“DRAGOOON! ‘TIS A DRAGON!”

The town crier is flying about aimlessly while he yells words that make the townsfolk stop and stare.

“DRAGON! ‘TIS A DRAGON TRAVELING THE SKIES! I SEEN IT WITH ME OWN TWO EYES!” he shouts. He lands next to an elderly couple on a riverside bench, both reeling back as he continues to rave. “You must believe me! Do you know what this means?!” He stares down the old colt, who is doing everything he can to resist knocking the lunatic out of his robes. “‘Tis a sign from Dragos, her children reconvene!” The crier falls onto his haunches and beckons to the sky. “‘Tis a sign! A sign of prosperity and that we will be changed! Embrace us with love so we won’t be estranged!”

A black, heavily built stallion clad in steel armor lined with wolf fur trots from the shadow of the central tree and strikes the town crier across the head.

“Or it could be that you’ve lost your bloody mind for the fiftieth time, Preacher,” he says with a shake of his crimson mane.

Ignoring the swelling bruise, the crier protests. “This is our destiny! Don’t you understand?! For far too long we’ve had our heads in the sand!” He turns to the sky once more and shouts “PRAISE DRA—”

The black colt, keeping a proper disposition and a straight face, grabs the crier by the collar. “Keep your zealotism in your hosen, you damned fool!” He shoves the pony to the ground and holds him by his throat. “I cannot guarantee I’ll be willing to speak for you when they toss you in the madhouse. Again.”

With another shove, the crier ends up taking an involuntary bath in the moat. “Waste of my time. This is why worship of Dragos has been outlawed!” The black colt turns to the old couple. “Honestly, who would believe such lies?”

“I would! And I do!” A battle-scarred earthwalker helps the crier to his hooves. “My name is Caro Dragonborn, and Preacher speaks the truth.” Caro’s eyes glance to the sky. “Look above you.”

Everypony, including the black stallion, reluctantly obeys as they hear a rumbling drone and the flap of large wings pierce the air.

The sight of a black and red dragon is too terrifying to warrant a scream. Only silence born of pure fear.

~Caro~

“Last I saw of you, you were a. pitiful wreck, and I do mean that in the kindest way possible,” says Jarl Drake as she trots alongside me, descending the staircase leading to the main gate. “Now you show up with Former General Tangerine and a mare from Wintercolt Academy with a bloody dragon on your tail!” She takes in a deep breath, reclaiming the proper disposition that is expected of a lady in power. “What, exactly, happened in Beak Falls Barrow?”

“We killed an entire army of undead Precursors and found out I’m a descendant of dragons,” I say in a single breath.

The jarl stops in her tracks. “What.”

I smirk, retrieving the prophetic gemstone from my back and tossing it to the jarl, who stumbles to catch it in her aura. “Take that to Boysenberry.” I take a single step before I turn back. Drake looks appalled, and honestly, she should be.

She is right to be confused. I am a different pony from the one who shed tears at her hooves merely days ago. It’s fascinating really. I’ve been reborn twice already, once in an Imperial prison cell, and again at the mercy of an undead Dragon Priest. I have no quarrel with trying for a third, and that will be after I murder that beast in the sky.

“That crystal’s use has run its course, Jarl Drake.”

She’s struggling to get a grasp of the situation. She settles on grasping my tail with her magic instead, causing me to yelp. “Wait, what are you doing?!” She gets her answer when she sees me nod my head towards another roar of the dragon. Her magical grip tightens. “No... You cannot be bloody serious.”

“Serious as a dragon attack,” I reply. “It is as you said. Boysenberry was right to suspect a greater truth to the happenings in Equestria, and I just so happen to be a part of it. I am Dragonborn.”

“Yes, I know! You only told the whole town!”

“So what more do you have to do than watch me? I’ve already killed one dragon. Who’s to say I can’t do it again? This time, I have the thu’um at my side.” I stare down the jarl, and she steps back when she gets a good look at my new draconic eyes. “Mind you, my voice doesn’t discriminate friend from foe. As such, I would advise you to let go of my tail.”

Jarl Drake swallows and disgruntledly releases her magical grip. “You’re mad, you know that?”

It fills me with pride to agree with her. “Oh, incurably so.”

Never letting that pride go, I buck open the gate, ignoring the guards falling onto their rumps in shock.

I veer off the winding trail into the fresh layer of snow that had fallen overnight. It wears on my legs quickly to trudge through, as the powder nearly reaches my knees, but my desire for the heat of battle drives me forward. Mind over matter, that’s what has gotten me this far.

By the time I touch down on a shallow patch, more flakes have begun their descent, prompting me to stop and look up again. The dragon is perched upon a rock spire, grooming its scales, not paying me any mind. I know I have to make the first move.

I make a pathetic attempt at a whistle, sounding more like a shoddily made flute. Then I think, What fearsome ancient beast would ever respond to something so trivial?

I instead try something that will have to get ahold of the dragon’s attention. I inhale deeply and shout. “Hon daar, Dovah! Ri hind wah krif!” The words come as naturally as breathing. It is in my blood, after all.

The echo lasts for almost a minute, and during that time, the dragon hardly moves.

The beast comes all this way and it doesn’t even bother to acknowledge my existence. I shout again, this time with more authority. “Meyz het sivass!”

It finally lowers its bladed wing and looks my way with curiosity. I wonder what’s going through its head right now? Does it fear me for my voice alone? I can only hope so. I want it to fear me.

“Rok Thu’um voth faal zul daar tid?”

How many reverberating voices have I heard thus far? This one sounds familiar, though. Familiar to the point of making me stagger as I remember the cries of several lives silenced in an instant.

As the dragon drops from its perch, it flies to me in a single beat of its wings. As I gaze over its red and black scales, short snout and bloodshot eyes, my heartbeat accelerates to a near fatal speed.

It speaks again, this time in plain Equine. “Must I repeat myself?” echoes the voice of the beast in my head. “I asked if you spoke with the Thu’um.”

It... it can't be! It shouldn't be!

But there it is, in all his terrible, fierce glory. I wasn't the only one reborn, it seems. My body tries to move, but all I can do is stare. My heart hammers in my chest as terror washes over me.

It should be dead. It should have several gaping sword wounds in its stomach leaking blood and entrails...

The smell of rot breaks me from my frozen state, and I find myself staring into the eyes of the monster. The same dragon who destroyed Reinoc... the one who took my master away from me.

It can sense my fear, leaning close to smell it. Feral eyes showing what appears to be a perverse pleasure. But I won't let it have this. It ends now.

"Hello, beasty..." I say, putting my fear aside. I know that if I could take this one when I was merely a pony, I can have him begging for mercy as I am now. Oh, how I’ll enjoy this.

“Dovahkiin. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Its voice reverberates and echoes in my mind, just as it had before, only this time I can understand every word without fear of my skull splitting open again. That’s not what catches me off guard. What’s incredibly unexpected is how uncannily polite this monstrosity behaves.

“You’re Nahkriin?” I ask.

“Indeed. I wish our first encounter had occurred under more fortunate circumstances. You may have listened to my words instead of tearing into my flesh.”

I can’t believe it’s so apathetic about the atrocities it committed that day. Innocent ponies burned alive, crushed, cut, and in my master’s case, torn to pieces. To this dragon, that was just a stroll to the market! I find myself baring my teeth at its negligence.

“I have no regrets,” I boast out loud, hoping it can comprehend Equine. “You turned the closest thing I had to a father into a slag heap. What I did to you was kindness.” I bite down on the handle of my iron sword. “This is revenge.”

“You enjoy murder, Dovahkiin,” the dragon says, narrowing its eyes. “Know that I made the unfortunate mistake of underestimating you. The Reclaimer has granted me another chance at life and I will not put it to waste, especially now that you have awakened.”

“The Reclaimer again...” I mutter before snapping my gaze back. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Are you not aware, Dovahkiin? The Reclaimer has the—” Nahkriin’s words are cut short by a thrown knife landing in its left shoulder. It treats the wound as a mere mosquito bite and brushes it away. “I was not aware you would be bringing accomplices. This was supposed to be a private discussion.”

Many stallions gallop effortlessly through the snow. All seven of them are black coated and heavily fortified with longswords and axes. They’re lead by the same tall, long maned stallion that had the town crier by the neck.

“What are you doing, boy?! Get away from that thing!” he yells as he preps another knife for a toss.

Nahkriin merely gives a small breath, sending a miniscule ball of flame through the air, knocking the knife from the stallion’s hoof and turning it to a slab of metal upon the snow.

“Um, drat,” he says. Nahkriin’s aim was so precise it didn’t leave so much as a scorch.

I advance on the stallion, enraged that he took the answer for one of my many questions away. “You asked me what I’m doing when I should ask much of the same!”

Gesturing to the colts and single mare he leads, the stallion gives a respectful albeit rushed bow. “Wolf River of the Carrier Clan, Sir Caro,” he says. “Jarl Drake suggested my brethren and I lend a helping hoof.” The followers nod in unison.

“Oh, and how’s that going for you?!” I yell with sarcasm, pointing back at Nahkriin.

The dragon’s wings are spread to their maximum length, the razor sharp claws at the ends sharpened and hungry for blood. “I feel this conversation has run its course, Dovahkiin. Shall we begin?”

“Wait! I’m not done! Who is the Reclaimer?!”

The only response I get from Nahkriin is a much larger column of flame. I roll away from the blast but I still feel the heat upon my coat, which has been singed at the ends. The snow melts in an instant, leaving behind only scorched grass.

Out of the corners of my vision I see the Carriers break ranks and encircle Nahkriin, making attacks at her feet and jumping aside before they get crushed by its feet. The dragon doesn’t pay them much mind, ignoring the mere flesh wounds and instead firing more shots of flame my way. I duck and weave but the shots are becoming more accurate and lethal. With every explosion of flame I feel embers licking at my mane and tail. Thankfully, the snow acts as coolant, but if this goes on for much longer, there won’t be any snow left.

I serpentine my way towards Nahkriin, sidestepping fireballs until I’m out of its range of fire, below its yellow stomach. I can see the dragon still carries the sword wounds from our last encounter, scarred over across the entire length of its underside. I had done more damage than I remembered. How could anything survive that many wounds?

Time to reopen them, I think, brandishing my blade. I make a jumping swing, grazing the belly of the beast, followed by another, leaving a cross shaped gash. After a long night of killing living skeletons, I find the sight of fresh, warm, glistening crimson dragon blood incredibly intoxicating.

Unfortunately, a dragon’s flesh is apparently very durable, and the wound seals itself up in an instant.

I hear Nahkriin‘s voice again, and it‘s definitely not pleased with me. “My blood is not yours to take this time!” It seems this dragon has cast aside all proper mannerisms along with the blood I spilled.

A single flap of its wings brings about a gale force wind. I’m knocked to the ground with my mane obscuring my vision and my sword is nowhere to be seen.

“Kid! Come on, to your hooves!”

It’s Wolf River. He grapples my withers and tugs me forward, forcing me to stand up. I‘m having difficulty getting my bearings and must use his large frame for support.

“My-” I choke, catching my breath. “My sword!” Brushing my mane from my eyes, I look for where it could have landed, only to see Nahkriin tossing it into her mouth, swallowing it in a single gulp. While dragons tend to carry the same grisly expression regardless of their emotion, I can tell by the cackles it makes that it enjoys my gaping.

“I daresay we are even,” it gloats.

“This thing obviously doesn’t fight fair, and neither will I,” snarls Wolf River. He draws his onyx greatsword and gallops into the fray. “You’d best flee while you can!"

I’m still stumbling about, unable to tell the earthwalker I’d rather die now than run like a coward, but what other choice do I have? The other Carriers’ weapons are far too heavy for me to handle, despite all my years of smithing. I’m unarmed, naked and completely defenseless, with only a team of earthwalkers throwing knives and firing crossbows for help. It’s not much of a help, I’ll say that much.

Wolf River takes on the full force of a fireball that leaves a nasty burn upon his face and sends him back several feet, but it does nothing to wound his foolish bravery. “Come on, whatcha got?!” At least his actions inspire the other dark clad Carriers to draw their weapons and gallop in for a head on assault.

I bow my head and stomp the dead grass, thinking perhaps it would be better to run and fight another day... Some Dragonborn I am.

“Master, please... slow down!”

“Now why would I ever do that? Perhaps it is you who needs to move quicker.”

That’s right... It was a warm, cloudless summer morning. I was merely a child, then. Master Hammerfell had finally allowed me to travel with him to Reinoc on one of his trade runs, give or take days of begging and doing chores around the shop. He had agreed to take me only after I had cleansed his diamond sword absolutely spotless, and even then, he forced me to carry every last weapon, ingot and pound of ore he could find, while he had walked unencumbered in his work suit. Mind, this was years before enchanted pouches were commonplace. We had to actually keep weight in mind.

“Why do I have to carry this, Master?”

“You hardly leave the shop, child,” he said, patting me on the back. “You require exercise, especially with how much you gorge yourself.”

Yes, I was a heavy eater in my old life. I had forgotten.

Beads of sweat were forming on my muzzle, even though we were merely minutes gone from Riverhoof. I was bearing such a heavy burden, it would have been so easy and pragmatic to just lay it all on the dirt road and call it a day. Apparently, Master thought the same.

“If you don’t think you can handle it, I can take the bags off your hooves and you can go back to the shop.”

It was a challenge under the guise of an invitation. What kind of earthwalker would I be if I let something as superficial as weight do me in? I knew I was stronger than that. I raised my head high, and instead of letting the burden keep me grounded, I embraced it, and trotted forward, eventually breaking into a run, passing Master Hammerfell and leaving him in the dust.

I had collapsed at the stone archway signifying the entrance to Reinoc. By the time I woke, we had already made the return trip. I had slept through my entire first trading run.

Despite that, Master couldn’t have been more proud of me. He made sure my slice of peach pie was extra large that night.

It’s easier to overcome a physical crutch than an emotional one, but I know that if I give up now, not only am I failing myself and my new name, but I’m also insulting the memory of my master. Nahkriin has taken everything else away from me. I won’t let it have my pride.

That’s why I plant my hooves into the slush and stand my ground as it leans its head back. It shouts out loud this time, not just in my head. “YOL TOOR SHUL!”

A furious fireball emitting light as blinding as the sun escapes the dragon’s lips, grazing the grass and leaving embers in its trail.

Don’t you dare look away, I order myself. If you show any sign of fear, how will you make the monster fear you?

Two can play at this game.

“FUS RO DAH!” I shout.

The unrelenting force pierces the fireball and tears it apart, leaving only patches of flame to burn themselves out on the ground.

“My turn.”

Even if I’m without a physical weapon, the Thu’um is still mine to command. I throw caution to the wind and gallop straight for Nahkriin.

I sidestep fireball after fireball. The adrenaline coursing through my veins sedates the burns even though I feel them on my skin. Wait, skin? All this fire has burned away patches of my coat. Worry about it later... It’s cosmetic...

“Oi, Caro!”

I have never been happier to see a certain white pegasus flying overhead. Tohro is carrying a blade in his hooves, a bronze scimitar. He tosses it to me.

“A gift from Rosemary. Take it!”

I leap into the air and catch the handle of the sword with my teeth. The shaft is riveted for a very comfortable grip and the blade is smoother than glass. I never thought Rosemary had it in her.

It’s a good thing I made that leap, too. I had vaulted another fireball and Nahkriin is just about ready to let another one loose. All that comes out of its mouth is a cough and plumes of smoke.

I enjoy a triumphant laugh. “How about that, beasty?! Lost your trump card already? What will you do now?”

Nahkriin gets down on all fours and lets off a roar that fills the air with the garish scent of brimstone and charcoal. I gag slightly, and Tohro takes the roar as cue to take his leave. I’m not complaining. He has done his part.

Thus, here we are once again. A small, simple minded creature against a towering monstrosity. Something is different, though. Even if my entire body is only the size of Nahkriin’s foot, I feel as though I’m the monstrosity, and while some don’t want to be seen as such a thing, I welcome it. I love this feeling of power and dominance.

Nahkriin is scared, and I love it.

“Come on! You have your claws! You have teeth! COME AT ME!”

With another foul roar, the dragon launches its way to me. I duck a swing of its claws as it passes over. I then break into a gallop, make another leap, and latch onto the beast’s foot.

All I can hear is blustering wind. Snowflakes are stinging my eyes and numbing my body, causing me to clench onto Nahkriin’s leg ever tighter. The most I can do is hold on for dear life or face a quick, messy and likely frigid death on the ground.

It’s not so easy when Nahkriin knows I’m there. It kicks furiously, determined to send me falling to my doom, but I’ve come too far to give in to a little momentum. Rough, calloused scales work as hoofholds as I climb the leg. I reach the knee before I’m flung to and fro again. My hind legs lose their grip. I’m left flailing about in the air before I take my scimitar in hoof and shove it into Nahkriin’s thigh. It lets out a scream that makes my blood boil and my heart soar. Its leg gives up the struggle. I sheathe the scimitar and continue my ascent.

“You know not what you do, Dovahkiin!”

Finally, I’m on the beast’s back. The scales here are smoother, and a single rogue wind could cause me to lose my balance, and if Nahkriin has intelligence enough to turn over... I just sealed my own fate, didn’t I?

“Begone, pest!”

I fall on my stomach and wrap my forelegs around one of the many spines along the dragon’s neck. Darkness threatens to consume my vision. Looking up, I can see all of Trottingham beneath me. It serves as a reminder of why this struggle is for more than vengeance. If Nahkriin doesn’t fall, Trottingham most certainly will, and if what happened to Reinoc is anything to go by...

“I won’t let it happen!” I yell, even though I can barely hear myself over the blood pounding in my ears.

When Nahkriin is flying upright again, I kick off and continue my ascent until I pass between the beast’s horns. I’m finally at the top, walking on its head. The scales are much softer here. That’s good. I could pierce this flesh with a kitchen knife, and I have an Epona damned scimitar. I grip it with both my forehooves, and plant my other two between the folds that make up the dragon’s eyelids. A sturdy enough hold to keep me in place as it shakes its head. It should know by now that I’m not going anywhere.

To silence its protests, I make a vertical swing that leaves a nasty gash between its eyes. I’m too heavy for it to open its mouth and cry out in pain, but I can feel it straining to do so.

Then, the last thing I expected occurs. Its eyes go from bloodshot and furious to uncannily content.

I nearly lose my balance when Nahkriin comes to a halt in midair and simply hovers, not so much as twitching. It takes me a moment to comprehend this action but when it comes to me, I grin sadistically.

Nahkriin is admitting defeat.

“You mortals have become stronger...”

I would respond, but I decide to let my blade be the harbinger of my will. I plunge every inch into Nahkriin’s forehead with one fell thrust. A fountain of crimson blood sputters forth, staining the dragon’s black and red scales and my turquoise coat. A few drops land on my tongue. It tastes delicious.

Whoever said that revenge isn’t sweet was a filthy liar.

~Vision End~

The citizens of Trottingham who had taken refuge in their homes, under balconies and behind rocks cower in fear at a bloodcurdling scream much louder and fiercer than the ones before. Only when it dwindles into a whimper do they realize it’s not a roar of threat, but of pain. They all cautiously step out from their shelters to see the black dragon once again, only its wings have stopped cutting the air, slowing to the point of uselessness. The beast begins its descent, losing balance and toppling over into freefall. As blood rains from the gashes along its stomach and forehead, staining the cobblestone streets, Caro holds on to the dragon’s head for dear life.

Wolf River and his brethren of the Carrier Clan stand at the entrance of Glasswork Forge as Shae and Rosemary tend to their burns and scratches. As a shadow passes over them, they look upwards to see the dragon’s landing spot will be-

“MOVE!” shouts Wolf River.

In an instant, the Carriers make an effortless, synchronized jump from the landing zone. Rosemary, who is carrying scalpels and alchemy ingredients for Shae, drops her load and trips in the confusion. Shae leaps onto her, her horn already illuminated, and summons a shield.

A crash as loud as fifty thunderclaps at once accompanies the impact of the dragon upon the shield. The body rolls off lazily, but the shield cracks and shatters shortly after, leaving Shae in a stupor. She collapses on top of Rosemary.

The force of the shield’s collapse shifts the foundation of the forge, causing nearly half the building to fall apart into a pile of rubble. The dragon’s corpse also takes out a chunk of the Drakenosch tavern.

A horrendously bloodied Caro crawls out from underneath the corpse. His coat has been burned all the way from his haunches to his withers, and dragon scales are embedded in his legs. He limps away from his kill without a whimper, only carrying a look of gratification, at least until he falls to the cobblestone in a pool of his own blood. His smile doesn’t fade, though.

“I did it...” he croaks before his body goes limp.

The gathered swarm of confused and astounded townsfolk take this in silence, until Shae’s shrill shriek breaks the mold.

“CARO!”

The magenta mare shoves her way through the crowd, awkwardly galloping to her friend while still dazed from her shield failure. She slides to him, preparing a healing spell well beyond her limits. The light of her horn sputters out with every charge until she’s left on her haunches, sweating a river.

“Dammit... COME ON!” she cries in desperation. She turns Caro’s body over and begins pressing down on his chest. “Wake up...”

She turns to the townsfolk as tears begin to form in her eyes. “Oh, don’t anypony get over here and help!”

Wolf River approaches the sobbing Shae and pats her on the back to console her before looking to the true spoils of this battle.

The dragon’s corpse is suddenly alight with an ungoldy golden glow. It envelops the beast’s entire being, then flies into the sky, leaving nothing but the skeleton behind. The light then coalesces into Caro. The golden light fills his eyes. His discoloured, burnt skin is healed and his wounds close. Aside from old scars that remain, there is no sign he was ever in a duel with a dragon.

Shae squeals and throws her forelegs around the earthwalker, who is just as confused as anypony else.

A small, black and grey unicorn wearing oversized robes and a hood breaks away from the crowd. Court Wizard Boysenberry. His face carries elation and astonishment.

“I ask you to retrieve a crystal, you give me a battle for the history tomes!” he squeaks.

“Just... doing my job.” Caro makes a futile attempt to stand.

Tohro lands beside his friend and gives his mane an affectionate tossle. “Well, right now, this Dragonborn needs to rest. I daresay he’s earned it.”

“I couldn’t agree more. In fact, I’d say he’s earned far better.”

Everpony’s heads turn to what’s left of Glasswork Forge to see a hooded mare wearing an ursa fur cloak and exotic, jewel encrusted armor. The appearance of this mare causes a disturbance, leading the townsfolk to coerce among themselves.

“By the Divines, that’s...”

“What is she doing here?”

“Did she orchestrate all of this?”

“She isn’t welcome here!”

“The rumours were true! She is as magnificent as they say!”

With a flawless bound, the mare lands on the street. Some ponies back away while others fall on their knees and grovel.

Caro sits up, despite the intensifying migraine threatening to split his skull. He knows this mare. Even though he’s only seen her the once, he could never forget the fear her mere presence brings.

“Shokenda Blackwing.”

“Indeed, Dragonborn.” With a flick of her head, her hood vanishes, revealing an unnaturally white coat and mane, several glimmering ear piercings and intense, golden eyes. Her horn is sharpened to the point of Caro feeling impaled just by the sight of it.

Despite the fear and reverence surrounding Shokenda, she is calm and collected as she addresses the citizens of Trottingham. “Good afternoon, my little ponies. Wasn’t that simply a marvelous performance?” She nonchalantly stomps a single hoof. “I’m sure you all are quite relieved the legendary Dragonborn was here to silence the fearsome dragon, and your fears. If it were not for him, you would all have met a burning end. Not even your precious Carrier Clan,” she eyes the black coated warriors, “would have been strong enough to stop such madness.”

Shokenda blinks out of sight and reappears by Caro’s side. The way she sensually strokes his cheek makes him want nothing more than to retrieve his scimitar from the dragon’s head and remove hers. Shae stands to insist she stands aside but a single glare causes her to back away instead. Tohro stands his ground and salutes.

“Surely you have all heard the stories?” Shokenda continues. “The songs sung by those Saddle Arabian bards?”

As the townsfolk talk amongst themselves, they all disagree on hearing of such things. This amuses her.

“Well then, allow me to explain. A thousand years ago, the Precursors and the dragons shared this land, and the sacred Dragon Priests interpreted the will of the dragons by dedicating their lives to learning their language, and eventually, learning how to use it as a weapon. The Dragonborn, a descendent of the winged beasts themselves, can use their language’s arcane powers effortlessly. All it takes is a spark, and they awaken.”

Caro is still unable to keep Shokenda from cradling his head. He bares his teeth at her sadism. She’s enjoying this far too much. Queen of the Blackwings be damned, he wants to carve into her. Make her pay for using him as a mere plaything...

“Imagine, with just a few words, he could drown a pony on dry land. He could encase you in ice. Flatten you. Choke, burn, turn you inside out! It only takes a few syllables.”

The townsfolk have gone from disturbed to genuinely terrified. They’re restless and shuffling about, trying to get away.

“No, no, this is a good thing,” says Shokenda, waving her hoof. “If you remain worthy in the eyes of the Dragonborn, he won’t have to resort to such actions. He can keep you safe from the perils of this world, especially those that your negligent Queen Platinum lets run wild. What does she have? A soulless, depraved army of automatons? We, the Blackwings, have the legendary-”

“No.”

Shokenda stops herself and shoots Caro a glare. “Is this not what you wish for? To control them? Merely days ago you had nothing but hatred for these simpletons. I could see it in your eyes. You and I feel much the same.”

Caro shoves her aside, finally able to stand. Tohro tries to stifle him, pulling him away, but he’s useless against the much stronger pony. “I don’t serve you. I don’t serve the Blackwings, I don’t serve the Imperials, I don’t serve anyone!” he bellows. “I am not your means to an end. I don’t care what happens to your petty cause so long as I walk free.”

He stumbles over to the skeleton of the dragon and dislodges the bronze scimitar from the bones. He can barely clutch it in his hooves and it drags along the ground, creating sparks.

“I promise you, I will be free. Even if I must kill you... and I will.”

Shokenda lets a chuckle pass her lips before regaining her composure. “Is that a threat?”

Caro’s glare rivals hers in the induction of fear. “It’s a promise.” The glare falters as he falls once again. Tohro catches him.

“Stop yourself for a moment, mate,” says the pegasus. “You’re obviously out of your element here.” He turns to Shokenda. “Uh, I apologize for my friend’s sour mood, Ma’am. Perhaps we can discuss this in private?”

Shokenda gives a sigh of disapproval and begrudgingly retreats back into her hood. “Follow.”

~Tohro~

Shokenda keeps ahead of me, never letting me speak to her face to face, or at least as much of her face as her ursa hood lets one see. I had been quite offset when she removed it to praise Caro. She seldom does that, even back at headquarters.

“You have been taking your sweet time,” she says she levitates the main gate shut, walling us off from the still panicked townsfolk. “I expected you and Caro to arrive in Fillydelphia by now.”

We Blackwings may be far more relaxed and unprofessional compared to the Imperials, but we’re still expected to follow some form of protocol. If your superiors are disappointed in you, and boy is Shokenda right now, you’ve seriously fucked up.

Not that I care, really. “We were sidetracked, Ma’am. Caro merely wished to make a stop in Trottingham for supplies, but then we were swept up in Jarl Drake’s nonsense.”

Of course, I don’t actually consider this nonsense, but I can’t let on that I’m interested in anything the jarl does. Shokenda may think my loyalties have shifted, which they haven’t... have they? No, no, of course not.

Regardless, Shokenda keeps her aura of stoic contentment. While it is nice to have somepony who doesn’t lose tend to lose their temper as a leader, it’s unnerving in many ways. “So, you’ve indulged Caro on his desires?”

“If I hadn’t, he would have probably lost sympathy for our cause.” Like he had sympathy to begin with.

“I suppose that makes sense.”

A silent moment with Shokenda is, quite honestly, even more unnerving.

“Ma’am, if I may...”

“You may.”

“Despite my best efforts, Caro still refuses to sign on with the Blackwings. Whatever it is you have planned for him, how can you expect to pull it off if he doesn’t cooperate? With all due respect, it sort of throws your entire plan out the window.”

Shokenda merely clicks her tongue. “Tut-tut, Tohro. I have planned for this,” she says as she pulls her hood back again. Her eyes and horn emit a harsh golden aura as she summons an ornate, velvet lined throne from the grass and sits upon it. She does this often. When she issues commands from up high, it’s far more intimidating. “I’ve known for a while now that Caro cares little for us. I’ve... checked in, every so often.”

Orbs of liquid glass materialize around her, recounting Caro’s entire adventure from the beginning, with me escorting him through the Imperial cellars, all the way up to him slaying the dragon.

“It’s unusual, though. Ever since Caro realized what he is, I haven’t been able to gaze into his immediate future. Perhaps he’s become immune to the confines of fate. Can you imagine?”

“Well, I-”

Shokenda raises her hoof. “‘Twas a rhetorical question.” She rests her chin of her hooves and sighs. “See, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. I had intended to keep Caro occupied with our finest alcohol and escorts until the instruments of our ultimate goal revealed themselves.”

She hasn’t mentioned these instruments before, but I know better than to ask what, or why.

“But I suppose even the most foolproof plan has a downfall. There’s no telling how many ways that could have gone awry. No matter. Instead, just keep doing as you have. Give Caro the illusion that he has a choice in this matter. Soon he will come to realize where his loyalties must lie.”

“So, I will keep Caro occupied. Will there be anything else, Ma’am?”

Shokenda looks over to two of her orbs, which carry the faces of Shae and Tangerine. "Well, since you asked me so nicely, I suppose there is something else I need you to do for me. If you think you can handle it, that is. These two mares, the former general and the unicorn. I need you to dispose of them."

"Of co- wait, what?"

I have served the Blackwings loyally since the beginning, and I’ve always followed Shokenda’s orders without a second thought. Until today.

"You heard me, Tohro. Dispose of those two mares you socialize with. They are liabilities to the mission. I'm sure their deaths will set quite the example, especially for the Platinum Empire."

"I can understand that much for Tangerine, what with her being a former general, but Shae's just a child!"

Shokenda’s stoicism fails her. I don’t think she’s used to direct protests. "A child with power. Any power that is not among us is a threat to our reign. I've seen her actions, and she seems the type to refuse to join us. Therefore, nopony can have her."

"So, you're saying that if she's not with us, she's against us."

"Are you saying the same, Tohro?"

"...I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You don't normally question my orders. Is there something you're not telling me?"

There's something I can't quite comprehend here. I'm standing before my mentor. My queen. My everything. Only, I feel nothing for her now. Doubt. That's what's happening. The events that have transpired recently have made me doubt the mare I swore my life to.

"I... I don't think I can follow your command," I confess.

"You've had no qualms with targeted murder in the past." She sits upon her throne, keeping her eyes fixed on me as I squirm. "What makes this one any different?"

I’ve done awful things, yes. I still have flashbacks. Driving a detached wingblade into the throat of a potential traitor, her shrill screams for mercy falling silent over the blood draining from her lips. Snapping the neck of a knight in training who selflessly divulged information on the Imperial Legion’s battle plans. Poisoning a young colt’s first drink of apple cider and watching him gasp for breath... I try to repress the memories, but they always come back.

"Those... You know I have nightmares about those... But I was convinced it was for good reason. Shae is... I've gotten to know her. She's a good mare. She's my friend. And Tangerine, she’s no threat to us without an army backing her up, and besides, she has family. What do we have to gain from taking her from them?”

"Hmm, this is disappointing." Shokenda hops to her hooves and begins dramatically pacing. "Normally such insolence would be punished severely, but you... You're the finest assassin I have. It would be a shame to lose my best asset over the life of a child..." She stops and glares at me. This is the first time I’ve been at the receiving end of those horrid golden eyes. “Perhaps a demotion is in order. Yes, that sounds fair enough. You could work your way back to the top and reclaim your honor.”

That is it. In mere moments, Shokenda had gone from the mare I admired and sometimes fantasized about in my free time to a complete and utter hag.

Suddenly, I see through her methods. She had kept me alienated from genuine sympathy for the ponies the Blackwings have hurt. She clouded my mind with cider and meaningless casual sex with my fellow soldiers. Until I met Caro and Shae, I never had any real friends. Hell, even Baroness von Buzzkill herself, Tangerine, she at least showed me mercy, give or take a trip through a dark and dank cavern.

Two innocent lives are only worth a few measly military ranks to Shokenda Blackwing? No. It doesn’t work like that. This is where I draw the line. I don’t need these rebels. I don't need this bitch to tell me what's right or wrong.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

Well, that sounded braver in my head.

I’m at the mercy of Shokenda’s hollow glare again, and this time, she looks downright murderous. I’m shaking in my boots as she advances on me.

I’m going to die, aren’t I?

In an instant I’m on my back, pinned to the cold dirt by Shokenda’s conjured chains. I can feel my heart pounding against the inside of my chest as she lays her breast against mine, her muzzle hovering merely inches away from my face. Her calm, warm breath embraces my nostrils.

“I see it in your eyes. You doubt my judgment. Distaste for what must be done consumes your entire being. You are a lost cause.”

A bolt of lightning discharges from her horn, striking me in my left eye. The sting causes me to kick and scream. Even if the pain isn’t anything too horrendous, my being scared out of my wits exacerbates it.

“That is your end.”

She teleports back to her summoned throne and levitates an orb towards me. Still clutching my left eye, I use my good one look into the orb and see... myself.

It’s not a vision this time, it’s a reflection. I remove my hoof from my left eye to reveal a scarred, discoloured mess. My pupil has become grey and faded and my eyelids are black and bruised. Something tells me this can’t be fixed with disinfectant.

“I can do worse than kill you, Tohro,” says Shokenda. “See, you sacrificed your mark to join our cause. By abandoning that cause, you sacrifice your life. But it won’t be at my hooves. You wear the brand of a traitor. As such, every Blackwing soldier you knew as a comrade is now your enemy. Wander this land, knowing that a god has deemed you unworthy of living, and suffer at the hooves of your former allies.”

As Shokenda and her throne disappear, the shock of the moment wears off. I make it about five steps before I pass out.

~Vision End~

The mug of juniper berry mead is drained in a manner of seconds. Caro slams it onto the circular table with a loud exhale.

“This drink... I like it.” He waves to the barmaid. “Another! In fact, make it two!”

“Coming right up, Dragonborn,” she says with a wink.

Shae sighs as she looks over a medicinary encyclopedia Boysenberry had loaned her. It’s scrawled over with footnotes from the little wizard himself.

...mix in three four drops of a raspberry’s stem, this will give the healing potion its red tint. Add a single raspberry. It’ll hasten the healing process. Mix for one minute forty-five seconds and let sit for a half hour. Not necessary. Just drink the damn thing.

Shae slams the book shut. Skimming it over for the third time is a test of patience she’s unwilling to endure. “I can’t find anything relevant to what happened to you back there. When the dragon-”

“Nahkriin,” Caro interrupts.

“...Right. When Na-koreen turned into that shiny golden... stuff, somehow it resonated with you. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

The barmaid swaggers to the table, drops off two more frothing mugs and collects the others. “For the record,” says Caro to her, “thank you very much for the free drinks. I half expected to be demanded compensation for, well, that.” He waves his hoof to the the half of the tavern that was missing its walls and ceiling. Carpenter ponies were already hard at work clearing the wreckage and repairing what they could.

The barmaid laughs. “Would've been a lot less of the place had you not slayed the beast. The owner figures that’s compensation enough. Uh, will your wife be having anything?” She nods to Shae, who raises an eyebrow.

Caro nearly spits out his mouthful of mead. He swallows and says, “She- She’s hardly my wife.”

“Oh. Marefriend?”

“No.”

“Trophy? Slave? ...Escort?”

Shae slams her hooves on the table. “Whatever she is, she must be invisible and deaf!” She lays a sack of bits in front of the barmaid. “And you know what? I’ll have what he’s having.”

“Uh, coming right up, then.”

As the mare takes her leave, Caro gives a curious glance to Shae.

“What?”

“You’re underage, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you climb upon a dragon’s back-”

“Nahkriin.”

“-and shove a sword through its Faustedamned-”

“Her.”

“-head but oh!” Shae puts on the charade of a panicked child. “Perish the thought of a young mare drinking because she very nearly lost her friend while everypony stood there and watched!”

“Oh.” Caro never did stop and think about what could have gone wrong. All that mattered to him was spilling Nahkriin’s blood. He clasps Shae on the wither, looking into her magenta eyes to see angry tears. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair for me to make you worry like that.”

Shae wipes her eyes. “It’s like you said. Comes with the title.”

“Hey, next time a dragon crosses our path, I’ll let you take a shot at it.”

They share a moment of laughter before getting interrupted by the barmaid. She places a mug before Shae, who slams it back, finishing with a contented sigh. "Oh, yeah. Take some coffee beans, grind them up, pour them in this stuff, and you've got the greatest disinhibitor known this side of Everfree!"

“Excellent, could I get some of that?” Tohro stumbles through the door despite there being no wall surrounding it. His hair is laced with grass and mud, and his eyes are wide open. One of those eyes is covered in horrendous scars. Caro and Shae reel back at the sight of it.

“Oh, so it is noticeable.” The pegasus blunders over splints of wood until he makes his way to an empty seat. “This is going to ruin my whole day.”

Caro touches the scarred eye, causing Tohro to wince. “What happened to you? You were only gone an hour.”

“Oh, nothing much. Talked to Shokenda, caught up on what we’ve been up to, she ordered me to kill Shae and Tangerine, told her to fuck off, she took it rather well.”

Shae chokes on her second mug. “The leader of the Blackwings wants me dead?!”

“What the hell is wrong with her? And you actually said that to her face?!” shouts Caro at the same time.

Tohro holds his head. “Ouch, headache.” He takes a deep breath. “To answer Shae’s question, yes, but to be fair, you aren’t the first, and if I have anything to say about it, it won’t happen, because, answering Caro’s question, I did say something along those lines. You gonna drink that?” Without waiting for an answer, Tohro snatches what remains of Caro’s mead and clumsily slurps it down. Several drops fall from his lips.

“So, your eye...”

“Uh-huh.”

A moment of silence passes over before Caro speaks again. “You... spoke of Shokenda to the point of worshipping her. You called her the ‘true high queen.’ What changed your mind?”

“You lot.”

Another quiet minute goes over as the group all take sips of their alcohol.

“I’m a soldier without an army.”

“I think that’s the title of a poem,” says Shae. She’s tackled three mugs of mead and is rapidly draining her fourth. She figures that so long as she’s taking this extended vacation from the academy, she may as well cut loose, although it draws concern from Caro.

“Let’s focus on happier matters, huh?" Tohro says, wishing to change the topic quickly. "You finally gave that monstrosity what it deserved!”

Caro holds up his hoof. “Her name was-”

“Nahkriin,” interrupts Shae.

“...Yes, and I daresay she won’t be coming back this time.”

Tohro tilts his head. “This time?”

Caro proceeds to explain how he had figured out Nahkriin was the same dragon he had brutalized in Reinoc, and that she had somehow survived. “That strange deal with her flesh becoming a gold aura, it didn’t occur back in Reinoc. I’m not sure what triggered it, but now that she’s been reduced to a skeleton, I’m sure she’s out of my life forever.”

Shae’s glasses are askew, a sure sign that the mead is taking its toll on her. She is by no means less analytical. “And that aura became one with you. This is just a loose theory, and we may have to speak to Boysenberry about this, but... I think you absorbed Nahkriin’s soul.”

Souls. They give the body life, emotion, and purpose. Caro had long given up on the possibility that dragons even had souls, being the violent, destructive beings that they are. If that was her soul, he thinks, then it’s better in here than it was in her own body. He touches his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat, but not a soul. Of course I can’t feel it. He has always imagined souls as floating orbs one cannot touch, but only see. How fitting that a dragon’s soul would be a harsh golden aura, like an enchanted fire, instead of something more peaceful. “Perhaps that’s my gift as Dragonborn. I take dragon souls for my own.”

“It certainly shows,” says Tohro as he squeezes Caro’s foreleg, much to his discomfort. “I mean, are you seeing this? Ever since you lit up like the Hearth’s Warming Eve, you’ve become quite the looker.”

Amongst all the excitement and alcohol, Caro had failed to notice his muscles have become much more defined. He playfully flexes them, causing both Shae, Tohro and the barmaid to blush. He laughs and admires what Nahkriin’s soul has given him. “Not exactly the envy of an Imperial soldier, but isn’t that something!”

Tohro sips some more of his mead between laughs. “Yeah, imagine how you’ll look after slaying a few more dragons, eh?”

At that notion, Caro looks down to see his own flanks, still without a mark. “By Epona...” He stands up on his hind legs and slams his hooves on the table. “Tohro! Shae! I think that’s what I’m meant for!”

“Bodybuilding?” asks Tohro.

Shae smacks him upside the cheek. “No, you dunce, killing dragons.”

Caro smiles at her and Tohro. “Exactly. I mean, I am the Dragonborn. It seems a little obvious, but who else could do it? How many ponies do you know that can honestly say they killed a damn dragon? Twice!’" He takes both of his friends’ hooves in his. “But I never would have been able to do it without either of you.

He looks to his pegasus friend with a beaming smile.

“Tohro, you’re a soldier without an army, but that also means you’re free from your duties to anypony. We can keep travelling together without Shokenda getting in the way."

He then turns to the unicorn next to him and places his hoof on her back.

“Shae, you are an immensely powerful unicorn, so skilled that you even got Shokenda’s attention. In an odd sort of way, that is an honor. You’re smart, clever, and you brought a bit of class to us barbarians. That’s no easy feat.

Caro slams his hooves on the table.

“I want both of you at my side as I take this fight to the rest of the dragons, and anypony else that threatens the lives of the innocent. I want both of you in my guild.”

“A guild?” both Tohro and Shae ask as their ears perk up.

Caro rubs his hooves together as he looks to the orange tinted sky. “Exactly. We will be called Dragonrein, and the Dovah will learn to fear us.”