Death had arrived for the cultists in the compound. An alicorn stood amidst the shattered rubble of Death’s statue and he was a terrifying sight to behold. Twitching, he quivered all over as if he had a palsy and his face contorted with manic, spastic convulsions. The colour of an overcast winter’s day, he blended in with the shroud of night that hung over the compound and appeared to be a pale shadow in the light of the rising moon. Already, the bodies were piling up as some ran away and others stood in defiance.

Upon seeing this alicorn, Dim blinked away for cover, and regretted it right away because it meant that magical fatigue would come so much sooner. The stuttering chatter of gunfire could not drown out the sounds of screams and defiant shouts. While Dim stood in cover behind a building, zebras attempted to pelt the pseudo-alicorn with alchemical bombs.

As for Dim’s companions, most of their weapons were still on the table in various states of assembled wholeness. When the building he was taking cover behind exploded, Dim was forced to blink away again for his own safety as stones and the ragdolling bodies of the elderly occupants flew all around him.

Bullets did no good and bounced harmlessly from the shield bubble around the rampaging alicorn that stood his ground in the center of the compound. A powerful fire nova ignited in the air around him and spread outward in an ever-expanding ring, consuming those who had come too close. Zebras, griffons, and ponies, all set ablaze, ran about while making agonised screams, screams that went dead silent as their lungs charred.

Even as he was casting various wards for protection, Dim realised that they would do very little good; this monstrosity would brute force his way through them with no effort and Dim wondered if he had just wasted more of his magic. Since protection would do him little good, he took a more aggressive approach and cast The War Maiden’s Seeking Skull.

A grinning, howling, ghostly-white skull went whizzing off, took a sharp corner, and flew right at the alicorn. On impact with the alicorn’s shield, there was a terrific explosion and the shield bubble burst on impact. Almost unphased, the alicorn gave himself a shake and his shield flickered back to life before any of the bullets in the air could strike him.

It was at this dreadful moment that Dim realised that he was in dire trouble.

A masked zebra limped towards the alicorn, stepping over the twisted, fallen, charred bodies of his fellows. Somehow, every spell fired at him missed by some miraculous chance, and when he was just a few yards away, the hobbling, masked zebra drew himself up into a confident, defiant pose.

“I am Weaver Indigo,” the zebra said to the false-alicorn. “Long, long ago, I was told that I would not die until I was a free zebra. I have chosen this end, which means I am at last free. Do what you must. Strike me down and in doing so, your own doom will be assured. Death will come for you on black wings—I have seen it!”

In response, the alicorn said nothing, but his horn glowed with a brilliant light. This time, when he cast his spell, the glowing bolt connected with the masked zebra and there was a terrific explosion—but doom came as foretold. Weaver Indigo, devotee of Anansi, burst into a fine red mist, and from this mist came a writhing hoard of burning, blazing, spectral purple-blue spiders. Thousands upon thousands of them spread over the ground like spilled liquid and, borne on eights-of-thousands of tiny, scurrying legs, rushed the now retreating alicorn.

They swarmed his shield, causing it to flicker, and the rising tide of spiders seemed to grow in number as the shield grew ever-weaker. Though the Weaver known as Indigo was gone, his soul-spiders lived on, and they had a terrible message, such dreadful, ominous portents to deliver.

We are the vengeful souls of tens of thousands of slaves who cried out to Anansi for deliverance! You destroyed our Weaver, the one who carried all of our memories and kept our dreams alive through the Weave that binds us all together! Through him we had life! We knew free air! Death comes for you, forked-tongue Slave Driver, Death comes for you on black wings!

When the alicorn’s shield fell, disrupted by the legion of phantasmal horrors, the spectral purple-blue spiders rushed at him…

Sensing opportunity, Dim moved to engage the now shieldless alicorn, wary of the threat that his foe represented. This creature, this… abomination, was stronger by a magnitude. It was all strength with very little skill, and Dim knew that if he was going to win this fight, it would be with skill. Strange magic was at work, magic that Dim only knew about because of his extensive education: animancy. Soul magic. What dreadful torments had been mustered by the spectral spider bomb?

Weaver Indigo had died, and some grim part of Dim was determined to make that matter. It had to mean something, otherwise, what was the point? Indigo had died so that others might live, and Dim understood. Everything from his foalhood, every fanciful daydream, every fantasy, it all converged upon this point, and Dim understood. Something within him, something stunted and long malnourished, he felt it grow. It grew and he gained strength. This battle, this fight, Dim wasn’t fighting for himself or for glory—no, he was here for a greater purpose, one he did not yet understand.

He cast several spells, rapid fire, falling back on his old tricks. Stutter-Startle, because phantasmal charms were not common knowledge and were therefore difficult to remove. Clover’s Confoundment came next, to strip away spell protections and to leave the alicorn vulnerable, at least, whatever counted as vulnerable with an alicorn. Then, Dim cast Lightning Drain, a nefarious spell that would slowly deplete the alicorn’s near-bottomless magical reserves.

Somewhere, nearby, Dim could sense Motte and Bailey. More to the point, he could sense their peculiar magic; they were earth moving, perhaps trying to shore up some defenses to save and protect others. Munro went running past and he sprinted away with a pony beneath one arm and a zebra beneath the other.

The spiders seemed to be crawling beneath the skin of the pseudo-alicorn…

In the midst of the chaos, a familiar voice was heard, and it filled Dim with a curious sort of hopeful inspiration. “Now! Now, Blackbird and Bombay! Strike now! His protections are down!” The Bard stood atop a stone building, somehow bathed in a brilliant pink light that made him stand out against the smoke and darkness. Even more curious, a phantom horn projected from his head and two ghostly wings could be seen protruding from his sides. Like two shadowy wraiths, Blackbird and Bombay stood on either side of him, and the two of them, large, capable creatures that they were, hurled two massive barrels off of the roof.

The barrels flew in a wobbling parabolic arc towards the alicorn…

Even besieged as he was with the spectral spider hex and Dim’s detriments, the alicorn’s speedy response was marvelous to behold. A magic beam shot from his horn and blasted one of the barrels, contents unknown, and this caused a terrific, blinding explosion. Purely by reflex, Dim raised a shield, but the false-alicorn could not.

As it turned out, both barrels were filled with black powder.

Sound and fury bloomed through the compound and the forceful conflagration of Tartarus washed around Dim; somehow, his shield held against the raging onslaught. The alicorn was not so lucky and caught the full brunt of the explosion. Several buildings toppled, including the one that the Bard, Bombay, and Blackbird had stood atop of. When the first barrel exploded, the second one also went, and both had detonated mid-air, near the peak of their arc.

Even with his shield, Dim took a battering. Left almost deaf by the blast, he could feel that his muzzle was wet and sticky. Blood trickled down the back of his throat, gagging him, and poured from his nose. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he would be able to finish off the weakened alicorn, because surely, the two massive wooden barrels of gunpowder exploding had dealt a mortal blow.

Dim’s own life ebbed and each drop of blood was like sand in an hourglass…

In a cultist compound populated by zebras and the elderly, a location almost one-hundred miles away from Gasconeigh, a Bard lay dying. His lower body was crushed beneath the hard edge of a stone block, his ribs all crooked, ruined, and his entrails formed a glistening inkblot upon the ground where they had squirted out. Open mouthed, he waved one foreleg around while making gasping, silent pleas for help, but there was no help to be had.

From the ruinous rubble, a zebra crawled to the Bard’s side and somehow, the two embraced like lovers after an extended absence. The zebra mare too, was dying, her spine having been severed down near her hips, and her dead hind legs made no movement as they were dragged behind her. The mare’s bloody lips formed scarlet-flecked words that no one heard, for the blast had left many deaf.

Together, they stared into each other’s eyes, perhaps hoping to catch Death’s reflection when she arrived, for she was coming. Both panted and spattered bloody droplets upon one another, but neither seemed to mind. When dying, there was no etiquette, and somehow, the determined zebra mare managed to get one of her forelegs around the Bard’s neck, perhaps to comfort him.

Tearing the veil asunder, the zebra mare known as Lima Bean revealed herself…

The cultist compound was a smoking ruin and in its center, near the smashed, shattered statue of Death, two death-dealers squared off with one another. Parts of the alicorn were burned beyond recognition, but the abomination of animancy somehow still stood, and even worse, seemed to be healing. Charred blistered skin fell away like autumn leaves while new flesh knitted itself into existence.

It was unnerving to say the least and Dim wondered how he would defeat such a creature. As for Dim himself, he suspected that he was dying, or would be soon. Crimson blood gushed from his nose and from the corners of his eyes—he was almost drowning in it. He had one trick left and he hoped that it would be enough. Dim had one weakness left to exploit, and it was a weakness that he knew all too well because it was his own.

Arrogance.

This time, unlike his many encounters in the past, it was Dim who initiated the beam attack, and almost startled by the boldness of it, the alicorn scrambled to react, to respond. Right away, Dim realised his mistake, as the alicorn was far too powerful. Within seconds, Dim was overcome and the dreadful nexus that had formed was coming right for him. This alicorn, false as it might be, was just too powerful and Dim realised that he stood no chance at all.

In panic, he turned off the lights and hoped for the best while bracing for the worst…

As if by some miracle, the alicorn panicked when Dim’s shroud of darkness took hold and his concentration wavered. Dim seized this opportunity, detonated the nexus, and a second massive explosion rocked the compound. The blast lifted Dim into the air when he was struck by its terrific invisible force, which sent him flying.

After soaring for several long yards, Dim hit the ground, bounced, and came to a rolling stop, battered and bruised. Dizzy, disoriented, he found that he could not stand, nor did he have any magic left. It felt as though something in his brain had given way, and now his life came pouring out in a flood. The night air was freezing, cold enough to burn his lungs, for whatever enchantment which held back the weather had expired, or was damaged.

Wobbling about like a newborn foal, the alicorn still stood. One wing was gone, it wasn’t on the ground in a pile of meat, bone, and feathers—it was gone. Ribs were visible, along with parts of its foreleg. One eye poured down its shredded cheek like jelly, and glistened upon jagged, shattered molars. Even worse, the alicorn seemed to be recovering. How it was even standing was a mystery, but for it to recover… seemed impossible.

Dim was done, and he knew it. He had nothing left, his last trick had failed him. The alicorn had recovered enough to approach; though Dim tried and tried, his body had nothing left to give him. He was defenseless, magicless, and immobile. Even worse, he was probably dying, so it really didn’t matter that the alicorn was coming to finish him off. Why, it might even be a mercy.

But then Death arrived on black wings…

Like a descending predatory shadow, Blackbird dove down with a screech and collided with the alicorn abomination. She was every bit as large and powerful as he was, and when the two came together, it was as if an unstoppable force had impacted with an immovable object. Blackbird’s hooves came down upon the alicorn’s backbone with enough momentum to shatter it—had it been a normal spine—but somehow, the alicorn still stood.

The two powerful titans squared off, with Blackbird sitting astride the powerful alicorn abomination. One of her forelegs was wrapped around its neck, gripping him in a headlock, and with her other talons, the left ones, she reached down and got ahold of his surviving wing. Ripping and tearing, yanking and pulling, screaming and hollering, Blackbird’s immense strength was matched against the alicorn’s mighty endurance.

As it turned out, the alicorn was still flesh and bone after all, and accompanied by an awful, indescribable sound, his wing was ripped free from its socket by Blackbird. The alicorn’s horn flashed, sparking—it seemed as though its magic was starting to recover—but Blackbird was quick to react. Throwing the dismembered, twitching wing aside, Blackbird then reached around and her slashing talons tried to grab the alicorn’s horn as he tossed his head around.

The two colossi battled one another, locked in mortal combat. Kicking and bucking, the alicorn could not shake Blackbird from his back, nor could he free his head and neck from her constrictive hold. The glow cast from his horn was starting to intensify and Blackbird, buffeted about by the struggle, couldn’t seem to get her talons around the alicorn’s horn. In a move of petty, dirty violence, she rammed her clawed thumb into the abomination’s remaining eye and blinded him.

“Y--Y-Y-YOU F-F-F-FUCK-K-K-KING B-B-B-B-IT-T-T-TCH!” Squealing in pain, the alicorn’s voice almost sounded… foalish—so much so that it was disturbing. Dim’s detriments still held it seemed, as evidenced by the furious stuttering.

In response, Blackbird raked her claws across his throat several times, shredding flesh, and tearing open his windpipe. This did very little to slow him down—still he kicked, bucked, and thrashed—but it did seem to take the wind out of him. Reaching about, she was able to wrap her talons around his horn and then she began yanking with all of her hippogriff might.

After about a dozen yanks, there was a cringe-inducing snap and the alicorn abomination’s horn was torn out by the root, leaving a gaping, bloody hole in his forehead. His strength seemed to leave him in mere seconds, and his legs buckled. He and Blackbird crashed to the ground, and Blackbird, sensing weakness, rolled him over.

With a violent punching motion, she drove her talons into his ribs, dug around for a bit, got a good grip on the exposed bone, and with a powerful yank, she made an opening in his girth. Tossing the shattered, broken bits of ribs aside, she then made another punching motion and drove her fist through the opening she had made.

His whole body went rigid, going stiff while Blackbird’s talons explored his innards.

With a violent tug, Blackbird pulled something free, some hunk of glistening gristle that convulsed and throbbed in her claws. Scarlet blood spurted everywhere, gushing, a whole ocean of it seemed to be conjured just like magic, and with a flick of her talons, she tossed the alicorn’s heart away. Reaching beneath her wing, she pulled out something that glinted in the firelight. With a swift movement, she lifted it to her mouth, and with her teeth, she plucked free a pin with a round loop.

Blackbird’s quick, deft talons shoved the primed grenade into the bloody, gaping cavity where the alicorn’s heart had once resided. Every second mattered and once the explosive device had vanished into the gory hole, she took hurried flight. Pumping her wings, she went racing away while precious progressing seconds caused the grenade’s lifespan to grow ever-shorter. After much frenzied flapping, Blackbird gained some much needed altitude.

As fate would have it, the alicorn abomination was mortal after all, and death departed from him on black wings. His replacement heart ticked away inside of him and his legs flailed about while his body convulsed. Blackbird, perhaps sensing imminent doom, covered her face with her forelegs before the abomination of animancy detonated with terrific body-pulping force.

In a battle of hippogriff versus pseudo-alicorn, the superiour creature rose into the night, victorious.

Author's Notes:

Not sure what to say here.