Whatever had just happened was nothing at all like Blackbird expected. There should have been a big showy flash of magic. Dramatic spellweaving. Chanting perhaps. The room should have blazed with blinding, bewildering magic. But none of that had happened. Chromium had simply cast a spell, murmured a few words that she could not make out, Dim had closed his eyes, and then, nothing. Nothing at all. A whole lot of nothing, which wasn’t much of anything at all, except for maybe a wagonful of disappointment, which really couldn’t be measured at all.

“There, it is done.” Chromium’s eyes were thoughtful and a bit narrow. “You know, I could change you in all manner of ways. I can turn ponies into alicorns, for example. But this is exactly why dragons like me should not get involved. Because we can change things. Upset the balance. For the wont to do good, we could destroy everything with our good intentions.”

Dim’s eyes opened and his head wobbled on his slender neck. “Then why do this at all? Why help me? You’ve become involved. Why? What do you hope to gain by helping Princess Celestia and Princess Luna?”

Blackbird wondered if Dim was okay, because he looked more than just a little woozy.

“Long ago I became a connoisseur of bitter minerals, and even more bitter truths. Many years ago, a plucky little Sun Princess drew me to her cause. She made me believe in the good that could be done. We debated much, she and I… it lasted for almost, oh, I do not know. Maybe a year? In the end, she convinced me that the far greater evil was to do nothing at all. I honestly do not understand how she managed to convince me of this. But she did.”

Chromium sighed, a heaving sigh that was somehow far too large for a mere unicorn.

“I exist in an odd place as a dragon. I have changed. I have drastically changed. Recently, I have discovered that I am at odds with my own kind. They’re doing more than just hiding, you know. The eldest of my kind are departing. Leaving. Abandoning this world to find another. Some of us were not even born on this world, but we came here after fleeing from some catastrophe or some great cataclysm. While the others are fleeing, I have chosen to stay. It seems I am a fool and that I have taken leave of my senses.”

Blackbird sat chewing on her lip, almost to the point of drawing blood.

“When Princess Cadance broke away to go after you, I was reminded of why I chose to follow a tiny, foolish, plucky Sun Princess. When Princess Cadance dove into darkness, it awakened in me many fond memories, one of which was Princess Celestia’s insistence that even doing the wrong thing was better than doing nothing at all. That inaction was the worst of crimes against the universe. I do not know what to say. It is likely that I could sit here and jabber away for a thousand years and still not say what it is that I am feeling right now. Dim, I would like to have you as a friend, if such a thing is possible. We might not see eye to eye, but we both want the same thing, I think. You might not walk the path of harmony and light, but you are loyal and you can be trusted to do right by Princess Cadance. That is enough. You will do right by her, and that is enough.”

“I will not betray my friends,” Dim said to the dragon wearing a unicorn’s skin. “Chromium, I would be honoured to count you as my friend. I would like to believe that we have a better understanding of one another now. My destiny calls me to other places. Not all of us are beckoned to walk in harmony and the light, but it does not mean we champion the cause of evil. I am Chantico’s champion… a cause that, perhaps, I should spend more time focusing on. To cleanse evil, I must go where evil lives. The darkness has no sway over me, and I do not fear it. I have become it. Embraced it. Dark is not evil. It is merely a place outside, away from the light. There is much I see clearly now that I have… awakened.”

Chromium nodded. “Into the darkness… just as Princess Cadance did when she went after you. Perhaps there is a lesson in all of this. Some bitter truth. Princess Luna lives in darkness as well. I have never fully understood Princess Luna, nor do I fully understand Princess Celestia’s trust in her sister after all that has happened. Perhaps I am at fault, and there is a lesson to be learned.”

“Perhaps,” Dim replied.

“You show me great kindness with your gentle response. No bile, no acid dripping sarcasm.” Chromium’s brows furrowed.

“Are we not friends?” Dim asked.

Chromium started to say something, but Blackbird saw him falter. She heard him sigh and watched him squirm in his seat. Dim was plenty snarky with his friends, downright antagonistic even, especially with her. What was going on and why was Chromium squirming? Was Dim trying to make a point? He did that, sometimes. On occasion, it was infuriating, but right now, at least in Blackbird’s eyes, Dim was making an effort to be nice. Had Chromium’s spell woken up something else in Dim? Was this just friendliness? Maybe Dim was grief-stricken. She was certainly grief-stricken, but was doing her best to hide it. Overwhelmed, Blackbird began to twiddle her thumb-talons.

A dragon and a unicorn were trying to understand one another. Chromium was a creature of powerful goodness, and Dim… Dim was not. In fact, Dim might not even be a unicorn. Blackbird shivered when she thought about it, but she wasn’t about to judge Dim on what he was on the outside or the inside. He couldn’t help that he was a monster, no more so than she could. She was a hippogriff—a hippogriff frequently mistaken for a sphinx, but still a hippogriff. A creature of story and legend. But she didn’t want to be seen as a hippogriff, with who she was and what she did as a second thought, if it was even thought of at all. She wanted the world to see Blackbird—who just so happened to be a hippogriff.

“We are indeed, friends. Dim, rest and recover. Take some time to allow everything to sink in. Meditate.” A strange expression formed on Chromium’s face, like storm clouds advancing upon an unsuspecting picnic. “As my friend, I cannot allow you to go into darkness unprepared. Before you leave, I will teach you the basics of dragon magics. I will awaken your dragon essence. Because you are my friend, I trust that you will do good with it. That you will use this knowledge to serve Princess Cadance, and the rest of your friends.”

“I would be honoured to accept your tutelage.”

The tickle in his lungs made him want to cough and the pain was almost to the point of being unbearable. Dim knew why; with his mind awakened, the hazy mists had been parted and he had perfect recollection of the dream. Contagion would be dealt with, but at another time. Dim had more important matters to attend to, such as his friends.

It felt strange to have awoken with such a sense of purpose. This was almost like discovering his destiny and gaining his mark, but far more pressing. An urge, a desire, an irrepressible need. He had gone to sleep and had woken up as a different Dim. A better Dim, perhaps. The cancerous sense of loneliness had been excised and the emotional curtain of separation had been torn away. There were things that needed to be done now that his eyes were open and he could see.

But first, there was what he felt was his first real test of his new self. A task that needed to be done. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but it was necessary, and he owed his friends the best possible version of himself. So much was obvious now that wasn’t obvious before. Everything had been made clear. Chromium had revealed a whole new world, a world with infinite possibilities.

Now, the only issue was time. The passing seconds had become the enemy. There was very little time, and he was now keenly aware of it. His mind had, perhaps, become a little too aware of things, and Dim wondered if he now had an immortal perspective in a mortal body. He wasn’t sure and he had no way to tell.

Rounding a corner, he came to a stop just outside a door and took a deep breath…

Bombay’s body had been cleaned up, but very little could be done about the gaping hole in her head. She lay on a steel table, her arms at her side, her body wedged in place with wooden blocks. Her tail did not twitch, it showed no signs of life. It had none of its constant, ceaseless movement, and Dim could not help but recall that her tail moved as though it had a mind of its own.

All of the crusted blood had been cleaned away, along with the bits of brain matter. Not much of her face remained, and as awful as it was, Dim made himself look. While dead bodies had never really bothered him much before, what he saw before him bothered him now. Turning away would be cowardice of the worst stripe, and worse, disrespectful of Bombay.

The room smelled of disinfectant and funerary chemicals. It made his lungs hurt, but Dim would not be turned away. Each breath was laboured, tortured, it was a struggle to just keep breathing, but none of that mattered right now. Dim wasn’t sure what mattered at this point. When Blackbird brushed up against him, he almost jumped right out of his skin. She wrapped a wing around him, pulled him close, and he did nothing to resist her, though some small part of him wanted to push her away.

Blackbird smelled of tea, of gun oil, of leather, and fragrant floral soap. When she moved, Dim’s ears heard the creaky squeak of leather, the soft clank of metal, and the rustle of feathers. She was armed, even now, and there was something comforting about that, something reassuring. He rubbed his cheek against the cool, smooth leather of her bandolier, and his ear grazed a holstered pistol.

“I’m sorry, Bombay,” Dim said, his voice weak and little more than a strained, bloody whisper. “You can’t hear these words, but I wish you could. There’s a lot of things I wish for. I wish I had been a better friend. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so selfish and self-centered I might have noticed your pain. I might have been there. Blackbird and I might have kept you with us.”

Dim shuddered and felt Blackbird do the same.

“Maybe the grief would have passed. If you had held on, the dark of the night might have passed and the sun might have rose for you. But you did what you did and I don’t begrudge you that. For you, the war is over. The struggle is over. For us, it is just beginning. We’ll carry on in your stead… both you and the Bard. We’ll keep you in our memories. In our thoughts.”

Blackbird’s wing tightened around him and Dim struggled to hold in a cough, fearing that if it escaped, he might not be able to stop coughing. A wet wheeze could be heard with each shallow breath, and the ghosts of coughs-that-would-be could be heard moaning and groaning in his lungs. With his blood freezing in his veins, Dim forced his body to cooperate as he leaned his head forward and touched Bombay’s paw with his sensitive, quivering nose. There was no movement, no warmth, no reaction. She did not affectionately stroke his cheek one final time as he had hoped, there was no reassuring pat, there was nothing at all.

“Goodbye, Bombay.”

Dim wished he had more words to say. He hated saying goodbye and avoid situations where it was necessary. Up to this point, he hadn’t really cared enough about anypony—anybody—to even be bothered to make the effort, as he valued his own comfort more than just about anything else. Saying goodbye was an inconvenience, an annoyance. Or, it had been. Saying it now left him strangely unsatisfied, unfulfilled. Now, he could not help himself, he found himself thinking of others he had met during his journey, and he wished that he had bade them farewell.

What had he done to himself?

Blackbird drew in a deep breath, causing her leather bandolier to creak. Was she about to call attention to the fact that she hadn’t heard him say these words before? Every muscle in his body tensed as he waited and the tension grew unbearable. Much to his dismay, the silence persisted. He found that he wanted Blackbird to say something. Say anything. If only she would start blabbering away as she was prone to do, he wouldn’t be agonising over his own thoughts.

Now, he felt trapped, and there was nothing left to do but to awkwardly back out of the room, with goodbye as his final words. This was awful, unbearable, and for the first time in his life, Dim found himself desperately wanting assurance that wasn’t his own. Trembling, he nosed Bombay one more time, one final time, hoping for some miracle revival, some restorative mending of body, spirit, and soul.

But she remained cold and unmoving.

A flood of self-loathing washed over Dim, and he could only think of one thing to say in this wretched, repellent situation. The words, waiting, were bitter on his tongue and burned like bile in his throat. Self-hatred burned like a furnace within him, and his lungs ached with every feeble breath.

“Goodbye, Bombay. You were loved.”

Author's Notes:

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