The walls of the Central Spire were much more smooth than the rest of the Hive. It also had instances of masonry and carpentry with ceramic tiles on the floor and great wooden archways and doors. There were also slabs of stones that had been attached to the walls with green slime. Each slab depicted historic happenings and important decrees by the changeling monarchs. The slabs were carved by the Hive's archivists at the end of their life as their collective wisdom and memories helped them preserve the Hive's history. The further down the hall one went the older the slabs became and the more mythological events they depicted.

Princess Lampyridae had taken 1077 there for no real discernible reason. Most likely it was a ploy to annoy the Queen or the prime minister. The princess did have a bad habit of sneaking away from her lessons. And he had a bad habit of going along with it.

"Have you ever seen the corridor of echoes before?" she looked over her shoulder and asked him.

Princess Lampyridae had a pink mane and tail which were both large and puffy. Her eyes bore the same pink color and she held pink patches all over her body where many other changelings were blue or green. Her form was sleek and her legs held no holes. She was given a diet of pure undiluted love, one of the few in the Hive that was afforded that luxury. 1077's own stomach cramped up at the thought of such a feast, but his face remained neutral. Warriors were not meant to showcase such weakness, at least not fully grown Warriors. He had earned his armor and then his position as Lampyridae's protector. He was above hunger.

"I have not been given the pleasure of visiting before, your highness. Duties have called me elsewhere in the Hive and the Prowl."

The Prowl. An unofficial name that was given to the stretch of land which surrounded and protected the Hive. It was their hunting ground, the borders of their realm, and part of the Queen's de jure domain. It was a dead piece of earth haunted by powerful dust storms that were meant to keep away a large number of enemies, as they'd be unable to forage or hunt for any supplies. Water was the only thing the Prowl offered, and even that tasted like ash. Purified water was a luxury commodity for the royal family. And now him, he supposed.

The princess eyed him for a second with a smile. "Well, would you like to see the Seamstress' needle?"

1077 balked at her for a second before he regained his composure and calmed his breathing. His heartbeat was erratic as her words bounced around his skull. "With all due respect, your highness, I am but a humble protector and I am not legally allowed to enter that chamber without the express permission of the Queen. Princess Lampyridae, you should know I can not accept any such thing—"

"Firefly."

"I— What?" he stopped in the middle of his speech on the unseemly nature of a Warrior seeing such a valuable artifact with much confusion.

Lampyridae grinned at him. "I want you to call me Firefly."

"The queen has expressly forbidden me from doing so when she assigned me as your protector," 1077 said.

"And I am ordering you to call me that. You are supposed to obey me after all."

She had him there. He shuffled on his hooves for a moment and then nodded with a sigh. "As you wish Princess Firefly."

"Just skip the titles! Firefly is fine!" she said with a laugh and continued down the corridor.

He hurried after her. "It would be unseemly."

"What is unseemly is disobeying your princess, is it not? I could legally have you call me mistress swallows-a-lot and you couldn't refuse it."

"Princess!"

She grinned at him and bumped her flank into his side. "Ease up a little, mother isn't here to punish you. And I wouldn't tattle on you. I like you too much."

1077 sighed at her and gave her a small smile. "You are going to make me turn grey, Firefly."

"Oh, I hope not. I like your shiny chitin and I'd rather it didn't age before it could be dressed up in something better than that boring old armor. Like, have you seen some of the outfits the Infiltrators brought back from Canterlot? Such magnificent dresses and suits that they make even mother look like a pauper in comparison."

As they reached the end of the corridor they stood before a large stone gate that had the Seamstress carved into its surface. A female creature that looked akin to a changeling, but with four spider legs sprouting from her back and a neck that was way longer than that of any changeling. He gulped at the sight and took a step back. There was a hum in the air. A green glow came from beneath the door. The air felt stale and old.

"I can not do this, princess..." 1077 said in a hoarse whisper.

She just rolled her eyes at him and pushed open the door. "Yes you can, come on."

As they entered the chamber he was struck by the beauty of the object in the middle of the room. It hung in the middle of the air, a large shard of green crystal that glowed so brightly it seemed akin to a flare. It was no wider than a coin and no longer than a knife's blade. The Seamstress' needle. The object had woven space and time together as one and created the very tapestry of fate.

1077 fell to his haunches, bowed his head, and prayed. He prayed in gratitude for the sight, for the Seamstress' sacrifice, and for his luck in life. He thanked her for allowing him to be chosen as Lampyridae's protector, and for the many strengths which had earned him that position.

The princess sat down next to him and marveled at the needle alongside him. "Mother showed it to me when I was a nymph. She said only those that are worthy may see it. But it is just so beautiful that I felt like I had to share it with you."

He looked up at her with awe. "Princess, I have not even earned my name, much less the right to see the Seamstress' needle."

She smiled at him and leaned her head onto his shoulder. "Then earn this, and we can return to see it again."

Her closeness made his throat grow tight. His heart beat faster and faster and he swallowed. Her heat streamed through the armor and through his chitin. In the light of the needle, of the tool of creation, he leaned his head against hers and smiled. He may not have earned his name. He may not have been worthy of the sight before him. He did not deserve the princess' affection. But at that moment, next to Princess Lampyridae in the holy light of the needle, he was happy.

The train ride was smooth, silent even. The hills, fields, and windmills passed them by at lightning speed and the moon bathed the landscape in its soft glow. Mute was half-asleep, yet his blue eyes bounced from object to object. He traced the outline of the fields and imagined a changeling Infiltrator that ran alongside it. It lessened the thickness at the back of his throat and distracted him from the dizziness in his head.

Though the changeling had a hard time as his focus was constantly disrupted by the waves of suspicion and discomfort that rolled off Private Holy Vow that sat opposite him. Private Vow had watched Mute since the lieutenant gave him the order to do so and he stared at the changeling with a frown. He shuffled whenever Mute glanced at him and clutched the spear in his hoof even harder as Mute mimicked his movements. If Holy breathed, Mute's chest rose at the same pace. When the stallion moved, Mute flowed into the movement so it became akin to a mirror. When Holy scowled at him, Mute just scowled right back with a glint in his eyes.

"Stop that," the Private muttered.

Mute's mimicry seemed to disturb the stallion, as the changeling movements were like water. Mute couldn't suppress a grin as he continued to mirror Holy's every move. Finally, the guard stallion huffed and pressed a button, which made Mute yelp as an electrifying pain coursed through his skull and a dull blue glow rose from his horn. The changeling clutched the metal device around his horn with a whine and glared at the Private.

Mute hated the inhibitor ring.

Holy just shook his head at the changeling and tapped the butt of his spear against the floor as the minutes passed. The Private suppressed a yawn and closed his eyes for a second and slumped against the seat. Mute tilted his head at the pegasus stallion and slowly reached for the remote in Holy's hoof, only for the Private to jolt awake and look around in a panic. Mute quickly pulled back and just gave him a vacant stare. The pony grumbled in response and looked around the cart.

The rest of the guards all slept on seats not far away from Mute and Holy Vow. The cart had been emptied of all other passengers for their safety and only the silent snores of one of the guards filled the cart. Zarathon was in Mute's shirt pocket and he had not uttered a single word since they boarded the train. Perhaps the pebble thought it would benefit them if he did not speak, but Mute honestly just missed his voice, self-indulgent as it was. Mute pressed onto the hard round object in his shirt pocket and there was no response. Zarathon did not rest often, as he had no real body that needed rest, but Mute recognized the silence and the lack of glow from his pocket. His friend would not respond for many hours, not until he could cast magic again. Mute leaned back into his seat and continued to observe Holy vow.

The pegasus stallion eventually sighed and pulled out a deck of cards from his armor with his right wing. He placed them onto the table in front of him and began to lay them out.

Mute tilted his head at the display and leaned in for a closer look.

"Ey! No touching! These things cost me a foreleg to get my hooves on!" the Private said.

Mute leaned back and looked over the cards. They looked old, yet well preserved, and on the back, they each had a red sun
which was drawn with sharp edges and points. For all intents and purposes, they were just a fancy deck of cards, and so Mute pondered on why the pony was so defensive over them. The changeling watched as Holy laid out the cards for a round of solitaire and he promptly laid his chin against the table and sighed in boredom. He lightly swatted at one of the cards with his hoof until Holy grunted in annoyance.

"Hey! What did I say about touching the cards?!" Holy grumbled and glared at the changeling.

Mute pointed to the cards, then to himself and the Private.

"You want to play?" Holy asked and halted his game of solitaire.

Mute nodded.

"...Fine. Have you ever played turn-10? It is easy to learn if you haven't," Holy said and pulled back the cards.

Mute shook his head and listened carefully as Holy went over the rules. As they started to play—and Mute quickly found that his luck with cards sucked—Holy's discomfort soon gave way to curiosity.

"So... What it is you and the rock do? Like, you two just showed up one day, built a house, and then you demand lordship of Ponyville and the Everfree. That is just strange. And then there is the big scary monster that just showed up followed by you setting the whole town on fire! Like, I am just trying to wrap my mind around it," Holy said.

Mute tilted his head at the stallion and pondered on the question. Just how much could he reveal to the Private? Zarathon was never happy when secrets were revealed, but to establish trust there needed to be some well-laid foundations. Even if stallions that bore Celestia's mark were the enemy, or at least they once were—Zarathon had not been clear on the matter—there could now be a mutually beneficial relationship. Mute played a Queen and then he mimicked the act of writing.

The Private shook his head. "We saw what you did back in town. You carved those runes into the dirt and the entire town caught fire. I won't let you get your hooves on any writing supplies or any supplies for that matter."

Mute frowned and pointed to his horn.

"Aye, your horn is busted, which is why I was even more impressed you could still cast all that magic back in town. My sister is a unicorn and she can't cast magic for a week if she hits her horn hard enough against a wall. You have cracks and stuff all over yours and sparks still fly everywhere. And yes, I do know you also have a magic inhibitor ring on your horn. But there are magicks that don't need a horn to be cast, and I cannot let you do that."

Mute slammed his head into the table with frustration and sent some of the cards up into the air. Holy hurriedly grabbed them with his wing and glared at the changeling. "I understand, it is frustrating to go through the process, but leave my cards out of it."

Mute glowered at the stallion and huffed. He wished he was back home in the grand palace. He could have slept on his soft bed and known he was safe thanks to the multitude of wards that Zarathon had set up around the perimeter of the grand palace. No shade could touch him or poison his mind inside the walls of that building. Or at least so he hoped. He thought back to the shade in Ponyville, how it had so easily slipped into the heart of town before Zarathon even felt its presence. Perhaps the wards were already broken. Perhaps Zarathon trusted a bit too much in his intuition when it came to the whereabouts of shades. Or maybe something had simply changed and the shades had grown a tolerance to the first fire. Though, such thoughts made Mute shudder. He thought back to the southern jungles and the shadows that moved when you did not look at them.

Holy Vow noticed his wayward stare and waved a hoof in front of Mute's face. "You alright?"

Mute swallowed thickly and nodded. He sat up and rolled his neck before his eyes fell on Canterlot in the distance. The lights from the city made his eyes widen and he pressed his face against the glass in awe. He had seen the city before, but never in the middle of the night, and never with such a glow.

"Heh, yeah I looked just like that when I saw it for the first time as well. The lights, the beauty, and the sense of... power, I think. It made my legs turn to jelly, and it didn't go much better when I saw the princess for the first time. Like the fool I was, I almost started to cry as she inspected us recruits. She just radiated this sense of authority I had not seen anywhere else. She looked much more serious than I had ever seen her for a second, then she smiled and welcomed us into the guard. And suddenly the city became more than just lights, it became a purpose I suppose," Holy said with a small smile.

Mute looked at him with a curious look. There were no longer any feelings of discomfort or hint of fear, the stallion seemed to be at ease around the changeling. Holy noted his questioning look and smiled at him.

"You don't seem evil or like some sort of rabid animal. I think you'll do fine with the princess as long as you and your rock friend stay respectful and tell her everything she wants to know. Do that and you'll be given back your writing stuff."

Mute nodded his head in thanks to the stallion's trust and he observed the city in the distance. Canterlot awaited, and within its pristine walls a creature as old as Equestria itself. Mute breathed in a calming breath and then slowly breathed out. He would need to convince a living goddess about the legitimacy of Zarathon's claim. It would surely not end well, but as he pressed his leg against the bulge in his shirt pocket he felt a wave of determination and he stared toward the castle in the city. He was a lord of cinder now, and it was time to prove his diplomatic proficiency. Zarathon would be very proud of him.

Somewhere in the garden of Canterlot castle, a strange statue, frozen in a funny pose with its face in terror, scoffed in amusement at his thoughts.

Thank you all for reading the first chapter of "A changeling named Mute"! Comments and feedback are always appreciated.