“Hello, traitor.”

Tohro hears Shokenda’s threatening drawl quite well, but he does not respond with words. Instead, he turns away from the wallway cannons and the soldiers loading ammunition to equip his crossbow. He loads three bolts and fires them all at once the instant he catches Shokenda in his sights. The bolts pass right through her before she fades away.

“Will you ever not fall for that?”

An otherworldly musk makes itself known to Tohro’s snout. Shokenda has reappeared behind him with her muzzle uncomfortably close to his ear. “You’ve truly become enveloped in the role I sent you to play. What’s the phrase? ‘Becoming the mask’?”

Tohro loads another bolt and presses the stirrup to Shokenda’s chin. “It’s not a mask. It never was.”

He fires, and once again Shokenda fades. She lands on one of the cannons in mid-reload.

“Get off of that, hag!” shouts a soldier as he draws his mace. He makes a desperate swing at Shokenda, who bounds over of the soldier. With a single swish of her colorless glowing horn, the soldier’s neck furiously gushes blood, and the lights leave his eyes in an instant.

Tohro gapes and hesitates to pull the trigger. “How did you-”

“Did you witness that?” Shokenda nudges the soldier’s corpse with her hoof and cautiously steps over the widening pool of blood. “That’s the power the Divines have blessed me with.”

Tohro spits at her hooves, though she steps aside. “So just cut me down and get it overwith,” he says with a scowl. “A far better fate than speaking to you. And I reiterate, there is no mask! I live for Caro, hag!” He decides to make use of his newest weapon. With a flick of his foreleg, his hidden blade shows itself.

Shokenda gives a dissonant giggle. "You live for pleasures of the flesh."

Tohro grits his teeth and charges at Shokenda, scraping her ebony armor. “FUCK YOU!”

She strikes him across the face as if he were a mouthy child, sending him to the ground. "What's wrong? Angry I'm not jealous you’ve found new partners? Did you think we had something?"

“They’re my friends! And I refuse to believe we ever had anything! You used me like a towel!”

"And like a towel all you did was lie in the corner and mold."

Tohro thrusts at her neck repeatedly with his hidden blade, though she only laughs maniacally as the blade reflects off her neck, like it were striking diamond.

"Just like your first time. Thrusting blindy and getting nowhere."

Surrounded on all sides by largest battle he has ever seen, with blades clashes echoing through the night and the stench of cannon powder latched onto the wind, and all he can do is cower in fear at the albino demon before him as she advances.

“As for your request to cut you down, I’m afraid I must refuse your generous proposition. You seem to have forgotten what that,” Shokenda points intensely at Tohro’s scarred eye, “means to the Blackwings.”

“A slow and painful death upon me and all my relatives. Well, everypony I know and love is dead or a Blackwing, so go on! Take it all out on me! Do it.” Tohro spreads his forelegs out. “Fucking do it.”

Shokenda, still carrying no emotion whatsoever in her face but utter glee in her body, raises her hooves, about to bring them down on every vulnerable spot in Tohro’s frame...

Until a green dragon crashes into the ramparts, tearing brick from brick and separating the warmare from the thief. While Tohro calls out in momentary surprise, Shokenda still laughs quietly. “That was unexpected.”

“SHOKENDAAAAA!!”

In front of the unflustered warmare lands the Dragonborn, having leapt from the head of the dragon. His eyes are coated red, his body much of the same with the dragon’s blood. His anger radiates from his body, filling the air with pure rage.

Shokenda dismisses the fury on Caro’s face and merely gives a small bow. “Shall we dance?”

Caro draws one of his greatswords in his teeth. “Let’s.” He gallops forward, swings around and bucks Shokenda in the muzzle. She doesn’t even budge, not even when he returns and gives her a haymaker.

“She’ll never falter if you strike her head on!” Tohro yells, flying overhead and flinging three wing blades at her. She phases backwards from the first but the other two cut through her mane, dropping white strands of hair from her head. “See? Her shield is inconsis-”

Shokenda reels around and strikes Tohro with a bolt of lightning. He veers off course, fidgeting his limbs and coming to a rough collision with the ground.

“You’ll regret that!” Caro swings at Shokenda’s flanks while she’s turned away, landing a scratch in her armor. It’s an incredibly tough build. Figures that the strongest set of ebony armor would go to her.

Regardless, she’s still vulnerable. Caro slams into her with both hind legs and staggers her. He swings his sword across her face, barely crossing her cheek as she fades away again.

Caro receives a scorching blast of lightning to his back, followed by several harsh bucks and throttles to his side. Shokenda moves unfathomably fast for somepony of her stature.

Ignoring the bruises in his barrel from landing against the wall, Caro retaliates with a shout. “WULD NA-” He’s cut off by another buck from Shokenda.

“Your proficiency with the Thu’um is unrefined.”

Caro hisses and drags himself back into his battle stance.

“YUL...”

Shokenda taps her chin. “Well, that’s a tad better...”

“What?” Caro tilts his head, looks to his sides, and then behind him, where the forgotten dragon lays with his open mouth full of embers.

“...TOOR SHUL!!”

It happens in the blink of an eye. The entire rampart, for a moment, is engulfed in flames. Caro’s adrenaline kicks in, allowing him to gallop past a sidetracked Shokenda, dive for Tohro, scoop the pegasus from the ground and leap to the streets below.

His legs scream from the impact, leaving him stiff and sore, on top of the burning sensation on his flanks. Baring his teeth, he continues to neglect those injuries, checking on Tohro’s well being. He waves Caro off as he catches his breath.

“I’m not going to lie, mate,” says Tohro, “that was beyond amazing, what you did there. Name another that’s done something like that, I dare you.”

Caro mutters, “One can assume Argent did...”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, I just... Divines, what the hell?!” In his peripheral vision, an unwelcome and entirely unforeseen sight becomes clear. He turns to it with his mouth agape and his eyes bulging.

Unharmed by the flames, Shokenda Blackwing flies from the ramparts into the battle raging outside Trottingham.

Shokenda Blackwing flies.

“Alicorn?!”

While Caro’s legs move him hastily forward to the battlefield, his mind remains elsewhere, replaying the impossible sight over and over, never wholly believing what he saw. He has to keep blinking to ensure he’s still in the realm of the living. Meanwhile, Tohro flies closely behind with his focus on the road ahead and his hooves ready to take up another wing blade if necessary.

“An alicorn?!” Caro repeats. “Do you know what this means? Platinum and her entire Imperial Legion are at war with a... no.” I will never refer to her as a deity, he thinks.

“It’s a shame, I know,” Tohro says tranquilly.

That note strikes Caro the wrong way. He begins to slow just past the crossroads, where the battle lies just yards away. “You seem rather non-opinionated about it.”

Tohro nickers and touches down. “Caro, I care not for what Shokenda is. I merely wish to live in the now.”

Caro spins Tohro around and grabs him by the face. “This is the now! And up until now, I merely saw Shokenda as a disturbingly powerful unicorn. Alicorn, Tohro! You know how powerful they are in legend! What if Shokenda is on Epona or Fauste’s level?”

“Hell if I... know...”

The telltale signs of a liar can be seen on Tohro. Irregular breathing, neglect to look Caro in the eye, a twitch of his mouth. Caro takes notice of these things easily and narrows his gaze, forcing Tohro to look at him. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

"All the Blackwings know." The pegasus’ white face begins turning red, but not of affectionate fluster. “...I’m one of the few to see her clothless, so... imagine how I felt.”

Caro would be prompted to feel more enraged but he can feel the fear of Shokenda on Tohro’s body.

Tohro shoves Caro aside. “Behind you!” he shouts whilst drawing his crossbow and firing. A charging Blackwing soldier falls dead between them with the bolt in his head. “Bloody hell, I think I knew this one...”

“No time for nostalgia.” The Dragonborn readies his weapon, steps over the body of the Blackwing and resume his galloping. He receives a pat on the back from Tohro.

“I’ll be fine, Caro. You’re here.”

Having spent most of her existence on a mountain, isolated from the wartime acts of the world below, Shae would be one to cower in fear as Blackwings surround her, Rosemary and two Imperial pegasi with longswords in hoof. However, Shae doesn't like to consider herself an average pony, and she is far from afraid.

“Stay close, ladies.”

While she and Rosemary nod to acknowledge the soldiers’ act of valor, with them charging in and taking on their surrounding foes, the mares don’t wait for rescue. Shae is merely a step away from two Blackwing unicorn mares that tower over her, though Rosemary can look them dead on. The young mage ignites her horn. “So, we fight magic with magic. Come on.”

Rosemary gives a confident smirk to her enflamed falchion, admiring the scalding trail it leaves behind as she brandishes it.

Giving a somewhat restrained war cry, Shae charges at one of the Blackwings as she summons an ethereal scimitar to her side. She casts it forth, landing it on the Blackwing’s barrier. She follows up with a kick that dispels the barrier. The Blackwing casts a spray of purple sludge, some of it planting on Shae’s neck. She hesitates, trying to recall what the substance is, but her question is answered when it begins to corrode and burn at her skin. Blood trickles from underneath the sludge. She tenses up and tries to tear it off, only to get pinned by the Blackwing, who slugs her in the chest and the face. She points her horn towards Shae’s forehead and charges what Shae recognizes as a non-elemental spark.

Shae denies the Blackwing the finishing blow by bringing her hind legs into her stomach, knocking her plating askew. She recalls her scimitar underneath and plunges it into the Blackwing, then does her best to ignore the stink of blood dripping from the mouth. She somersaults backwards onto her hooves.

A shriek from Rosemary brings Shae around. She’s caught in a headlock, pinned by a pegasus with the other mage’s aura keeping her down. She growls as she resists the aura, struggling to move her hoof to her falchion.

“Get off her!” Shae takes a page out of her most recent kill’s book and casts forth the corrosive slag onto the mage’s face. Her magical grip falters as she does, before she cries out in pain and desperately grabs to relieve her face.

Rosemary can finally grab her sword. She thrusts at the pegasus, who leaps backward and crouches, followed by a flying charge. Rosemary digs her hooves into the dirt and meets the pegasus’ charge with her head. She doesn’t budge an inch, and the pegasus is thrown onto his back. “I am so sorry about this...” Sword aflame, she vaults onto the pegasus and pierces his chest. “But, to be fair, I may have a concussion, thanks to you. So, now we’re even.”

Shae, meanwhile, stands over a pile of disposed slag and the Blackwing mage, whose face has become burned and scarred beyond all recognition. She draws labored breaths as Shae lightly brushes her wither. “I think you should find a white mage. I would cure it myself but I’m not that proficient with healing magic.”

The mage chokes out a weak cough and whispers “Th-thank you...” as she enters a shock induced sleep.

“What happened to those Imperials?” Rosemary asks Shae.

“They got snatched up and bound by some other Blackwing pegasi. I lost sight of them after.”

“Poor sods.”

Shae trots to the edge of the hill, overlooking the furious battle below. Whereas the Imperial Legion has formed organized ranks along the main pathways into Trottingham and fight with poise and order, the Blackwings are disorganized, storming over the ranks in chaotic fluence. Unfortunately, that seems to be working in their favor. “I don’t pretend to be a battle strategist,” says Shae, “but I feel the ratio of pegasi in the Blackwings is what’s granting them the upper hoof.”

Rosemary is awkwardly brushing the back of her mane. “Uh, yeah, I was just thinkin’ that...”

“Come to think of it, why are there so many more pegasi on their side, anyway?”

Shae performs a spooked leap when a cold armored hoof brushes her side. Tangerine stands beside her, wearing a red cape over steel barding, sharpening a new set of bladed gauntlets on a rock. “It’s to do with their origins. When the Blackwings first came together, Shokenda aside, they were all pegasi enraged at the abandonment of the old ways back in Olympus. It’s in the name. Of course, their ranks expanded to earthwalker soldiers and unicorn mages eventually, but pegasi will always dominate their numbers.”

Shae nods, then notices out of her peripheral vision that she’s one friend short. Rosemary hasn’t even left a trace.

Tangerine cocks her brow. “Is something wrong, Miss Shae?”

“Uh, no,” Shae lies, feeling deprived of a farewell embrace. She shakes it off and focuses on the greater task. “If they claim Equinesreach, they’ll have Jarl Drake, and this’ll be all for nothing. What should we do?”

Tangerine smiles and gestures to Trottingham. The Imperial Legion has every potential entrance covered by spiked roadblocks, but that doesn’t prevent pegasi from diving in from above. The cannons take care of that, for the most part.

A Blackwing pegasus is struck by an inflamed cannonball in mid-flight. He becomes a tumbling smolder as he descends right into Tangerine’s path. She swings her hind legs around and plants them into his stomach, and he falls with his muzzle coated in sick.

Tangerine gives a triumphant flip of her mane. “Cathartic! Been so long since I’ve been able to cut loose on these bastards.”

“Hey!” Shae shouts.

“Oh, yes,” Tangerine turns in place, lending Shae her hoof. “If you want my advice, you’d best join Jarl Drake and Boysenberry at Equinesreach. We need more talented mages there.”

Shae doesn’t bother hiding her fluster. “You flatter me.”

“Nothing but the truth. In the meantime, my friends will address this.”

“Friends?”

A shadow is cast over Shae for only a moment. She looks up to see nothing but the night sky then turns back to see a menacing figure crossing the moon. She lets out a brief shriek before Tangerine’s comforting hoof finds her again.

“Calm yourself, dear. Surely you recognize Wolf River??”

The fierce lycan wears a steel gauntlet down the length of his right arm, which clutches an ornately decorated hammer. “Mjolnir...” he growls.

Shae winces at more sounds of snarls surrounding her whilst Tangerine looks as content as can be. Several more lycans, each of varying size but still black as night, emerge from the darkness, heavily armored with their fangs sharpened for the kill. Shae does want to run away in panic, but a lingering feeling of safety thrusts forward from the back of her mind. The lycans are standing guard, rather than assaulting her or anypony innocent. She relaxes her body as the warmth of protection comes over her.

“You are the Carrier Clan,” says Tangerine. She faces Wolf River but she speaks to all the lycans. “You are named so because you carry the honor, courage and dignity of this land on your backs, even if nopony else will. Do what you’ve sworn and protect our home.”

Aside from Wolf River, the lycans seem reluctant to take orders from fresh meat, tilting their heads at Tangerine.

The former general sighs and mutters, “If it pleases you.”

With that, Wolf River turns with Mjolnir in claw, saliva coming off his lips as he roars at an oncoming Blackwing caravan, guarded by several armed earthwalkers and a single mage. He charges forward in unison with the rest of the Carriers.

All it takes is a just impact with Mjolnir to send the caravan toppling over, coated in electric sparks. The stored gunpowder kegs begin to fizzle. The single unicorn summons a barrier, trying to contain the inevitable explosion, but as the keg bursts, he’s overwhelmed. A brief yet intense blaze sends the many Blackwings flying prone. Wolf River catches a husky colt in his claws. He gives him a close view of his fangs before he silences his screams.

Tohro breaks the muzzle of an enemy pegasus with a mid-air kick, followed by grabbing ahold of her appendages, making a revolution and tossing her body into an oncoming group of more rebels. All three land in a broken heap on a patch of grass.

The broken pegasus coughs up a small pool of red and calls out for Tohro. He turns around and kneels to her, doing his best to avoid looking sympathetic to his old group.

“S-S-S-Shokend-da s-said you’d... be here... s-she said you-” She hacks up another batch, a few droplets speckling Tohro’s face. “You b-betrayed us...”

Tohro gives a single noted laugh before he tosses the mare a spare potion. As she scrambles for it, he says, “I’m no traitor. Shokenda’s methods have simply lost her my interest.”

The mare speaks between sips of potion. “W-we used to be com-mm... comrades.”

“Yes, and I’m not about to forget that. I just have a greater cause to answer for. You’d best-”

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Caro comes galloping past Tohro with his eyes full of murderous intent, aiming his sword straight for the vulnerable mare. The pegasus leaps to him, grabbing ahold of his neck and pinning him.

“NO! No, Caro, she doesn’t have to die, she’s out of commission already!”

Caro keeps thrashing against Tohro's grip, like a feral dog being held against his will.

His bloodlust is getting worse, I’d warrant, Tohro thinks. First time I saw it, I was sure he wouldn’t attack anypony important, but now I worry for the day when I won’t be able to stop his bouts of rage. I mean, what if...

After a moment passes, Tohro receives a tap on the haunches by Caro, who wears a meek smile. “Okay, I’m well. Could you...”

Tohro stands and helps Caro to his hooves, taking them in his. “Sorry about that.” He looks to Caro with morbid severity. “You should probably take a nap.”

Caro brushes him off and picks up his sword in his teeth. “Why would I do that? I still have a grudge to settle.”

Tohro assumed he would respond in such a way. He looks to stretch of land ahead, where a radiant golden glow telegraphs Shokenda’s location. She flies about, surveying the conflict and striking with lightning from above. What Tohro used to look upon with awe, he now sees as terrifying. He welcomes the idea of anypony being strong enough to make her bleed, even if it’s not him. “Nopony wants Shokenda dead more than I do, but it’s hardly worth it if you get killed heading straight for her. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Caro nods and puts on a warm smirk. “So, are you coming with?”

Tohro gestures for Caro to take the lead. “Didn’t even have to ask. I have to be there to sit on you again if your rage gets the best of y- Agh, what the hell?!”

Tohro flails about and collapses, shouting through pursed lips. He feels for his back, upon which four electrified wing blades have been embedded.

“This is... gonna ruin my whole day...” He shudders and shuts his eyes.

Caro is at his side in an instant, sweeping the wing blades out of him. Ignoring the jolt of lightning sent through his hoof, he throws his forelegs around Tohro’s barrel. “Stay with me! Stay with me.”

Tohro reaches around Caro and fishes through his pouch. “Gyah... dammit... Here I am, greatest assassin of the Blackwings, put down by a stealth attack. What a life, huh?” His hoof stops as he puts on a grim smile. “We’re out of healing potions.” He notices Caro is looking away absentmindedly, focused on something else skyward. “Mate?”

“Hag...” Caro snarls.

Tohro cranes his neck to look up. There’s Shokenda, hovering in place just above them, several more electrified wing blades floating at her side. With a nod of her head, the blades cascade down.

Caro positions himself over Tohro’s entire frame and takes in a deep breath. “FUS... RO DAH!”

Every wing blade is blown away, broken and useless, while Shokenda is left without defense. Caro leaps into the air. “WULD NAH!” With a vertical dash, he’s at eye level with the warmare, staring her down with nothing but fury in his draconic eyes.

Tohro protests from below. “Caro, don't! You can't win! You-”

That’s all the Dragonborn hears before he swings his blade at Shokenda, his rage making him forget his exponential disadvantage.

Shae can take on most foes, albeit batting an eye whenever her young body is struck, but it’s another matter entirely when an ablaze residential building erupts beside her, knocking her off her hooves onto her side. Splinters of wood speckle her exposed forelegs and face, but she shakes it off. Next to the skeever bite, it’s only superficial damage.

She resumes her galloping, steering away from Imperials and Blackwings locked in conflict. Equinesreach is visible across the grove in the town square.

Jarl Drake stands at the top step, issuing commands to her personal guards. “The Imperials control both the West and North districts, and the Blackwings are quickly taking the East and South, moving towards the center.”

The guards stand to attention with their weapons at the ready. “What will you have us do, My Jarl?” asks one of them.

“Whatever you please, but,” the jarl traces circles around her map of Trottingham, “I suggest forming a perimeter about the grove. Inevitably, they’ll all end up falling into our blades and-”

“What of the pegasi?”

That stops Jarl Drake short. “Well... bollocks.” She hunches over the makeshift table and lets out an exasperated breath. “I’ll have to see to the liquid glass.”

The doors to Equinesreach open, and little black Boysenberry comes sauntering out with his hood up. “Jarl Drake? Perhaps it would be for the best to not use the glass this time?”

Drake shoots a glare at Boysenberry and points to the upper floors of Equinesreach. “What is th- What are you doing out of bed? I’m quite occupied, if you’d take notice.” She looks to her nearest guard. “You, fetch me my bowl, and an extra blanket for the child.”

Boysenberry levitates himself onto the table. “I don’t need a bloody blanket, Jarl!” He then forces the doors shut, glancing at the leaving guard. “And you stay right there.” He turns back to Jarl Drake. “My Jarl, no doubt you recall why it is you’re not fit to helm a battle. You should have spoken to Platinum about this.”

“What does she know?”

“She was married to King Hurricane. There's little room for doubt that she learned something about an effective battle strategy.” Boysenberry rests his hooves on Drake’s shoulders. “I respect you as my caretaker and surrogate parent but I must keep you from making a critical mistake!”

Jarl Drake’s eyes go from wide to narrow as she grows furious. “Child, I’m warning you-”

“Your narcissism is your fatal flaw, and your wretched concept of strategy and reliance on the liquid glass will doom us all! Perhaps if you had listened to outside input at the battle of Ghastly Gorge it wouldn’t have been a stalemate!”

Aside from the sounds of cannon fire and clashing metal, no sounds are made between Jarl Drake and Boysenberry. The former backs away very slowly, her eyes quivering. Boysenberry stands his ground. His eyes are much more sinister, emanating a sickly green glow.

“Boysenberry, please, calm yourself, lest you-”

Boysenberry bashes his hoof on the table, splitting it down the center. “NO! I’ve had enough of your insolence!” He tears his hood clean off his head, his unkempt black mane flowing in the wind. His gaze falls on the town square, in which Shae is defending herself with a conjured staff nearby the less experienced Imperial soldiers.

With a vocally dissonant roar, Boysenberry leaps from the steps and glides into the fray. His collision with the ground sends cracks through the streets.

Eyes green and aura black as night, he passes over Shae and the Imperials to the nearest Blackwing, a female earthwalker. She snickers at the miniscule size of her foe and slices her sword towards his head. Boysenberry raises a single aura enveloped hoof as black crystals materialize across his entire foreleg. The sword doesn’t leave a dent, and is instead swiped away.

With the mare in a hooflock, Boysenberry pushes against her as she grits her teeth in pain.

“Bow to me,” hisses Boysenberry.

The mare doesn’t budge, but she’s struggling to hold her own.

“Bow to me, slave.”

Boysenberry wraps his other foreleg in crystal and seizes the mare by her head. He forces her onto her haunches. She remains defiant, spitting at Boysenberry’s face. He slowly wipes the mess away. “Do not defy me.”

The crystals in his hooves form into blades. He casts them both between the mare’s eyes, and her look of terror is frozen on her face as she crumbles into a bloodied heap.

The other Blackwings ignore the incredible feat and continue their mad charge to Equinesreach. Boysenberry takes notice of this and, in an instant, disappears into shadow in the ground, more crystals growing in his wake as his silhouette travels along. He leaps out of shadow, intervening in their path.

A much larger cluster of crystal arises at the base of the stairs, blocking access to all. Boysenberry then thrusts his hooves forward at the approaching rebels. One of the earthwalkers nickers. “What is this kid, a bloody crystoma-” His sentence goes unfinished as a spire impales him from underneath by the stomach, followed by several more spires upon the surrounding rebels. One fixes to dodge and gallop away but Boysenberry shadow travels to him, jumps in the way and swings his crystalline blade through the rebel’s neck. As he falls, Boysenberry gets a close look at an awed Shae.

He looks up at the sound of flapping wings to see the incoming Blackwing pegasi. Their aim is locked onto Equinesreach.

Jarl Drake’s guards grab their spears and hold them steady outwards. “What the hell, are they going to suicide bomb us?!”

The jarl is too distraught to give an answer. She’s hammering her hooves on the wall of crystal, shouting for Boysenberry. “You have to stop this now! Please, child!”

Boysenberry doesn’t acknowledge her. Aside from the wall, every bit of crystal he’s summoned collapses, recollecting at his hooves. It creates an ascending platform, sending him skyward into the pegasi’s path. With another dramatic flaring of his hooves, more spires erupt from the platform and skewer all but two of the pegasi. Those remaining two change course for the young magus, who growls something unintelligible. He leaps over their swoop and, with a clean slash of both hooves, cuts a wing clean off both of them. They become bloody spirals, dead the instant they slam into the cobblestone.

Boysenberry does away with his platform and lands gracefully onto the bloodbathed grass.

Shae is still in awe, aglow with admiration. “That was amazing... I’ve never seen conjuration magic done to such a-”

Boysenberry’s eyes grow to an even harsher tint of green. “Silence!” His shouting reverberates, sounding far more demonic than a child’s voice should. He begins to advance on Shae, a sick, feverish grin radiant on his face. “This power is something incomprehensible, something you could only dream of!” More crystals, these ones erratic and chaotic, rise with every step he makes. The Imperial soldiers begin to back away as they’re surrounded.

“Boysenberry, you know it's me!” Shae gestures to herself. “I am not your enemy! Snap out of it!”

The magus hisses. “Boysenberry is a spineless, impotent foal. He fears his true self; I, the living shadow!"

"...What?" is all Shae can mutter.

"In time, weak Boysenberry will be no more. He will accept me as his all. The one known as Som-"

"No!" Jarl Drake appears behind him, fresh out of a teleportation. Eyes snapped shut, she reaches out and pulls little Boysenberry into reverse embrace. The instant she wraps her forelegs around him, his shouting and snarling comes to an end. The green glow in his eyes fades, and his head hangs, his expression slack and droopy.

"Jarl...?" Boysenberry is barely able to speak.

"Yes, yes, it's me... Do not worry, little one. It's over now." Drake brushes the back of his mane, whispering hushed words of comfort. “You’re just having a nightmare.” As Boysenberry drifts off to sleep, every black crystal fades, including the barrier to Equinesreach.

Shae has to resist gagging on the stench of fresh corpses as the guards come to her aid, tending to her splinters. As she holds a cloth to her cheek, she approaches Jarl Drake. “What was that all about?” she asks frantically.

"Boysenberry never mentioned his parents, did he?" the jarl asks.

Shae tries to think back to any time when Boysenberry might have brought that up, but she can't remember. "No?"

"I think you can figure out what happened to them." The jarl levitates Boysenberry onto her back. “This boy is the most powerful unicorn I’ve ever met, but I don't think that power is his own..." She sighs grimly. “I fear that if Boysenberry can't restrain himself, he'll be forever lost to something horrible.”

"Fauste's horn..." Shae's mouth hangs agape.

The guards are standing by, restless from what they’ve just witnessed. Jarl Drake stares them down accusingly. “Well, just stand there and let the Blackwings tear my town apart, why don’t you!?”

They all snap to attention and clumsily get to work on repairing Equinesreach’s defenses.

~Caro~

That voice at the back of my mind tells me that this is the most foolish thing I’ve ever done, but it’s only a small voice, a whisper up against a raging beast. A raging beast that is me.

I’ve never sweated this much in my entire life, yet I don’t feel exhausted or sore. Shokenda is working me to the bone, just so I can land a rare strike upon her, but even when that happens, she fades away, just out of my sword’s reach.

“Over here.”

How is it that she can telegraph utter euphoria without showing it on her face? I scrape at the dirt and give a loud snort. “WULDNAHKEST!” I shout quickly. Once again, a rush of air overcomes me as I glide at breakneck speed. My blade lands on Shokenda’s weapon, a summoned zweihander. Her magical strength outdoes my mouth’s by far. I lose my grip on my greatsword and it clatters to the ground. Shokenda jumps back and gives it a quick jolt of lightning, shattering it into pieces.

So now I’m down to one sword. I can still make do. I break into a gallop, circling around Shokenda as she casts several streams of lightning that rotate about her like a clock. I leap over one of the streams and hit the ground in a running slide, ducking another. A crackle of electricity sweeps through my mane and coat, but I shrug it off.

I turn, running directly at Shokenda with my hoof on my sword. I know a direct assault is beyond ineffective, but I’ve planned ahead. She sweeps at me with her claymore, which I anticipated. I leap over her and slash at her back, cleaving a massive dent into her plating. I follow up with a piercing impact. Her armor comes loose.

Yes.

She responds with a slash of her claymore, grazing my cheek. I’m so angry at this moment I can’t feel a thing. I instead cut at her again, prompting her to fade.

Yes!

She begins to reappear behind me, just as I had intended. Just as the last of her re-materializes, I spin around and throw my sword point first towards her exposed back.

“YES!”

The pounding in my ears is so loud. I’ve never been this aroused in my life. Seeing the haggard bitch who wanted me to serve her like a sheepdog bleeding profusely as my blade lodges itself into her internal organs. Her skin dying around the wound, her sinew torn, her muscle collapsing, her screams for release from such a living hell... Bloody Epona, it’s beautiful.

But that’s only how I imagine it, and none of that has occurred. Shokenda’s gaze is just as emotionless as ever, and her body doesn’t shift nor shudder at the impact of the blade. She is bleeding, though. She bleeds gold.

So my victory is denied, and all I can do is roar in frustration as Shokenda shakes her head.

The battle for Trottingham is eons away for me, far off in the distance while my own private war comes to a screeching halt like a faulty carriage.

She’s laughing now, still without showing the slightest bit of happiness on her face, but she laughs as though she’s the giddiest mare in Equestria, gradually turning into laughter of the maniacal sort. It’s possibly the most disturbing thing I’ve ever heard, short of the sounds of my master’s gruesome death.

All she does is stand there and laugh for what feels like an hour, while I’m left to wonder what the hell is so hilarious.

Her jubilee comes to an end when the lanky green dragon, whom I spared my blade for this fight with Shokenda, soars to a halt at her side. While I must shield my eyes and engrave my hooves into the dirt to stay upright, Shokenda doesn’t even flinch. She turns to stare the dragon down directly at the snout. “And what brings you here?” she asks, as if she were speaking to an impudent child.

“I’ve come to see the end of the Dovahkiin, per Saviikaan’s command.”

Of course he’s here for me. Why would it be for any other reason? I reach for my sword, then stopping, cursing myself for forgetting my only weapon lay embedded in Shokenda’s back. She seems more concerned with the dragon’s interruption than that.

She sighs.“Is that so?” She looks back at me and my dumbfounded expression, then back at the dragon.

An uncomfortable and downright abnormal moment of silence passes.

Shokenda lifts her hoof to rest it on the dragon’s snout. She closes her eyes. When they open again, they radiate gold. She opens her mouth, slowly inhaling.

“Krii lun aus.”

My heart nearly stops.

From Shokenda’s mouth flies a blast of pink mist, striking the ground and rising upward, enveloping the dragon. She then casually backs away before fluttering to my side. She doesn’t seem keen to continue our duel, only gazing upon the dragon. I have nothing to do but watch as well.

The dragon shudders, flexing his arm and looking at it quizzically. He reaches for his arm and scratches at it, as if it were itching, only to tear off an entire patch of flesh. His eyes widen and he bellows in pain. His roars are cut short by a ghastly choking noise. He bends over, coughing and hacking until he coughs up a lake’s worth of glistening blood, along with a flesh colored appendage... By Epona, that’s his tongue!

Unable to form any coherent words, the dragon continues to howl, thrashing his entire body and trying to break free of the pink cloud, but it travels with him, seeping between his scales, which have begun to melt, drenching his body in his own flesh.

He finally collapses, as his leg has caught on the ground in a melted cesspool of scales and claws. He tries to crawl away. Like a twig, the leg snaps in two. The grass is thoroughly soaked in blood and... dragon.

At this point, all the dragon can do is lay on his side, whimpering in agony as his body melds with the earth in a bloodied and melted heap.

Krii lun aus... I don’t know that shout, but I think I know what the words mean. “Marked for death,” I whisper, too awestruck to bring my voice any higher.

I’ve never seen such a display of grotesque sadism. As much as I would gladly see the dragons of Equestria wiped clean from the world, I would never wish such a death on them, or anypony. No, this isn’t death. This is something far worse.

I can see something new in the dragon’s eyes, the one thing about him untouched by the pink cloud. It’s a look that demands mercy. He wishes for death, anything to escape this agony.

I’ve seen enough. I turn to Shokenda. “Give me my sword.”

She merely glances at me before looking back at the pathetic sight. “No.”

She truly is a hag. Filled with a new sort of rage untapped, one born of sympathy rather than anger, I draw back my hoof. Before I can land an impact with her face, she deflects with one of her wings. She spreads her feathers to show me her golden glare.

“Nu praan.”

Before I can open my mouth to protest, I’m overcome with more exhaustion than I’ve ever felt. It’s like I haven’t slept for years. I collapse, getting one last involuntary look at the dragon. His muscle and skeleton have been exposed, and yet he still breathes. I shut my eyes before I’m forced to witness more.

Cold. It’s starting to snow... wait, no, more than that. I’m on snow. Where did all this snow come from?

The answer comes when I reach out with my hoof despite my eyes refusing to open. One would understand my shock when my entire foreleg ends up hanging over the edge. The edge of what is revealed to me when I snap myself awake, fully aware that I’ve somehow ended up on high, far beyond the battlefield. I quickly rise to my hindquarters and back away until I’m firmly pressed against the cliff face. “What... the hell...” I gasp.

The numerous scratches and scrapes I endured in the struggle against the dragon and Shokenda are all but gone, with nary a scar to be found.

I reach for my pouch for reasons I’m not entirely sure of. Another bout of confusion whelms me when I find that’s gone too.

I look over the cliff’s edge into the distance, where the battle should be raging on. It’s quieter now. I can still see the fires burning, but I hear no metal on metal, nor do I hear cries of battle or pain. Instead, if I strain my ears just enough, I can hear celebratory cheers within the walls of Trottingham.

I let out a deep sigh of relief. A burden has just been lifted off my shoulders. “We won… Huh… Well done, Drake.” In my haste to kill Shokenda, I had neglected to think about what was at stake. The war, the town, so many innocent lives…

“Indeed. This battle falls in the favor of the Empire, and as such, so does the war.”

The last pony I want to see shows herself, but I avert my eyes after a single glance of her naked body. “Damn you, Shokenda! I do not want to see your divine nethers!”

“Forgive this… intimate encounter, Caro Dragonborn. You need not be so prudish. After all, I take no quarrel with your exposed self.”

As much as I despise her, she makes a valid point. I return my gaze with a disgruntled nicker, getting an eyeful of her blank face. The fact that I have no weapon to cut that face wide open just frustrates me further.

I intensify my glare. “I’m completely vulnerable, you know. It would be easiest for you to just do away with me.”

Shokenda makes her way towards the edge with a flap of her wings. “And what makes you think that is at all in my best interest?”

The revelation is still new to me, and seeing her entire body like this hammers in the nail further. “So, you’re a-”

“God?” She glances back at me for a moment. “Yes, I know. Shaped in Epona and Fauste’s image, with the elegance and power of both.”

“All that power can go to one’s head.”

Shokenda sighs and walks back towards me. My hair nearly stands on end just by her close presence. “No doubt you have many questions. I’m all ears for you. Ask whatever you wish, you are safe here. Go on.”

Well, she offered. I’ll gladly take her up on it. “What do you want, why don’t you want to kill me, how the hell do you know the Thu’um?”

Shokenda nods and proceeds to lay down next to me. “Those first two are in conjunction. It's rather simple, actually. I believe that I’m more capable of ruling this land than Platinum."

I ask the obvious question. "Why?"

"I expected more of her. You've traversed these lands long enough to know how violent the roads can be, how corrupt those with power can be. The innocent suffer for nothing, and those who deserve punishment escape the ramifications of their actions. I'm determined to change all of that. Of course, the fair queen took offense to my request to take the throne, and retaliated against me. I had no choice but to raise an army.” I tense up as she taps me on the chest. “That is where you come in. We have similar goals, you and I, and before you go on an elongated speech about how we are nothing alike, mind that we both want what is best for Equestria. We merely have different ways to go about it.”

“Very different,” I mutter.

“Thus, that is why I’m willing to meet you halfway. I will give you the power you need to destroy the dragons and keep Equestria safe, and I will leave you be from this day forth.”

“I already have that power, and you insult me by using it yourse-”

I suppose I can say I have the honor of being smacked upside the head by a god. “No amount of dragon souls could ever account for how utterly dreadful you are with the Thu’um, nor could they account for your lack of understanding of how the Thu’um even works. It is not exclusive to you or the dragons, Caro.”

“What the- How?!” As if I haven’t been taken down enough pegs on this day...

"Those words of power are the dragon’s language, yes, but they have been used by mortals since the days of the Precursors. Granted, after they disappeared, the art of the Thu’um fell into obscurity. Only the Dragonborn has the innate power to use it, given they are awakened. Others must go through years of education and training for the power to become theirs. This brings me to your third question.”

“Huh.” I’m so stricken with shock I’m unable to do anything but sit on my haunches and gape. “Suddenly, my status as Dragonborn seems all the less significant.” Yet, I’m not all that upset. Perhaps I’m so enraged I’ve gone numb. “So, you received this training, I presume?”

Shokenda points to the mountain peak opposite us. “Neigh Hrothgar.” I have to squint to see it proper, but I can just barely see lights. “It is a colony isolated from the rest of ponykind. There live the wise and powerful Greybeards, a small communion of ponies who dedicate their lives to preserving the memory, and words, of the Precursors.”

“I know who they are. Master Hammerfell has done business with them in the past.”

Shokenda’s blank stare falters slightly as she cocks a single brow. “How do you mean?”

Why she takes interest in my personal affairs, I have no clue, but I know better than to refuse her an answer, especially without means to defend myself. I shrug and say, “They asked for weapons, armor, tools... Most of it was just for decoration, I’ve heard. Master would deliver goods to their doorstep every few months.”

“Did you ever join this Hammerfell on his journeys to Neigh Hrothgar?”

“Uh, no. He never let me.”

She’s humming innocently, which makes me clench my teeth. "Fascinating,” she says with a hint of deliberate innocence. She stands and begins to walk away.

“You’re not going to leave me here?” I ask.

Suddenly Shokenda’s face is disturbingly close to mine again. “And you would like to, what, ride upon my back as I fly you into the welcoming embrace of my mortal foes? Perish the thought.”

“Uh...” The answer is definitely no. I hate being touched by anypony, let alone this hag.

“I wasn’t offering,” she says, returning to her leave. “Meet me at the pass in Mount Everfree whenever you wish. I will take you to Neigh Hrothgar, and you will learn the true power of your voice.”

Another flood of questions enter my mind. I decide to take these one at a time. “Why can’t you teach me?”

She scoffs. “I’m not a patient mare, and besides, this war stops for nopony. Not even you, Dragonborn.”

I’ll give Shokenda credit for knowing how to put me in my place, but she’ll feel my vengeance tenfold for each wound to my pride. “Fair enough. But what strikes me above all is why? I am your enemy, after all. It would be easier to just cast me off this cliff and put an end to it.”

Shokenda looks over the edge of the cliff. I can't read her face for the life of me, but I can assume she's thinking it over. “That would be the most pragmatic approach, now wouldn’t it? However, I am a mare who believes a victory unearned is a victory undeserved. You will not die so long as I can easily take your life. I wish for the words of future stories to say I fought valiantly, clinging to life to claim what is rightfully mine. History belongs to the glorious, not the pragmatic.”

“So you’re a whore in more ways than one.” I should have held my tongue. I tense up in fear for what Shokenda will do to me for that one, but she only chuckles.

“You amuse me, Dragonborn,” she says.

With a stomp of her hoof and a flash of her horn, I feel the constriction of a teleportation field enveloping me. I have a sinking feeling this ride will not be a pleasant one.

I give my stomach a few moments to unknot before I check upon my surroundings. It’s as if I hadn’t moved an inch from where I fell asleep. Well, was forced to fall asleep.

“Damn you, Shokenda.” More than anything throughout this entire affair, I’ve wanted to cut her heart out, assuming she even has one, but now I must work with her. The thought is painful, yes, but if I can become something more powerful than this, then I’ll have to put my hatred aside. Perhaps these Greybeards will give me some means to effectively wound her. She can’t be immortal. She may have bled gold, but more importantly, she bled.

An unholy stench interrupts my train of thought. I turn to see the cracked and mutilated skeleton of the dragon. A viscous mass of scales, organs and muscle lay in a pool around it. Despite such mutilation, its soul burns bright. It separates into streams and reforms around me. There’s my third dragon soul, but I hardly feel as though I’ve earned it.

"I can't comprehend how much pain filled your last moments. You didn't deserve this. You were supposed to die with pride in your heart." I get one last look at the disgusting remains, disappointed I never had the chance to learn this dragon’s name. “I promise,” I say for an brief, improvised eulogy, “your brethren will be joining you soon, but no matter how strong I become, they’ll never suffer as you did. Goodbye, Dovah.”

It’s time to go back to Trottingham, I suppose.

Despite my gift of the Thu’um meaning less now, the thought of becoming something more than this drives me forward, especially the thought of outdoing Shokenda. I’m already worth ten of her, I’m sure.

At least some ponies believe that much.

“Caro! Over here!” shouts an ecstatic Shae, sitting upon a bench.

In my internal monologue I hadn’t even been paying attention. I’m already at the town square, and... “Wow. Who tore this place to shit?”

Shae puckers her lips and exhales. “It’s a long story. Come, sit.”

After that long walk, I welcome it. I take the bench adjacent to hers and stretch my hindquarters out. “How many dead?” I ask, surveying the broken buildings and stray fires.

“Of course that’s the first thing you ask. Everyone in Equestria is obsessed with death...” Shae taps her chin. “Jarl Drake estimated about nine-tenths of the Legion's forces survived. We punctured roughly half the rebel forces before they retreated.”

A satisfying result. I let out a sigh of relief. “And how was your first landmark battle in this war?”

“I hate to sound like a barbarian, but it was actually a little fun.”

“You do sound like a barbarian.”

“Well, I suppose it’s easy to pass off a battle as fun when your injuries are minimal.” Only now do I notice the numerous patches on her cheeks and snout. She points to them. “Wood shavings. Should be healed in an hour. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get a scar out of this one.”

I turn to lay on my back, getting a pleasant view of the snow drenched sky. “Scars are only impressive when they stop bleeding. When you actually take such an injury, you’re not thinking of how impressive the wound is going to look after the matter.”

I’m the barbarian here. I never thought I’d be educating Shae on the brutality of open conflict. I fear that she might be turning into... oh dear, me.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Shae sets her pouch on her lap, levitating a bronze dagger and a sheath from the inside. “A gift from Rosemary.”

I snatch them both from the air with haste. The knife is a very fine design, sharp enough to cut through most common armors but versatile enough for use in my hooves and my mouth. It’s also light as a blade of grass. “She’s a fine smith indeed.”

“She said a smaller weapon may fit certain situations better. What do you suppose she meant?”

When it comes to weapon trivia, I am an unstoppable force. I hope Shae’s prepared for a breathless rant. “Master Hammerfell always told me that the most powerful and talented warrior in the world is no match for a lowly student with a dagger.” I spin the dagger between my hooves repeatedly. “While swords, maces and axes shred through enemies well enough, only something as small and precise as this can find an enemy’s weak spot. A single seam in their armor, and...” I make a stabbing motion, making Shae flinch with a smile on her face. “It’s a thinker’s weapon, to say the least. I prefer the simplicity of a sword, but when I see the opportunity, and I will, as I have an eye for such things, I’ll put this to good use.” I fit the dagger into its sheath and equip it to my flank, tying the belt around my waist.

Shae nods, then taps her horn. “Material weapons are all well and good, but I’ll stick to magic, thanks. Why would I bother finding my foe’s weakness when I can just cast a concentrated bolt of flame through their chest?”

“That’s... oddly specific.”

“Well, it happened. Bloke thought he could get the jump on me but I showed him otherwise.”

She lacks any sort of grim or ecstatic expression about that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s completely apathetic about death. “How does a schoolmare become so hardened and callous?” I ask.

Shae holds out her hooves defensively. “I don’t relish the deaths of my enemies.” She looks over her shoulder at the sound of turning wheels. Earthwalker soldiers pass by with a cart of dead Blackwings, all piled up haphazardly.

“See, like that,” I say, looking back at Shae. She’s still straight faced.

“What?” Shae tilts her head.

“Somepony always reacts to the deaths of others. Tohro jests to cope, I get a sick rush from it, but then there’s you. You’re completely indifferent.” I lean forward to read her better. “Did something happen to you?”

“Everything dies, Caro. You can’t dwell on it...” She looks keen to trot off.

“Something had to happen to forge your indifference towards death. Did you lose somepony close to you?”

Shae’s eyes begin to mist up, making me feel like trash again.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to pry. Like I said, I have an eye for these small things.”

She shakes her head and folds her forelegs closer to her body. "Yes... I did lose something... somepony. But you don’t have to worry, I’m not trying for your record." She forces a smile, though her eyes are still quivering. "Some say it was fated to be. I don’t believe in fate, Caro. Not after what I’ve been through."

"If there was such a thing as fate, I wouldn't be in this situation." My thoughts slip back into Shokenda's ultimatum. I can feel my blood thinning. All I can do is tremble at what our temporary truce might mean for me and Dragonrein. “I don’t feel well.”

“What’s wrong?” Shae asks.

I have to come clean. There are no secrets in Dragonrein, which has become one of our few rules, and even then, it's a translucent one. "I spoke to-"

The clatter of falling armor and limbs interrupts me. Both Shae and I look to the cart of corpses, only to see it’s toppled over, with a single unicorn in bloodied Blackwing attire standing nearby. His eyes are red with madness. "SHOKENDA FOREVER!!" He dashes, heading straight towards us.

Shae leaps to action, horn glowing. But he's too fast. He pounces on Shae, prompting my adrenaline to come full force.

I leap forth with my new dagger drawn, grabbing ahold of the rebel, pinning him back first to a tree and slashing his throat open. He goes down with a manic grin.

“Divines...” I sigh as my adrenaline wears off just as quickly as it came. I sheathe my dagger with one hoof and wipe my brow with the other. I turn back to Shae. “Are you well?”

“C-Caro...”

My mouth falls open.

Shae stands there, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. She clutches her stomach, where a broken knife lays embedded. She opens her mouth, lets out a single cough, and collapses.

“SHAE!”

I rush to her side and pick her up, with my hooves on her chest and the back of her head. “Shae.” She continues to cough, her breaths becoming weak and chaotic. I grit my teeth in panic. “Say something, dammit!”

Her eyes fall on me, and she chuckles softly. “I... I told you...”

“What?”

“Everything... d....” Her eyelids draw themselves shut.

"Shae. Shae! Keep your damn eyes open! Shae... You... I can't do this without you! You can't do this to me! You... You can’t...”