouldn’t understand. They’d reject me as everyone else has done and leave me to die.

Onyx and the others can’t defeat Mangus and Iron Hoof. Their tiny fleet won’t make any difference against an entire army, and they know it. Their final, desperate attack is a suicide run. None of them are going to survive, and if they do, they’ll be captured and become Mangus’ slaves.

And it’s all my fault.

I try to push the thought away, but it hits me again and again, as if yelling, refusing to let me tone it out.

All of this, all of the deaths on the Moon, the Resistance’s suicide run... it’s all because of what I did. If I had stood up to Mangus and refused to tell him where the others were, the Resistance would still be intact. Thousands would be assaulting Mangus’ fortress, instead of thirty. They would have had a chance to survive, and possibly even win.

I gulp, trying to hold back the tears. Crying won’t help. Giving in to grief and despair will do nothing. I can’t afford to be weak, not now! Beakbreaker’s still out there, and I won’t abandon her! But all the determination in the world won’t break these chains; they’re pinned under the boulder, making it impossible for me to lift my legs. And even if I could break free, my legs and wings are still broken. My automatic repair features are already working, but repairing this much damage will take days.

There’s nothing I can do.

I try not to cry, but it’s so hard: Beakbreaker could be dying out there, fighting in a hopeless battle, and there’s nothing I can do to help her.

Celestia... what do I do?!

The sun continues its slow trip down towards the horizon.

Has the Resistance already arrived at Mangus’ base? Are they fighting?

Are they dead?

Is... is Beakbreaker dead?

No, no. I can’t think like that! Mangus will want Beakbreaker alive, if only to mock her at her final failure. If he captures her, she’ll be alive, and I can save her, but only if I can get free of these accursed shackles!

I try to yank, but my legs are useless, inert hunks of metal. Perhaps if I detach them, I could roll away and... and what? Roll my way across this wasteland until I reach the sea? Try to push myself along using my broken wings as arms?

Confound it all, there has to be something I can do! I can’t just lie here and wait to die! I have to save Beakbreaker! I have to stop Mangus, I-

An unseen rock clatters to the ground.

I look over, suddenly afraid. What if it’s a starving animal hunting for food?! I can’t defend myself like this!

Something comes around the rock. It’s not an animal.

It’s Beakbreaker.

For a moment I’m stunned, shocked at seeing her. Then relief washes through me. Beakbreaker’s alive! She didn’t go with the others! I want to call out to her, to cry, to weep that she’s okay and unharmed... but I don’t.

Beakbreaker watches me, her face betraying neither hate or anger, disgust or pity.

I don’t say anything, unsure what to do.

Beakbreaker finally comes over and stops beside me.

“It’s true,” she whispers, as if it’s taken her hours to build up the courage to come here and talk. “Onyx was right... You told Mangus where everyone was.”

“Only to save you,” I whisper back.

“Was I worth all those lives?” Beakbreaker asks.

I almost say yes, then no. How do I answer that?

“I never meant for anyone to die,” I say.

“But you knew some would.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“What did you think was going to happen, Silverspeak?” Beakbreaker asks quietly.

"I thought Mangus would send his forces against the Resistance,” I say, “and that the two of us would escape and help fight them off.”

“How?”

“I don’t know! I just thought we’d find a way. We always do.” I shake my head, wanting her not to judge me, but to understand. “Beakbreaker, Mangus was going to torture you if I didn’t tell him! He would rip your legs off one by one, then magically heal you and do it again and again until I talked! I couldn’t let him do that to you!”

Beakbreaker shakes her head. “Almost ten thousand ponies are dead because of you, Silverspeak. My suffering wasn’t worth their lives.”

“Then what should I have done, Beakbreaker?!” I scream. “Tell me! What should I have done?! Let you suffer?! Tell me! WHAT SHOULD I HAVE DONE?!”

Startled, Beakbreaker steps back. But she doesn’t scream back at me, and when she speaks, she’s calm and controlled, unmoved by my anger. “You should have put the lives of everyone else before mine.”

I stare at my wife, and my anger falls away as disappointment greater than anything I’ve ever felt hits me. I… I thought Beakbreaker would understand. I thought she’d be supportive, that she would even be grateful to me for saving her... but she’s like everyone else.

She’s condemned me.

I turn away, ignoring the chains as they dig into skin. I don’t want to talk to Beakbreaker. I don’t even want to look at her.

“Silverspeak-”

“Go away, Beakbreaker.”

She doesn’t answer.

I lay my head against the boulder and look out towards the horizon, waiting for the flash of light, the wall of fire, whatever it is Mangus is going to unleash.

I welcome it.

Beakbreaker walks before me.

I turn around.

“Silverspeak-”

“I told you to go away.”

“I’m not leaving.”

I glare at Beakbreaker. “I sacrificed everything for you, Beakbreaker! Everything, and what do you do? Condemn me. Judge me. Tell me that I should have let you be tortured over and over until-”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you meant it.”

“No,” she says firmly. “I didn’t.”

“Really? Then why are you here? To mock me? To grind me even deeper into the dirt? To join everyone else on this earth in condemning me? To tell me how stupid I was to sacrifice everything to save your life?”

“No.”

“Then why?!”

She waits a moment before answering. “I wanted to understand why you did it.”

“Well, now you know. And like everyone else on this Celestia-forsaken rock, you hate me for it.” I shake my head, wanting to scream, to tear myself free of these chains and just leave, to go somewhere and die alone, away from every imbecile and idiot on this earth, away from their condemnations, their accusations, their mockery.

“Silverspeak-”

“What would you have done, Beakbreaker? What would you had done if you had been in my position?”

She doesn’t answer.

“And what about Onyx? Would you say he was right? That everyone would have been better off without me? That I should have died all those years ago? Was he right?”

She doesn’t answer.

I turn away from her once more, squeezing my eyes shut. Everything I’ve fought for, everything I’ve sacrificed...

It was all for nothing.

I shake. Tears well up. I lean against the boulder, trying to lift my legs and wipe my cheeks dry, but I can't even do that.

Beakbreaker sits beside me, her legs going around my shoulders.

I want to push her away, to make her go away like everyone else. But she doesn’t move. She refuses to leave, to let go of me.

Bit by bit, I feel myself melting into her warmth.

Closing my eyes, I let go and lean into Beakbreaker, letting her hold me as I weep.