https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CAfgLE85No0

Nyx swept a hoof outward to the form, constructing atom by atom, molecule by molecule right in front of Fear's eyes, made of dream building blocks and memories. It had its home in Nyx's mind, a parasite to the stallion's memory. He was host to all sorts of creatures and experiences that continued to throb within the dreamscape, just waiting to be revealed.

The dragon before Fear was covered in chunky, overgrown, iron colored scales with chipped edges here and there, looking a little like protruding stalagmites made of unrefined iron. Chaffed silver underbelly covered in scars. Broad, bulky chest with some fat under the thick horizontally ribbed hide that went from chin to tail. Huge, muscled arms, standing quadrupedally, with stubbier hindlegs. Long, snake-like tail that was twice his body length. Oversized wings that folded into itself like compacting fans. Slate gray membranous tissue connecting the bones. Piercing golden irises with crimson rods, seeming to jut out slightly from his corneas, the slitted pupils inset stared deep into the young stallion's soul. A grand, slightly gouging scar across his left eye. Fear always thought eye scars were cool. He was an intimidating force of nature that knew no bounds, whose rippling muscles could surpass any limit, whose acutely razor sharpened claws could cleave through titanium, whose wings could help him soar above the clouds. He came from the earth, and he conquered the skies. Dragon Lord Airyl. Fear noted he smelled strongly of sulfur. Like a campfire or gunfire.

As the personality was recalled like a programmed AI, Nyx spoke. “My friend dragonlord Airyl here was a bitter creature, and yet still he cared for his kind. He'd known only unrequited love for various reasons. I hope you will never go through that, young Fear.” Nyx's draconic pupils contracted. “He was abused by his father, yet healed himself for the sake of his kind.” As Nyx spoke, those memories coalesced behind Airyl's eyes, giving them life. “Even then he still had elements of a hatchling hiding in his... hide. He liked to play with his food, and would act like his gems were birds of prey.” Nyx dipped his head, smiling from ear to ear at the memory.

“Why didn't you ever show me him when I was practicing befriending creatures?”

Nyx looked back up, humming, the act contagious. “To be honest I did not think you capable of befriending leaders at the time.” The young stallion glanced at Nyx and withered. “Don't be like that,” he chastised without looking at him. “You were already incredibly overwhelmed during your training. Do you really think you would have been comfortable with that?”

“Yeah, but... Solanum was a leader.”

Nyx nodded. “Exactly.”

Fear just huffed, glowering at the sight in front of him.

“Now, chin up. Put on your A-game young Fear. I'm bringing the construct to life. He will ignore my presence. Try not to act like food for him.” Nyx shot Fear a sly grin and stepped to the side.

Airyl's eyes lit up, and with one deft movement rose to his hindlegs like he was a bipedal creature by nature, crossing his forelegs over his chest and flaring out his wings wide. A bellow escaped his lips, straight from the gut. A type of speaking Fear could learn from. “Who dares enter my presence!?”

Fear straightened himself out, jerking his head to the side to crick his neck, and rolled his shoulders backwards. He took a step forward and pulled straight from his gut, matching the dragon lord tone for tone with a glare on his face. “My name is Fearei Shatter! I am a friend here to coexist!” While the memory didn't know they were on the moon, Fear did. It was strange, being so out of place.

“Bah! Mere words from a tiny pipsqueak!” The dragon fell down onto all fours, sending a cloud of dust rocketing across Fear's body, making him squeeze his eyes shut and curl away on reflex. “Can't even stand strong in the face of a little dust! How can I trust you to be amongst my kind and be strong enough to aid us? Strong enough to take care of yourself!? You are no more than a whelp!”

Fear struggled to remember his training with dragons, and took a defiant step forward, keeping his head slightly bowed in a faint display of passivity. A strange combination of traits that barely worked together. “Oh yeah?” He dared puff out his chest and demand. “I implore you try staring straight ahead when smoke is in your face!”

“Hah!” The dragon was by far bigger than Fear, probably ten or twenty times bigger. “Little pipsqueak speaks big for such a tiny thing!” Airyl lifted a paw and hovered it over Fear's head.

Fear didn't flinch.

Airyl brought the paw down on Fear's head, gently touching his stubby horn. “I thought unicorns were supposed to have huge, mighty horns!”

Fear took another step forward, still keeping his head lightly bowed in a show of deference. “Oh yeah? And I thought dragon lords were supposed to be,” language, Fearei he reminded himself, “terrifying! I see no such thing!”

Airyl's lips tugged into a slight grin. “Mighty spirit, little pony! But could you back it up in a contest?” There was an amused glint to the powerful, resonant voice.

“You,” language, “name it,” language, “Dragon Lord Airyl! I'll come in second place, but I'll survive with my own skill! I guarantee it!”

Airyl lifted his paw, setting it back on the ground, and guffawed. “Mighty indeed. I would love to see you conquer one of your little pony games. Put on a good show for me, and I'll consider your presence among my kind!”

Fear knew from chatting with Nyx that you did not actually need to win a contest put forth by a dragon. It was important to just try, and shit talk the entire time you were doing it. It was all about flaunting, all about the display. Even if you lost, if you did it with more style than your opponent, you still won. Being number one, having strength was important, but it was all about the spirit, your best effort. Fear watched as the simulation ended, and Nyx stepped forth.

“Very well done, Fear. I think you're ready to meet some dragons.” His voice was a low, deep purr. “Time and time again you've exceeded my expectations, and modeled yourself to fit the ideal of every creature I've shown you.”

Fear shrugged a shoulder, cocking his head to the side. “Well I had a superb teacher, so...” Fear trailed off. “By the way, Nyx, I've always wondered. What's up with your eyes?”

Nyx lifted an eyebrow. “I'm surprised you never asked before.”

“Well...” Fear began. “I always assumed it was due to the nightmares ever since Princess Luna showed me her Nightmare Moon form.”

Nyx's face turned to one of surprise. “Oh? And what made you ask?” His head leaned back slightly.

“Hm. I think it was because you don't seem like Saway, where nightmares are fused to you and her eyes aren't different solely due to it. They seem to leave you alone. Not only that but seeing Dragon Lord Airyl's eyes made me realize... yours and his look very similar. The rods are just as pronounced as his, just not a completely different color than the rest of the iris.”

“Impeccable intuition,” Nyx commended. “Yes, you are right. My eyes are similar to that of a dragon's, not because of the nightmares, but because I was gifted draconian magic before leaving their lands.”

Fear huhed. “Draconian magic? What's that consist of?”

Nyx leaned down to Fear's eye level. “Nothing incredible. Just resistance to heat, the power of flame breath. It's far more taxing than for a dragon because I do not have the specific organs that aid in the creation of the flames. Further, it's a dull orange rather than green or blue. Hardly very powerful.” He glanced to the side and grinned. “Just enough to dictate me as one of them.”

Fear's eyes were wide in awe. “That's still really cool!”

“You don't say?” Nyx's voice was distant, a smile present in it.

==========================================================================================

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpHOfln0qTI

Luna smiled, puffing out her chest and spreading her deteriorated wings wide. “And that is how Flash Magnus, one of the pillars of old Equestria, helped save his companions and prompted the creation of the Treaty of Dragoncross, thus cementing the dragon's respect for the equine species and proving we were worthy.” The alicorn gave a small nod, gazing down upon Fear and furling her wings back to her sides.

Fear yipped. “Wow! That was a great story! I sure feel bad for anyone who missed it!”

“Do you have any questions little Fear?”

Fear hummed, glancing to the side with his eyes, muzzle pointed straight ahead, lips pushing out slightly in a thoughtful expression, brow furrowed. “Well. I mean. It explains how dragons came to respect us, but what about how we became friends? You made it sound like the dragons were really on our case for awhile!” Fear hopped up onto his hindlegs for a moment, stomping his fore down onto the ground.

Luna simply grinned and reached out with a wing to caress Fear's chin affectionately, brushing across the fur. It felt weird, because the feathers weren't all there – it wasn't too luxurious. But even if it was just a dream, the physical touch felt wonderful. “There's not really much of a story to that, though it is as important as Flash Magnus' feat. One of the other pillars of Equestria, Mage Meadowbrook, befriended them for our sake when she cured... what they called wingbreak, what she called scalerot, ending a stand off at the border that had been going on for far too long. As she put it, 'they seem mean but they're really animals just like us.' She was an epitome of kindness during that day and age.”

The young stallion was kind of dazzled. He lacked the same colthood wonder he used to have, but it was made up for by a wizened appreciation of life and the past. “How'd she cure it?”

“She noticed the symptoms they spoke of, when she took the opportunity to talk to them, were the same as symptoms she had dealt with while taking care of animals in her home. She was the only pony to realize it. We owe the pillars for all their efforts.”

Fear seemed uncertain. Anxious about something. “Well that's all well and good but... what'd they do when the war came about? It seemed like we had a pretty good relationship going with them so... surely they helped us right?”

Luna wanted to comfort Fear, able to tell he was getting uncomfortable about the inevitable bad ending to this story. “Well, I suppose to lighten the blow, I should tell you that even though Meadowbrook's efforts led to peace between the two species, we were far from being on friendly terms as a whole. We mostly stayed separate, and there were sentiments of hatred between both sides, with dragons finding most ponies to be soft and sheltered, and ponies finding most dragons to be terrifying creatures with predatory habits. You could all it... jerkishness I suppose.” Luna looked off to the side at the stained glass windows depicting different moments throughout Equestria's history, including during the war, walking over toward a particular one while Fear followed behind her.

The one they stared at, the one that held their attention at that moment was a portrayal of a raptor-class cloudship named Dracocide scouring the earth with energy weapons, razing the earth and vaporizing bits of dragon. There was a sense of unease overtaking Luna. “Fear. You are familiar with propaganda, yes?”

Fear nodded. “I am. The Ministry of Morale used it constantly, and the Ministry of Image modified everything they could get their hooves on to be pro-equine during the war. Why?” Fear's gaze fell from the portrayal and onto Luna.

Luna's eyes narrowed. “The zebra's were very keen on manipulating most, though not all, the dragons of that time. The problem is, many innocent dragons, which are a normally nomadic species, were caught up in it. Many lives were lost due to the dragon specific weaponry held on those Enclave ships.” She looked down at Fear. “And do you know what balefire eggs are made of, little Fear?”

The young stallion took a step back, glancing toward the ground. He swallowed hard. He didn't like where this was going. “No. What?”

“They are made of primarily dragon eggs that have undergone rituals. Not only were dragons from that day and age betrayed by the ponies who had once aided them, not only were they betrayed by the zebras who promised them riches and notoriety in the face of a rising culture that vilified anything not equine, but they were also... little Fear. They were also betrayed by the very dragons that were pulled in by the propaganda. Those dragons took eggs and willingly gave them to the zebras.”

The amount of weight those words carried was intense. Fear had felt the miasma of Nightmare Pressure before, and this was akin to that, only far more miserable. Fear had been sure he was done with misery for a long time, but whenever he thought that, the past came rearing its ugly head. “So you're saying... saying that the dragons were victims?” He looked back up to Luna as he asked.

“Little Fear, I am so sorry, but yes. They were keen fighters, intelligent, dangerous, and many were killed. Nearly rendered extinct in their role. There was nothing we could do. Especially with... ministry mare Pinkamena Diane Pie going all in with her new job.” Luna's gaze returned to the stained glass. “She was damaged by the war effort, had no clue what she was doing. I should not have put all that pressure on her. She just wanted to make ponies happy. And through it she pushed everypony... no, everyone away. All the small things she did built up to one giant result.”

Fear watched Luna carefully, realizing she was trembling as if she'd fall apart any second. “We made a lot of mistakes in the past, Princess. All we can do is move forward and help the ponies in the present. Make a new future.”

Princess Luna breathed in, though she didn't need to. More a representation of her consciousness trying to relax. Her chest rose, and she looked back to Fear. “I know, little Fear. It will always be painful. But as you taught me, we can overcome with enough effort.” Luna put a hoof on Fear's head, lightly ruffling his mane. “By the way, I am really happy to know your father personally. I never mentioned but...”

Fear's eyes brightened a bit, focusing on Luna again as she pulled the hoof away.

“Your father sometimes puts on plays for me in his sleep. I missed the theater ever since my half death, and it is a pleasure to be able to indulge in the arts once more. You would not believe how difficult it is to read in your sleep.” Her tone was one of amusement, a gentle glee hidden behind her voice, cheeks rising up over her eyes in mirth. “So... thank you for introducing me to him. It has been a pleasure.”

Fear managed a small smile in return.

==========================================================================================

The dragonlands were exactly how Faith had described it in her story, but a little more colorful. The yellows and reds of the veiny magma gushing through cracks in the basalt rock generating gentle embers, with little lichens and small bushes of various plantation scattered around growing up from it all. There were volcanos scattered here and there, off and on active, but nopony seemed to mind.

Or so it seemed.

Fear was actually very scared of it all! Acrid was wary. But they were more than capable of getting over the small parts that disallowed traditional travel, with Fear using telekinesis to float his companions over, and making steps out of magic for himself to walk over a few feet above any of the acidic, heated streams. A combination of physical and mental effort.

Acrid, while stepping over a tiny crack of lava, huffed, his hackles rising on end. “You ever get the feeling that, like, something or someone's watching you?” He looked up from where he was walking, into the air.

Fear glanced back toward Acrid, being careful where he stepped. All the basalt rock was rather stiff and firm, none of it caving in under, but it never paid to be too careful! Faith had told him stories. Minor ones, of dragons falling in like a pony through ice. Difference was, dragons didn't die.

Gentler was the first to respond. “Yes. And now that you mention it...” His askew whiskers quivered a little as his snout wiggled. “It does feel like something's watching us.”

Faith stopped to point in the distance toward a large, towering rock that looked like a talon. “There it is! We're almost there!” She was of course referring to the specific landmark. “The dragons shouldn't have moved too far from where they were when I left. Either way, Drax will find us!”

Acrid was the first to put two and two together. “What if he already has found us?” Acrid rolled his shoulders a bit, glancing wildly from side to side for whatever was giving him that unsettling sensation.

Fear was the first to yelp, jumping backwards, drawing everyone else's attention and bringing them on guard, though Acrid mostly hid himself, as something seemingly materialized in front of him unexpectedly. “What the Tartarus!?”

What appeared was a four propeller drone. A magnificent work of art, looking to be made purely of bismuth, a veritable rainbow of colors, with a sleek design like a torpedo with a lens on the front, a holotape slot in back, and a turret on the bottom. It glistened and gleamed, like a glorious crystal. It looked like it was bathed in oil, with how spectral and glossy it was.

Fear was immediately on edge, having never seen anything like that before.

Faith, not feeling any sense of danger, pushed past Fear and squeed. “It's the Alicorsair!” The others looked at it curiously with mixed expressions, two worried, the other... well, Gentler had barely an expression at all besides amusement. Fear hadn't been able to sense this machine at all. Though... now that he focused on it, there was a faint sensation on the brink, close to nothing at all. It felt like he could barely grasp it, quieter than a whisper. A long forgotten echo of something else. Fear realized that the machine was feeding off of someone else's mind.

Drax? Fear glanced to Faith questioningly as the lens on the drone contracted before releasing a holographic image, life size, of the dragon Fear had heard about.

The dragon looked far more imposing in person than in any story. Fear came up to his knees. It was terrifying. The young stallion's ears folded back against his skull, intimidated by his sheer presence even as a hologram. It wasn't as powerful as Solanum, but there was a certain leader-like oomph Fear knew he didn't have.

The voice that spoke was low, guttural. Yet surprised. “Faith? Faith is that you!?” The hologram held his arms out to the mare, before realizing, when Faith tried to tackle him in a hug, that he was incorporeal and couldn't touch anything, coughing into a hand. “Ah, ahem. Right. It's good to see you again, but... what are you doing here?”

Fear knew from chatting with Faith that they had explored the capabilities of the Alicorsair. After Drax had aligned his mind with it, he could see what it saw as if a third eye, attuned to his soul signature. As he thought on it, he didn't even realize he'd completely lost track of Gentler and Acrid, too focused on the vague emotions in front of him that... he kind of felt.

Faith chirped like she'd never left at all. “I wanted to come check on you! It's been so long and I felt so bad that I haven't made the journey in so long! I... I missed you. And there was no way at my age I could be coming here to the dragon lands on my own all over again, even with the Alicannon. Raiders aren't as easy to take care of as you'd think.”

Fear guffed. “Well I mean... they're not that bad when you're a stealthy assassin and sniper like me.” He pressed a hoof to his chest while the other two glanced at him with a look of incredulity.

Drax had a hand against his face, stumbling back slightly. “I... I never expected this. Makers, this is... not good.” He murmured to himself. “Well, Faith. It's a pleasure to see you and your...” he glanced to Fear and Gentler, eyes glossing over Acrid. “New friends. Let the drone guide you to our home. You're more than welcome to stay for awhile.” And with that the hologram immediately ceased.

Gentler was silent. Acrid said the words Fear was thinking. “Huh, he didn't stick around long.”

Faith shrugged. “He... probably just wants to see us in person before we do introductions.” The preacher sounded unsure. Something was off about this.

But they followed the Alicorsair anyway.

==========================================================================================

Upon arriving, life became a sort of blur. There were various pastel dragons, with varying shapes, sizes, structures, and ages, some without wings looking more like drakes than proper dragons, all ranging from stout and blocky, all the way to lanky and curvy, and everything in between. Some clashing, others complementing, much like ponies, but far duller. Some of the youngest ones ran toward Faith, recognizing her and tackling her, still not quite old enough to gain their wings, but old enough to remember the mare.

Fear didn't know what to make of any of it, life seeping into everything as his friends tried to get to know some of the dragons surrounding them. Instantly hitting up conversation. The young stallion was at a loss, unsure where to start, or how to begin for that matter. Drax wasn't around right now. He overheard one of the whelps tell Faith that he was busy scavenging at the moment.

The first thing that stood out to Fear though were the vibes of disrespect he got from a little corner of dragons, looking to be teens, all but one having their wings. About four of them total. Fear made his way over to them slowly, wondering why they seemed so stuck up, a look of curiosity on his face. When he was within earshot he heard them chiding and deriding the group who had just showed up. Fear, still in a socially-induced fugue, though not nearly as bad as when he'd met everypony at the farm house in Dryfield, barely made out things like “weak ponies” and “not worth the effort to welcome them in.”

Fear called out to them. “Hey.” He puffed out his chest and cheeks a little, holding his head high. “I resent that remark!”

One of the dragons, a shade of melting greens and yellows twisted around to face Fear. “Quiet, whelp, adults are having a conversation.”

Fear scoffed, his head rolling up and to the side, eyes glancing away. “Is that so? I thought I saw most of the adults back there interacting with us. What's got your squad's panties in a knot? Afraid some ponies Drax thinks are important are too good for you?”

The dragon turned around fully and stomped up to Fear, poking a claw into his chest, nearly hard enough to pierce flesh. “Big words for a traitorous colt. And that's Drax Novus to you. He's our new leader. Show some respect, whelp.”

Fear pulled out a grin. “I'm Fearei Shatter, and you are?”

The dragon jabbed Fear again, pushing him back a step. “You don't need to know my name because there's no way you're even nearly as good as us dragons. Only way you can match our strength is with your bullshit energy weapons.” The dragons behind him cheered and whooped, encouraging their leader.

Fear just looked unamused, eyes lidded and lips frowning. By this point his friends had come up behind him, realizing something was wrong, and a few other dragons were staring. “Well, why don't you choose a game, anything you want, and I'll beat you at it, hooves down.” It was important to earn a dragon's respect, especially one like this.

The dragon teen smirked. “Brave little pony. Alright, how about a race down that.” He pointed to a volcano a few miles away. “You win, you prove you and your friends deserve our respect.” He then used the same hand to give a thumbs down. “You die, and you prove you're just fodder for the new dragon empire. Including Faith.” He jammed his thumb toward the mare.

Fear let out a bark of laughter. “Sure thing! You're on!” It was important to just try. He was... relatively sure they wouldn't let him die. Besides he had shadow walking and transformation, how bad could a little lava be?

Faith looked incredibly uncomfortable, her lips undulating and pulling downward, eyebrows leaning outward, bringing a hoof up to try and stop Fear and tell him it wasn't worth it while a bunch of dragons whooped and roared around her at the competition developing. Still, she trusted Fear, so she quashed her motherly anxieties.

Gentler just had an expression of infatuated shock and pride on his face, once more enamored by Fear's absolute gall. Just when he thought the equine would stop surprising him, he did it all over again, even harder than last time. It was almost demeaning.

Acrid on the other hoof stomped up to Fear. Sounding baffled, he rebuked the young stallion. “You're crazy! Absolutely nuts! You will catch fire and die! There's no way you can withstand that kind of heat Fear! Stop this stupid attempt at masculinity! It's not worth dying for!”

Fear just stood tall, waiting for the dragons to lead the way.

The dragon in the lead chortled. “I mean you're right little pony, he probably will! But if he has a deathwish none of us are going to stop him. Foolish creatures need to be put in their place. That's what Drax Novus says.”

One of the minions, having also been laughing as the group headed for the volcano, spoke up. “If we're feeling lenient we might pick him out before he catches fire! We don't want to get in trouble after all.” The dragon grinned. “Maybe anyway.” Then laughed again.

==========================================================================================

A few of the adult dragons, one rather ancient from the time during the war, expecting a good show from the pony who'd willingly challenged a dragon at one of his own games, helped carry the squad up to the top of the volcano. Fear appreciated the help, and voiced as much. It would have been far harder to get up on his own.

Acrid was terrified of heights, holding his eyes shut the entire time. Earth ponies belonged on the ground! He legit screamed his head off at one point, which caused the dragon holding him to play around and pretend to lose control of the air currents and plummet toward the ground.

Suffice to say, Acrid wet himself, embarrassingly. But he played it off and took it in good humor. He wasn't a total jerk.

Gentler was as stoic as ever while carrying Fear's saddlebags and weapons, but Fear could feel the thrum of fright deep within his core. He wasn't used to flying on anything other than an airship, and due to their conversations from the past had learned that Gentler preferred to avoid riding on them. Something about not believing they were able to work the way they did.

Faith trusted the dragons wholeheartedly and wasn't scared even slightly. She called to the others that Drax had carried her many times before and she'd always cheered and whooped during. She had a giant smile on her face the whole time – so happy to be spending time with the dragons again! Even if she was worried for Fear.

Fear on the other hoof was tentative, scared, and excited all at once. He was the type of pony who would choose the window seat on an airship cruise (not that he'd ever been on one) and worry about crashing at the same time. The adrenaline high was addicting, and the view was extravagant. The wind against the face was cool and lit up nerves in his brain he didn't know he had. It was wild, exotic. It made him wish he was a pegasus. His body shook in the grasp of the ancient dragon who held him, occasionally glancing down at his passenger with a glint of intrigue. Fear was already making waves, making ripples, even if foolishly.

As they were set down mindless chatter filled the air and everyone got into position. Fear could make out some of it, his companions being told that during the race they'd be carried down toward the bottom so that they could watch from a bird's eye view while they raced to the base.

The entire time, throughout all of this, Fear sensed the very faint presence of Drax, as if it was far away. Fear was certain that the Alicorsair was watching them. Watching him.

The green and yellow dragon from before picked up a couple rather hefty slabs of smooth stone, with a few ripples on it, and tossed one to Fear, who caught it in his magic.

Fear was thankful for his daily telekinetic lessons with Rose. They'd gotten strong together.

“Alright whelp, you sure you don't want to back down?” There seemed to be a hint of concern in the teen's voice.

Fear shook his head. “Nope. We're doing this. I'm going to prove ourselves to you. We can do this. I'm not some namby pamby pony who can't endure anything.” He flashed a grin. “Just make sure not to get in my way too much.” Fear winked.

The dragon smiled a bit, in awe of the young stallion's gall. Still, it seemed to be just that. He'd be singing a different tune once he got on the lava. “Alright. Your funeral. Luckily for you you're a unicorn so you don't need to worry about paddling to the slope.” The dragon's icy eyes, both in emotion and color, revolved in an arch. “By the way, the name's Tristram. You seemed to have earned that much, whelp.”

Fear smiled, making his way for the edge of the lava pool, glancing down the slope where there were many turns and obstacles. It was like a Sonic the Hedgehog level, where you could go the fast, dangerous path that had very few swerves but a lot of obstacles. Rather straight forward. Or you could go the meandering, slow path that was far safer. And there were also a few other paths in between, and they occasionally overlapped. Some had ramps you could slide past, others had deeper pits, pools of lava. The volcano's slope didn't go just straight down, it had a few plateaus where you'd need to keep your speed. “Nice to meet you Trist.”

Tristram just grinned, shaking his head. “You're a crazy equine, I'll give you that. Are you always like this?” The others were approaching from behind. None of the others were participating. This was just between Trist and Fear.

“I mean... sometimes you just gotta take the initiative, show bravery in the face of danger. Use what you have to your advantage.” Fear threw Trist a glance, setting his surfboard in the lava and hopping on it. Nothing happened, he didn't catch fire.

Trist was surprised to say the least, and it showed on his dumbstruck face. “How are you doing that?”

Fear shrugged. “Maybe I'll tell you when we get to the bottom.” He was swaying a bit, trying to keep his balance as he stood on all fours, using telekinesis pulses to lightly push his board to the edge of the slope where everything would begin. He'd have to choose which way he'd go. Fear could feel Trist conniving. It was succulent, directed at him. A sort of slimy obsession that tickled his mind. It was always attractive when others directed that feeling toward him.

“Right, whatever.” Trist hopped into the lava, his board sinking into it a little. It was viscous and springy, playdoughy. The dragon laid on his stomach on the board, paddling with legs and arms to get to the edge, before standing up, left side facing forward like he was getting into a fighting stance, balancing himself. “Be careful, Fear. I don't know if you've ever done anything like this before but it's not easy.” He paused. “I might catch you if you fall in. But you'll probably fall into the lava and get severe burns first.

The rock under Fear nearly seared his hooves, but he was using transformation magic to handle it. Even though he'd generated what amounted to thermophilic bacteria all over his body, especially his legs and hooves to create insulation, it didn't stop the dangerous heat from creeping up on him. But that was what the other morph was for. His legs covered in flame retardant proteins. It was difficult, and he couldn't do it forever, but he could do it long enough to get to the bottom.

Problem was, it was hard to keep his balance, and falling in wasn't going to do him any favors no matter how good at changeling magic he was. Fear silently thanked Emulae for her lessons on basic transformations that could keep him stable in even somewhat extreme temperatures. She'd also taught him about Dsup proteins, which were good for protecting against radiation, but it was difficult to manage them throughout his entire body still.

Emulae had taught Fear all she could, and it was now time for him to put the fruits of his training to the test.

Fear glanced at Trist with lidded eyes. “Just tell me when to start and we can get going.” Everyone around them watched with bated breath as Fear tilted and wobbled on his board, before finally finding his balance. Everything felt warm.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83MC2oCfogA

“On three.” Trist stated flatly. “One...”

Fear got low to the board.

“Two...”

Trist leaned forward, dipping a leg into the lava.

“Three!”

Both of them pushed off, Fear with telekines, Trist with a foot, and without further ado both of them were soaring down.

The heat flowing across Fear's face and body was blistering under normal circumstances, but as the wind pushed past his face, flattening his ears against his skull, he got low to the board, pointing his head forward, planting his hindlegs together behind him, increasing his aerodynamism. Lessons from Emulae again. As he realized the wind gushing past him was becoming unbearable for his eyes, he used a little transformation magic to give himself a second pair of eyelids, these ones transparent like a camel’s. It was good enough for a sandstorm but he’d find out soon enough if it was suitable for this.

Trist occasionally glanced toward Fear as they sailed down neck and neck, with the dragon slowly creeping forward.

Fear didn't hesitate, leaning to one side and sending his board nicking Trist's, causing him to stumble and laugh, lagging behind a foot. They were coming close to an intersection.

Trist pulled up a gout of flame in his chest and spewed it at Fear to scare him.

Fear just lowered himself closer to the board as the scenery blurred past him, going upwards of sixty miles an hour. The young stallion used telekinesis to keep the wind from launching him off of his board. He sped up. It'd take less than ten minutes for them to get to the bottom if they continued at this accelerating speed. Getting out of range of the gout.

Trist endured the wind pressure with sheer power. “Well, you're certainly skilled!” He shouted over the roar of wind and bubbling of magma. “But let's see if you're skilled enough!”

Fear knew exactly what the dragon's intent was. Go to the far right, his body reacted on instinct. Trist was going to go fast, so was he. Leaning nearly caused him to fall into the lava, but with a little application of telekinesis he stayed on, gently coaxing his small body down the speedier path.

Trist lowered a bit more, getting down to Fear's level. That was the only reason he was slightly faster. The dragon started gaining a little more speed, slowly encroaching on Fear as he turned the slant too.

Five miles left.

Fear was good, could sense organic life forms easily enough, but it was hard to avoid the rocks that jutted out of the lava and not crash into them. He would literally crash and burn if he hit one.

But this was where Trist's size came into play. Using his body he could more easily glide to the side without losing any speed. Fear had to make far more profound movements to direct his sled. His body was too small.

Trist passed by Fear by a couple inches.

Fear saw the dragon was climbing, getting further ahead. He had a few options, could swerve and try to knock him off – he'd be fine – or he could attempt to...

The young stallion aimed his sled at the next rock, leaning toward the back and causing his board to tilt upwards at the front.

Trist saw it when glancing to Fear again as the ground came closer.

Fear vaulted off the rock, rocketing into the air. He gripped the front of his board with his forelegs, speeding up as nothing but air pressure held him back. As he arced through the air, starting his descent, Fear tried to angle his slab just right for impact. Soaring through the sky was unpleasant, creating a fervor inside of him.

Fear glanced backward, feeling Trist's presence climbing up on him again. He'd done the same as him.

“Crafty little whelp!” He cried out, digging his claws into the stone and flapping his wings to keep him airborne. “You can't do this forever! I'm going to win! Once you hit the ground you're out!”

Fear held himself against his board tight, ears pressed against his skull. “Not if I do this!”

Trist gaped at the young stallion at the thought he had something more up his sleeve, while he descended as well toward one of the plateaus.

Four miles.

Fear, feeling the wind whip under him, making a cutting noise as he sliced through the air at a high velocity, used telekinesis to lighten his weight, nearly floating, letting his momentum carry him He could see the pool of lava coming up fast. Fear braced for impact. If he didn't do this right he was going to burn to death.

The young stallion fought to keep his eyes open against the wind blowing back his cheeks. So much speed! It was hard to focus. Fear took a deep breath... and sank into the shadows.

His board plunged into the lava, going at a rapid pace.

Trist screamed.

Fear's entire body was sizzling, there was so much light! But not that much. His body coiled around the board, straining tight to hold to it and not be yanked off. It helped that deep below the surface there wasn't quite as much light, but it still hurt, made him wriggle and squirm. It was low infrared glow but it was still light. There was just enough shade to keep him attached.

Consecutive pulses of telekinesis slowly angled Fear's board, curving it up and making it rise toward the surface.

Just a little bit more. Fear felt himself burst out from the surface of the lava a moment later. His board going flying again, surging into the air once more. He popped out of the shadows, gasping for air, a thin film of lava surrounding his board. It was incredibly hot to the touch! But he endured, even as the frogs of his hooves reddened. Fear tried to keep his transformation up. His teeth grit and his jaw flexed, his throat bulging out slightly as he swallowed hard, persisting through even the first degree burns. It cooled off quickly as air whiffed by him, soaring through the sky again, hooves made of shadows for just a bit longer to keep himself connected to the board.

Trist roared in frustration as he saw the pony overtake him by a wide margin, letting himself fall into the lava, splashing up a torrent, and trying to model his body after a bullet to go fast, arms extended behind him to make himself more angular.

Fear was more terrified than he'd ever been before. Being so high up in the air made his heart nearly stop, everything looking so small. The lava looked like blood vessels under flesh, brimming to the top, the few various vegetations looking like dots on the horizon. His organs were rising in his body from the lack of gravity holding him down, including his brain, making him light. He knew it wouldn't last. His breath coming out in short pants. Fear angled himself downward, intending to fall straight onto the steepest slope, using a little telekinesis to slowly line himself up. His body tingled. As he started to fall, all his organs dropped to the bottom of his body, throwing off his sense of balance completely. It was like being on a thrill ride at a theme park.

Stomach weak, Fear tried to keep himself in check.

Three miles.

Fear took a deep breath.

Sank into the shadows.

And nearly dove back into the lava on the slope as his board threatened to lose control, barely staying on a straight and narrow path. The ride was crazy, but he was doing it. He popped back out after a moment, the canyon-like walls that surrounded him threatening to topple over him as he wound from side to side, trying to keep going. His vision was hazy, his hooves burned, his focus failing him. His heart was pitter pattering in his chest. Everything was a blur.

Trist came up beside him, hugging tight to his board, trying his best to speed up. Impacting with the lava and kicking some up had caused Fear to slow down.

On second glance, Fear realized Trist was using his wings to speed himself up, using the wind currents to propel himself faster.

Two miles.

Fear morphed his body, trying to make himself more angular as well, but he could only go so far given his quadrupedal nature. Trist had far more flexibility over his body.

Trist smirked at Fear as he crept a little further forward.

Fear needed to do something! He needed to win!

There were swerves coming up. Fear leaned into them, Trist flowed past them, using as little motion as possible, keeping as straight as he could.

It was hard to keep up, Trist was going all out, he could tell. Fear felt intent emerge from Trist's consciousness. A desire to win unfalteringly. Fear prepared himself for the dragon to spin and send up a wave of lava behind him.

But it didn't come. Changed his mind.

Trist just sped up even faster.

One mile.

The base was coming up fast.

Fear needed to do something!

All the adrenaline pumping through him wasn't enough.

The speed was too much!

Fear's mind locked up.

Trist just kept going, showing off the difference in skill and capability.

Fear could use nightmare pressure! He couldn't bring himself to though. That was unfair. Trist hadn't thrown lava at him, how could he paralyze him after that?

The bottom was approaching fast. Zooming in too swiftly for comfort.

Fear gave in.

Trist crossed the finish line first, followed in short order by Fear.

Everyone was cheering.

Fear was disappointed, weighed down by his emotions. His lips tugged down into a frown.

But everyone was cheering. Even his friends. Acrid was whooping it up. Even the stoic Gentler was getting rowdy, pumping his fists into the air.

Fear pushed himself over closer to the edge, hopping up onto the rock, and collapsed on his belly. Adrenaline seeping from him in a single moment. He'd have to tell Trist how he did it. He mentioned he'd come close to trying to paralyze him and keep him from winning.

Trist, excited and brimming with primal energy, assured him that no amount of strange powers mattered. It had been a good contest. Next time he shouldn't hold back, even if he'd held back too.

Fear couldn't help but smile. He'd earned their respect, even if he lost. As the adrenaline high wore off, his breathing regulating, his muscles finally responding to him again, Fear realized he'd just done something incredible. He tried to convince himself that no imposter could have done that, but it was difficult. As he conversed with the dragons about the race, growing closer to Trist and his friends, Acrid looking on in bewilderment and envy, Gentler experiencing excitement and jealousy, Fear semi-healed the frogs of his hooves. The skin suffering from first degree burns peeled off forcefully, new skin taking its place. It would take a full hour for the pseudo healing to take place, sort of like when he'd shed and grown out his fur and hair, but it would keep him from feeling as much of the pain while walking.

==========================================================================================

The family of dragons and Fear's squad had congregated at a pool of magma a little ways away from the volcano, all of them chatting it up and shooting the breeze. Even Fear had joined in by this point, adrenaline having purged all hesitation and introversion from his system for a little while. Most of the dragons slipped into the pool, wading around in it, the children staying near the edge so they wouldn't fall into the deeper parts. It was good for their scales, strengthened their bodies. Like a mudbath. It was good for their souls. Fear, Acrid, Faith, and Gentler stayed on the rim, hanging out a couple feet away from the edge, letting it warm up their bodies a bit without burning them. It was better than a fire in the chilling air.

Trist was the first to speak up. “You, whelp, you know any good camp stories?”

A grin teased at Fear's lips as he dragged his hooves against the rock. “Hmm, I might know something like that Trist. Why do you ask?”

Trist guffawed. “Because, Fear, sometimes us dragons get together and a few of us tell stories for a couple hours while we wait for Drax to return. Then the next day we go on the hunt for gems and such. Not that there are many around anymore. Most were mined away.”

Fear hummed. “That's too bad, I'm sorry.”

Trist was genuinely surprised by the show of empathy. He just growled. “Shut up.” He glanced off to the side, blushing slightly, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. “We don't need your pity.”

Fear just looked down at the dragon in the pool next to him. “It's not pity. Just... empathy. I learned about you guys, what you've been through, sort of, from Princess Luna-”

Trist cut Fear off. “Princess Luna is dead, and good riddance to that traitor. She could've helped us, made sure we weren't taken advantage of. But no, we were divided, some becoming enemies to both sides. The oldest among us were eliminated.”

Fear's eyes lidded a bit, and he kept silent, holding his mouth shut for a few moments. Fear lifted his forelegs over his head and stretched, making his limbs quiver from the strain. “I don't blame you. You wanted stories right? I think I have one. I've been working on it for awhile. You might enjoy it.”

Trist grumbled. “Is that so? Well you can start us off then.” Trist rose his voice. “Everyone keep quiet! It's time for pony tales!” He held his hand out to Fear, gesturing to him. “Our guest is going to try to regale us. Don't give him the pleasure of easy applause.”

Acrid glanced to Fear. “You're really going to tell a story? You? The softie?”

Fear stuck his tongue out at Acrid. “I'm not that bad at stories, especially scary ones! I got a few under my belt!”

Gentler crossed his arms over his chest, lifting an eyebrow. “Now this I gotta see. You never told me you knew any scary stories Fear.”

Faith hummed happily, rocking in place.

A few dragons whooped, some whelps yelling for Fear to go ahead.

“Surrre, fine.” Fear ahemed, clearing his throat. “But my friends have to also give it a try later.”

Trist flicked a hand. “Sure, whatever.”

Fear nodded once, glancing from Tristram to the pool of dragons and his friends, starting up from the beginning. His voice was as slow as molasses at times, drawing out the story, letting every word sink in. Truth be told, Fear was incredibly excited, with adrenaline blossoming in his chest, a silent fervor raging through him that made him tremble on the spot. He was so enthusiastic about it he couldn't stop the smile from splitting his face.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OC9LjTeipI

“Deep in the heart of Manehattan on Silver Spear Avenue lies a certain boutique inhabited by a particular eldritch creature by the name of Slenderstal. A pony of madness, looking like nothing but an alicorn-sized mannequine towering over all who approach it. Its empty, eyeless face glaring at everything that draws near, pulling souls in and tempering them, manipulating them, molding them to its will like a soulless puppet trapping your willpower. It wears a fancy black suit and red tie, form fitting and perfect for its lithe, porcelain stature, as sturdy as metal, and as intricate as clay, and as still as concrete. White as bone, it lives within that boutique, waiting for hapless individuals to wander in with the intent of seeing all pre-war Equestria had to offer. Where there is so much gorgeous clothing, made of silks and other fabrics, this suited pony always catches your eye.”

“This story is about one specific filly coming across the boutique, who came in wanting nothing more than to scavenge a pretty little sundress to look cute in the desolate wastes. She wandered among the racks and aisles, pulling discarded, abandoned clothes out to see each and every one of them, occasionally examining the mannequines that wore such sultry and handsome wares. She couldn't help but imagine, as the air felt stagnant and heavy like usual, what life was like before the war, with ponies in these fanciful duds prancing about and making friends with everyone they came across. As she thought this, she heard a voice.”

“Little filly, do you wish for paradise?” Fear threw his voice, making it sound vague, distant, tantalizing. A controlling nature behind it that echoed loudly. It was a voice he'd learned from his battle with Solanum.

“The filly looked up from a dress that had caught her eye, and heard the voice speak to her again. It sounded like radio static reverberating in her mind.”

“Little filly, do you wish for good times?”

“Little filly, do you wish for good wares?”

“The filly wandered through the oversized boutique looking for the source of that enamoring voice, tastier than buckcakes to her ears. And when she found the source her jaw dropped, her eyes widening in awe. It was then she saw the pristine mannequine that had claimed so many victims before, victims that were all young and aspiring just like her.”

“Little filly, come closer, I have so much to share with you.”

“The filly was entranced, stumbling a bit as she drew closer, one hoof in front of the other, as Slenderstal loomed over her like a great big grandaddy, ready to come alive and wrap her up in a giant hug. It didn't move. Its mouth seemed sewn shut, without the sewing, yet it still spoke those beautiful words that made her head buzz like insects were crawling around and flitting about inside her skull. Yet she wasn't concerned. Instead, she smiled.”

“Dear sir, what is it you want from me?” Fear threw his voice again to match the filly, a voice that was provocatively innocent, the kind of filly that belonged with their parents, not out on their own.

“Dear young one, I just want you to listen to me, listen and let my words fill your mind. Let it all wash away, and let my beauty, my fabulosity, ingrain in your brain like roots. Let the vines creep outward and ensnare all that you are. If you do, you will be as gorgeous as the finest dress.”

“That sounded so pleasant! Thought the filly. To forget everything and be nothing, to be as pretty as these dresses. No, prettier. She welcomed the voice, drawing a little closer... a little closer... standing on her hindlegs and wrapping her forelegs around the mannequine's foreleg. She squeezed so hard, as if squeezing the life out of an adorable puppy. She didn't realize what she was doing, what was happening to her as the radio static grew in frequency, and soon it was overtaking her entire mind.”

Fear paused.

“Everything went black for the filly.”

Another beat.

“It was like being in a fugue caused by radiation sickness, slowly coming to, and then falling back under, constantly seeing the mannequine out of the corner of her eye in those last moments of consciousness.”

“Now her mother, on the other hoof, knew something was wrong right away. A sixth sense caused a chill to run up her spine. She looked for her filly, called out for her, and would constantly see shadows in her peripherals. Dangerous, leaping creatures that wanted to drain her blood right out of her. She became panicked, crying even harder, even louder, wanting her filly with her as she looked through the city. If she wasn't careful a raider was going to come and blow her brains out and fuck her corpse.”

“But that's not what found her first.”

“The filly found her first.”

“Joyous relief filled the mother's heart as she bounded toward her young one, realizing how stupid she'd been to be so concerned. Of course her daughter could take care of herself! She was small, hearty, agile. She could do anything.”

“That's when she saw her daughter's eyes. Blank and white, no irises, no pupils, just corneas. Where had her beautiful eyes gone? As soon as the mother got close enough though. A little closer...” Fear's voice took on a tone of trepidation, lowering toward the ground as he glanced around furtively, fearfully.

“A bit closer.”

Fear cried out. “The filly lept! Pulling out a shard of glass and slicing it through her mother's jugular. The mother screamed, gurgled, blood filled her throat, and soon she was collapsing to the ground as the filly looked on and smiled.”

The filly's voice again. “Dear sir, I have done as you asked, I am beautiful, and will continue to serve you.”

“Dear filly, you have done well, and I will never lead you astray.”

As Fear finished up the story, all of the dragons and even his friends were suitably creeped out. The young stallion had been working on that story for nearly four years, drawing it out and making it better and better. Normally he'd intended to use shadow manipulation to tickle his audience and make them think something was there, when nothing was, as well as use transformation magic to make his visage far more terrifying... there was also nightmare pressure to paralyze his audience, but he figured it was better in this moment to let his words speak for itself.

It seemed that had been the proper choice.

“Is that a real story?” One dragon, rather young, asked.

Fear just smiled, his tail whipping to the side as he sat next to the warm pool of magma. “If you think it is, then it's true.”

The dragon whelp whined. “That's not an answer!”

Acrid shuddered finally, holding himself tight. “I'm going to have nightmares now. I've been to Manehattan's boutiques before and those mannequines always creeped me the fuck out as is. They always looked so dead and lifeless. Like zombies.”

Gentler put two fingers between his lips, whistling. “Not sure I can match that story, Fear! But I'll try later.”

Faith had a whole new appreciation for her friend. The other dragons were just silent, stewing in the still silence.

The ancient dragon finally spoke up. An agely, wizened voice with a bit of a slow drawl that made bodies secrete melatonin, relaxing muscles. “I suppose, that it's only fair that we reciprocate one good story with another. I am sure you will appreciate our myth of Terra, Mover of Mountains.”

Fear looked to the dragon, getting comfortable, slowly adjusting himself, and tilting his head into the air, motioning for him to go on. “I sure would! Thank you sir.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pduhkjesGmM

Garyld, the dragon who spoke, having given his name earlier amidst the flurry of conversation, closed his eyes and began his story. He was an amber-eyed dragon with a couple slits in his folded up wings, an intelligence behind his slitted pupils that one would see in a master detective or an advisor. He was covered in a quilt of golden scales, with a crimson underbelly and orange, wavy horns that flowed over his skull and curled upward. Orange spines flowed over his back, his tail having been melted in half long ago. “Terra was an underdog in every sense of the word, grew up always getting the smallest portions from his family, always being picked on, ridiculed for every single thing under the sun from how long it took him to get his wings all the way to his lazy eye. A klutz, a disappointment. He lived during the period in between dragon lords, and was there to see the new one take the reins.”

He continued, opening his eyes. They drooped slightly as he leaned forward. His voice took on a more powerful lilt, deep and resonant. “He experienced his new dictator's rise to power and subsequent reign, how he grew from a coddled prince who managed to gain the popularity of his kin, bringing him into his number one spot during the Gauntlet of Fire, and how he became a corrupt, power-hungry bastard who wanted no more than to steal the hoards of others for himself.”

The dragon hrmphed. “It was a dark time, long before equines ever settled in what was once known as Equestria. The unnamed dragon lord burned his bridges, and ruled with an iron fist, forcing others to do his bidding, hosting arena matches between whelps and fully grown dragons, pushing us into killing each other off in a sweeping blood shed that knew no limits. All for his entertainment.”

There was a silence that settled over the pool. “Terra's family was being taken away from him, one by one, and he knew soon he'd be next. So he escaped. One would think he ran away from his kind in order to live a life free of everyone else, so as to avoid his upcoming fate and escape his treatment. But no. He searched high and low for a way to defeat the unnamed one, to stand against his searing purple flames, his mighty claws that could render canyons in the earth, and his godly endurance. It was a journey that took a quarter of a century, just traveling across the many lands for many cycles, from continent to continent, briskly seeking not refuge, but salvation.” Garyld closed his eyes again, leaning back and sighing.

Garyld opened one eye. “It wasn't until many miles had he traveled that he learned of an elemental, a powerful sylph that could bend the very earth under her hands, and sought her out, that he found the answers to his problem. The entire time he couldn't stop thinking, 'if I just learn how to upheave the earth itself I can save my brethren,' over and over again, incessantly. To the point of forsaking food, letting his stomach go achingly empty, and throat burningly dry from dehydration. Just so he'd be able to find this magical being. That is not to say there were not times this compassionate dragon questioned himself, had doubts that this would be the one. After all, he had been disappointed before. Yet still he continued, living on the bare minimum.”

Garyld's lips undulated a few times, smacking together, lifting his head to the cloud cover. “It was in this state that he found Sillosi of the Earth. She listened intently his story as she remained in her hovel, within her fountain, hearing of his long, arduous journey full of sacrifice, of his time growing up, and the difficulty with his kind.” Garyld looked back toward Fear, specifically. “He worked hard for an endeavor that may end up being fruitless, having faith in the face of adversity, believing in himself and what he could accomplish if he just got the right power. He was foolish, asinine. But he was compassionate and forgiving. Stupid, yet earnest. He didn't let up, and as Sillosi took care of him for that long week of him regaling her with his tale, she realized that he, more than anyone, was worthy of being bestowed magic untold.”

The dragon smiled a bit, a sort of condescending smirk. “Unfortunately for Terra, he did not realize the struggle he would have to undergo just to harness the power of the earth, to unlock his full magic potential, the level of training he would have to endure just to connect with the world around him and call it to his defense. He didn't understand the trial in wait for him, in order for him to feel the energies in the air. He was not used to magic, could hardly spout flames. Yet still he tried, determined to help us, determined to save his species from another century or more of the unnamed dragon lord.” There was a pause. “He was host to many failures, many false starts, and many regressions, but eventually, within ten years, he realized the secret to harnessing the earth, how to command it to his whim. And developed the emotional aptitude, and the discipline it took, to control it with his will.”

Fear was in awe that such a creature could exist, so stalwart and persistent.

Acrid was enamored with the story of a hero like that.

Gentler's eyes were a little wide, his jaw hanging open.

Faith had heard this story before, and always enjoyed it. Especially the times Terra's struggles were detailed for the audience.

Garyld continued. “When he finally returned, his kind had been sundered into chaos. His kind was suffering. Gems were hard to come by, and what water we had was running dry. Hmph. The unnamed one was an egotistical glutton, a vacuum that didn't stop destroying everything he laid his hands on. And that's why...”

A long, hefty pause punctuated the story. “Terra knew what he had to do. Knew that he could not kill the unnamed one in battle, knew he could not win in a fair fight. Terra was small, the unnamed one was gigantic. Terra may have had magic control, but he did not have the strength required to fell a dragon lord of his stature, especially those who remained loyal to him.”

Garyld peered at Fear with one eye. “Nor was he cold hearted enough to do what needed to be done and slaughter those who'd earned it with their actions.” The ancient dragon pursed his lips. “So he called upon the earth, called upon its mercy and its wrath, directed it at his enemies to encage them, ensnare them and leave them trapped within its confines, trapping their limbs in place and keeping them from moving. Everything was going well during his infiltration, and then...”

“Terra,” Garyld continued, “came to his target, his arch nemesis, the cause of all his kind's suffering, the murderer of his entire family, the family that, while he did not like, he appreciated for what they were. Terra knew he had to stop him, even if it meant his life. But the unnamed one was too fast, dashing up to Terra and grabbing him in a choke hold before slamming him into the ground. In that moment Terra's entire life flashed before his eyes, and he, for the first time, had doubts in his mission to save his kind. All his life he'd been told might made right, and in this moment, as he lay with a concussion on the ground, he couldn't help but wonder if that was true.”

Garyld took in a deep breath. “In that moment, everything Terra had experienced on his journey, the creatures he'd met of all different shapes and sizes, all sorts of abilities, strengths, and weaknesses entered his mind. Terra, in that moment, realized his kind had been wrong, being number one was not the most important thing to being a good creature. It was the desire to do the right thing, and the courage to act. Terra realized he had been right all along, and his righteous fury would take down the unnamed one before he could move on from the dragonlands and eviscerate every friend he'd made on his journey.”

A smile played at Garyld's lips. “Terra took that emotion, that epiphany, and used it to call upon the world around him. He asked it to help him protect every living creature from this terrible wrath, to let him guide it. The earth responded. It rumbled, resonating with the one who was truly the most powerful one of all, swinging to his command as the unnamed one gutted Terra. Terra hung on, and with one deft movement used his magical abilities to collapse the mountain into the ground. Not stopping there, knowing the unnamed one could escape with his visceral strength, he cried out even more fervently, until the world smelled of thunderstorm and the clouds churned above the mountain. As the earth quaked and every living thing quivered from the strength he called upon, as Terra died in the unnamed one's claws, the most powerful dragon to ever live, the mover of mountains, buried his enemy's lair beneath the earth. Deeper... and deeper. Never stopping. Covering up the hole he'd made as he plunged them both into the deepest trenches, far beyond anything anyone thought possible.”

Garyld frowned. “As Terra said a goodbye to all the friends he'd made, he crushed himself and his foe deep in the center of the planet, where nothing but molten rock remains. Where gravity, and the pressure of every living thing, still to this day keeps the unnamed one from breaking free.”

“That. My audience, is the story of Terra. Mover of Mountains. A trapped soul. The one our ancestors called on during séance to share his wisdom and story.”

Fear's eyes were a little glazed over by story's end, and before he knew it he was clopping, applauding with his hooves and cheering, whistling out loud, pumping a hoof into the air and getting up on all fours solely to stomp on the ground.”

Gentler clapped along, however slowly, impressed with the story, even if he was sure it wasn't fully accurate.

Faith just smiled, Acrid was wowed into a stupor.

Garyld continued. “And it is good to see a pony like you Fear, able to call upon the same courage and compassion our savior once did.” And with that the ancient dragon leaned back, allowing everyone to stew in that. The dragons were rendered silent by it all, even Trist had nothing to say, just a lump in his throat.

Acrid let out a low whistle. “Well, I don't know about any of you, but I highly doubt any story any of us tells after that is going to be nearly as good. So why even try?”

Fear grinned toward him, one ear flicking, lidding his eyes. “I mean it's not about being the best, it's about having fun, right Garyld?”

Garyld nodded once, solemnly, eyes closed, and grunted in affirmation.

Acrid sighed. “Fine. Well, I guess I'll go next in that case.” After a moment Acrid cleared his throat and began, trying to mimic Fear's story-telling prowess by deepening his voice and altering his tone to be a little more... unnerving. “Before my family and I moved to Las Pegasus in the Neighvada desert, there was a story in Seaddle about how, late at night if you were wandering the streets, with or without company, you may run into a strange seafoam colored stallion with a love for mythical bipedal creatures. A love so great, he was always running on and on about it, a love so grand it made him dance wherever he went, swinging his body to and fro as he stood on his hindlegs.”

The stallion gave a small, prodding smile. “In the darkest of dark nights, you'd find him casually waltzing down the sidewalk, occasionally spinning, with this giant smile on his face. The kind you see on the Ministry of Morale posters in the cities. He draws closer, his golden eyes brimming with uncontained enthusiasm. Ohh, he says he just wants to talk with you, sings about it even, about how mythical creatures once roamed Equus, but in reality he just wants to mimic the serial murderers that lingered among them. He dances up to you, always smiling the same unnerving smile, getting closer and closer, until he lifts a hoof up, revealing a knife, and plows it into your eyes, gouging them out and slicing it into your skull, cutting into your brain. You can try to run, but he always dances faster than you can get away, his hooves moving like fancy magic until you're tired out and he's still going.”

“They say,” Acrid cooed, “that it's his enthusiasm that gives him the physical ability to chase after you without ever seeing the knife until it's too late.”

Fear wasn't quite impressed, but he knew he'd be avoiding Seaddle from that moment onward.

Gentler just lifted an eyebrow. Faith was pondering a little. Acrid needed to work on his story-telling a bit.

A couple dragons clapped as a courtesy. Acrid proffered a fancy bow, but it was mostly out of spite and sarcasm, trying to push the frayed nerves out of his chest with the gesture.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrx5jm8Sb2Y

Gentler took a moment to get his thoughts in order, slittled cat-eye pupils contracting as everything fell into place. He'd been sitting in the lotus position, legs crossed over each other. He glanced down, then up, smirked, and dove in. “This is a story about an invasion from outer space, or at least that's the ongoing theory, even by our officials in Abyssinia. You can still find the newspaper articles detailing the sudden disappearance of the whole neighborhood on microfilm within the libraries scattered throughout the country.” Gentler breathed in, then out, and continued.

“This story is based on the accounts of someone who lived in that neighborhood up until the point of his disappearance. He was an everyday cat, working in Panthera's offices as an accountant – we have a pretty thorough and complicated tax system in order to cater to individuals – and he'd noticed strange things slowly creeping on in his neighborhood. Whenever he went out to grab his newspaper from the front porch, he realized the felines around him were starting to wake up earlier than normal. It wasn't incredibly disorienting, but he knew most of his neighbors, especially the younger ones. It was strange to see them up, out, and about. He occasionally went to say hi to them, and while he couldn't place exactly what was wrong, there was a certain... monotony to them. His feline instincts always told him something was wrong, that he shouldn't be around them. But they looked just like his regular old neighbors.”

Gentler grinned. “So, being the curious cat he was, he started stalking some of the weirder ones, looking through their windows, spying on them from across the street. It started affecting his work, because he was growing anxious and paranoid, yet he realized sometimes his neighbors would leave at all manner of time in the night, and as he watched them longer, he realized that while they turned off their lights they... they never slept. A TV was always on.” There was a lingering trepidation in his voice, a casual uncertainty, like he didn't believe the story himself, or maybe he was just discouraged. “The cat, by the name of Jinx, started logging the going ons of his neighbors as what was once just a few houses started spreading even farther. He was convinced something was wrong, and that concern spread into his every day life. He stopped taking care of himself, became more battered and beat up, far more gamey and gnarled. Whiskers crooked. One day he witnessed, while staring into a home, one of the cats taking off his skin! It was gruesome, brutal. Jinx couldn't stay any longer, just panicking and running away.” Gentler drifted off, then resumed.

“Jinx was concerned. Who could he go to? Who would believe him? This was craziness. There was nothing like the Ministry of Morale at the time, but how did he know this didn't extend to other neighborhoods, to other parts of Panthera? All he knew was he had to write down what he saw, and then deliver it to someone he could trust.”

Gentler frowned. “This is where the account ends. All we have are the ramblings of Jinx, and the log books he delivered. They almost didn't make it into the public eye, as it happened decades ago. It was researched... at first. The case was dropped when Jinx, calm as a cucumber, returned to our internal investigation service and told them that everything was fine and to ignore what he'd given them.” The cat shrugged. “It wasn't more than a year afterward that the entire neighborhood just up and disappeared, along with a select few cats they worked alongside. Renewing the suspicion. But it's never been solved, the disappearances remaining a mystery to his day.”

The Abyssinian's audience seemed unnerved. The calm stoicness of Gentler's expressions and demeanor just heightened the tension in the air. Nothing like an unsolved mystery that apparently happened to get the adrenaline pumping. The air was rendered silent for awhile, with Fear reconsidering his visit to Abyssinia, even if he could tell Gentler was exaggerating a bit, Faith somewhat annoyed by the cat's unnatural serenity. The story probably wasn't real.

Acrid was fidgeting in his seat, sure he was going to have nightmares tonight.

That was when a new attendant showed up, much to... most creatures' obliviousness.

Fear realized that someone was standing behind him, and didn't need to look to figure out who it was. He'd been sensing this presence, however faintly, throughout the entire day. It was Drax, but in person. His presence; his soul, was immense. It was like a blazing bonfire that spoke of confidence, determination, instability, and drive. There were so many other things mixed in, so many other cries for justice and prosperity that he couldn't settle on just one. It was mind numbing, legs slackening under him from the sheer overwhelming sensation of pride and crumbling compassion. Fear didn't dare look behind him to confirm his existence, just freezing up, shoulders raising, brow sweating a bit. He felt Drax Novus' heated glare on his back, boring a hole into him. Feeling out his soul right in person.

It was then that Fear realized he'd been being watched, but only now was Drax fully understanding him as they mingled with each other, their souls dancing.

Fear's breathing quickened as Faith cleared her throat and began her own story. No one had noticed the dragon's presence yet. How far away was he? Fear couldn't tell. He knew the alicorsair was right next to him though, a subtle echo that belonged to Drax. He didn't dare look behind him.

“You know,” Faith began, “Friendship City wasn't the perfect place growing up. I had a lot of experiences there that defied explanation, like early in the morning, around the witching hour, when music box tunes would waft across the wasteland, music that only foals could hear. Somewhere deep in Manehattan was a source, but I never found it. Wasn't old enough nor good enough to be going out during that time.” She shook her head. “But that's not the point of this story. This story is about a traveling trader who didn't know Friendship City's customs and history very well, who was staying at one of the hotels. One night he was staying there he heard muffled yelling coming from the room next to his. Fearing the worst, he headed down to check in to tell the receptionist about it – that it didn't sound like the usual sex ponies got up to in there. The receptionist informed him to not worry about it and to just try and get some sleep. So he did.” Faith paused.

“On his way back to his room he couldn't resist seeing what was going on, bending down to look through the keyhole and seeing a white unicorn mare laying lopsidedly on the bed inside. He took a moment to question himself, realizing she must've just been masturbating and he'd been worried over nothing.”

Faith let that sink in. “The next night he heard the muffled yelling coming from the room next door all over again and, feeling a little perverted, decided to go out and take a gander at the show going on next to him. After all, maybe he could help her with her little problem? The stallion peeked into the keyhole again and was surprised when all he saw was red. He murmured to himself a bit, getting the creeps, chills running up his spine though he didn't know why, and decided to forget about it.”

“The next day he checked out, late at night. The receptionist thanked him for staying and told him that she didn't want to alarm him but a white unicorn with red eyes had been staying in the room next to him at one point, and been murdered by a surly scavver, smothered to death. She told him that sometimes ponies heard muffled yelling coming from inside. The stallion got goosebumps, realizing how close he might've just come to getting killed or worse, quickly thanked the receptionist with a stuttering breath, and left. Moral of the story: being perverted can get you in heinous situations.”

Fear had only half paid attention to the story, a little too focused on the dragon somewhere behind him as Acrid nearly wet himself a second time that day, and the normally cool and collected Gentler experiencing a full body shudder. Fear glanced over to Faith when he felt the presence drawing near and saw Drax tapping Faith's shoulder, before pulling her away from the crowd while the rest of the dragons focused on the next story teller, a young child who was apparently pretty proliferate with stories. Fear wondered what the dragon could want with Faith in private after so long, his curiosity getting the best of him despite Gentler's story, morphing his ears a bit to pick up on far away sounds, and eavesdropped on Faith and Drax.

Faith's voice was tentative, as if she'd been worried all day. “Drax! It's so good to see you again, in the flesh.” There was a pause. Fear didn't know what was going on, keeping his head forward, just feeling an influx and outpouring of affection. “I assume you've been watching us all day? You should've seen Fear! How are you anyway? Drax?”

Drax's voice rumbled. “Faith I am so sorry. I have been watching, keeping a close eye on all of you... looking for...” Drax halted. “It's good to see you again, always a pleasure. Long story short I haven't been good. I've been trying to manage my nest, and keep on the look out for the Enclave soldiers that have been scouring the land around us lately. I think they're preparing for something but I'm not sure.”

Faith sounded concerned. “You sound so... so dire, Drax! I'm sure whatever it is, things are going to be okay.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6T9Pb3YMovQ

Drax grunted. “I don't think so Faith. You came at the wrong time. Everything's been building to a head. While I'm glad you're alive, and you were able to come back, I fear this is where we must part ways again, this time... for good.” There was a faint, imperceptible stutter. Fear felt it in Drax's soul. “We are going to attack the wasteland, carve out a home for ourselves. Not only have the Enclave been stepping up their patrols of this place, looking for dragons, but it's becoming far harder to find gems. We aren't big enough to warrant the raptor they keep above the clouds, but we can't win against an army of their battle suits.”

Faith mumbled. “I mean that's fine. If you have to move then that's for the best but... why are you so grim? It seems like there's more going on in your head than you're telling me.”

Drax murmured. “There's been a lot going through my head. I've been doing a lot of thinking. I've grown tired of constantly running from the Enclave, of hiding from pony society. All we've done is be victims up til now, sundered into ruin by the dragons who decided to take matters into their own claws long ago and feed into the propaganda. We've been like bugs that the Enclave wishes to just... squash out. Because they fear us coming into the clouds, they fear us using their resources, and they fear us rising up and becoming bigger and better than them.” A pause. “Not only that but... Faith, there was a detachment of Steel Rangers here recently trying to raid the old facilities around here.” There was a heistance, as though Drax was beating around the bush. Faith waited patiently. “I think it's time for us to make a move. We've been walked all over far too much. The next time we see the Steel Rangers, or the Enclave, I'm going to go on the attack. The wasteland proper may not be our home but it may be all we have left to gain, the old rock farms scattered throughout.”

Faith was... uncertain. “Drax, I know you're trapped between two difficult decisions, and while I wasn't aware it was getting to that point, and I'm glad I came when I did, you can't make war with the Steel Rangers nor the Enclave. It'll mean all out war. And you'll get killed. All of you will, eventually. Many will die.”

Drax huffed. “Yes, but we are going to die either way. The Steel Rangers nor the Enclave trust us. They will track us. There is no stopping their onslaught. They're coming. Slowly but surely. Looking for resources. And when they find us they will see us as enemies. If we do not put a stop to them first, they will put a stop to us the moment they find us, especially if they find us within Equestria's borders.” There was a low growl. “They cannot be trusted. There is nowhere for us to hide. It's come to violence. There's nothing you nor anyone else can do. I'm sorry. A fight's going to break out whether you want it to or not.”

Faith's voice was a little teary. “Drax, I know I haven't been around in a long while but I care about you, I care about all of you. Violence isn't you, it's a last resort for you. It always has been. You've...” Fear heard Faith sniffle. “You've always been ask questions first, trust second, battle later. According to the others you've earned the title of Novus that way. They see you as a new Dragon Lord, Drax. Don't lead them into a war, please. Don't do this.”

Drax sighed. “I didn't think you'd understand, which is why I was hesitant to tell you, hesitant to really open up. I need you to believe in us Faith, believe in me that this is for the best. It's not only about justice, though it's that too. It's about prolonging our species.”

Fear heard the soft pat of Faith's hoof falling to the ground. He felt her holding back tears, could almost imagine the look on her face. He'd be seeing it soon. As soon as he felt Drax's presence leave, Fear twisted around, getting up on all fours, and heading to meet with Faith. He didn't notice Acrid getting up to follow him.

“Faith... is everything okay?”

“F-F-Fear,” Faith blubbered out, feeling tears fill her eyes and flow outward, her muzzle scrunched up in mourning. “Drax is... Drax is making a rash decision. I don't... don't know what to do.” She fell back onto her haunches, pressing her forehooves into her eyes, weeping. “I don't know what to do Fear! I know you heard! I know you felt it! I know you felt all of Drax's emotions! I saw it all on his face! But... but...! This isn't who Drax is!? Why did he turn out this way!? What happened to him!? What made him fall so far!? What's pushing him to fight? He can hide in Equestria, the dragons don't need to combat the Enclave nor the Steel Rangers.”

“Faith...” Fear repeated, at a loss, his eyebrows leaning outward, eyes sad, face in a gentle frown.

“Even if he doesn't succeed,” Faith wailed, “many will die on both sides! He can read intent, he's a force of nature, but I can't lose him, and I can't let him wreak this kind of devastation on someone even if they deserve it! There has to be a way for things to end peacefully!” Faith sobbed. “If anything happened to Drax, I don't know what I'd do! I can't lose him! His happiness is important to me. Fighting's not going to solve anything!”

Fear summoned what courage he could, steeling his features and bracing himself. “Faith. Don't worry, I'll take care of it. I'm sure I can talk him down. I've prepared for this kind of thing. He won't hurt us.”

Faith lunged at Fear, wrapping his small body up in a giant hug. “Fear! Please! Stop Drax! Don't let him go through with this! I don't know what to tell him! He won't listen to me! I've never seen him this dead set! So stubborn!” Fear could tell his motherly friend was beside herself. Could hear it in her wailing.

Fear cooed to her, gently patting her back, just between the shoulder blades with a hoof. “Faith... relax, it'll be okay. I'll take care of it. I'm just as stubborn, I can put a stop to this, I promise with all my heart.”

Faith wasn't sure. “Please, be careful. I can't risk losing you either. When you lava surfed with Trist I tried to trust you, but I didn't know if you could do it. I saw you plunge into the lava, and I thought you were going to die. I can't have you put me through that again.”

Fear solidified his expression, a simple glower. “Don't worry, it'll be okay. Drax can't stand up to my charms.” He pushed her away and gave her a disarming smile. “Now go spend time with the other dragons and relax, I've got to think about how to approach this tomorrow.”

Faith sniffled and nodded, before languidly stepping away back to the pool of magma.

Fear then felt Acrid come up from behind him. “Faith's dracobae is a piece of work huh?” Acrid's voice attempted to lighten the mood, and Fear could feel the intent.

But he wasn't amused. He had a long road ahead of him.

At least he'd gotten to know some dragons. That was an everpresent thought on his mind as he stared at the Single Pegasus Project tower in the distance. The same kind of tower that allowed the DJ to see across the wasteland.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OddseT2xBMc

Dragon Lord Airyl's name is a reconfiguration of the name Errol.

I've decided to start doing something new, if you all have questions you'd like to ask the characters (ANY of them), I'll have the ones you asked answer it as if they were in a dark room where no one could hear their answer!

Edan asks the question: If you were forced to give up a party member, either temp or perma, who would it be?

Fear: Gosh, I don't know... I love them all so much. I'd prefer to not go without any of them! But I've known Faith and Gentler the longest, so... probably Acrid. Don't tell him I said that though! I've been warming up to him lately. But maybe that's just 'cause I'm naive and he helped me that night.

Faith: Acrid for sure, he's kind of a dick to Fear. He doesn't seem to mind, but... I just feel for him, he's been through enough, and he's done enough. He's going to the ends of Equus just to aid us in our endeavors, it seems unfair for Acrid to put him through that.

Still... he has a lot of potential, I won't lie.

Gentler: I don't feel comfortable leaving anyone behind, but if I really had to choose to leave someone back at Dryfield it'd definitely be Acrid. He seems like dead weight. Not sure how he's supposed to be able to seal the umbrans again. We've been in a couple raider battles ever since leaving home, and the first time all he did was cower. Fear told us what he's capable of, but I just don't see it. I've known a few farmers growing up, and that's all he seems to be.

Acrid: I feel like I've gotten to know all of them a fair bit, so I don't feel right throwing any of them under the carriage like this. But if I had to? Probably Gentler. While I like his calm, masculine personality I don't like his stoicism. It's hard to tell what he's thinking. I've been slowly warming up to Fear, he seems like a good colt, done some amazing things. I feel like he's hiding something, but he usually wears his heart on his sleeve, so I'm not going to look into it much. Faith on the other hoof is really kind to me, even if I can tell it's strained. She seems like a good pony, despite being a crazy preacher. Seriously, alicorn in all of us? Weird.

BR asks the main squad "what is your funniest memory?"

Fear: Well my life's been mostly miserable so I don't know if I have a funniest, but the most fucked up was definitely the time a pony thought I was selling myself into slavery and not just for a one night stand. I told them I'd be around again. Spoiler alert: I never came back. I suppose a close contender is the time a stranger offered to take care of me if I acted as their... "squire." I won't lie, I almost said yes.

Faith: Funniest memory, in hindsight, was definitely while I was growing up in Friendship City and my friend Silent Octave saw an old Ministry of Morale letter and it convinced her that an ancient cult was going to come for her. Most of our friends teased her and exacerbated the situation. Last time I saw her, she joked about it, so no harm no foul.

Gentler: I don't know if it's the funniest moment for me but it was definitely the funniest moment for others. I've always been the youngest kit in my family, and while I was treated the best, my oldest siblings often played pranks on me, like the time they were dangling a ball of yarn over me and led me around a field with it, until eventually they led me into an old pit because I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I paid a little more attention from then on after they'd had a good laugh and pulled me out. Lesson: always look where you leap, and be prepared.

Acrid: My funniest story was also the most traumatizing. I can laugh about it but back then... it was terrifying. See I'd been walking to school one day from the farm and I was getting a little tired. It was hot out and I was in some nearby neighborhoods and I was running ahead by a bit, so when I saw a couch on the sidewalk I decided, hey, what the Tartarus, I'll take a load off. So I jump onto the cushions and immediately sink in. After a moment I realized I'm still sinking, slowly but surely, and after a second the cushion caves in as the bottom of the couch snaps in half, and I get stuck inside. I'm screaming for help by this point because I can't push myself out, I'm wedged in there good, and all of a sudden I notice these little bugs crawling all over me, swarming my body. They were termites! Suffice to say I've never had good experiences with bugs.