I don’t know how long I lie against Beakbreaker, crying out all my frustration, rage, and grief. The tears just don’t stop; it’s as if they’re coming from an ever-replenishing well. Whenever I try to force them back, they just build up and burst through, and the cycle begins all over again.

Mercifully, I feel the turmoil of emotions beginning to fade. The stream of tears becomes a trickle, and finally stop, leaving me numb from emotional exhaustion. It’s comforting in its own distinct way.

Oh, how I just want to stay here and lie against Beakbreaker, to not think, to not do anything but stay numb, adrift from all of life’s unwanted emotions. I think she senses that, because she’s looking down to the chains around my legs.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s get you out of these.” She grabs the chains and yanks with all her might, trying to drag them out from beneath the boulder. She’s using everything she’s got, the servos and motors in her legs grinding and whirring with the strain, but the chains refuse to give.

Letting go, Beakbreaker goes to the boulder and presses against it as hard as she can, her hind legs sinking into the earth as she tries to shove the boulder aside.

“Beakbreaker-”

“We can’t stay here,” Beakbreaker grunts as she renews her struggle. “Not when Mangus is so close to winning!”

It’s tempting to say no, to tell Beakbreaker that we should just stay here and let the others fend for themselves. Though my emotions are numbed, I can feel the stirrings of anger deep within me. The anger that wants revenge for what the Resistance did to me, to point and laugh as they die in their pointless assault. It would be vindication for my humiliation and their short-sighted, pitiful perspective... but I won’t let that anger take hold. It hurts to admit it, but the Resistance’s anger was righteous in light of what I did.

Still, even if I were to somehow reach them and join in on their assault, the Resistance would probably try to kill me on sight. Onyx, in particular, would not be in a merciful mood. No one would accept my help.

It’s tempting to stay here and let go of it all... the Resistance, Mangus, this war, my failures, everything. My younger self would do so. He’d let himself be crushed by grief and guilt... but I won’t. Celestia wouldn’t.

No matter the odds, no matter how much others hated her, she’d still do what was right.

While the chains keep me from moving away from the boulder, they don’t stop me from getting closer. It’s difficult to stand; my legs are still broken and wrecked, but I can still press myself against the boulder, joining Beakbreaker in shoving, lending what little strength I can. Maybe the two of us can do together what one cannot.

It only takes a few moments to realize how wrong I am.

“Keep... pushing!” Beakbreaker grunts as she tries to gain traction on the soft soil.

I try. Celestia help me, I try. But I can’t gain any traction. This accursed boulder is too heavy, and the ground too soft. We can’t move it. But we have to try. We have to-

A rock clatters to the ground nearby.

Turning, I look back to see someone coming towards us through the rubble. Someone else stayed behind? But who would stay here and face certain death? No one in their right mind would-

Grunting, Gusty struggles to drag a large duffle bag, the canvas bulging from metal and other components. He doesn’t even look up as he wearily continues on. It’s not anger that’s driving him, or despair or a willingness to fight to the end: Gusty looks defeated. Empty. It’s as if he’s lost all reason to fight, and is running on automatic.

I stop struggling against the boulder. “Gusty? What are you doing here?”

He finally glares at me. “I’m not goin’ on any suicide mission.” Gusty doesn’t allow himself to rest as he plops himself down beside me, instead pulling out a welder’s helmet from the bag, and an old welding torch.

“Gusty?” Beakbreaker asks, suddenly worried, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m freein’ your husband.” He puts on the helmet, turning on the torch. “Might want to look away.”

I do so, Beakbreaker doing the same. Bright light dances outside my closed eyelids, and I’m forced to endure the stench of melting metal. In a minute, my front right leg is suddenly free as the shackle around it falls to the ground. A few minutes later, the other falls away. Several minutes later, and my shackles are lying in a smoking pile on the soil.

Turning off the welder, Gusty takes the helmet off and reaches back into his bag, dumping out a myriad of machine components big and small. Then, he grabs a wrench and goes to work on my front legs.

“Gusty?”

He doesn’t answer, too focused on his work to answer my questions.

For the next hour, Gusty wordlessly repairs my front legs, jurry-rigging components where needed. His hooves shake and tremble from his old age as he inserts bolts and tightens screws into place, but he refuses to stop. When Gusty’s done with my front legs, he goes to work on my hind ones, bringing them back into working order before mending my shredded wings, struggling and sweating as he tries to repair the delicate instrumentations within. I worry that he’s going to accidentally cripple them beyond repair, but before I know it, Gusty finally closes a tiny panel and leans against the boulder, wiping thick sweat from his forehead and faded mane.

Looking down at my legs, I try moving them. They operate flawlessly, as do my wings, rotating and flexing as if they were new. They aren’t, of course; the pieces that went in were old and second-hand. Hardly perfect, but still functional.

I turn to my oldest friend. “Gusty-”

“You’re welcome,” he says curtly. Though he freed me, Gusty is still angry, breathing deeply to control himself, perhaps fighting the urge to pummel me like Onyx did.

I bite my lip. Handling a conversation here will require all the tact I can muster. “I’m grateful. But why did you stay?”

“To free you.”

“Why?”

Gusty shoots a hoof towards me. “Let’s make one thing clear, Silverspeak: I’m not feeling charitable towards you right now. All my friends were on the moon, including...” He bites his lip. “Including Green Wing... I never told her, but I was... startin’ to develop feelings for her. Was goin’ to ask her out, too.”

My heart aches, and once again I feel guilt trying to crush me.

Gusty composes himself. “But it was a mistake to leave you here. We need everyone we’ve got if we’re going to stop Mangus and his cronies.”

Beakbreaker’s confused. “Then why didn’t you-”

“Because Onyx and the others don’t have a chance... though if I’m bein’ honest, I don’t think any of us do, really.”

“There’s always a chance,” Beakbreaker says, and it’s not meaningless bluster. She believes it.

“Don’t fool yourself, Beakbreaker,” Gusty says. He rubs his eyes, suddenly weary and looking older than he really is. “Truth be told, I don’t think we ever had a chance in the first place.” He points to me. “I’d rather go with you than Onyx and his old rustbucket.”

“Me?”

“Call me a senile old fool, but whenever you set your mind to something, Silverspeak, there ain’t nothing on this earth that can stop you. I’m hoping to Celestia you want to stop Mangus.”

I nod.

“That’s why I stayed, Silverspeak. Because you know him better than anyone alive. I just hope you have a plan.”

Gusty falls silent, waiting for my answer. Beakbreaker looks to me, too, curious to hear what I have to say.

I breathe, taking a few moments to think. Beakbreaker stayed to free me, and so did Gusty. They played their part, and now it’s time to play mine... but I don’t have what they want.

“I... I don’t have a plan,” I admit. “Not beyond freeing Celestia.”

Gusty groans, thinking that he’s wasted his time.

“But we’ll come up with something,” I assure him. “I don’t know how, but we will.”

It’s not the answer Gusty wanted. But realizing that it’s the best he’ll get, he throws up his hooves. “Well, that’ll have to do.” Breathing deep, he gets back to his hooves, and though he tries to hide it, I seem him stagger a bit. Dragging all that equipment and gear to us took a lot out of him. “Here.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a pair of saddlebags. “These are yours.”

Taking the bags, I slip them on, grateful that Gusty was able to save them from Onyx and his followers. Fastening them down, I look to the horizon. “We need to follow the others and find that island.”

“But how?” Beakbreaker asks. She gestures to my wings. “You can’t carry us both, let alone catch up to the Vengeance.”

“Then we’ll take another ship. There’s bound to be one around here somewhere. And if it’s damaged or old, Gusty can repair it.”

Beakbreaker shakes her head. “There’s nothing left. The Resistance took all the ships we have.”

“Are you sure?”

Beakbreaker nods, hating to be the bearer of bad news.

Blast it... I can fly, but my wife’s right about not being able to carry both her and Gusty. And the Resistance already has a head start on us. Catching up to them would be impossible without riding a rocket. But there has to be something we can do! We can’t just sit here and-

“Actually, the Resistance didn’t take everything,” Gusty says.

Beakbreaker turns, confused. “But there’s nothing else, Gusty. They cleaned out the hangar.”

“Oh, they took all the ships,” Gusty admits with a half-smile. “Or, rather, all the ships they knew about.”

Abandoning his bag of equipment and parts, Gusty finds the strength to rush through the remains of Canterlot, guiding Beakbreaker and myself through several improvised tunnels, excitement driving him to a large door. Unlocking it, he ushers us through into a large cavern... no, a hangar of some kind. It’s not big enough to house a zeppelin or any other craft that could take on an army, but a small, personal craft could be kept in here.

I squint, trying to see into the darkness. “Gusty, what’s-”

Taking hold of a nearby cable, Gusty yanks on it. Dust flies from pulleys and gears as the roof retracts over us, letting sunlight shine in. I have to squint again, and then turn away at the sudden onslaught of blinding light. My eyes adjust (though not as fast as they did when I was younger), and I look back to see...

Wait... is that...?

Beside me, Beakbreaker’s almost speechless. “Gusty? Is that...”

Gusty beams. “Yep. It’s her.”

The Raven lies before us, bathed in sunlight, looking almost like she did... sweet Celestia, almost fifty years ago. But... that’s impossible; the Raven was destroyed during the second changeling assault on Canterlot. I saw it crumpled in the streets, engulfed in flames, destroyed by Mangus. And yet, here it stands, like a ghost come back to life.

“Been rebuilding her,” Gusty says, beaming with pride. “Bit by bit, piece by piece. Took far too long, and cost too much... but here she is.” He goes to the gondola, affectionately rubbing his hoof over the metal as if caressing a lover. “Onyx wanted to fly her, but I said it still needed months of work.”

“Does it?” I ask.

“No,” he chuckled lightheartedly. “I just didn’t want Onyx to be the first one to fly her. She’s all set to go... I hoped that she’d help us win the war.” Gusty sighs wistfully. “Looks like I’ll finally get my wish.”

Going to the gondola’s side, Gusty lowers a ramp and heads inside. Beakbreaker and I follow him, and Beakbreaker gasps as she steps inside; the interior of the ship looks almost exactly as it did when I last saw it. It’s like we’ve both stepped back in time and are boarding the ship for the first time, both blissfully unaware of all that lay before us.

We may be dumbstruck and lost in memories, but Gusty’s excitement is palpable as he hurries into the cockpit and leaps into the pilot’s seat. “Better strap yourselves in,” he says. “We’ve got to get a move on.”

I head to one of the seats, Beakbreaker doing the same. Then it strikes me that we’re missing someone.

“Beakbreaker, where’s Gold Wing?”

“One of the fighters took her,” Beakbreaker says. “He said he’d take her to a safe place and then rejoin the others.” She bites her lip. “I wanted to keep her, but he said we couldn’t risk her safety.”

Gusty taps buttons, lights glowing green. Outside, one of the engines coughs, making the gondola shake.

“Have you ever flown this?” Beakbreaker asks, understandably nervous about entrusting her life to a craft that hasn’t flown in almost half a century.

“I’d trust this ship with my life,” Gusty assures her with a big grin.

Still not convinced of the ship’s structural integrity, Beakbreaker resigns herself as she buckles herself in. I do the same as Gusty presses a button on the control panel. Unseen engines roar to life, making the compartment shudder as the Raven gently rises from the floor.

Gusty holds the control stick in hoof, but he doesn’t send us upwards. He stares ahead, lost in his thoughts, almost on the verge of tears.

I know this is an emotional moment for him, but our situation leaves no time for nostalgia. “Gusty?”

Gusty blinks, coming out of his trance. “Right... All right everyone, hold on tight.” He tightens his grip on the stick. “Here we go!”

The hum from the engines grows louder as we rise. The darkness of the hangar gives way to daylight as the Raven emerges into the open sky. For a moment we hover as Gusty flips switches and knobs. I start to ask what he’s doing, but the engines answer me; the thrust is switching from vertical to horizontal.

A flick of a switch, and Beakbreaker and I are shoved back into our seats as the Raven rockets forward.

Gusty whoops as gravity rams him back into his seat. “Just like old times!” he calls out.

My younger self would probably enjoy the speed, but I can’t say I do.

Gusty relishes the speed for a few more moments, reliving his own youth, and all the years he spent racing from one end of Equestria to the other. He soaks it all in, and all his grief, worry, and anger about the moon fades.

Then the moment’s over, and he adjusts more switches and levers, slowing us down just enough that we can push ourselves out of our seats.

Panting, and relieved that we’re no longer going at top speed, Beakbreaker unbuckles herself. “Gusty, how do you know where to go?”

Gusty indicates a red dot on the radar. “We’ll follow the Vengeance’s tracker. All Resistance ships have them.”

“How long do we have?” I ask.

Gusty takes a moment to do the mental calculations. “A few hours. Three at most.” He takes a microphone and brings it up. “Vengeance, this is the Resistance ship, Raven. Do you read me?”

He lets go and waits. Nothing.

“Vengeance, I repeat, this is the Resistance ship Raven. Do you read me?”

Static.

Beakbreaker and I look to each other, knowing full well what that silence means. Either the Vengeance is maintaining radio silence, or there’s no one left to answer us.

“I’ll keep trying,” Gusty says as he adjusts knobs, coaxing out more speed from the engines. “Until then, I suggest you two figure out what we’re going to do.”

Having had his say, Gusty busies himself with the console and the readouts, submerging himself in what he knows best. He’ll get us to Mangus’ island. What we’ll do when we get there is up to me.

I can feel my new responsibility bearing down on me as I leave the cockpit, Beakbreaker beside me, clearly wanting to take on some of that burden herself.

“Do you have any ideas on what to do?” She asks hopefully.

I shake my head. “I... I need time.”

“Would you like me to sit with you?”

I’d love that. I really would. But in order to concentrate, I need privacy. I shake my head.

Disappointed, Beakbreaker still accepts my decision. “I’ll be here if you need me,” she says, taking a seat.

Nodding, I retreat into one of the Raven’s smaller side rooms. I hate to leave Beakbreaker out like this, much less go without her comforting presence, but I need to concentrate.

I have to come up with a plan that will save her.

With the door shut, and all distractions gone, I sit on the floor and close my eyes, willing the world to retreat, to leave me to my thoughts. It’s hard to keep focus and not panic about the fact that there’s mere hours to save the world.

I try not to focus on the thought as I review what needs to happen: Gusty, Beakbreaker, and I need to get into Mangus and Iron Hoof’s base, find Celestia, and free her. There may be only three of us, but we have one advantage the Resistance doesn’t: we have a ship that can become invisible. If your enemy can’t see you, you can maneuver yourself behind his back for a one-hit kill. If The Vengeance and its crew have been taken out, Mangus will think that the Resistance is dead, and that he will have won. He won’t be expecting a sneak attack.

Still, I’m not fool. Despite that considerable advantage, the odds are stacked against us. After all, there are only three of us. We don’t have an army at our command, or the numbers to replace us if someone falls. One mistake, one slip up, and we’re dead. Or worse, we’ll be taken prisoner and become helpless spectators to Mangus’ victory over Equestria.

Death might be preferable.

No. No, I won’t think like that. We have to succeed. We have to! And yet... even if we find Celestia, freeing her will be no easy task; Mangus and Iron Hoof will utilize every trick they have to keep her confined, both physically and magically. Gusty could use the Raven to ferry her away, or even utilize onboard armaments to blow open her cage... if the ship isn’t destroyed first. Beakbreaker could use her superior strength, and I could use my magic to free her... but casting any spell would take me past the point of no return, and my lifespan would probably be measured in minutes, not months. But if it would save Beakbreaker, and everyone else, it’s a sacrifice I’d be willing to make.

I shudder. To accept your own death, and know that in a few short hours, you may no longer exist...

Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts. I can’t afford to get distracted, not now.

Even if we do find Celestia, there’s still Mangus to deal with. In a fight, the odds are not in our favor: if he’s still using Black Fang’s carcass as a body, none of us have a chance of beating him; his hand alone could crush a house, and that’s not counting his teeth, tail, fire... all three of us are outmatched in every way. And even if Mangus does abandon his dragon body, he will use magic to compensate for his age and decrepit. If any one of us could get in close, we can kill Mangus... but doing so without being incapacitated by his guards would be nearly impossible.

We can’t beat Mangus in a fight against his dragon form, we can’t use my magic, and we probably won’t be able to get close to him...

How in Celestia’s name are we going to stop Mangus?

I think long and hard, trying to come up with a solution to the most important problem of my life.

I feel time passing as I think, slipping through my hooves like sand inside an hourglass.

The only chance we have is if I can use my voice. Perhaps my desperation at our predicament will give me greater strength and allow me to crush Mangus’ will. Failing that, I could bring his guards under my sway and have them attack their master. If nothing else, they would be able to distract him while I slip in and deliver the finishing blow. And if that fails, I could use myself as a distraction; keep Mangus busy and focused on me while Beakbreaker and Gusty sneak in and free Celestia. But what if Mangus is deep underground? Or somewhere where an airship can’t go? Or what if that location is built so that there’s only one way in or out?

I grind my teeth, frustrated. There are too many avenues for failure, too many opportunities for fate to ruin everything. There are simply too many unknowns, leaving me in the dark, helpless and impotent.

Time continues to pass me by, and I feel that we have less and less of it to spare.

I try to come up with something, anything that can help. But frustration and despair are building, and it’s so hard to concentrate. I just can’t figure out what to do. The others are counting on me, and I’m failing them. But there has to be a way, some way of killing Mangus. But how? Even if he and I were to get into a fight, I couldn’t pull out a gun or pull the pin on a grenade before his minions blow me away. I couldn’t-

Wait.

The thought is so sudden and unexpected that I freeze in place.

Could it really be that simple?

I go over the idea in my mind’s eye, playing it out over and over again, looking for flaws, imperfections, and ways it could fail. But I don’t find any.

This plan... it’s so simple that it seems almost like a joke. But it’s efficiency is undeniable, and there’s no defense against it. By the time Mangus and his guards realize what’s happening, it will be too late for them to do anything.

I have my answer.

I know how to kill Mangus and break his army.

I should be smiling, should be grinning in relief and joy at knowing that we can end this war, and win... but I can’t.

All I feel is a deep emptiness.

For my plan to work, a great sacrifice must be made.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply for several minutes, trying to resign myself to what must happen, biting down on my lip to hold back the despair welling in me.

With shaking hooves, I take my saddlebags and flip them open, looking at the supplies and items within, hoping that she’s there...

She is.

I pull out Little Celestia. As she’s done throughout my life, her tiny eyes meet mine, that friendly, reassuring smile still shining brightly after all these decades. I study that face, pretending that it’s Celestia. It feels foolish to do so; such imaginings belong to children and the young, not old ponies like myself. And yet... it is comforting to pretend this piece of enchanted wood is her, to pretend that she’s giving me encouragement and strength.

Breathing deeply, I clutch Little Celestia tightly.

I’ll need all the strength I have to tell the others about my plan.

Only when my nerves have steadied themselves do I return to the cockpit. Beakbreaker and Gusty sit in their chairs, looking out to the empty sea before us.

“Any sign of the Vengeance?” I ask.

“We’ve got her signal,” Gusty says, “but it’s very faint. Still a long ways off.”

“How far?”

“An hour or two.”

I nod toward the microphone. “Anything on the radio?”

Gusty shakes his head.

With all niceties finished, both Beakbreaker and Gusty know why I’m here. They turn to me, waiting, hoping I have some good news for them both.

“My plan’s still the same,” I say. “We reach the island and find Celestia.”

Gusty’s upset that nothing came from my brainstorming and wants to express his anger, but I’m quick to cut him off. “Finding her will be simple,” I say. “Mangus will want to keep Celestia close so that he can keep an eye on her, and mock her when he wins... we find him, we find Celestia.”

“Well, that’s good and all,” Gusty says, “but the moment we show our faces, we’ll be swarmed, overrun, and find ourselves locked up behind bars.”

“You two might,” I say, “But I won’t.”

The two look at each other, puzzled.

“I have one advantage no one else has,” I explain. “Mangus despises me more than anyone else. If I announce myself and demand an audience with him, he’ll give it, if only to get close enough to kill me. Once we meet, Mangus won’t be able to resist boasting about how he’s won, and he’ll show me Celestia, just to mock me on how close I got to freeing her. Once that happens, I’ll keep Mangus distracted while the two of you break her out and set her free.”

Beakbreaker and Gusty think the plan over, deciding for themselves if it’s worth pursuing.

“You’re right, Silverspeak,” Beakbreaker says at last. “It can work... but Mangus is going to be the most heavily defended individual on the planet. His guards – his army – won’t allow you to bring any weapons in, and they’ll ensure you can’t cast magic, either. You try anything against him, and you’ll be killed instantly.”

“Not by them,” I say. “Mangus will want to kill me personally. He won’t let his guards do it.”

“But they can still disable you,” Gusty points out. “And you won’t be able to kill anyone if you’re paralyzed or crippled.”

My chest tightens. “I know... and there’s a way I can stop him without magic or firearms.”

I instantly have Gusty and Beakbreaker’s undivided attention.

I close my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to break Beakbreaker’s heart once more.

“There are two crystals inside my body,” I say. “They act as emergency generators, providing energy if my body short-circuits, loses power, or if my organs fail. They activate automatically, but I can also activate them manually.”

“Get shot, play dead, and then attack?” Gusty shakes his head. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “No, Gusty. I can activate the crystals and... and set them to overload.”

Gusty studies me, confused. “Overload?” He glances at Beakbreaker, seeking clarification. “Like, what? Give yourself an energy boost?”

Beakbreaker doesn’t answer him. She’s looking to me, horrified, her body shaking.

She knows what I mean.

“I detonate them, Gusty,” I say quietly. “The energy will destroy everyone and everything within a dozen yards. If I’m close enough to Mangus, he’ll be vaporized. And if Iron Hoof is with him, so will he.”

The cockpit is as silent as the grave. Gusty stares at me: on one level, he seems to understand what I’m saying. On another, he doesn’t, and he’s struggling to reconcile the two, horrified at what I’m suggesting.

Beakbreaker just sits in her chair, hooves clutching the legrests.

“I tried every other way I could think of,” I say. “But this is the only chance we have to take them out.”

Gusty finally finds his voice. “But... you’ll die.”

I nod, feeling numb as I do so.

Without a word, Beakbreaker slides from her chair and hurries from the cockpit, going into the passenger cabin. The door swings shut behind her.

I should hurry after her and tell her to please come out, but I won’t. I didn’t expect Beakbreaker to accept my plan, and it’s futile to try and talk her out of the room. The best thing I can do for her is give my wife the space she needs.

I sit in the co-pilot’s seat. “Gusty, keep us going.”

He nods, desperate for a distraction. “Yeah.”

With nothing more to say, I settle in the chair and look out to sea, hoping the vista of endless waves and the orange sky will soothe my spirits.

We fly on.

An hour passes. I keep my gaze on the horizon, wanting to see the Vengeance appear ahead of us, even if its only smoke rising from the smoldering wreckage. Doing so gives me something to focus on instead of worrying about Beakbreaker, or what’s coming.

Beside me, Gusty keeps focused on his console. He hasn’t spoken a word since Beakbreaker went to the cabin, unsure what to say. He occasionally glances at me, but not long enough to initiate a conversation.

The clock on the display indicates that it’s now six PM.

That’s it. I can’t wait any longer. I leave my seat without a word and head to the cabin. Time’s running out for all of us, especially me, and I don’t want to spend the last hour, half hour, or even ten minutes without Beakbreaker. I don’t want her to suffer alone, either.

We need each other.

Reaching the door, I gently knock on the wood. “Beakbreaker?”

There’s no answer.

I knock again, a little harder this time. “Beakbreaker, we need to talk.”

The door creaks open. Beakbreaker’s on the other side, her face and body sagging. She’s not doing well. She ushers me inside, closing the door behind me, giving us privacy for what may be the most important talk of our lives.

There’s no point in trying to deny what’s going to happen. “I wish there was another way,” I say as gently as I can. “But there isn’t.” I tense up, waiting for the tears, for the pleas, for Beakbreaker to break down and tell me to abandon my plan.

Instead, she nods. “I know,” she whispers.

I’m surprised. Is that all? I thought she’d be more upset.

“I wish it was different, too,” Beakbreaker says. “But you’re right... there’s no other way.”

I gently put a hoof on her shoulder. “I didn’t want to hurt you-”

Beakbreaker shakes her head. “You haven’t.”

“But you-”

“I was upset, yes. But then I realized that we all have to do what we can. You, Gusty, myself… Equestria, and everyone in it, is more important than us.”

Her words may be brave, but Beakbreaker has something else on her mind. I recognize it in her tone, and my heart aches as I realize what it is.

“You don’t think we’re going to survive this.”

There’s no nod, not whispered acknowledgment. Beakbreaker just meets my gaze.

“Beakbreaker...”

“I’m not afraid to die, Silverspeak. But I am afraid of... of...” She gulps. “I can’t stand the thought of living without you. Of you dying and me living.” She shakes her head, on the verge of tears. “I don’t want that life. I don’t. I really don’t.”

“And I don’t want you to. And I swear to you, I will do everything I can to come back.” I manage a smile. “If you and Gusty can break Celestia free, then hey, no sacrifice needed.”

Beakbreaker manages a chuckle, and that wonderful smile of hers shows itself, if only for a few moments. It’s long enough for a tear to drip down her cheeks.

Pistons and gears move ever so gently as I reach out and wipe her cheeks dry. My very spirit aches, reeling at seeing Beakbreaker struggling to hold herself together. She has every reason to be afraid, to cry, and to break down, but I can’t stand seeing her like this. I need to lift her spirits, if only for a minute. But how? There has to be something I can do, something that...

Inspiration strikes.

Opening my bag, I go through it, searching for something, a memento I pray isn’t lost. It’s irreplacable, one of a kind, something that is worth more to me than all the gold in the earth-

Oh thank Celestia... there it is.

I pull the photo from the bag and hold it up for Beakbreaker to see. It’s a photo of both of us side by side, beaming on one of the happiest days of our lives: Our wedding day.

“Fifty years ago, I took an oath to care for you,” I say. “To watch over you, to protect you from all the chaos of this world. To never abandon you... I haven’t forgotten that vow.”

Swallowing a lump in her throat, all Beakbreaker can do is reach out and take the photo, looking it over, her older eyes looking at her younger self.

The frame dampens as tears fall on it.

“Neither have I, Silverspeak,” she whispers. “Neither have I.”

There’s so much else I want to say, words to comfort Beakbreaker, apologies for trivial things that offended or annoyed her in years past, baggage from regrets. But the silence enveloping us both feels holy, sacred even.

Leaning in close, I wrap a leg around Beakbreaker, and she returns the sentiment without hesitation

We hold each other.

It feels like heaven.

Gusty’s voice breaks the silence. “Silverspeak, Beakbreaker. Might want to come up here.”

Sighing, we release other. She still holds the photo as the two of us walk to the cockpit, where Gusty spares only a moment to glance at us before pointing ahead.

“There it is.”

There’s a faint smudge on the horizon. Distinct and hard to see, but I know what it is: it’s an island, one silhouetted against the setting sun. The sky red, orange, and yellow sky should be glorious and majestic, but I can’t see it that way.

I may be looking at Equestria’s final sunset.

“The Vengeance’s signal is coming from up there,” Gusty tells me.

“Any calls?” I ask.

Gusty shakes his head. “We could try callin’ em, but we’ll be picked up instantly.”

“And we don’t want that,” I say. “Do we have anything to track me so you two don’t lose my position?”

Gusty quickly takes out a small, bug-sized electronic device from a drawer. “This should do the trick.”

Taking the device, I pull open a tiny hatch on my belly and slide the tracker inside, closing the hatch behind it. Staying active is helping me not think about what’s going to come; the sunset outside may be not only Equestria’s last, but my own.

Within an hour, I may be dead.

“I’ll leave the Raven and fly ahead,” I say, trying to ignore my pounding heart. “Gusty, activate the cloak and stay close.”

“Right.”

“I’ll probably lose the radio at some point,” I continue. “I’ll try to signal you somehow... a flare, a sign, anything.”

“Let’s hope wherever you go has big windows.” Gusty’s joke is a noble attempt to break the tension, but even his best jokes wouldn’t work now. We’re on the verge of the most dangerous hour of our lives. Our lives, Equestria’s freedom, all of it is on the line.

None of us believe we’re coming out of this alive.

Get to the island, I tell myself. Find Celestia. Set her free. It’s as simple as that.

A light on the ship’s console flares up as a buzzer sounds.

“We’re almost in range of their sensors,” Gusty says. He looks over the readouts. “Five minutes.”

I breathe deep, tightening the straps on my uniform, the fabric still stained with my blood.

Focus, Silverspeak, I tell myself. Focus. Accomplish what you came here to do, and everything will be over. Don’t think of death. Think of Beakbreaker. Think of everyone counting on you. Gusty’s counting on me. Beakbreaker’s counting on me. Every Resistance member, every pony in Mangus’ chasm, all of them are counting on me. But Beakbreaker and Gusty can’t work up the strength to encourage me. They want to, I can see it in their eyes. But they know the end is coming. They know the odds.

They know this may be the last time we’re all together.

I look to Gusty, wanting to tell him how grateful I am that he’s my friend, and that we’ve shared so many years together. I want to tell him that I love him, too. Not romantically, but as a friend. But I don’t need to say so... he knows. His eyes mist up as he tries to say something, perhaps the same thing, but he can’t get the words out.

Going to him, I take Gusty’s hoof in mine, and he returns the sentiment by tightening his grip.

The warning buzzer sounds again.

Releasing Gusty, I go to the door. Before I open it, I turn to Beakbreaker, taking her hooves in my own, studying her beautiful face, committing it all to memory, drawing on it for the strength that will get me through what’s to come.

Strange... there’s something different about Beakbreaker. She seems... calm. Accepting. Strong, even, more than I can ever recall.

“Silverspeak?” she says.

“Yes?”

Beakbreaker takes my hooves. “Are you afraid to die?” she asks quietly.

Gusty looks over.

“I... I don’t know,” I say.

She takes a deep breath. “Do you remember Manehattan? All those years ago, when you and Mangus were fighting?”

I nod. How could I forget?

“Do you remember the bridge? When I... died?”

I could never forget that, no matter how hard I want to.

“I watched you,” Beakbreaker says.

I frown. “What are you-”

“I watched you trying to revive me,” Beakbreaker says. “I was floating above you when you were yelling at me and slapping my face. I saw all of it. And then I... I... I went... somewhere.”

Beakbreaker trails off, closing her eyes, and I don’t dare speak.

She’s never told me this before.

“It was... beautiful, Silverspeak. So beautiful. And I was given a choice: I could go on, or I could come back. I wanted to go on... Celestia, I wanted to, so badly.” Tears slip out from under her eyelids. “But I came back... I saw how much you cared about me. I saw how we needed each other.”

Beakbreaker opens her beautiful eyes.

“This isn’t the end, Silverspeak.”

And then Beakbreaker wraps her legs around me, pulling me in close, holding me as tightly as she can.

Without thinking, I do the same, and for a few moments, the war, death, all of it goes away.

It’s just the two of us.

Nothing else matters.

The warning buzzer sounds once more.

I never want to let go, to let the moment end. But it must.

Gently releasing Beakbreaker, I take some goggles and slip them on. I grab hold of the door and slide it open. Wind howls, whipping at my mane and tail.

I step to the door, sparing one final look at the two ponies I care about more than anything in the world.

I jump.

The wind batters me as I fall through the sky, trying to throw me into the waves as I spread my wings. They slow my fall, and then stop it as I right myself.

Above me, the Raven cloaks, vanishing into the air.

Biting down hard, gathering all my resolve, I beat my wings and fly towards the island, towards the army that waits for me, and towards Mangus. When I arrive, he’ll scoff. He’ll laugh. He’ll think me insane for facing him and his army by myself.

It will be the last time Mangus ever laughs at me. I’ll make sure of it.

I’m going to make sure he never harms anyone ever again.

With wings beating, I fly towards the island.

I fly to war.

Author's Notes:

End of Act Two.