There came a knock to Rarity’s door as she stepped out of the shower, still drying her wet hair. She looked over at the door, debating on answering it and just when she was going to ignore it and change, the knocking came again, this time louder, more urgent.

Jack groaned from the bed, putting an arm up to her forehead and Rarity let out a word under her breath that was far from ladylike.

“Coming,” she announced to the unseen specter, giving a quick pat down of her body. The third set of knocks came as she slid on a pair of panties.

“For the love of everything sacred and divine,” she spat under her breath, covering her chest with the towel and stomping towards the door. “I swear, if this isn’t some sort of emergency…”

Throwing open the door, Rarity came face-to-face with a young sailor. He averted his gaze at her and muttered out, “Celestia needs everyone up on deck as soon as possible.”

“Oh,” Rarity said, a tad sheepish. “I’ll be right up.”

“Her too,” the sailor said, looking towards Jack. “She specifically said every able bodied man.”

“Jack’s seasick,” Rarity replied. “Whatever the princess needs, I can provide.”

He seemed to mull it over for a long moment before nodding. “Very well.”

After making herself presentable, Rarity and the sailor traveled up to the deck. The weather had changed in the short time since Rarity had went down into the quarters; the air had taken on a quiet, anticipatory tone, like the world itself was holding its breath in fear. In the distance, coating the entire eastern horizon, was a black, nightmarish thundercloud. Even from here, she could see the streaks across the cloud, signifying rain, and could almost feel the electricity from the lightning.

“Where’s Jack?” Celestia asked, approaching Rarity.

“In bed. The seasickness has her incapacitated,” Rarity explained.

“Are you sure? It might be a necessity to wake her,” Celestia said, her tone so serious that Rarity stopped dead in her tracks.

“Whatever could be that much of an issue, princess?” Rarity questioned.

The all-folk shook her head. “A monster attack approaches. One I fear we’ll need her expertise for. I’ve only battled against them a few times in my life and each encounter...”

Rarity went blank. “A monster attack? Here? This is civilized waters. The route never has issues like this, save for the occasional Merfolk raid.”

“It bewilders me as well, Rarity. If I had known such a thing were to happen, I would have never let you and Diane travel along.” Celestia swallowed. Though she was keeping a respectable front, Rarity had enough years under her belt dealing with clientele and the upper crust of society to know one thing:

Celestia was scared, possibly even terrified.

Leaning close, Rarity spoke low, making sure the conversation was private amid the sailors on deck. “What are we dealing with?” she asked.

Celestia remained silent for a moment before saying a single word that filled Rarity’s stomach with dread.

“Kraken.”

“What?” Rarity asked. Celestia nodded, gesturing out toward the horizon.

“You feel it, don’t you? That storm… it’s magical. It’s a herald. A precursor to the beast’s arrival. We’ll see it before the sun sets, that much I can guarantee.”

“And what do we do when that happens?” Rarity crossed her arms and shivered. It wasn’t cold out; in fact the storm on the horizon made the ship the perfect temperature. If she had remained blissfully unaware of the upcoming danger, she might of spent an hour or two on deck reading a book.

“That’s why I gathered everyone I could here. I’ll be issuing orders in a moment. I’ll ask again: is Jack capable to battle under her condition?” She looked to Rarity, then glanced once more to the storm, biting her lip in thought.

Rarity brushed her bangs to the side in nervous thought.

“Damn it,” Rarity swore, the words uncharacteristic for her, but a sign of her worry. “I’ll try to rouse her. This is serious.”

She ran off once more to the ship’s interior as Celestia turned to face the others on-deck.

“Men,” Celestia addressed. At her words, the sailors turned to look at her, awaiting the all-folk’s instructions. “I know this isn’t normal for you, nor is it normal for me, but within a few minutes, we are going to have to fight. A fight at its most basic level: a fight for survival. If any of us are to live after what’s fast approaching arrives, every able-bodied man is going to need to do exactly what I’m about to say.”

With the men still silent, she continued.

“We’re going to need several of you all as distractions while I channel a spell that I hope is enough to let us break the beast.”

The sailors saluted.

“By your grace!” one exclaimed.

Celestia looked past them towards the storm. “We need every lifeboat and javelin we can collect for this. I can’t promise you all will return whole, but if we work together, maybe we can minimize casualties.”

The group seemed to collectively nod, standing at attention as Celestia continued.

“Two, three in the rafts at most, one man steering, the others throwing javelins. If my assumption about the beast is correct, than we’re facing an adolescent. The youths are smaller and more inclined to act aggressively without provocation. As such, they’re more easily distracted than an elder.”

Looking at the men, she sighed. “I promise… buy me some time, and I should be able to protect the ship.”

“For Cabello!” one roared, “for her sovereign queen!”

Though she herself preferred the title princess, in honor and respect of her mother and father’s legacy, she took the words to heart, bowing her head in respect to the sailors. “May the light shine on your path, now and forever.”

Rarity sprinted downstairs, taking the steps two at a time, her mind blinded briefly as a single thought flooded her mind.
Kraken. Kraken. Kraken, she repeated within herself, the word feeling as deep as a religious mantra.

She threw open her door and ran to Jack, shaking her.

“Jack, darling. Get up!” she barked. The farmer flinched, her expression changing from neutral to troubled, then, finally, sleep was pulled from her and she grit her teeth, looking with bleary eyes to her wife.

“Rare? What…?” she trailed off, taking in a breath.

“The medicine, has it helped any?” the other asked, already taking the sheets off the bed and grasping Jack’s wrist, pulling her to a sit.

Still not following, Jack dumbly nodded. “A bit, I guess. Why?”

“Celestia says there’s a monster attack coming. We need you.”

At that, the farmer broke fully from sleep and she nodded, letting Rarity pull her out of bed. Her legs buckled underneath her, but Rarity caught her before she fell, straightening her up and moving to directly face Jack.

“Can you manage?” the soul-folk asked, worry lining her face.

Jack swallowed, her throat dry. But she nodded, finally.

“Not much choice. Help me out,” she instructed, cocking her head to her armor.

Rarity moved briskly to it and grabbed the individual pieces for Jack as the farmer stripped down. Jack reached over to the nightstand and picked up a silver cross necklace, which she promptly donned around her neck.

After her granny died, Jack took to wearing it when she traveled. It was the old woman’s, and it made Jack feel as if her granny was there watching over her. Though she kept it for spiritual reasons, there was a practical sense to the accessory too: the undead feared silver. It reacted to the magical aura produced by the beasts of the night, oftentimes blinding them. Though Will had said even a strip or ball of silver would do the trick against the monsters, Jack felt the cross held more power within it, something Dash always gave a bemused snort at.

Either way as she donned it, she took in a breath, trying to fight through her sickness as Rarity began putting the armor onto the farmer.

“Did she say what it was? A Merfolk? A Drowned man?”

“It’s,” Rarity tugged at Jack from behind, pulling the armor closer to her skin. “It’s a kraken.”

“A kraken.” Jack froze, unsure. “How does she expect us ta fight somethin’ like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hell,” Jack said to herself as Rarity donned another piece of her armor on for her. “Guess we’ll jus’ do what we can.”

“I expected nothing less from you.”

“Spike!” Pinkie called across from the deck. The dragon-child paused, looking behind his shoulder. The earth-folk approached him, her face etched with concern.

“Where are you going?”

He raised a single finger, pointing out to the ocean. “With the sailors,” he said.

“Spike, that’s crazy talk, you’ll just—”

“Get in the way?” he crossly asked, tilting his head.

“Get hurt,” she answered, “I know you want to help, silly, but we’re out of our element here.”

“Every sailor here is out of their element. They’re not soldiers or the guard,” Spike countered. “I can make a difference out there, Diane.”

“Or you get yourself killed in your macho man dick-waving contest,” Pinkie blurted out.

Spike flinched, then balled his fists up. “That’s not why I’m doing this,” he hotly countered, “do you not get that I’m finally able to do something to help, and you think I’m doing this just to look good for you? Diane, don’t.”

“I’m worried about you, dum-dum!” Pinkie exclaimed. “What if you get hurt?! I’d feel awful about it!”

“Well I’m sorry, ok?” Spike retorted, “you’re not getting me to change my mind here, even if it does hurt your feelings.”

He snapped back around and took to quickly walking, catching up with the other sailors.

Pinkie looked to him, frowning. “If that’s the way you wanna play,” she muttered out, sneaking behind the boy as he traveled towards the rafts.

By the time that Jack made it upstairs, the sky had taken a dark, ominous hue. The storm that, moments ago, was a troubling threat in the distance, had gained traction, overtaking the once-beautiful day.

“What the…?” Jack managed to trail off, astounded at the nightmare she stepped into. Wind howled, stumbling her almost as bad as her sickness as the ship rocked hard against the rugged waves.

“Quickly, Jack!” Rarity called out, taking her wife’s hand and moving them both towards Celestia.

“Thank the heavens you’re awake,” Celestia remarked on seeing the farmer. “It won’t be long before the creature arrives.”

“What do I need ta do?” Jack asked

“In a moment, I’ll begin channeling a spell that may disrupt the beast. During the process of casting it, I cannot be interrupted, even if the creature attempts to attack me directly. The spell will take longer to cast than I prefer—I have a barrier spell on the ship which is draining my abilities. Hopefully that will stop the creature from just splitting the ship in twain. Jack, you have to guard me.”

“And I?” Rarity questioned.

“Assist Jack in every capacity you can.” Thunder rumbled overhead and Celestia worryingly looked up, dropping down to her knees and clasping her hands in her lap. “I have to start the spell, now. Jack, I trust your judgement on orders, direct the men if they falter.”

“W-what? Princess, I ain’t got—”

“Nobody has an idea. You’re the closest thing that does. Just focus and stay calm. Trust in yourself.”

With that, Celestia shut her eyes and took to soundlessly speaking words, the way her lips moved reminding Jack of her sister reading a book, forming the words as she looked over the pages but never actually saying them.

Reaching to the satchel at her side, Jack pulled out a vial and uncorked it, coating her greatsword with it, then tossing it Rarity’s way.

“And this is?” the tailor questioned, sniffing the vial and gagging at its potency.

“A lil’ concoction. Lime, rosemary, grounded silver are the main ingredients. They’ll act like a poison against this thing—sea monsters can’t stand lime.”

Rarity nodded once the practical aspect of the vial was explained and withdrew her saber, coating it in the poison. She turned to look at Celestia.

“I certainly hope you know what you’re doing, your highness,” Rarity said under her breath, turning to face the oncoming storm.

Spike had got to the raft and set down into the water when he saw it through the blinding rain that chilled him down to his very being. At first he thought the rise of the ocean amid the foamy mist of the rain was all it was, a heavy tide sweeping the horizon and fast approaching the ship. Then the so-called tide rose, far and beyond what a mere surge of the sea would entail, and water began pouring off from where Spike believed the waterline to be, revealing clammy, brown-orange, rubbery skin. Its size was impossible, a height that stood easily the length of the grand hall within Camelot. The creature opened and shut the hundreds of eyes adorning its body, reminding Spike of a disfigured child waking up from a slumber as it took in the world around it.

The man Spike rode with on board the raft stared up, open-mouthed and speechless at the colossus before them. The torrents of water falling down its body finally slowed down enough to let other noises reach Spike’s ears. The clamor of the other rafts, the sound of his heart beating and screams—screams came in unison—everyone, it seemed, let out a panicked yell at the beast, Spike included—and the beast responded in kind, opening its beaked mouth the size of a train cart and bellowing back at the insects. Spike saw dozens of tongues twisting and writhing within its gaping maw and Spike froze, knowing that he should take action, but not knowing what action to take. The krakken decided for him. The maw—the maddening, tongue-filled maw opened again and the appendages stood straight at attention, springs within an incomprehensible machine to Spike, coiled and ready to launch.

He hated it when he was right.

The tongues propelled forward, faster than a bolt across all directions, beyond where the dragon-blood could see through the inky dark.

The tearing of wood and screams he heard echoing everywhere around him said all that was needed to on where they went.

The man he rode with twitched, his hands trembling at his side as he let out a small gasp, trying to draw air.

Piercing through his neck was a feeler that seemed to realize it was being watched: it danced and swayed for Spike as it crawled through the man’s flesh. Finally a few inches free, its tip opened, spreading into five distinct parts like a flower bloom, the exposed veins within reeking of decay and the sea, before it pulled back, still holding the spread-open bud and taking the near-dying—

Dead, he’s already dead I can’t do anything because he’s already gone.

—dead sailor with it, pulling him along like a ragdoll through the air.

The beast rose from the water in the distance—Jack could just barely make out its towering silhouette of the beast amid the rafts below. It bellowed, the noise and the screams it drew from the sailors so painfully loud that even from their distance, Jack and Rarity flinched.

“What in God’s name…?” Rarity trailed off.

Whether it was a sound that somehow came to her above the rain and chaos, the effects of combat training and in-field experience with Will and the others, or, perhaps even a spark of divine intervention, Jack felt the sudden urge to act. She dove for Rarity, tackling her at her side and knocking them down just as a long tendril shot forward, its speed almost ungodly as it crashed against the deck and, surprisingly, the tip of the tendril simply bounced off.

Celestia let out a small hiss, but remained otherwise serene within the meditation.

Once more proving to be a doer rather than a thinker, Jack was up on her feet as soon as the object hit and didn’t hesitate to bring her greatsword to hand and swing, cleaving the object in two.

“What?” Was all Rarity could stammer out, rising after a moment’s pause.

“Part of the krakken, gotta be,” Jack deduced, clenching her teeth and willing the gears in her head to turn.

Spike watched the sailor fly through the air and towards the kraken's maw, alongside dozens of other bodies embedded in its hooked tongue, many dead, others howling as they were drug, clenching fruitlessly at their arms, their legs, their stomachs, wherever the tongue had embedded itself. As it loaded man after man into its mouth it froze, seemed to be stunned by something, before bellowing, in obvious agony from something and it thrashed its massive body about while its eyes twitched and swirled in its sockets, convulsing. From the sea rose one of its arms and it lifted it high, the appendage well over its already huge head, and slammed the arm down into the water in pain and frustration, summoning a tide from the impact.

The boy yelled, clutching the sides of the raft for dear life amid the churning waves. It was to no avail, however, when another wave came down, the force flipping the raft as if it were plywood and throwing him with a yelp underwater.
Another leg of the creature swept beneath the waves, twisting and disorienting him as the force spun him head over heels. Gasping in surprise, he watched with a growing sense of panic as his precious breath was stolen from his mouth, the bubbles at least showing him the direction to the surface. He struggled upward, feeling every pulse within him beg for air, for release.

“The screams…” Rarity trailed off.

“They’re horrible,” Jack agreed, watching what she could see through the darkness. “There’s nothin’ we can do, sug.”

“We should be out there,” Rarity said. Though, admittedly, she wasn’t sure how much she meant that—there couldn’t be much they could do that the sailors couldn’t do better. Aside from one ghastly attempt Jack made to showcase gigging to her, Rarity had never handled a spear or javelin. Likewise, while she might have the strength to force a rowboat along quick enough, stamina was still a lofty goal, unachieved. She’d be a burden out on the water like she was now and she grimaced, wanting to go but knowing she had to stay.

Jack said nothing, merely letting her arms fall to her sides, the greatsword still ready to snap out and strike anything their way, but relaxing her body for the moment, while they could rest.

Truth was, Jack wished Gilda was here. Gilda and Dash both, but the griffon-folk especially. Gilda could arm and fire one of the ballistas on the ship in a heartbeat—Jack didn’t have a clue how to work one and even if she did, she didn’t trust herself not to accidentally hit someone—she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if that happened.

Spike swam for the surface, clawing and struggling up for everything he was worth. Just as he almost broke free of the ocean on his shoulders, the beast shifted, the water around its legs kicking up and forcing the dragon-blood down. Still he swam, trying to summon his last ounce of strength to pull himself free but, as the ache in his lungs turned from painful to unbearable and took to cramping in his chest he let out a choked gasp. His vision blurred, then dimmed as weakly pawed upward and soon after, his sight faded completely.

The appendages launched, this time directed, directed towards the thing that hurt it, and they rained down upon the ship in a volley of arrows. Rarity tucked a pinkie into her palm and rolled her wrist; her hand became enveloped with a light blue aura, the soul-folk’s magic springing to life and quickly summoning a sphere around Celestia, Jack and herself. The abomination’s tongues bounced off the dome, creating a ripple with every impact against the shield that vibrated and distorted the surface of the spell, but not piercing it.

Jack stepped beyond the dome’s safety once the first volley ended, chopping and swinging against the invading objects, dismembering them as a scythe against wheat. One came too close for comfort, snapping up with the speed and movement of a snake—Jack caught it in her palm, unflinching as the tongue opened and spread into five parts, trying to strike and snap at her, opening and shutting itself in an attempt to bite the earth-folk.

Rarity had been around Jack long enough to know when an idea sparked to life within her—the way her hands would twitch and the way her knees would bend just so, and right now, it was clear she had a plan.

Pulling the creature’s part back, Jack reentered Rarity’s protective shield. The soul-folk’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the writhing, snapping thing, but she kept her complaints to herself, both because strong emotions, especially when spoken verbally, could cause her magic to become unstable, resulting in her shield dispersing, and because at least she wasn’t holding the garish thing,

Jack reached into her pocket, pulling out a corked vial. Popping it open with her teeth, she poured the concoction down into the thing’s innards.

As soon as the liquid made contact it went wild, convulsing, throwing itself side to side, snapping itself open and shut, trying to dispel the poison it imbued—Rarity could already see blisters forming where the oil had touched, and the creature had already turned an off-white, greenish tint at the head of the tongue—Jack threw it outside the bubble and it lay lethargically on the deck, only able to tilt upward as the others grew wilder on their assault, furious at Jack’s action.

“What are you doing?” Rarity asked. Jack offered a thin smile.

“Pissin’ it off.”

Spike drew in a breath, pulling the air in him so frantically and urgently that his lungs hurt. There came a reassuring palm on his cheek,

“There you are, silly-billy,” Pinkie said with forced cheer. She tried to smile. “I-I thought I lost you. This isn’t the time for hide and seek.”

Spike felt his lips tremble, but he did his best to hold it off, instead tightly hugging the pink-haired woman.

“Spike,” she said, briefly turned serious as she rested her chin on the top of his head.

The moment died as the beast bellowed. It was furious, the tantrums it had thrown earlier were nothing compared to now. It screamed in blind fury once more, this time churning the water as it swam for the ship, hellbent on snapping it like a twig.

“Steer,” Spike ordered, moving from Pinkie and grabbing a spear. “We’ve got a job to do.”

The kraken blasted towards the ship, Jack’s breath quickened with every foot the beast gained on them. Bringing it close was a double-edged sword. She might be able to get a few hard swings to it up close, likewise the sailors, what few survived the kraken’s wrath, would be safe from its rampage.

On the other hand, she might not be strong enough to conquer a beast that big, lime in its bloodstream or not. Not to mention the ship; it might not even stand the monster’s attack.

“Keep Celestia safe,” Jack instructed.

“As if I had any other plan,” Rarity countered, then shook her head. “How on earth are we going to…?”

“I dunno! We stall it as long as we can!” So saying, the farmer moved through Rarity’s protective shield. She held her weapon high, standing an immovable object to an unprecedented force.

Rarity stood behind her, watching Jack stand at the railing of the ship, a hard rock battling against the tide. She knew Jack was terrified, her attempt at commanding the tailor didn’t fool Rarity for a moment, nor did the dry swallow as she stepped out of the relative safety of Rarity’s dome spell, but the fact the earth-folk was willing to do the job nobody could or would do?

It made Rarity speechless at times. It was obvious she loved the woman—she wouldn’t have even considered marriage with Jack if she hadn’t—but until recently she never realized that she loved Jack enough that she was willing to fight alongside her step for step, even if it seemed hopeless, even if Rarity herself was so terrified the saber in her hand trembled and shook like she was an elderly woman preparing to sew. But it was no exaggeration that she owed the earth-folk her life several times over now and a member of the Belle family didn’t let such a thing go ignored.

With that in mind she canceled the spell at her hand and made a quick rechannel over Celestia’s body, sealing the kneeling soul-folk safely—safer, at least—away within a wall of magic.

She stood by Jack, the earth-folk’s earlier proud stance softer as she caught sight of Rarity.

“Get back in there, I got this,” Jack warned, cocking a thumb behind her.

“You could tell me the truth instead, Jack Apple,” Rarity answered, her heart beating so hard in her chest she thought she would die right then and there. “What are our odds. Honestly.”

Exhaling, Jack shook her head, watching the creature close the distance. They had a few moments. Not many, but a few.

“Captain probably won’t be able ta get us out in time,” Jack explained. “That thing matches our ship’s size, maybe up ta a pounds more. I ain’t sure how strong those things are. Hear full-grown can snap these things like pullin’ wings off a june bug. Maybe we’ll have more time if it’s a teen. Maybe.” Jack looked over to Rarity, her face lined with worry. “I’m sorry I got ya involved in this, sug. I really am. Wish ya were back home.”

Rarity gave a flat expression. “I chose this,” she rebuked, pointing sternly at Jack. “Do not act as if I followed you like a lost dog.” Swallowing, she let out a huff, attempting to keep her regal mannerisms and tone in check despite her fear. “Besides. We’re not dead yet. So save the apologies for tonight. I’ll want two, no, three glasses of wine, a shiatsu massage, and a warm bed to dispel this dreadful rain.” She gave an aghast raise of her free hand. “My poor hair cannot stand this injustice.”

Jack knew Rarity was trying to comfort her in her own way. A promise of normalcy after the storm they found themselves in. And it was the comfort and a promise whispered by the tailor that always helped soothe her panic and kill her dread dead in its tracks.

“I don’t even know what a she-aught-sue massage is,” Jack sheepishly admitted.

“I’ll show you so you know how to give me one. Tonight. I promise. For now though, we’ll simply deal with what’s coming.”
A thin smile came to Jack. “Promise,” she quietly agreed.

The krakken came closer, clearing the length of a football field in a matter of moments and now close enough that the conversation died in its tracks. In a way, they had everything they needed to say to one-another, in another way, they said it all with their silence.

As Jack watched the creature finally come into a close-enough view for her to see its features, rather than suggestions the shadows gave to her, she could see it was grinding its teeth in anger.

She gripped her sword tighter, daring the monster to make its move.

“It’s close to the boat!” Pinkie called out, her breathing labored from rowing and her adrenaline high finally dying.

“I know,” Spike tersely replied, looking towards the creature as it stood, no more than a larger passenger train’s length away.

“We got to do something! If we don’t—”

“I know, Goddamnit!” he yelled. “Let me think!” The shout seemed to give Pinkie pause. She looked at him as he took a moment, just a moment to go over options.

There had to be something he could do. They were out of time—the sailors, what few remained, wouldn’t get close enough to the beast for the javalins to be effect before Jack or Celestia or, worse still, Rarity, was killed, not to mention the ship. If it sank, all of them were good as dead out in the rain with no supplies.

It came to him what he could do, what he should've done earlier when he had fallen into the water—he was terrified then, was still terrified now, but now at least he held a semblance of rational thought and insight. Spike picked up a spear and reared back. A normal man wouldn’t hit from this far, even the strongest earth-folk or Norfolk would just make it, and make it off target, odds were.

A dragon-folk, though…

His instincts slowly sparked to life as his mind seemed to grow feverish and painfully hot. The sound of the rain increased in volume. But, rather than deafening him as a waterfall would, he simply heard though the constant murmur of a storm and heard the individual drops of rain around him. In front of him, he could hear Pinkie’s heartbeat drumming in its mortal cage, every breath she took in her panic urgent. He could smell her too, and that was a part of why he rarely took this form. The smell was hard to deal with, hard to resist. She smelled like pleasant summer evenings. She smelled like wine. She smelled of spices, of meats, of candy. She smelled of desire, of want. Of his need.

He tuned it out as best he could, though it left a dull throb within him, cooled off, but not completely absent, her form always at the back of his mind. Another time and he might have relished her just a little longer, just a little more in-depth. Now, on the other hand…

Now he focused on the distinct pop and crack of his biceps and forearms adjusting as they became objects of concrete, a well-built foundation to place a house on.

His entire arms took on a green coloration, gaining muscle mass and turning his normally limp body rigid, overflowing with strength. The arms then hardened, growing leathery, from there came purple scales, giving his body a sort of reptilian sheen. His hands followed this process, adding sharp claws to his fingertips before he caught himself and took in a breath, slowing the transformation process to a crawl, preventing himself from turning fully draconic. Though he was in control, mostly, while in that, some thoughts were more tempting. Some, like what he wanted to do to the woman beside him, were downright maddening when he was fully controlled by his bloodline, but they could be held back. There was an even more important reason why he held back his transformation. He didn’t want Pinkie to look behind her and cringe at his appearance. The thought of scaring her? Of making her afraid of him? It made him hurt.

The process had concluded as he had finished his thoughts. He gave a squeeze of his hand, feeling its power course through him.

And with that power, he reared back and threw.

The krakken came to the boat and brought its arms free from the grasp of the ocean. The torrent of water from the creature’s raised arm poured downward upon the two, slipping Jack and dropping her onto her back. Rarity spat and sputtered at the action, but managed to stay upright.

There came a crack from the mast and Celestia let out a sharp cry of pain; Rarity looked behind her. Celestia still sat, shielded from what they faced. However, her arm was beaten, bruised. It trembled, trying to grasp, but ultimately hanging limply to Celestia’s side. Rarity’s eyes widened in alarm, making a connection only a soul-folk and their knowledge of spells, no matter what their level of magic was, could.

It would take a lot out of Rarity, but it was urgent she get the krakken off the ship, and get him off now, if Celestia had active the spell Rarity thought she did.

The soul-folk put her index and middle finger at the base of her saber and stretched her fingertips a few inches up the metal; as she did this, a blur of speed shot from beside her. Jack, up and charging towards the only thing her sword could even attempt to hit at the moment.

Rarity’s magic was at its limits; to stop herself from overwhelming her innate power, she took in her breath and relaxed her mind. The ethereal, magically powered armor she wore vanished, leaving her only in a button-up shirt and leather leggings. Vulnerable.

Still refusing to retreat despite her worry, she gripped the sword in both her hands and swung.

As the blade traveled its vertical arc, her magic stretched and then detached from the blade, launching across the deck and striking the kraken's leg, just as Jack ran to the ship’s mast and sprang off it, swinging overhead at the apex of her jump.

Jack hit and hit square, the length of her blade drawing a deep cut into the beast’s tentacle. It screeched, bellowing in agony at the wounds. The monster gave up on anything resembling finesse and brought its massive tentacle downward at Rarity, too fast for her to dodge, too massive to simply withstand.

The heavy footsteps of Jack pounded over the rain and the beast’s indignation. She appeared before Rarity, her form braced, already anticipating the monster, the flat of her greatsword up and ready to absorb the blow before it could hit the seamstress.

Seeing the earth-folk gave Rarity a brief renewal and her burst of energy let her make a gesture not seconds before the blow would have crippled Jack despite her strength, but rather, an instant, no more than an eye’s blink. A shield spell flickered to life, absorbing most of the impact. Even then, the blow making Jack’s legs nearly buckle; she braced and remained standing despite her shaking body, holding against it with every ounce of power she could muster.

Rarity, meanwhile, felt an agony she never had before tear through her head. Her weapon fell to the deck with a clatter and she dropped to her knees, clutching at her forehead. Her brain felt like it was a red-hot poker, scalding, the pain nearly blinding her. There came a hot trail that rolled from her eye down a cheek.

It’s not a tear, the small, rational part of her warned, the whisper urgent in its attempt to break her away from her pain. You know what it is, dear. You’ve heard the speeches back at the academy, you’ve seen Twila’s end result. Act. Now.

Rarity dabbed a finger at her cheek regardless of the voice, confirming her fears. Blood.

When a soul-folk pushed themselves beyond their magical limits, when they fought through their fatigue and continued using spellwork when their bodies couldn’t physically handle it, the magic within them turned their strength into weakness. Their magic when taxed would, for lack of a better word, cook their brain and kill them.

Rarity couldn’t do magic anymore. If she did, there was an absolute guarantee she would die. The unofficial rule of thumb back at the soul-folk academy was that one eye was your body’s last, desperate warning to you, an ultimatum: stop or die. If both eyes bled… Twila was the exception to the rule, exceptions Rarity could count on one hand and one finger. She couldn’t afford to die here, at least not like this.

Closing a fist, her pulse beating so hard in her temples she thought her eardrums would rupture, Rarity canceled her magic, dispelling the enchantment from her blade, the shield protecting Celestia, and, reluctantly, the ward guarding Jack; it all faltered and failed at once, gone like a thief in the night. The soul-folk fell face-down onto the deck and numbly lost consciousness.

“Rare!” Jack cried out, looking over her shoulder as she struggled against the beast’s leg. Rather than lifting it up and slamming it down like Jack had anticipated, it simply pressed down harder on the farmer, intent to mash her like a man would an ant. Her legs buckled and she dropped down to a knee, her sword and strength the only thing standing between the kraken and Rarity.

Putting everything she had into her, she fought against the weight, every part of her body cramping against the increasing pressure, bones popping and creaking in protest to her action, her eyes wide and burrowing hatred against the creature, yet it still wasn’t enough. Her strength was losing, the beast gained scant inch after inch and with her power fading so to did any chance Rarity or herself would live.

Right before she faltered fully, the beast let out a shrieking wail and its leg lifted. Jack stumbled forward, landing on her hands and knees. Looking up at the krakken, she froze.

Protruding from one of its dozens of eyes was the head of a spear, the wooden handle barely visible amidst the blood and liquid mess of its ruined eye. As Jack watched, the creature flinched and turned from the boat. Another spear was embedded into its back, no more than a foot of the wood visible. It prepared to chase after its unseen attacker right as Celestia opened her eyes.

Gone were the normally kind violet eyes of the ruler of Cabello. Instead they were replaced by two orbs of white light so blinding that they illuminated the ship in their incandescence. Jack felt a sense of comfort take her heart and a hush fell over the area, even the kraken in its limited intelligence was quelled to calm.

The all-folk rose and began speaking, her arms spread out in an almost messianic posture—inviting, welcoming. The words made no sense to Jack, but the power every syllable held in its tone and inflection let her know that they were words of power—the tongue only all-folk held full mastery over. The language that allowed spells beyond those of any average soul-folk, the speech of kings, as Twila had put it a time or two.

And from Jack’s own experience with those words, she could understand what Twila meant.

Thunder rumbled above as the rain ended and the clouds seemed forcibly torn asunder, letting a large hole of pure light from the sun shine down upon the ship.

If Jack had blinked, she would have missed it.

From the heavens, as sure and as instant as God’s own judgement, came a blinding bolt of light, slamming into the kraken and disintegrating it, its body black ash. In the same second even that ash being destroyed. And, to Jack, not even that word described what happened—it was if the beast’s existence had been removed, taken away and revoked. The water around where the monster had stood wasn’t even stirring from its sudden displacement.

On finishing the spell, Celestia’s eyes, seconds ago brimming with righteous judgement and indignation, returned to normal. She stared up, looking miles away as the clouds slowly gathered back. The wounds her body held and had somehow obtained during the encounter with the beast made her sink down, the fatigue obvious on her ageless face from the injuries and magic.

“Call in the sailors,” she commanded quietly, seeming to acknowledge Jack without looking towards her, “we’re free to depart now.” With that, Celestia collapsed.