“Dim”—Blackbird tugged on Dim’s tail to get his attention—“before you get busy again…”

“Yes?” Dim stopped, then turned around in the narrow hallway, while keeping himself pressed off to one side so that others might pass. He was an asshole, sure, but he wasn’t the sort of asshole who blocked traffic during a conversation. With a nudge of his hoof, he encouraged Blackbird to follow his lead and she pressed her bulk against the curved wall.

“Finding my mother is important… but so is what we’re doing. Those dragons were supposed to help, Prominence and Scalio—”

“Who goes by Thod,” Dim added.

“Yeah.” Blackbird nodded and shifted her weight off of her injured talons. “They were supposed to come and help do whatever it is that needed to be done with the Black Hand. These two dragons had duties and obligations and responsibilities and all those things, but they stayed behind to help the ponies of Fancy during this crisis. I didn’t even know that dragons could help others, I’ve always heard stories about what jerks they are, how mean they are, and how teenage dragons are little more than bandits, pillagers, and raiders. But clearly, these ponies and their struggle means a lot to them—enough so that they refuse to budge until something is done to help these ponies. And for some reason Dim…”

“Yes?” Dim waited while Blackbird’s mouth moved, but no words came forth.

“It’s reassuring. I want to believe that the world is good, Dim. I want to believe that you are good. Dim, I want to believe that you are going to actually help these ponies and do right by them. I don’t want that kiss I gave you to be a mistake, Dim. I’d hate to have to beat your ass like I did that soldier earlier, but make no mistake, I’ll do it. This is too important, Dim, and I’m not gonna let you mess this up. I hope that Eerie made it clear, this is no lark. I am delaying the search for my mother to do this, and if you ruin this, it cheapens what I’m sacrificing. Do you understand me?”

Angling his head upwards, Dim looked into Blackbird’s eyes, and gave her the time she needed to realise that he was doing so. There was something girlish and vulnerable about Blackbird at the moment, and she seemed far more foalish than her ginormous hippogriff body suggested.

“I give you my word that I will treat this with the seriousness it deserves.” Dim hesitated, knowing how much he valued keeping his own word, and he resented Blackbird just a little bit for dragging this out of him. “I will not cheapen what you are sacrificing to do this. For you, I’ll get results.”

“Thank you, Dim.” Blackbird smiled and for the first time, Dim noticed a slight swelling just beneath her eye. It seemed as though she had been thumped on a few times during her rigorous training. This was good, it would toughen her up. He was distracted by what he saw until he heard her say, “I have shooting practice and you gotta do whatever it is that you’re doing. Wizard stuff, I suppose.”

“Ja, Amsel. Ich würde dein Sklave für deine Küsse.”

“What?” Blackbird’s ears perked and her eyes darted from side to side while trying to read Dim’s face.

“I merely said yes.” Dim savoured Blackbird’s frustration and drank in as much as he could.

“You said more than that,” Blackbird insisted while her eyes narrowed and her ears revealed that she was putting some real effort into thinking.

Dim shrugged and longed to see Blackbird’s murder face. “Vielleicht.”

“Fine, Mister Mysterious. You go do your wizard stuff and I’m gonna go shoot stuff.”

“Leb wohl, Walküre.”

A bizarre purple radiance of warmth took over Blackbird’s black face and she paused, her tail swishing like an agitated serpent having a hissy fit. “Okay, what the Tartarus was that? That sounded affectionate. Were you flirting with me?”

“Ich werde es nicht verraten.”

“Fine, you jerk.” Now fluffed, Blackbird huffed, turned about, slapped Dim in the face with her tail, and then she flounced off. Her exaggerated departing gait caused her hooves and claws to clatter against the floor with her rump swinging from side to side.

Dim, whose eyes lingered on her swaying hindquarters, smiled and spoke to himself in a low, almost inaudible whisper, “Leb wohl, Walküre.”

Bombay Sable was a whole lot of everything that Blackbird wished that she could be. The Abyssinian was small, sleek, lithe, slinky, and just so very awesome. Plus, she had magic, which somehow amplified her apparent awesomeness. Blackbird couldn’t even begin to imagine using magic, because it baffled her so, but Bombay did little things that made magic seem so helpful.

When fighting with melee weapons, Bombay could pull out her wand at any moment, cast a spell, and dazzle the eyes of her opponent, blinding them, and leaving them vulnerable to what Bombay called ‘surgical strikes.’ When fighting with guns, Bombay could wave her wand around to reload her pistol, thus allowing her to keep her eyes focused upon the enemy.

Worst of all, Bombay made adopting a bipedal stance so damned tempting.

“Blackbird, you punched out Captain Narmer and left him with quite a headache.”

“Is that his name?” Blackbird squinted, preparing herself for the sudden sun, and waited while Bombay threw open the door. “He was rude—”

“He was testing you,” Bombay replied while she stepped aside and made room for Blackbird. “You left the good captain with a concussion, a contusion, and a good impression. He likes you. He told me that you’d make a good soldier.”

Shaking her head, Blackbird stepped through the narrow arched doorway and into the bright afternoon sunlight, which stung her eyes. “I don’t wanna be a soldier, I’m happy just being Blackbird, the lovable rogue and sometimes mechanic.”

“Blackbird… girl… this world is rough and I think you’re finally starting to see that. I don’t care who you are, everybody becomes something that they don’t want to be. A courageous creature can become a coward. A craven creature can be a hero. A pacifist can be a murderer and a murderer can save a life.” Bombay too moved away from the door and allowed it to shut behind her. “This life we live… sooner or later, we all become something we hate, so it is better to embrace it now.”

“I don’t know if I hate the idea of being a soldier…” Blackbird didn’t quite finish her sentence because of how Bombay was looking at her, her front paws akimbo, and her narrowed eyes glinting in the sunlight.

“Responsibility scares you—”

“That’s not fair!” Blackbird shrieked and then she sucked in a deep breath of shock when she realised what she had done. Looking up at Bombay, she scowled and shook her head from side to side. “I’m willing to do my part, but I am not responsible for—”

“Catshit!” Bombay spat out the expletive and her whiskers bristled. “You’re bigger, stronger, and more capable than just about everybody around here. You are a fucking colossus and you hide on all fours so you don’t cause a stir! You hide in plain sight and you slink from place to place hoping that others don’t notice you! The world needs creatures like you and you dismiss everything because you say you’re looking for your mother… there’s a whole lot of creatures looking for their mothers and they could use your help! Some of us had to watch our mothers get shipped off in chains and that happens because good, capable creatures sit back and do nothing.”

The words stung, more so because Blackbird couldn’t think of a way to refute them. She wanted to say something, she wanted to argue, she wanted to holler at Bombay, but she didn’t want to dismiss her friend’s suffering or her experiences. Blackbird chomped down on her lower lip and only eased up when she was about to draw blood.

“I am a fucking slave still,” Bombay continued, but now her voice was quieter. “My brain is still fucking broken. It’s hard for me to fight… to resist… even now, especially right now, I have been thoroughly conditioned to avoid conflict. To be as meek and submissive and nonviolent as possible and what I’m doing right now turns my stomach.”

Still gnawing on her lip, Blackbird thought about everything that Dim had said on this subject.

“The world has gone grey… it has. Everybody is so busy fighting about what is right and what is wrong, but nothing is being done to fix anything. All this time and energy spent talking and so little doing. That’s why I follow Eerie. It’s why I do what I do. It is why I deal with the jittery butterflies in my stomach and the constant panic and I do whatever is necessary, because I don’t want to see the world devoured by the grey. Eerie didn’t waste time with debates about what was moral, and right, and pure, and good, no, Eerie, she do. She is willing to attack other nations that do wrong. Live and let live will only get you so far in life, Blackbird, and talk can only get you so much.”

Try as she might, Blackbird found that she had nothing to say.

“Dim gets it.” Bombay’s paws came to rest upon the pommel of her sword and the grip of her pistol. “He’s swept up in the grey. He just responds and does whatever needs to be done in the moment, and he sorts out morality later, if at all. I don’t wanna say that Dim is right, but at least he can be counted on to do something. He’s gonna go to Fancy and he’s gonna wreck some shit and maybe, if we’re lucky, when those pieces get picked up and put back together again, things might be a little better. But for now, fuck them. Let them break. Burn that shit to the ground.”

“Others will be hurt.” Blackbird found her voice, which was now husky and squeaky, and she hated how fillyish it sounded. “Look, Dim is damaged—”

“You don’t think I don’t know that?” Bombay’s notched ears twitched and her whiskers bristled again. “I’ve watched him from afar, with Eerie and the others. Dim is no hero. He’s more like a forest fire. Sure, a forest fire seems bad, but a lot of good comes out of a forest fire.”

“It feels like Dim is being exploited.”

“Dim is gonna do what Dim is gonna do. We’re just pointing him in the direction of those most deserving.”

Hearing this, Blackbird couldn’t help but feel that there was something wrong with all of this. “I feel like this is reckless and might do more harm than good—”

“Then help us,” Bombay pleaded. “Help us point Dim in the right direction. You know him better than all of us. Yank his chain and do whatever is necessary to get him to do what he does best, and try to direct his fury. You might be able to minimise some suffering.”

“I dunno about this…” Blackbird squirmed inside of her own skin, uncertain and unsure.

“For now, let’s get you shooting. Let’s just forget about all of this. We’ll talk again, later, when we’ve both had a chance to clear our heads. Sound good?” Bombay’s tail curled into a feline question mark and she waited for Blackbird’s response.

Not knowing how to respond, Blackbird told Bombay what the cat creature wanted to hear for the lack of anything better to say. “Sure. I guess. We’ll talk later, Bombay.”

He was supposed to be working, but Dim found that he couldn’t concentrate upon his studies. Spells could be studied at any time, really, and he had a long flight ahead. Perhaps he would spend time in study then. What did hold his attention was the class of unicorn students. He sat up in a high, lofty balcony, just the sort of place where a master might come to see if there were any promising apprentices about—not that Dim wanted an apprentice. Why, the very idea was revolting.

These unicorns were quite different than anything else he had encountered elsewhere in the world. Rather than act as individuals, to cast spells and channel magic as a lone, singular entity, these foals were learning how to work in unison, as one collective organisation. Individually, each one of these foals were weak—pathetically so—and Dim couldn’t sense a single one that held even a modicum of power. But together, casting in harmony, they were impressive. Eyebrow raisingly so. Just as a blessing of unicorns had once raised and lowered the sun, these foals were learning to become a thaumaturgical collective that was greater than the sum of its parts.

“The Equestrians have abandoned this method of study and focus instead upon the scholastic success of the individual.”

The sound of Modesto’s voice behind him didn’t startle Dim at all, and truth be told, he was pleased to hear it. Saying nothing, Dim made a gesture for Modesto to join him, and the minotaur did. Modesto peered over the rail down at the students below, while Dim peered through the struts supporting the rail.

“We actively weed out unicorn foals that cannot harmonise well with others,” Modesto said in a low, throaty whisper. “This is done to preserve shared strength. We are not alone, this is how much of this side of the world operates. You, Dim, are a powerful, gifted individual. Those you see down below? They are a powerful, gifted group. Our finest. We combed the city looking for the very best, and then searched the surrounding lands.”

Intrigued, Dim nodded and decided that—for now—he would humour Modesto.

“I might have allowed cultural bias to colour my opinions of you… I kept thinking about what I said, and I know how narcissistic that sounds, so forgive me, but I kept thinking about what I said about you singing your own song. The world needs both, Dim. A soloist can be just as beautiful as a choir, but for different reasons. Those foals down there, they will achieve a fantastic level of harmony with one another and they will go on to do great things—but so will you, Dim. I must confess, no matter what I do I cannot understand you.” He gestured down at the foals below, and turned to look at Dim. “I understand that completely, but you remain a mystery to me.”

Down below, the foals were bending what appeared to be a steel girder. It was something that could be done with a metal shaping spell, but the foals were doing it with telekinesis and nothing else. Some held the girder, preventing it from moving, and applying more pressure in the middle, while others pushed on the ends. Dim understood the exercise, even if he was annoyed by the inefficiency of the act. The goal wasn’t to bend the steel beam, after all, but to learn how to work together.

Modesto extended his hand, curled his fingers, and the crystals protruding from the back of his mechanical forearms began to glow. In between the tips of his fingers and thumb, a ball of aetherfire blazed, and this had Dim’s attention. It seemed as though Modesto and Mars had been keeping secrets. The pale blue flame was weak, but burned steadily.

“Eerie wanted this knowledge kept from you, and Mars believed that you would figure it out on your own sooner or later.” Modesto inhaled, held it for a moment, and with a heavy sigh that made his thin shoulders sag, he exhaled. “I feel that I am a hypocrite now. Try as I might, I cannot harmonise my magic with that of another. I exist as a soloist. I cannot even harmonise the magic in my right hand with that of the left hand, as both exist on different frequencies. The crystals have their own hum. Even though it is my heart’s fondest desire, I cannot harmonise with them.” With his other hand, Modesto gestured down at the unicorn foals below.

“How does a minotaur use magic?” Dim asked, his voice reedy and thin.

“All minotaurs have magic,” Modesto replied in a hushed whisper. “It flows through our bodies and our hands. It comes out passively, in our crafts. Our sewing, our metalworking, our alchemy, almost everything we do has an element of magic to it. Eerie seized upon this knowledge, and found a way to focus the tiny trickle of magic we have into something more direct. Mars and I were the first… that I know about, anyway.” With a flexing of his fingers, the magic vanished into a glittery, smokey poof.

“So this is like a focusing staff or wand… those crystals in your arms… and the magic is focused like a sunbeam through a magnifying glass—”

“Eerie used that exact same analogy,” Modesto said, making a gentle, inoffensive interruption. “How is it that you and Eerie can be so alike, yet so different?”

“We’re Darks…” Dim’s words held no ire, no sarcasm, just an honest, forthright response. “We’re not so different than those foals down there. We were isolated, held apart from others, and made to act a certain way. We become the Ideal Dark… or we become nothing at all. Foals that didn’t fit the ideal were shipped off to orphanariums.” Pausing for a moment, Dim reflected upon what he knew; foals were used for other purposes as well. “I suppose we learned to sing a different song together. Every aspect of who and what I am was shaped like clay, either through ritual, through study, punishment, manipulation, or fear. Eerie is no different. I do not doubt that in some ways, Eerie had it worse than I did, being female. I must confess, I’ve been reflecting upon her pain and suffering lately, as well as mine own.”

“She seldom talks about it, but when she does, she is troubled.” Modesto sighed again, adjusted the collar of his robe, and turned to look down at the foals. “When she is lonesome, she seeks the company of other mares. In time, I’m sure you’ll notice. It bothers me—”

“It bothers you?” Dim asked, his voice a hot, scratchy whisper.

“Oh, let me finish,” Modesto began, and his shoulders rose and fell. “It bothers me that she takes no joy from her relationships. She forms no lasting bonds. From my observations, she relieves her physical needs but makes no lasting connections. This saddens me, Dim… for I so very much want to see her happy.”

Dim tried to say something, but his words faltered and failed him. He had almost made a hasty judgment, and for some odd reason, he felt bad about it. This was the sort of thing that one apologised over, but Dim was determined not to do that for Modesto. Not now. Maybe not ever. Apologies had to remain precious things, and lost value with each one given.

“Mars says it is none of my business, but it is my business. Eerie raised me. She educated me. She gave me hands and taught me magic. Because of her, I have a kingdom. Her happiness is paramount and remains in the forefront of my mind. All I have and all I am is because of her—she gave me all of this.” Modesto gestured at everything around him, trying to include it all.

With a profound sense of sadness, Dim now knew that he had misjudged Modesto. Not that Dim wished to be sappy or sentimental, but Modesto’s sincere, heartfelt desire for Eerie’s happiness did something to Dim’s heart—something dreadful—something grotesque. Repulsed by the warm fuzzy feeling that existed within his ribcage, Dim scowled and wished that it would go away, because it was worse than indigestion. His current state of being was truly revolting.

“Come with me, Modesto, and let me see if I can teach you any magic,” Dim offered, and he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

It seemed that Modesto couldn’t believe them either, and the minotaur’s face was a mask of incredulity.

“I have this spell… it is complicated, but doesn’t take a great deal of magic to cast. Just a profound understanding of magic, which I am positive that Eerie gave you.” Dim cleared his throat and then continued, “It turns beams of light into focused gravity. This has a multitude of uses, and while the overall effect is rather weak, the illusions it creates are impressive and it can add some pizzazz to your spells. When you weave it in with your castings, it causes quite a show. It has other practical, physical uses as well.”

“Turning light into gravity?” Modesto’s mouth transformed into a tight, thin, straight line, and his chin protruded in thought. “Telekinesis adds physical force to photons, allowing them to push—”

“And I have found a way to make those photons exceptionally heavy in a limited field.” Dim’s lip curled back into a sneer, revealing his perfect white teeth. “I can use them to bend light and create a dazzling array of effects. I am even figuring out how to best use them offensively.”

“Eerie said I am not to take lessons from you, because you would corrupt me.” Modesto stammered out these words while taking a step backwards from Dim, bumping into the rail.

“Do you do everything that Eerie tells you?” Dim demanded.

“Yes, more or less. I do not wish to incite her ire, for I have seen her anger.”

“Very well then”—Dim sighed these words, and then turned to go—“suit yourself.” When he reached the door, he pulled it open, and was halfway through when Modesto had a change of heart, just as Dim knew he would.

“Wait for me,” Modesto whispered in a frightened voice, “and whatever you do, don’t tell Eerie!”

Author's Notes:

Quite a lot happens in this chapter...