“Su mah.”

Caro’s descent slows to a halt just before his hooves touch the cobblestone street, or what’s left of it. He listens for the sound of fluttering wings, which grow closer to him by the second. He anticipates the tightness of Tohro’s forelegs around his neck, which he reciprocates once he regains his balance. Their horseplay becomes a full-on embrace, a display of affection between reuniting friends.

The moment is only spoiled by Caro’s rapidly fading adrenaline. Tohro’s touch brings out the sting in his burns and gashes, so he pulls away quickly. “Agh… Watch it...” Caro quickly opens his pouch and obtains a healing potion.

“Sorry there, mate.” Tohro, showing disappointment for not being able to hold his friend, settles for a simple flip of the Dragonborn’s mane. He laughs aloud at how long and unkempt it has become during their time apart. “Oh, my. You truly are helpless without me, aren’t you?”

“Well, you’re the only one I trust around my hair…”

Their casual conversation comes to a premature end as a loud, labored growl rends the atmosphere of a recently attained victory. Caro recognizes the shrill voice of Rasahrel before she even speaks.

“Do...vah...kiin… You will... come to me...”

Caro obeys, though he vows internally that it’s only because he wishes to gloat over the dying body of his latest kill. Keeping one eye on his sword and the other on the gathering townsfolk, he trots to Dragon Bridge’s namesake, where Rasahrel lies. The sharp, decorative bones of the bridge have pierced her flesh, passing all the way through her body. The tips are covered in fresh, glistening blood. “Taken by the bones of your ancestors, Dovah. Take solace in that you’ve died an ironic death rather than an unsung one.”

It takes several seconds for the dragon to even open her mouth. When she does, more red drains from her lips, pouring into the crevices of the street. “Nahlot. I will not... be insulted… in my dying moments...”

She coughs, spraying drops of blood across Caro’s face. He remains still, not even blinking as she does so. “You… turog… have taken… what is rightfully ours… What is rightfully… his…”

“Him being Saviikaan?” Caro asks dismissively.

“Geh...”

Caro, having heard this speech about Saviikaan’s selfish desires many a time, simply gives a snort of indifference. He turns his head away from Rasahrel, speaking as he surveys the overseeing eyes of Dragon Bridge’s population. Many of the ponies’ faces are held in simultaneous awe and fear. He looks over the many cottages, or what’s left of them, the scent of burnt wood passing his nostrils. A hint of scorched metal is there as well, causing a quick flash of a foregone time to cross his vision.

“My life, and the lives of so many others, at the mercy of an all-powerful dragon that would have us put to cinders. Everything we ponies have built since we arrived here, all the progress we’ve made…” He tries to think of something else. It comes to him when he sees a trio of young mares, adolescents by the look of them, smiling and waving to him. “...All the children we’ve raised! Saviikaan would destroy all of the progress ponykind has made, just to appease his self-centered wish fulfillment! Surely you see the fallacy in his crusade!”

Electrified smoke bursts from Rasahrel’s bleeding nostrils. “Surely you don’t… think… you are… the first to… to… say such words?”

“Those who came before me must have said as much. But, I ask you, have those words held weight?”

Gold aura begins to rise from Rasahrel’s wounds. Caro’s eyes widen. He realizes that he’s about to take in her soul, but he doesn’t want this debate to end so prematurely.

“Rasahrel! Answer me! Have you ever considered that what Saviikaan wants isn’t what’s—”

For the first time since her impalement, the dragon moves her head, leaning in towards Caro. He sees something upon her face, something he’s never seen on a dragon before. Doubt? he wonders. Epona’s hooves, is she really…

All reticence and weakness in Rasahrel’s voice is gone. “What choice did I have, Dovahkiin?! Saviikaan is Dovah, I am Dovah! Where else would my loyalties lie?!”

Caro opens his mouth, only to close it and let his head slowly hang. He keeps his gaze on the dragon as her flesh gradually fades away, and she never looks away from him in turn. “You always had a choice,” he says.

Rasahrel sighs. It’s plain as day; she has resigned to her end. She speaks one last time, her voice barely audible. “Perhaps...”

All traces of a happy victory fall into shambles as the dragon’s body disappears, becoming a harsh yet brilliant light. Caro reaches out and accepts the light. He closes his eyes as he feels Rasahrel’s soul resonate with his body. When reopens them, he sees that Rasahrel’s bones have joined her ancestors’ on the bridge.

Caro walks away from his latest kill, finding himself in an oddly solemn and empty state of mind. Even the rapidly swarming townsfolk, with their appraisal coming in droves of loving touches, shrill whistles and cheers to pierce the sky, can’t do anything to pull him out of his stupor. He simply makes his way through the sea of ponies, savoring the moments when he finally has some breathing room, only to be surrounded by his loving admirers once again. Eventually, he manages to tune them out and ignore their touches.

A voice he hasn’t heard in some time speaks to him. “We never had a choice, Dovahkiin.” The voice is audible enough, though it has a faint echo to it. Caro recognizes the deep, guttural snarl as that of Hevnodiin’s. His body feels cold just at the sound of him. “You like to speak of choice, but think, if you will, about what options are laid before our kind in this cycle of violence. What Dovah would side with the tiny equine? Who of equinekind would allow us among them?”

“You could always choose not to fight,” Caro suggests. He’s about to say more, but he’s interrupted when he takes in a particularly strong whiff of burning flesh. He turns to the scent, and proceeds to grimace, covering his eyes with his foreleg.

Many ponies, unidentifiable in gender or race, lie in the rubble of a decimated home, their bodies colorless and dark, turned to scarred husks. The less fortunate ones Caro couldn’t save.

“You know what Saviikaan would do to us if we chose that path.”

Caro can’t bear to look at a failure among his victory. He shakes his head and tears himself away, coming face to face with Tohro. “Uh, hi,” he says upon seeing his pegasus friend’s assuring smile. “I…”

Tohro tilts his head. “Yes?”

“I, uh…” Caro peers around Tohro, where the many admirers of the Dragonborn stand, still in awe. Behind them, a humble, nameless pub can be seen. “I… I need a drink.”

“Come now, mate,” Tohro says, giving Caro a friendly jab in the shoulder. “Show me a happy face. Show me some fluster, at least. You deserve to be happy after all you’ve accomplished. How many dragons have you taken down?”

Caro is reluctant to respond. While he is able to smile internally over yet another reunion with his best friend, he can’t bring himself to present any sign of a positive emotion, as much as he wishes he could. He settles for accepting another mug of juniper berry mead (free of charge, of course) from the barmaid, who offers Caro a bow before stepping over to another table.

The pub is unusually popular; Caro has come here before during his stay in Dragon Bridge, and there’s hardly more than a dozen or so patrons at a time. Not to his surprise, as the town is much smaller when compared to most. As such, it’s odd for him to see almost the entirety of Dragon Bridge’s populace squeezed into such a small and cozy watering hole.

While many joyous voices are the dominant sound, music can also be heard from a nearby stage. If there is one other thing that can diminish a sour mood, it’s the sound of the heavenly chords of Xephyr’s lute, accompanied by the elegant singing of the ever-beautiful bard mares Symphony and Rhapsody.

“Here's a health to the king and lasting peace, to faction end, to wealth increase!
Come let us drink while we have breath, for there's no drinking after death!
And he that will this health deny...
Down among the dead ones, down among the dead ones, down, down, down, down...
Down among the dead ones let him lie!”

They’ve been improving, Tohro thinks, watching Xephyr give his instrument a little twirl as the song comes to a climax. Tohro notices that the little tick in the back of his mind, which once had a tendency to act up at the sight of a zebra, has grown quieter. He tunes out what little of it remains, opting to enjoying the music instead, while keeping a secondary focus on Caro. The Dragonborn’s quiet state has him concerned, especially in the wake of another kill.

Caro turns to Tohro, figuring that he may as well explain his state of mind. “To answer your earlier question, I’ve killed… Epona’s hooves, I think I’ve slain at least eleven of them.”

“Goodness, you have been keeping busy.”

“And yet… The thrill, the moment of catharsis I strove for when I first began fighting their kind, it’s fleeting. I don’t know why, but I’m beginning to feel sympathy for these beasts. I try to explain why what they’re doing is wrong, but they never sway in their loyalty to Saviikaan, no matter what I do. Are they truly such zealots?”

Tohro taps Caro on the wither again. “Loyalty is a powerful thing.”

Caro pauses in the middle of a sip of mead. He swallows and puts his mug down. "And what, is it the Dragon's Code of Honor to be loyal or dead?"

“How would I know that?”

“What? You brought it up.”

“Ask the Greybeards, they might be able to tell you something...”

A moment passes by, made a little more uneasy due to Xephyr’s pause between songs. Caro and Tohro both take abnormally long drinks out of their mugs, stopping at the same time. “Oh, Tohro!” Caro shouts, his eyes suddenly wide, a rather manic looking grin on his face as he stands up and jumps in place. “We can go see Master Hammerfell!”

Tohro seems to have slightly fallen back in his seat. “Wow, don’t go shouting this place apart…”

“You said it yourself! We can go ask the Greybeards!” Caro’s sudden bout of excitement shows no sign of receding, but when he sees Tohro’s stunned expression, he takes a deep breath and sits back down. He clears his throat and continues. “I’m long overdue for a visit to Master, anyway. I would love for you to meet him. He truly is an amazing pony… er, dragon.”

“Ah, still adapting, are you?” Tohro asks, shrugging as Caro nods. “I don’t blame you. The difference between fur and scales would make anypony’s head turn.” He takes a sip of mead. “At least thirty times. How does a dragon become a pony, anyway?”

“Perhaps dragon souls are more malleable than one would think. After all…” Caro touches his chest. “The dragons I’ve killed, their souls are with me now. Who’s to say dragons can’t willingly bind their souls to somepony else’s body? Imagine that, huh?” he asks with a small chuckle. “We can ask Master when we get to Neigh Hrothgar.”

An errant thought enters Tohro’s head, though it doesn’t remain for long, and he’s gotten used to involuntarily thinking it whenever he’s reminded of what happens to the souls of the dragons killed by the Dragonborn. He turns away from Caro as he processes the thought. If only he took in the souls of the ponies he’s killed…

Caro has fully drained his mug. He pushes it away and stands up. “Don’t make yourself comfortable. A short trip to the apothecary, a brief sharpening of my other best friend here,” Caro tilts his sword’s hilt his way and gives it a quick kiss, “and we’re well on our way to Neigh Hrothgar. And the adventure doesn’t stop there! We have more dragons to face, towns to visit, ponies to help, sights to see—”

“Hate to cut you off, mate,” Tohro interrupts, “but there is one more thing I have to do before the good queen’s shackles are off. After that, I’m all yours.”

“Oh, right.” Caro drops a small coin purse on table, hops out of his seat, and starts trotting. Tohro is following in his wake, his wings fluttering between steps. “It won’t take long?”

Tohro shakes his head. “Not long at all. I just need to speak to the jarl.”

Compared to the grand, epic interior of Jarl Drake’s hall of Equinesreach, with its warm colors, ornate carpets and the visual spectacle of an overlooking dragon skull, the sight before Caro and Tohro comes across as underwhelming, at best. They both know that it’s due to the simple matter of the difference of population between Trottingham and Dragon Bridge that this jarl’s quarters aren’t nearly as appealing. Aside from a single tapestry above the throne, which depicts the town’s bridge midway through its construction, there is hardly anything of significance to be seen within.

Caro and Tohro step past the stone pillars along the cold reflective floor. They both turn their heads to the side, catching a glimpse of a young earthwalker colt lying on a bench, his head laid to the side with a vacant expression.

“Somepony must be grieving…” Tohro assumes.

“Without much in the way of armed forces, little could be done to defend the town from the dragon attacks before I arrived,” Caro says. “He’s one of many.”

Tohro notices the child raising his head before he turns his attention towards the throne. He’s about to look back again when he hears somepony clearing their throat. A puce-coated pegasus stallion with a long vermillion mane enters the throne room. The hood of his fur-lined ropes is up. “Oh, hello…” he says, his voice recitant. “Might I help you...?”

With Caro stepping aside, Tohro moves towards the stallion and speaks. “I’m Corporal Tohro. I carry a message from the Imperial Legion. Might I speak to Jarl Stonewall?”

The stallion's dull expression breaks as he looks up. "Huh?"

Caro turns Tohro his way and shakes his head. "That's not Stonewall. His name is Ironclad."

Tohro racks his brain. He knows for certain who the Jarls of each town are, or at least the majority of them. The name of Ironclad doesn’t ring familiar. "Oh, I must have made a mistake. I thought that Stonewall—”

“He’s dead,” the stallion says tersely.

The silence is as cold as the air of the chamber. Tohro counts himself fortunate that he doesn’t have to be the one to break it.

“Jarl Stonewall was my father…” the stallion continues. “He died during the first dragon attack on this, our… lovely town. His will made it explicitly clear that the throne would fall either to me or my little brother, Onslaught.” He gestures to the depressed looking child. “I think it’s obvious who took up such a task.”

Onslaught? Caro purses his lips to hide a smile at an ill-fitting name. He’ll have to work for that title. But, then again, what’s stopping him? His amusement quickly fades as he realizes that the reason as to why the child looks so solemn has been made known.

“My sincerest apologies, Jarl Ironclad,” Tohro offers with a bow. “In my time as a soldier, I’ve heard much about Stonewall’s contributions to the Legion. He did much, despite a lack of one of his forelegs.” He looks up at the tapestry. “And, of course, issuing the construction of that beautiful bridge in his younger years. What a majestic stallion he was then!”

Ironclad nods. “I’m aware of such accomplishments, yes.” His words seem genuine, but he seems to lack the capacity for excitement.

“I know what it is to lose a father,” Caro says, understanding the young jarl’s dull demeanor. He offers a comforting brush of his hoof, simultaneously realizing that he himself doesn’t know if he’s speaking of his actual father or Master Hammerfell. “I hope you feel comforted, knowing he’s been avenged.”

Tohro narrows his gaze at Caro, displaying a slight frown.

Ironclad doesn’t respond immediately, instead going to his throne and taking a seat. “I honestly don’t care about that. He’s gone, and nothing can bring him back.” He does manage to show a smile, however broken it may be. “But you do have my thanks for ensuring the same fate didn’t befall the rest of my family, or everypony else in Dragon Bridge.”

“I couldn’t very well let a whole town collapse under your watch,” Caro jests. “That wouldn’t be a very good start to your tenure, would it?”

The young jarl nods slowly. “Yes, well… Then it seems you’ve saved me in two regards. I assure you, Dragonborn, I will reward you in the days to come. Name anything that you desire.”

“That won’t be necessary. You should spend your town’s resources on recovery.”

Ironclad leans forward, holding his forelegs out as if offering something invisible. “No, no, I insist. As soon as this town recovers, I can provide. I’ll give you whatever you want. Money. Weapons. Armor. Mares.” He cocks a brow at Caro’s indifference. “Stallions?”

“I, ah, I a-assure you, the blood and souls of the dragons I’ve slain are enough for me,” Caro says with a mad blush on his face. He turns to Tohro. “You... had a message to deliver?”

“I was just about to ask about that, actually,” says Ironclad. His previous bout of enthusiasm has disappeared almost entirely, replaced by what looks like disdain. “I honestly can’t remember the last time the Imperial Legion was around, even when my father held this throne. When the war started, Platinum had to make some tough calls. It was either the defense of Everfree, thus keeping Her Majesty and her most important subjects safe in their golden utopia, or the defense of Dragon Bridge, a small town lying about a critical trade route. Well… you saw how many soldiers were stationed about when you arrived. The most we can hope for is an envoy to come around once a month, or so.” Caro and Tohro both receive a cynical glare from the jarl. “Usually, they settle for ‘or so.’”

“I express concern for Dragon Bridge on Platinum’s behalf,” says Tohro as he steps forward. “I presume you are still loyal to the Empire?”

“In a way. Better their well-meaning, if misguided inclination towards peacekeeping than the Blackwings’ depraved warmongering. I’d take a ban on worshipping Dragos over an army of unstable nonconformists any day. So, yes, I’d say I’m still loyal.”

Tohro wears a broad, approving smile. He somehow manages to hold a perfect balance between enthusiasm and professionalism. “So, would it be of any inconvenience if you could attend the upcoming summit? I feel it would be wise to personally inform the queen of Dragon Bridge’s new jarl, as well as your discontent with the town’s security.”

It doesn’t take very long for Ironclad to ponder Tohro’s words. He nods after only a few seconds. “My father was always too stubborn to accept any help. I suppose I can set things right.” He dismounts his throne. “Very well. I’ll gather myself a traveling party.”

“We could escort you to Everfree,” Caro suggests.

Ironclad waves Caro off. “There will be no need. It’s not too far. At the very most, the trip would take half a day on a well-traveled road. I’ll only need to commission some battle-competent townsfolk. Your efforts are best exerted elsewhere. Now...” The jarl examines his robes. “As I thought. These old things would never do among Everfree’s gem encrusted streets. Onslaught!”

The child leaps from his bench, immediately doing away with his sordid mien. “I’m here for you, brother,” he says as he approaches Ironclad. “Need anything for your trip?”

“You, of course.” Ironclad gives Onslaught a gentle nudge on the muzzle. “But I also require one of Father’s finest robes. Also, do fetch some sustenance from the dining room, along with, huh… What sort of fine wine would befit an occasion such as a royal summit?”

“I think Her Majesty would be impressed with a white wine from the day of our late king’s coronation,” Tohro suggests. “Do you have anything of the sort?”

Ironclad has an uncharacteristically wide smile. Caro is mildly offset at actually seeing his teeth for the first time. “Ah, a cultured soldier! I’ll tell Her Majesty that I like you.” He turns back to his brother. “Go to the cellar and procure us some of that, then?”

“Yes, brother!” Onslaught starts trotting towards the cellar entrance right away. As he passes Caro and Tohro, he looks up with an innocent, pleading expression and asks, “Sirs, could you come along? The wine may be too high up for me to reach.”

The two stallions speak at the same time. “Of course.” They share a smile as they follow the young colt down the stairs. A dark descent through a cramped corridor leads into a dusty, rather cold cellar. Rows of identical steel swords line the wall in crosses. Next to them stands an overly large cabinet of assorted bottles.

“Alcohol, swords, a bridge made of bones…” Tohro says as he observes the scenery. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you come from quite the family of barbarians!”

Onslaught goes over to the cabinet and begins sorting through the bottles. “No offense taken. In fact, that’s a compliment… Well, the bone bridge wasn’t entirely our family’s doing. We may be mighty, but we can’t slay dragons.”

Caro tilts his head. For all of the time he has spent among the ponies of Dragon Bridge, he hadn’t considered the bridge itself. When I took my blade to Nahkriin in Reinoc, she didn’t die… I hadn’t awakened yet. I didn’t take her soul. Regular ponies can’t truly kill dragons. So that would mean...

“Onslaught, who gave your family the bones to construct the bridge?” he asks.

“A young stallion named Argent.” Onslaught answers, reaching towards a higher shelf. “He killed two dragons at once and sold their bones away. We took most of the spoils, though Jarl Drake named a high price for one of the skulls. It’s all good for her, though. It was because of that skull that Trottingham became the trading hub it is today.”

Caro finds it difficult to take in anything beyond the name of the Dragonborn before him. He tries to appear straight-faced, but Tohro is able to see his darting eyes. “That’s…” Caro mutters. “Very fascinating.”

“Isn’t it?” Onslaught is tilting his head way back, peering up at a particular bottle on the high shelves. “I won’t be able to reach that.”

“Here, allow me.” Tohro flies to the bottle and removes it from the shelf.

“Thank you, kindly.” Onslaught points to a nearby desk. “Just set it there.”

As Tohro does so, Caro takes notice of the contents of the desk. He sees several strips of leather and linen, scattered metal bits, and a few steel ingots. His long abandoned inner blacksmith gets the better of him as he arranges the materials into orderly rows at the desk’s head. “Master Hammerfell never would have allowed such a mess…”

“A bit neat for a dragon slayer, are you?” Onslaught asks, giving Caro pause. “Keep at it, I don’t mind. I only use that desk for special occasions. Speaking of, that brings me to a gift I had prepared for you. Would you care to see?”

“By all means,” Caro replies. He stops with his rearranging (Aside from ensuring one of the ingots is perfectly aligned with its brethren), and faces Onslaught, who goes to a nearby dresser and opens the top drawer.

“Do keep this between us? If my brother knows about this, he’ll bar me from anything metallic until I’m of age. Anyway, here you are.” Onslaught presents the contents of the dresser to Caro.

Attached to a fine leather belt are seven large knives, each with their own unique shape and design. Some are dark, asymmetrical and exotic, others slick and reflective. Each one looks as deadly as the last.

As Caro takes the belt, Onslaught speaks again. “Some of the other children my age, they wished to show you appreciation in more ways than just cheers and stomps. So we all gathered as many materials as we could and worked with the blacksmith to put this together. That is, except for my knife. That toothed steel one of the end, there? I made it myself. And the belt.”

Caro secures the straps of the belt around his barrel. Much to his pleasure, he can barely feel the belt on his fur. “This is spectacular. You have a bright future in smithing ahead of you.” His eyes widen as an idea snaps to him. “In fact, I know a certain earthwalker in Everfree who could use an apprentice. When you go off to Everfree with your brother, ask around for a mare named Rosemary.”

“Thank you, sir! I could use the bits!” Onslaught leaps for joy, trotting in circles as he chuckles. “Excellent, excellent…”

Caro examines the knife belt once again. “I do love knives. Would you like to know why?”

A disembodied voice shakes the wood of the cellar. “Because soup tastes better when it’s difficult.”

Tohro looks around for any source of the voice. His eyes widen as they fixate on the ceiling. “Caro, I think we should be concerned.” He points at a large, fluctuating shadow that seems to be growing eyes and a mouth… and horns.

“Oh, there you are!” says Onslaught. He approaches the shadow, waving to it as though it were a good friend. “See? I told you I’d bring them around! Sorry it took so long.”

“You’ve done your part, little one,” says the shadow. “You’ll be rewarded in time. I’m many things, including, but not limited to, generous.”

“Onslaught…” Caro speaks, his voice low with suppressed anger. “Are you aware that you’re acting the cohort to a god of chaos?”

The child shrugs. “Yeah. He gave me a sweet roll, though.”

~Shae~

I've spoken to Queen Platinum, Captain Gauntlet, and many other ponies about Luna's powers. I've known ever since I knew of her existence that she has an uncanny, passive power over dreams. The extent of her power is still unknown to me. Could she have control over many dreams at once? Can she enter daydreams, or is she restricted to unconscious individuals?

All of these questions always lead me to the same conclusion, which is also a question: Is it unorthodox of me to not entirely want to know the answers? After all, if I were to find some means to explain this magic, it wouldn't be as... magical.

For however long I can be with Luna, I'll never grow tired of these moments. It's just me and her, alone in an empty realm, as it has been every night since she first deemed me her mother.

She sits upon my lap, so I can’t see her face, but I assume her eyes are as wide as ever, glowing despite the emptiness surrounding us. Empty... I start to look around, wondering about that. Where does my control of the dream end and Luna’s control begin? Since I know I’m dreaming, can I will myself awake? I'm almost unsure if I should even question this, but the scholar in me is tapping impatiently.

"Luna," I say softly as I look down at her. "Would you like to play a game?"

"Of course, Mother," she replies with a soft smile. It's odd seeing how calm and serene she is in the dreamscape compared to her exuberance when she's awake. I suppose this is the side of her she’s unable to show in the real world. "What would you like to play?"

"I was thinking we could do something simple, like build a snow castle."

"Snow castle?"

"Yes, it was something Sundance did one year. Since we lived at Wintercolt Academy, and it was almost always snowy, she decided to have some fun with levitation magic." I smile at the warm memory of a chilly day. "By the time we were done, we had a scale version of the college, just barely big enough for my three friends and I."

Luna smiles, a bit of that youthful excitement playing across her features. "I think I'd enjoy that," she says, her eyes shimmering as she looks up.

My breath catches in my throat as I see snow falling all around us, the black, invisible world around us suffused in a soft white glow. I don’t know how Luna has done it, but this snow almost exactly resembles the kind I’d watch fall atop Mount Everfree, safely within the toasty confines of the academy. As the fond memories continue to cycle through me, they begin to take form, coalescing into a distant, ethereal vision. I can see the academy in the distance, its form distorted yet unmistakable. I’m sure that if I tried to approach it, I wouldn’t be able to reach it, but it certainly compliments the snowfall. It’s as close to my memory as it could ever be.

Luna picks up a lump of snow with her horn. This is something I’m used to seeing her perform in dreams of her own creation, even if she’s not mature enough to perform such an act in reality. She shapes the snow into a perfect recreation of young, lanky Lancer. Within another few seconds, she’s made another snowy creation. That feathered mane… it must be Sundance. And the one with the hood has to be Eavesdrop.

“That’s amazing…” I say, equally in observation and surprise. “You must see a lot more of my mind than I anticipated.”

Luna nods. “Of course. Among many things, I can see that you greatly miss your friends.” She levitates onto Snow Sundance’s back. “I have caught glimpses of their dreams… They miss you too.”

I allow myself a moment to take in the sight of these lifelike recreations, only stepping away when nostalgic tears start to take form in my eyes. I’d rather not cry in front of Luna. “Th… Thank you, my love… This is...”

I hear Luna speak, though her voice is further away now. “So, this snow castle you speak of…” I look around, unable to locate her. It’s only when I turn around entirely that I see where she’s moved to. She sits at the tallest tower of an extravagant white fortress. “Is this a fair start?”

“Luna, you…” My mouth remains open, but I can’t find the words to describe my awe. I trot to the castle through the snow, which rises beneath my hooves to form stairs. I join Luna at the highest point, looking in all directions to see what she’s created. “This is several floors beyond what Sundance and I ever made. Why, you’ve made a courtyard! And… is that Celina’s garden?”

“I’ve been helping her to rebuild it,” Luna says. “She is very picky about which flowers she wants.”

While I continue to gape at all of this, I can’t help but feel that something is missing. Looking upon the snow statues of my friends once again, I figure out exactly what. I kneel down to Luna and nuzzle her. “This is an amazing creation, loved one, but mind that it's not the destination that's important; it's the journey you take to get there, and the ponies you share it with.” I smile at her. “Do you understand?”

Luna surveys her castle, her expression thoughtful. “I believe I do. I’m sorry, Mother.”

“It’s all okay,” I say, levitating my own clumps of snow towards me and Luna. I meld and shift the snow into a smooth, swirling ramp. As I beckon to Luna, she immediately has me figured out. She leaps into my lap the instant I lower onto my haunches, leaning forward in excitement. With one push, we descend down my makeshift slide, tumbling into the enchanted white world below.

The passage of time doesn’t seem to exist within dreams, and the same notion goes for Luna’s dreamscape. As such, it could be hours or mere minutes that pass while my daughter and I collect snowballs, forming a castle of more humble proportions.

Luna keeps a curious eye turned to the distance projection of Wintercolt Academy. As we set to work on one of the snow castle’s rafters, she asks, “You’ve mentioned this pony called Fauste in the past, Mother. Might I ask who she is?”

I pause my building, dropping a lump of snow back where I picked it up. “Well, Fauste isn’t quite a pony.” I reclaim that snow, shaping it into the image of a tall alicorn with a humble flat mane, not quite unlike mine. “That is to say, she may have been at a time, but it matters little if she was; ponykind knows her now as the embodiment of all things magical.”

Luna seems genuinely confused. “A magical one more powerful than you, Mother?”

“Oh, Luna, I’m far from the most powerful mage alive.”

The figure of Fauste begins to glow, removing itself from my levitation spell. I watch it with great interest as it rises, becoming pure light and soaring into the black sky. A burst of multiple colors turns the abyss above into a spectral marvel, filled with stars and nebulae unlike anything I’ve seen before. The stars move and shift about until they’ve formed the outlines of two alicorns. One is definitely Fauste, but the other is different; her mane is flowing and swept back.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask Luna as she waddles to my side.

“No.”

I take Luna into my lap once again, one of my forelegs holding her close while I point at the stars. “Her name is Epona. She is the creator of all ponykind, having granted us flesh and bone. Suffice to say, she was very protective of us at a time; a mother too keen to keep her children on a leash. She feared what could happen to us if we were not obedient.”

The stars shift once again. Smaller, dimmer stars appear beneath Epona, who is speaking to Fauste.

“Fauste, Epona’s sister, came to her, desiring that all ponies be given the will to do as they pleased. She feared a future of subservience would be wasted on us, believing that if we could do amazing things if we were set free. Unfortunately, Epona disagreed...”

The stars that form Fauste break apart, scattering across the sky.

Luna gasps. “But… surely they came to a compromise?”

“You and I have free will, do we not?” I ask rhetorically, showing Luna a grin. “Fauste anticipated such an outcome. When she was defeated by Epona, her essence scattered across heavens, land and sea alike. It resonated most, however, with Epona’s creations; us.”

The stars beneath Epona become almost overwhelmingly bright.

“Followers of Fauste call her essence the Fae, and it is worshiped just as much as the alicorn whose sacrifice gave ponykind’s existence meaning.” I brush a strand of hair out of Luna’s face as she looks up at me. “So, you see? Magic is life.”

Luna nods quickly. “Epona forgave Fauste, right?”

“Of course she did,” I say, watching the stars move once again. Epona is now looking over the bright lights beneath her, her wings spread and her expression content. “Once she bore witness to how much we could accomplish without her doctrine, she understood Fauste’s desire and came to forgive her.”

With that all said, the stars return to their normal, scattered positions. Even without the images of the Divines, the spectacle above is beyond words. The moon has now risen into the sky, settling among the stars and completing the impossible image. I doubt I’d ever be able to see something so gorgeous in the waking world.

“Would it be okay if we just watched the sky for the rest of the night, Mother?” Luna quietly asks.

“Of course, my love.”

“Would you… sing to me?”

I would have done so even if she hadn’t requested. I clear my throat and recite my old lullaby. It feels like an eternity since I last sang it.

"'Neath a faltered sky; cross loamless plains, and watered blight...
Ah, where gone those days, once glory shone so bright?
Fallen ‘neath baleful wings dark as night…
Ah, a moment give to me…
Hark, shall none hear this souls tale, of a land benight?”

Luna beams at the sound of my singing voice, a feat I thought impossible; I’m not exactly the best singer. I can’t even carry a note. Even so, she seems entranced. For a moment, I see a little of myself in her. A little filly, innocent as could be, captivated by the song of her mother, who makes up for her lack of singing ability with pure love and passion.

I open my mouth to continue the song, but I pause when somepony else starts singing. It’s not Luna, but how could it be? She doesn’t know this song. I turn my head to see… myself.

“Pitiful stallion whom death has undone, leaned upon a broken blade, looks to skyward...”

This dream has taken a turn for the surreal, especially when two more of myself appear, emerging from the snow.

“Prithee above, be this thy word? Cried out, begged for truth but no answer's sound be heard!”

Following them are another three of me, these ones having come from the entrance of Luna’s first snow castle. As they, along the others, slowly approach me and Luna, I hop to my hooves, taking on a guarded stance. I don’t know what’s going on, but from Luna’s surprised expression, I can infer that this isn’t something she conjured up.

“Yet, now he sees the dragon's dogma, unbound by time; all-binding, grand design...
Land and skies and seas yearn, finish the cycle of eternal return!”

I turn my head, then reel back as I’m face with the eyes of myself. I light my horn, ready to blast this imposter apart if it makes a move on me or my daughter.

“Riveting melody, isn’t it?” asks the me, tilting her head and giving a cock-eyed smirk. “Your mother certainly was a poet, though not quite as fun as a singing sword.”

My horn shines brighter, but it’s quickly snuffed out when the me touches it with her hoof.

“None of that, Miss Shae. I thought I told you twice before, no violence when you step into my domain.”

“Your…?” A realization creeps up my spine. I try to hold on to the small hope that this couldn’t be what I think it is, but that becomes an impossibility as the me’s eyes shift from magenta to garish yellow, with mismatched pupils. My image makes a grotesque shift into the serpentine figure of Discord.

Luna, for some reason, seems relatively unfazed. “Mother, who is the goat face?”

I turn my head her way. “Don’t be rude, Luna. That’s an insult to goats.”

Discord seems pleasantly unaware of my jab. “Quite a temper, that King Hurricane has!” he says. “It took me far too long to calm him down and set his mind in the right place. Had to replant trees and flowers and the like to keep the place pretty, but they all wilted within a day! What’s worse than that, I went through the trouble of fixing a wonderful feast and he just had to throw it in my face. Honestly. Don’t mock pig stomach until you try it.”

“You won’t have to worry about me mocking it…” I mutter. “This isn’t the best time, Discord. Come for me in the morning if you insist, but for the moment, I’m enjoying my time with my daughter.”

After a brief second, Discord’s jaw falls to the snow. I pick it up and hoof it back to him. After he reattaches it, he proceeds to gawk. “Great nation of gestation! How long was I absent?”

“Not nearly long enough.” I let out a sigh, gesturing to Luna. “It’s a long story. Luna chose me to be her mother—”

“—because she is my mother!” The child advances on Discord. She doesn’t allow me to hold her back, and escapes from my grip. “And I don’t recall letting you into her dream, you abnormal, insolent… stupidhead!”

I’m partially ashamed to share a moment of unanimous laughter with Discord, but it only lasts for so long. “Manners, little one. Manners,” says the draconequus. “Don’t you worry. Even though my reach extends into your dreams, I assure you that I won’t abuse the… Huh.” He raises an eyebrow as he surveys the snowy world around him. “You call this a dream? Mine are usually filled to the brim with Saddle Arabian concubines and gouda.”

I point into the distance, my expression stern and commanding. “It’s our dream. And you’re not allowed here. Leave.”

“Oh, very well, dear Shae. I’ll be going…” Discord performs a pirouette spin on a single claw and begins his trek away, much to my relief. My skin has finally stopped crawling. Once he’s an appropriate distance away, I turn back to Luna. I hope I can salvage something good out of the remaining time we have in this dream…

I gag when something snags my hood and lifts me into the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Discord, and thus come to an unfortunate conclusion. “This is happening, isn’t it?”

Discord lets out a brief cackle. “I said was leaving. You’re coming with me, that’s all. I’m not disobeying your wishes! Not in the slightest!”

“But what about Luna?” I ask, a state of alarm creeping into my mind.

“Don’t you worry about her. She’ll still have her playtime with mommy dearest… Seriously, how did you manage it?”

I’m unable to answer Discord’s question on account of my stunned surprise at the sight lain before me. Luna has apparently accepted the company of the many different replicas of me that had intruded upon the dreamscape. She’s laughing gleefully as she’s tossed between the many mes as if she were a child’s ball. “Put her down!” I shout. “Luna!”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Miss Shae,” Discord replies. “How could she possibly be harmed? It’s just a dream.”

But knowing that Discord can intrude upon these dreams makes that rhetorical question hold much more weight. I doubt I’ll be able to enjoy these nights with my daughter nearly as much from now on.

~Vision End~

“This is not ideal… I wish I could save you the burden of my grief. My self-loathing is just a puddle in your sea of tasks,” says King Hurricane.

“I assure you, Your Majesty, it’s no issue. Even so, my tasks have dwindled in recent times.” Shae says. She stares out into the distance, where the sky and sea have switched places, while King Hurricane looks away from the surreal display in sheer apathy.

Discord appears disinterested, as per usual, relaxing at the head of the dining table and suckling on the dry stick of a kabob. “Her hobbies now include cooking and cleaning for a little blue ball of jolly fun, as well as being very rude to her elders,” he says to Shae and King Hurricane. “Now, what example does that set for her spawn?” He tosses the stick upwards, watching with glee as a fish leaps out of the water and catches it.

“Spawn?” King Hurricane looks away from the horizon. “You have a child, Miss Shae?”

Shae shows a smile for the first time since her abduction. “It’s a tad complicated, but… Yes, I have two daughters.”

Hurricane frowns and looks at the grass, which is grey and discolored. “I won’t assume my experience will apply to you. My mistakes are not yours to make. Still… it seems only fitting, especially after my last transgression, that I tell you what happened to my child.”

“You mean Squall?” Shae asks. She immediately covers her mouth as the name passes her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry—”

Hurricane shakes his head. “No, no, it’s perfectly fine, I… I have to face this.” Something else catches his eye. He squints his eyes, looking past the dining table to the collection of trees in the distance. “Hm, it seems the rest of our usual company has arrived.”

A broad smile grows on Shae’s face. “Excuse me, Your Majesty.” She turns on her hoof and gallops around the table, stopping when she comes face to face with Caro and Tohro. Without a word, she leaps towards them and wraps a foreleg around each of their necks.

“Awfully affectionate, aren’t we?” Caro asks, grinning as he returns the gesture. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

“The longest weeks of my life,” Shae says with a loud sigh.

Tohro snickers. “Aw, does parenthood have you down?”

“I’m prepared to care for Celina and Luna for as long as I have to, but I’m no miracle worker… Not to mention, now I have to put up with the antics of a god of chaos. How am I going to explain this to the little ones?”

Shae’s fur crawls as an all too familiar set of scales brushes against her legs. Discord slithers around her, wearing an intrigued look. “Well, you certainly have a way with stallions, Miss Shae, if you were able to produce such wonderful little girls.”

Shae scoffs at him. “I would have given birth to them without a second thought, but I’m afraid that’s not exactly how they came into my care. They are my daughters all the same, though.”

“Simply because you deem it so, my dear?” Discord asks, his hands resting on his upside-down head.

“I like to think that—” Shae’s mouth clamps shut as Discord snaps his talons.

“I ask that because, well, imagine if I were a Divine.” Discord stands properly, chest thrust out in regal imitation. An extravagant crown blinks into existence upon his head. “If my child, a legendary alicorn, were, let’s call it kidnapped, by a mere mortal—”

“Kidnapped?!” Shae exclaims, an edge to her voice.

Discord continues as if she hadn’t spoken at all. He reaches up to the sea, summoning three drops of water. “—I wouldn’t take too kindly to that. In fact…” The figures morph into three ponies, two of them alicorns, and one of them a unicorn. “I’d be keen to smite them on the spot. Suh-mite!” With a snap of his fingers, the unicorn figure disappears into mist. The alicorn figures look around, confused. “I’d watch your step, Shae Sparkle,” Discord says, his voice unusually grim, but his sick smile unwavering.

“Let her be!” Hurricane commands, taking a seat at the table. His seat opposes Discord’s. “I’m sure she’s a fine parent, superior to any Divine.” His compliments bring warmth to Shae’s face, though it’s short lived, as his somber expression returns. “Far superior to me in every way.”

Tohro is the first to reach the table, choosing a seat close to Hurricane’s end. Caro and Shae follow suit, opting to sit as far away from Discord as possible. He returns to his throne and begins nibbling on a stem of grapes.

King Hurricane, despite his usual solemnness, appears focused and determined, his brow furrowed. “I caused quite a stir last time. So, it seems only fair that I face my deepest regret rather than running away from it. After that, well… perhaps I can finally allow myself to die with a clear conscience.” He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. “I think it’s time that you knew about Squall,” he said.

Caro notices the king’s twitching eyelid. He opens his mouth, prepared to point it out, but quickly retracts his tongue as he sees water droplets descending from the sky-sea. They change into the forms of equines, like before, only this time losing nearly all semblance of liquid. When they take the shapes of a younger King Hurricane and Queen Platinum, they’re just short of lifelike. Tohro leans forward, intrigued as the two lovers lay on a bed, entwined in a naked embrace, save for leggings and sheets.

“Platinum and I had found our renaissance. The war was over, Equestria was born, and we were its rulers. Our coming together after so long lead to many, many enchanting nights.”

“Oh, I could make so many jokes right now,” Discord whispers to himself, showing the same naughty face as Tohro. “But I’ll save those for another time. So, no doubt all of your time appraising your precious gemstone of a wife caused a pearl to form within the royal oyster?”

The younger king and queen’s faces grow slight wrinkles in mere seconds. Platinum is lying down, bedridden, yet she looks as happy as she could ever appear. She holds a small bundle in her hooves. Hurricane nearly topples a healer as he runs to her side. They both look upon the contents of the bundle; a baby pegasus with a slick purple mane and a light blue body.

“I won’t deny it… Although Squall would become so much less than a pearl, dare I say less than a grain of sand, for the moment I was happy to know I had a successor, and simultaneously terrified of what could come of it. I half feared we’d end up with an alicorn child. Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Squall was as much a pegasus as I was.” As the water drops pull apart and shift once again, King Hurricane clenches his teeth. “And that was precisely the problem.”

Squall appears as a rather strapping young colt. His mane and coat well-tended and he wears a royal tunic. However, Caro gives pause at the sight of his determined expression. It’s not an inspiring look; it’s a fearful one, as if Squall were driven to do something horrid at this point in Hurricane’s memory.

The frightening expression goes away as the image of Squall turns to his father. Hurricane’s mane has begun to grey at this point, though he hasn’t lost any of his muscle. He happily directs Squall to many statues of different pegasi, which stand in a large, dome shaped chamber.

“The chamber of the sages...” Shae whispers in awe. “This must have been before they used the room to control the sun and moon.”

“These are the past commanders of Olympus,” the past Hurricane says.

“Commanders… Not kings?” Squall asks, seeming unimpressed.

The past Hurricane seems ignorant of Squall’s dissonant mien. “See, son, in the old pegasus ways, war and politics were two halves of the same whole. As such, laws were set by the strongest, and the weak had no influence. It was believed that if you were a glorious leader in battle, you were stallion enough to be a leader in all other things. Commanders were the highest rank. Ergo, they were like kings.”

Squall smiles, but it appears more malicious than pleasant. “Why was such a government abandoned?”

“The greater question is why it wasn’t expunged sooner. As I said, there was no voice for the weak; they were mere grunts, sent into battle as lambs for the slaughter.”

“All the better to test the enemy’s skill, yes?”

Hurricane, for a brief moment, appears horrified. He recomposes himself as he asks, “How… Why would you think that?”

“Just a jape, Father,” Squall says with an innocent chuckle. “So, I can’t help but take notice of this commander.” The young one bypasses all of the other statues to gaze upon a stone visage of Commander Zeus. “Hm, why does he stand at the center?”

Hurricane looks at the statue with a smirk. It’s obvious that his contempt for his old authority is still fresh. “Zeus was the last commander, until I took his place. I commissioned that the statue stand in the center of this room, as I like to remember him as he was.”

“A mighty warrior?” Squall asks.

“Perish the thought.” Hurricane’s smirk turns into a frown. He seems to age a few years in an instant. “Zeus was a monster shaped like an equine. He never held anything but hatred for those beneath him, and twice the hatred went for his enemies. He was never satisfied unless he took their limbs. Further, unless those under his command fought half as fierce as he did, he had a tendency to beat them within an inch of their life… Pansy was one of his many victims.”

“Pansy?”

“Oh, I’ve told you about him. He was my lover before I met my beloved Platinum. Given that he was less a soldier and more of a peacekeeper, Zeus harbored no restraint. You can understand why I wasn’t fond of the old commander’s doctrine. The world is better off without him.”

Hurricane turns on his hoof and trots to leave the chamber. Squall, however, lingers behind to gaze at Zeus. “How do you mean by that?”

“There are some in this world that are unforgivably horrid and hold no regard for their actions. Some of them are just better off dead.”

Tohro furrows his brow as he stares intently at Caro, who nods and bows his head. “I know.”

The Hurricane of the present clenches his teeth, peeling his eyes away from his past image. “How foolish I was… I could have said a thousand things to Squall, and every single word I chose set him a step further down a path of darkness.”

“Do you truly think there was anything you could have done to stop him?” Shae asks. “Some ponies, they’re…” She swallows, taking an unusually long pause. “They can be unsalvageable.”

“I like to hold on to the idea that I could have done otherwise. It helps.”

“No. No, it doesn’t.” Shae shakes her head and taps her hoof on her plate. “The past is in the past, Your Majesty. What good is it to harbor such regret?”

King Hurricane glares at Shae, causing her to lean back in her seat. It’s the first time he has shown any malice towards a member of Dragonrein, making his old, tired, angry eyes all the more intense. “What do you know of it?! What else am I supposed to do? Just accept that I drove my own son to turn against me? You want me to put aside my greatest mistake, just like that?”

“YES!” Shae screams, standing up and slamming her forelegs down, causing the entire table to rattle. All that can be heard for a while is the gradually dwindling clatter of plates and silverware, along with heavy breaths. Shae gazes around the whole table, taking in Caro and Tohro’s concerned shock and Discord’s apathy before sitting back down. She shakes her head, blinking tears out of her eyes. "N-No. This isn't about me or my regrets. Please, continue."

“Are you well?” Caro asks. “If you want to talk—”

Shae opens her mouth to speak, but she’s preemptively interrupted by Discord. “Tut tut! This is our gracious king’s social gathering. Please refrain from caring about other things.”

Despite the mad god’s calming words, the shared glances between Dragonrein and the king are far less warm than before. All the king can do to remedy the issue is speak a simple, “My apologies, Miss Shae,” his voice shaking as he speaks. “Perhaps it’d be for the best if I continued?”

“It’s advisable,” Shae mutters.

Hurricane keeps his eyes turned to the water, rather than the disturbed looks of Caro and Tohro. He motions for the water droplets to move. As if on command, they do so, once again forming a younger visage of the king and his son. Squall is older here, and far more intimidating. In a way, his intense leer makes him appear older than Hurricane, who sits upon his throne. He looks disgruntled and weary, indifferent to Squall’s anguish.

“I have told you time and time again, Squall…”

The prince interrupts the king with a flourish of his hoof. “It’s important to me! To hell with that, it’s important to all pegasi!”

The king leans forward in his seat. “What pegasi? To what single pegasus are those statues of any significance?”

“All pegasi!” Squall’s wings flare out. “Those aren’t just statues, Father. They are testaments to our legacy!”

“Our le—” Hurricane shakes his head in disbelief. “No. No, Squall. It doesn’t work like that. You speak of the pegasus race as if it’s a collective consciousness. We… We’re just ponies. No different from earthwalkers, or pegasi. I’d even include zebras, but you know how it is…”

Squall steps back, acting as if Hurricane had just thrown a knife at him. “How could you say such a thing...” he half-yells, half-whispers. “You were there. You know the might of the pegasi. Why would you throw that all away?”

“Have my stories taught you nothing?” Hurricane removes himself from the throne, marching forward against Squall. “Those times were nothing but turmoil, justified only by the rantings of bloodthirsty maniacs who thought themselves gods of war. Do you not remember the stories?” When he stops speaking, his eyes slowly widen. “Unless… Squall, did you actually think the Olympian pegasi to be heroes?”

“Weren’t the other tribes your enemies?” Squall asks innocently. “That made you, along with the pegasi that fought beside you, the heroes. You stood tall to protect your way of life, in which power was rewarded.” He ignores his father’s disturbed expression as he points behind him. “And you would have every last tribute to that—”

“Tribute is a fleeting thing, especially when removing those statues will serve a greater cause.”

“What greater—”

Hurricane interrupts Squall once again. “Your mother and the unicorn sages wish to use that room as a gathering place for the rise and fall of the sun and moon.”

Squall will have none of it. He screams at his father, “Why would you allow such an atrocity to happen?! What decent pegasus would stoop down to an inferior being?!”

Hurricane becomes still. Caro expects him to lash out, or wear a look of grim disappointment, but he looks unusually calm, as if something he had expected was just confirmed. What happens just after that is a mystery.

The Hurricane of the present speaks. “Squall was always… different. I raised him as best as I could, educating him in history, politics, morality, and so on. And yet, he forged his own view of a perfect world. Unfortunately for him, nopony else wanted that perfect world. Unfortunately for me, and many others… Well, as I said, Squall was different.”

“Oh, just get to the good part already!” Discord squeals. He slithers beneath the table and rises on the other side, his grin manic as ever as he holds King Hurricane’s shoulders. “I caught a few glimpses of one particularly stormy night while I was repairing your fragile little snowglobe of a noggin.”

The king tries to remain stoic, but a single twitch of his lip shows he can’t keep it up for long. “If you silence yourself, I will tell.” He takes a few deep breaths as Discord returns to his seat, twiddling his paws and talons. “To put it in the least horrible way, Squall’s determination outgrew any opposition to his blind worship of the old ways. I had suspected that he’d eventually see the way of the world, but I was too naive to consider how far he would go…”

Once again, the past Hurricane takes form, clad in his old armor. He hits the ground running, his rainbow mane and tail trailing behind him. He stops only for an instant to turn around and buck a door, breaking the flimsy lock. The door opens to reveal the chamber of the sages once again. Squall stands in the center of the room. All innocence, as little as there was before, has gone from the stallion. His mane is disheveled, and his face holds nothing but malice. Yet, he looks happy. “I wanted you to be here, Father. This night couldn’t be more perfect.” He loses none of that malice as he looks up.

Tohro reels back in his seat, his eyes widening rapidly. “What the fuck is that?!”

Earthwalkers and unicorns alike hang from the ceiling, their limbs held by mismatched jumbles of shackles. All of them are unclothed. The ones who are strong enough to move raise their heads and call out to Hurricane, but their voices are muted by gags.

“Squall, what have you done?!” the king roars.

“There’s no need to look so angry,” says Squall, taking Hurricane’s quiet rage in humor. “Look at what I am about to accomplish for all of us children of Olympus! You said it yourself, we pegasi are the strongest of all equines!"

"But we were slaves to our egos!” Hurricane shouts. “Did you not understand my meaning?!"

"All I heard from your lips were tales of times of glory and victory. Now I know what I must do..."

Hurricane runs at Squall, but he is quickly shoved away by a summoned shield. He skirts to a stop, leaving skid marks in the marble floor. He immediately shakes off the blow and flies to the bound ponies. Another shield forces him to the ground. He can only struggle to stand before collapsing. Smoke rises out of the cracks in his armor.

Squall mocks Hurricane with ecstatic laughter. “Foolishness, Father. Foolishness. Unicorns may be inferior to us, but their products do come in useful…” He reveals the contents of his worn pouch; several scrolls, which he spills out onto the floor. “See, I’ve always known my superiority as a pegasus is true, no matter how often you’ve denied it. We don’t need to rely on cheap parlor tricks to get our way. We are one with sky and storm. And I’m going to prove that to these neophytes.” He gestures to the suffering ponies above him. “Be easy. You need not fear me,” he says to them. “I will share my gift with you. Then, you will truly understand.”

“And they say I’m mad!” Discord cackles. “That boy of yours, Hurricane. Ah, they grow up so fast, don’t they? One day they’re puttering about, secretly holding you in disdain, and before you know it, they’re of age, drinking mead, staying out late, and torturing underlings!” He wipes a tear from his eye, which he transforms into a kerchief. He continues to watch Squall’s flamboyant ranting as he dabs at his cheeks. “Oooh, I love this part. I do love a pony who is willing to defy the rules of nature to get what he wants.”

Squall shuffles through his pile of scrolls. He grins with sadistic glee as he claims an unusual one. Rather than just a simple roll of paper, this scroll is bound by a bronze, gem encrusted tube.

Shae’s mouth falls open, as she tries and utterly fails to comprehend the sight before her. “That’s impossible.” She wipes her spectacles on her robe and puts them back on. “How could he ever claim one of those?!”

“I… do not know what that is,” Tohro remarks. “Caro?”

“Master made a passing reference to it…” The Dragonborn turns to Tohro. “I think that’s an Elder Scroll,” he says cautiously.

Tohro’s eyes light up with clarity, then become sour with dread. “Oh, shit…”

Squall moves his lips, but his words go unheard. His eyes follow the text of the Elder Scroll with great speed. His concentration is great enough for him to remain ignorant of his father slamming his hooves against the force field. “Stop this immediately, Squall! Don’t make me hurt you!” His threats fall empty when he is barely able to stand.

“And how I’d like to see you try,” Squall gloats, looking up from the Elder Scroll. He gestures to the ceiling again. “How could you harm me? You’ve thrown in your lot with them. You’re no true pegasus.”

“You’re playing with power beyond comprehension!"

Squall seems little more than annoyed at Hurricane’s protests. “Your precious sages and your flea-bitten wife seem to have little difficulty with this scroll. I figured, if it gave them the power to raise and lower the sun and moon, then surely it can grant me the power to change ponykind for the better.” He goes quiet again as he resumes reading.

As time agonizingly drags on, Squall’s lips continue to move and Hurricane is left motionless, unable to do anything to stop the events transpiring before him.

The instant Squall stops reading, the Elder Scroll becomes wreathed in an unnatural black light. “Finally,” is all Squall says as he watches the light expand, spreading throughout the chamber. It looks like numerous tears through reality itself.

A sudden scream causes Shae and Tohro to shake. Squall keels over, clutching his face. The past Hurricane looks up, horror held in his gaze...

"That's enough!" The Hurricane of the present has thrown himself out of his chair. Beads of sweat glisten on his face as he casts his hoof out towards the memory. The visages of himself, his son, the screaming ponies, and the chamber all collapse into drops of water.

Tohro shakes his head, trying to break out of a trance. He can't bring himself to blame the king for sweating at such a grotesque sight. Even so, he tilts his head in confusion. "I thought you wanted to get this off of your chest, Your Majesty."

"Call it selfish, if you must..." The king returns to his seat, his hooves trembling as he reaches for his glass. He takes a long drink before he resumes talking. "That was not the most horrifying thing that happened that evening. At least, from this old codger's point of view..."

Two orbs of water emerge from the ocean above. They slowly rotate around each other, like two soldiers staring each other down on a battlefield. The motions become quicker and more chaotic until one of the orbs collides into the other, shoving it away. The offended orb turns, its mass shifting until it takes the form of a pony once again. Squall, obviously mad and deranged, charges at the Hurricane of the past, his wings beating furiously.

A well-placed punch sends Hurricane into the wall of a shabby building. He growls as he falls to the cobblestone, with several bricks and shingles clattering down around him. He removes himself from the wreckage, defiant to any injury.

“There’s our king…” Tohro says with a respectful smile.

Hurricane crouches. He watches his son closely as he grows closer. He raises his foreleg, cocks it back, and swings, landing his hoof into Squall’s barrel. Squall is thrown off-course into a window, shattering the glass. He rolls over on the ground, revealing a back full of shards. Blood mixes with the puddles of pooling rain.

Squall lets out a bloodcurdling scream. Despite his wounds, the hellish sound does not sound agonized, only filled with rage. He raises his head, revealing a nightmarish face. One of his eyes is white and clouded.

“The Elder Scroll must have blinded him…” Shae murmurs.

As per usual, Hurricane is unfettered by his son’s tantrum. “I once killed a stallion who thought himself a god. On the off chance he was right, I’d advise that you stand down,” he says to his son with equal parts anger and concern.

“I WILL NOT!” Squall yells. “I CANNOT! FOR THE SAKE OF ALL PEGASI, I… I…”

Hurricane paces around his incoherently moaning son. “...will what, child? Fight and die for a cause no one believes in?”

“I AM STRONGER THAN YOU!” Squall struggles to his hooves. “I… I am…”

“You’re an omega who thinks himself the alpha. Face reality, Squall. You will never get what you want. Give up this meaningless dream. Live a peaceful life among your equals.”

“I will not… How could I live among a zealot and a filthy witch?” Squall looks up at his father with absolute disdain. “YOU HAVE NOT SEEN WHAT I HAVE! THE ELDER SCROLL SHOWED ME EVERYTHING! IT WAS TRUTH! I SAW OLYMPUS RISE AGAIN! PEGASI DOMINATING ALL THOSE BENEATH THEM! AND I, THE NEW COMMANDER! THE TRUE ALPHA! THE APEX PREDATOR!”

“You honestly believe what that thing told you? That would explain much...” Hurricane shakes his head, snorting derisively. He steps towards the crying pegasus before him, only to step back from a pool of blood. “No one wants that future, Squall. You’re alone.”

Squall spits red onto Hurricane’s hooves. “Weak… You’re weak, Father. You have no pride…”

Hurricane has none of Squall’s ranting, shoving his prone body aside. “This is the face of pride? A bleeding, broken, insolent, blasphemous child who ravaged the bodies of several innocents in the name of reclaiming an age he never even knew? I’ll take compassion for my equals over your definition of pride.”

Squall doesn’t reply. He seems too weak for words at the moment.

“Squall...” Hurricane continues. “Having a vision doesn’t excuse you from the things you’ve done. You insulted your mother. You’ve shamed your lineage. You’ve ruined lives. You see this as some sort of conquest to make Olympus rise again, but all I see in you is a monster, and a traitor.”

Squall coughs up more blood before speaking. “You're the traitor, Father... What did we pegasi have beyond perfection in times past?"

"Hatred and xenophobia of the highest caliber. It was chaos; dystopia in its truest form.” Hurricane bows his head. It looks as though a grim realization has overcome him. “And you would have it all back to the way it was, destroying everything I have fought for…”

Squall’s eyes widen as he’s presented with his father’s hoof. He takes it, slowly rising to his hooves. He offers his father a smile, but it is not reciprocated.

King Hurricane stares into Squall’s one working eye and says, “Banished.”

Squall’s smile disappears instantly. He clenches his teeth, as if he’s about to put up another doomed struggle, but he relaxes, opting instead to slowly step around his father. As he trots into the streets, his figure faint in the pouring rain, he asks, “Where would you have me go?”

Hurricane doesn’t look back. "So long as I don't have to be reminded that you exist, I don’t care."

The scene transitions once again, with Hurricane falling into a large white bed. His armor is gone, replaced with a simple robe. Nearly all color in his mane has disappeared. Aside from the occasional breath, and the presence of Queen Platinum stroking his neck, there’s little evidence to suggest the king is even alive.

Present King Hurricane’s expression is blank, staring off into nothing. "I had conquered both tradition and fate. I had laid waste to hatred and corruption. I had taken the throne of my own kingdom. And I had lost everything."

The visions above faded from sight, the only sound heard that of the collective group’s breathing. The king slouches in his seat, brow furrowed in a frown, while Caro, Tohro, and Shae all try to think of something to say between shared glances. Even Discord seems to be taking his time to interrupt the silence, as if his surroundings are unable to dampen his mood.

“Mmm,” Discord hums finally, Shae almost breathing a sigh in relief. “What you say, good King Stormfront, is that you only meant well?”

“Of course I did,” Hurricane growls back. “I wanted Equestria to be everything Olympus wasn't.”

“Yes, yes, of course. All for the best... Well, of course you did, Handy Cane.” Discord slithers out of his seat, writhing in the air above. “Because you felt such love in your heart, such devotion and happiness to this new country you were ushering in, such loyalty—”

"Loyalty is a lie!” the king snaps, rising out his seat. “Everypony can be lost. The tighter you try to hold on, the quicker they slip out of your grasp. It’s inevitability in and of itself."

Tohro thinks of his betrayal of the Blackwings, and how in a single moment, he lost all respect for a mare he once believed to be a worthy queen. "Loss is inevitable, Your Majesty, there's no denying it,” he says. “You can't chalk it up to loyalty..."

"It's still a lie! In the end, no matter how loyal you are, you'll always betray something. In being loyal to my mission as the protector of Equestria and all that would harm her, I betrayed my son."

Tohro interjects, leaning over the table. "Yes, much like another betrayal of yours decades earlier! In choosing to defy tradition, breaking boundaries and marrying your darling Platinum, you dishonored your entire tribe and everything they stood for."

"Exactly," Hurricane agrees.

Tohro clicks his tongue and folds his forelegs. "Well. Clearly you are such a despicable equine for choosing your own path instead of being loyal to something you didn't truly believe in."

“What would you know of it?!I was disloyal to my own flesh and blood!” The king points at Tohro, his face a pained scowl. “I could have done something for him; I should have known what he would become! I could have saved him and those innocents!” His chest heaves in fierce, labored breaths. “There is no loyalty.”

“Then the definition of the word must have changed in recent times, sirrah.” Tohro’s eyes are closed and his muzzle is pointed upwards. He looks the part of a pompous philosopher.

“But,” Shae reluctantly interrupts, “isn’t that like saying there’s no such thing as love?”

Tohro clicks his tongue again. "Why would I say that? Love is an emotion. Loyalty is a concept; it isn’t objective. There isn't an unwritten law of the universe that says what's right and what's wrong. That is up to you. The way I see it, King Hurricane is the most loyal pony I have ever had the honor of meeting." Tohro alights on the table, cantering slowly towards the king. The two stare each other down as Tohro reaches the end. “You lived and died for an honorable cause, Your Majesty. I myself have taken heart of your deeds, and esteem myself of a fraction of your loyalty—”

"You're speaking nonsense—"

The king is sent flying from his chair, a bruise already apparent on his cheek as he stares up at Tohro in shock. “I’m not sorry, Your Majesty,” Tohro says in an even voice as he steps off the table. “My ma and pa were advocates for equality among all equines. They looked up to and respected you, using you as an example. They told me the stories.” He helps the king stand. pointing above them with a hoof as the projections come back. “You know the day. Libra Minora, a small town on the outskirts of Calfheim. Zeus’ final conquest was nearing its end. Call it fate, luck, or what have you, but something changed that day, and it all started with you…”

A young Lieutenant Hurricane walks unblinking through heavy snowfall. Pegasus soldiers of many ranks contrast his calm demeanor, shouting commands at each other as they fly along a rubble filled street. They’re filled with unmistakable warrior spirit, while the stallion that would become Equestria’s king is calm and focused.

He stops in his path as he spots the bleeding body of a unicorn mage, slumped over against a ruined shop, abandoned. He steps over to the corpse and turns her over, laying her down on the ground. He crosses her forelegs and closes her eyes. It’s a far more dignified place of rest.

“Go in peace,” Hurricane whispers.

He looks over his shoulder at the sound of a gasp. Another unicorn, a middle-aged mare with a bundle tucked under her cloak, quickly darts into an alley. Hurricane, with a look of bemusement, trots after the mare.

The mare waits for him around the corner. “Away with you, demon!” she shouts, brandishing a knife as she backs away.

Hurricane eyes the bundle. When he sees it move, he chuckles. “You should find somewhere to hide, friend. The battlefield is an ill-fitting place for a mother and her child.”

The mare appears offended at Hurricane’s casual demeanor. “You speak of ill-fitting… You shouldn’t be here to begin with!” She swings her knife at him, only leaving a barely noticeable scratch on his dark armor. “You should have stayed in the clouds where you belong!”

“Ah, a kindred spirit, then!” Hurricane chuckles again, advancing on the mare. When she takes another swing at him, he blocks her foreleg, sending the knife out of her grip. “What if I told you I share the exact same sentiment?”

The mare’s answer comes in the form of spit.

“Why is it that everypony wants their saliva on you?” Discord asks with a cocked brow. “Ah!” He points to an incoming pink-maned pegasus. “Perhaps I’ll slip into that fellow’s mind and ask him.”

Pansy lands in the alley and speaks to Hurricane in exasperation. “Sir! The battle has resumed! We’re marching on the higher districts! And, uh, there’s one other thing—”

Hurricane holds up a hoof, silencing Pansy immediately. “Just a moment.” He keeps his focus on the mare, who keeps her forelegs tightly wrapped around her child. “I can get you to a safe place. There’s a church of Fauste not far from here. So long as you call sanctuary—”

Pansy interrupts, panickedly nudging Hurricane. “Sir, that’s not an option!”

“What? Why?”

“It’s Princess Platinum, sir… She’s been a field medic to the unicorns this whole time, and she’s taken refuge in the church.”

Hurricane raises his brow, appearing taken back by such a notion. “Oh, my… Well, that’s all good for her, then? Conventions dictate that she can’t be harmed so long as—”

Both Hurricane and the viewers of the memory are treated to an unusual sight as Pansy grows furious. “Do you think Zeus cares about conventions?! He’s on his way to the church as we speak! And when he finds the princess, well…” His yellow face grows a little green. “You know Zeus loves his spoils of war…”

Hurricane looks just as furious, and doubly terrifying thanks to his stalwart figure. He turns back to the mare. He leans over her and says, “This will have to do, then.”

The mare is about to voice her confusion, but a single push sends her falling back into a small abandoned house. Before Hurricane closes the door on her, she flashes him one last look of confusion, her baby looking unusually happy.

“I’m going after Zeus,” Hurricane says. “Fetch me a sword. There’s another convention among us pegasi I’m going to exploit.”

“What does he mean by that?” Caro asks Tohro, who has reclaimed his seat. He comes to the conclusion himself. “Oh, Divines… Pegasi were allowed to do such a thing, weren’t they?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tohro replies, gesturing to the memory. Hurricane is fighting his way through many unicorns, though he never delivers the finishing blow to a single one, preferring to leave them disarmed and weakened instead. “They built their government around strength. Some soldiers earned their ranks through recognition. Others took those ranks by brute force.”

The present Hurricane hasn’t sat down, but he is watching himself in all of his youthful glory. He has some semblance of pride back in him now. “And I was biding my time in Zeus’ shadow. Planning. Until that day, I didn’t imagine anything could push me to do the unthinkable.”

The young Hurricane flies at a blistering pace through rubble, broken windows and battling soldiers, until the church comes into view. It is the only building that hasn’t been touched by cannon fire. Hurricane nears the locked entrance, only for his tail to be snagged by a unicorn’s aura. He is thrown down the front steps, where he is greeted with two unicorns and their levitated spears. They look utterly exhausted, but no less determined.

Hurricane doesn’t resist the spears, nor does he raise his sword in defense. He only speaks, raising his forelegs. “I’ve come for Princess Platinum!” Hurricane shouts with urgency. He scowls when he realizes how poorly he chose his words. “Please understand...”

Both spears press against the exposed parts of Hurricane’s neck, piercing the skin. “You would have Her Highness slain? Haven’t you wounded us enough?!” accuses one of the unicorns.

“I wouldn’t harm her, not ever! I want to save her!”

“...What?” The other soldier pulls back her spear in surprise.

A tense moment lasts between Hurricane’s would-be captors, as they remain motionless despite the battle raging around them. The lull is brought to an end by a shrill, terrified scream emitting from the church.

“Forgive me.” Hurricane closes his eyes and turns around onto his stomach. He kicks out his hind legs and spins. It’s almost like a dance. A visible gust of wind circles around him, knocking the unicorn soldiers off balance and onto their backs.

Hurricane leaps off the ground and lands on his hooves. He wastes no time in flaring out his wings and soaring to the church entrance once again. He braces himself, bursting through the door on impact. He drops to the carpet and rolls to a stop, just in front of a fire pit. “Princess!” he shouts, his voice unusually thin.

At the base of a limestone statue of Fauste lies Platinum. She is as elegant and beautiful as she ever was as a younger mare, but her state couldn’t be described as anything less than miserable. She’s on her back, prone, her dress torn and her hair in disarray. Numerous bruises litter her body, and her eyes appear cleansed of all emotion.

Hurricane looks on in horror as Zeus removes himself from Platinum’s body. His whole body is covered in ebony armor from front to back, his face veiled by his helm.

“Did she cry sanctuary?” Hurricane asks, his rage obviously fit to break.

Zeus chuckles. “She cried, all right…”

The thin thread that has held Hurricane’s patience with Zeus’ brutality snaps. He gallops, scuffing the carpet beneath him and kicking up the lines of flowers in his wake. He leaves a trail of white petals behind him as he charges straight for the armored behemoth of a stallion.

Even with Zeus’ massive stature, he still stumbles at the impact of Hurricane’s punch. His side collides with a pillar. Hurricane flips in the air, losing little momentum as he delivers another blow. Forgoing the use of his sword, Hurricane exerts his rage with several more airborne punches. His hits are unforgivably quick, too fast for anypony to keep sight of. He doesn’t let up until Zeus stumbles back again, bringing the pillar down with him.

Even after all of that, Zeus’ fearsome armor displays little more than a dent, and he is still chuckling. “Ah, so this is where you initiate your inevitable betrayal… I suspected you’d find some opportune moment to try and face me.” The fierce commander tramples a patch of flowers in his approach. “I think you picked a perfect place to mark your grave.” He spreads his wings, presenting several black blades inserted between his feathers. With a single flap, the blades fly at Hurricane, who makes a dodging flight upwards, only to be thrown off course as his forelegs and chest are pierced. He still makes a smooth landing.

“It is only by your impudence that it has come to this!” Hurricane shouts, ripping the blades out of his body with his teeth, then grabbing his sword. “I should have done this long ago, in front of all of my companions and lovers.”

Zeus mimics Hurricane’s action, presenting his own sword. Befitting its owner, it is large and terrifying, with multiple edges decorating its razor sharp blade. “Do you hate me so, knave?”

Hurricane, in a simultaneously respectful and disdainful act, lifts his sword and taps it against Zeus’ much more intimidating weapon. “Oh, if only hate were enough.” He dashes around Zeus and strikes at his barrel. The armor proves too thick; the sword clinks off like it were a pebble. Hurricane doesn’t slow his assault, though, taking several swings at every possible point in Zeus’ armor, dodging every slash that comes his way. The dance of their blades is an awe-inspiring sight to behold.

Zeus keeps his blade in perpetual motion to match Hurricane’s tactics, which are much of the same. The gigantic blade only stops its movement when it comes crashing into the marble floor, tearing out chunks of solid stone. Hurricane lands on one of these chunks and kicks off, flying at breakneck speed. He circles around Zeus until he is nothing more than a rainbow blur. Even with the summoned gust, however, Zeus remains still, laughing maniacally.

“You can’t kill a god, child! Honestly. Your efforts to stand against me in the past were laughable, but this…” Zeus swings his sword once again. The flat of the blade slams into Hurricane and sends him throttling into the ceiling. “It’s just pathetic.”

Hurricane growls in pain as he removes himself from the painted ceiling. If he has suffered any injury, he doesn’t let any sign of it show. “Same as everypony else beneath you! They’re all pathetic in your eyes!” He drops to the ground and breaks into flight. He ducks underneath another attack from Zeus, then uses his back to push up, throwing the large stallion off balance. With a single solid buck, Zeus falls over, leaving a small crater where he lands.

Hurricane wraps both his forelegs and hind legs around Zeus' thick neck. He presses in on his armor. Both the sounds of compacting metal and gagging can be heard. “I put up with everything!” Hurricane shouts. “I watched as you emotionally and physically butchered those I held dear! All in the name of power! You just can’t stand the presence of weakness!”

Zeus slams his head into the ground, leaving Hurricane flattened. He removes himself from his crater. “Without weakness, we can thrive. Without strength, we fall at the slightest resistance.” He presses his hoof into Hurricane’s chest. “And here I stand as an unfellable paragon of strength. All of those beneath me were lucky to earn some semblance of my greatness.” He presses harder, eliciting a labored cry from Hurricane. “And then you came along, climbing the ranks, finding your own way, being the passive, nonlethal simpleton that all the weaklings looked up to. Oh, how it filled me with DISGUST!” He raises his hoof and slams it into Hurricane. “You think you’re superior to me, Hurricane? You’re wrong. You’re not a soldier. You’re not a hero. You’re an ungrateful, weak, smug, insignificant, blasphemous CUNT!” Another hit leaves Hurricane spitting blood.

“For the first time in my life,” the present Hurricane says quietly, “I felt the claws of death gripping at my body. I actually thought I was going to die.”

Zeus is still ranting as he draws more blood from the stallion under his hoof. “I’m going to kill you, and I am going to relish every moment.”

The young Hurricane doesn’t look Zeus in the eye. His head is turned, his mouth open, gasping for air. His hoof is reaching out to nothing.

“No comrades. No strength. No hope. You’re alone, Hurricane.”

A white, robed hoof touches Hurricane’s.

Princess Platinum stares Zeus down. “He’s not alone.”

Zeus’ eyes widen within the confines of his helm. “WHAT’S THIS?!”

Platinum raises her aura-wreathed hoof and motions it towards the armored stallion. A purple mass of pure energy sends him careening across the room, reducing several pews to scraps of wood.

The princess immediately goes to Hurricane and ignites her horn once again. She passes her horn over him. In a matter of seconds, the bruises and cuts upon his body fade into nothing. Hurricane’s mouth is still agape, but in awe, rather than pain. “Why?” he asks the mare above him.

“I think you know the answer to that.” Platinum’s aura wraps around Hurricane’s legs, lifting him off the shattered ground. “Now, on your hooves, soldier!”

Hurricane wobbles for a moment before his legs lock. His wings serve to steady himself. Platinum's aura fades as he gains control once more, taking careful steps towards the fallen body of Zeus, his stride gaining in purpose and confidence as he goes forth. "Do you..." he breathes, a wary smile forming on his lips. “Do you think that did it?”

His smile drops as Zeus rises from the pile of wood splinters. His armor has become even further dented, rent with scratches. He stands hunched, his legs trembling. What would look like a sign of weakness in any other pony is even more terrifying on his part, especially when it’s accompanied by noises that sound less equine and more monstrous. Zeus scuffs his hoof against the ground and charges blindly at Platinum.

“Princess!” Hurricane reaches out for her, but she shoves him away with a ward, then holds out her forelegs. Zeus is lifted into the air just as he comes within a breath’s distance of Platinum, rising above her and being thrown like a toy. He collides with the stained glass window, raining shards onto the church’s floor. Hurricane and Platinum are left unharmed by another ward.

“Damn you…” Zeus tears out a chunk of wall with a single slam of his hoof. His words are barely distinguishable from his roars. “DAMN YOOOU!! I WILL KILL YOU! I WIIILL KILL YOOOU!” His wings create a gust of wind as they spread, knocking Platinum over, nearly sending her toppling into the fire pit. Hurricane catches her and sets her behind him as he braces for Zeus’ attack.

Zeus throws blade after blade after Hurricane, who knocks each one aside with precision strikes of his sword. He readies it up high as Zeus approaches, closer and closer, the ground shaking every time his hooves hit the ground. Zeus reaches for his blade, swings it around above him, pounces at Hurricane, brings the sword down—

It stops.

Zeus’ grip is fastened to his unmoving sword, which is held in place by Platinum’s aura. No matter how much he struggles, his sword remains still.

Hurricane seizes the opportunity. He rises to Zeus’ head and clasps it between his forelegs. As he pulls Zeus away from his sword, he shouts, “How dare you treat my princess so shamefully?!”

Zeus desperately attempts to flap his wings, but more of Platinum’s aura has taken hold, binding his joints. He can’t stop himself from falling into the fire pit.

Zeus roars in pain and fury as Hurricane holds him in place, writhing as the flames lick through the slits in the helm for his eyes and nose. "You can't kill me! I am a God! A GOD!!! I CANNOT DIE!!!"

Hurricane looks around the ruined church, a profound fury forming in his chest. "You tarnished a fair maiden's purity. You wreaked havoc on a house of Fauste. You crush, kill, destroy with nary a thought to the consequences or to those whose lives you've ruined. I cannot let you live." Hurricane starts shoving Zeus' face into the fire even harder, the armored pegasus' screams turning to feral howls as he thrashes even harder against his captors.

Hurricane is thrown off by a rather violent twist. Zeus staggers to his hooves. The front of his helmet is cherry red and glowing like the reaper herself. "I... cannot die," the massive pegasus groans, his voice smokey and metallic against the soft hiss of still-burning flesh. "You've drawn... your last breath... Both of you..." Zeus starts forward, still fast for as hurt as he is, but not nearly as much as Hurricane.

“Maybe one can’t kill a god, Zeus.” Hurricane is calmly backing away. “But I’ve killed demons.”

Zeus reaches for his sword.

Hurricane stops moving. “I am commander now.”

Zeus’ red hot blade lands in Hurricane’s hooves, Platinum’s aura surrounding it. Hurricane lifts the blade, and with one fluid motion and a hissing, meaty slice, Zeus’ head falls, rolling into the fire pit to burn. The rest of his body twitches, then collapses.

Silence reigns over the church as the echoing screams of Zeus’ final moments dwindle into nothing. Hurricane stands over the body of his enemy, his eyes wide and his mouth straight. The kill is still fresh, as is the reality of the moment.

Platinum appears drained, but to the relief of Hurricane, she is no longer dull in the eyes. Despite her swaying and drunken steps, she at least looks alive, if a bit delirious. She falls against Hurricane, who catches her in a close embrace. Their necks brush together.

“I remember…” says the Hurricane of the present. An smile begins to grow on his wrinkled muzzle.

The past Hurricane touches Platinum's chest, offering her a loving grin. “A pleasure to meet you at last, Your Highness.” His expression betrays his calmness; he’s blushing.

“That was it. I felt something new that day. Not only was I triumphant in body, mind, and soul, I was also, inconceivable as it was, in love.”

Hurricane and Platinum leave the church, leaning on each other for support.

“I threw all doubts to the wind. What others of my race would think, what my ancestors would say, the fact that we were of warring nations… I cared not for any of those things. I held Platinum, and held her dearly. I…”

It’s almost as if the world outside the church has changed. The cries of war, the cacophony of destruction, the grotesque sound of blood being spilt, it’s vanished. Hurricane chuckles at all of this. “So much for a dramatic entrance,” he comments. Summoning what little strength he can, he helps Platinum down the steps. Once they reach the bottom, he relinquishes Platinum and lays her down on a stray blanket. “This is where we part ways.”

“At first, I thought it was just a fleeting emotion, but then…”

Platinum sits up and grabs the cloth of Hurricane’s armor. “Don’t leave me…” She’s too weak to maintain her grip for long.

“That’s when I knew it to be something real.”

Hurricane kneels down and forces Platinum to lay flat. Almost as if on command, her eyes close. "When your soldiers come, tell them that Zeus has fallen, and his successor has ordered a full retreat. Your kingdom will be safe."

Platinum speaks, her voice slipping into barely audible whispers as she drifts away. “...Come to me… I'll be in Calfheim, waiting for you…"

Hurricane brushes Platinum’s mane, presses his lips to her forehead, then moves his muzzle to her ear. "You won't wait long."

The memory disperses into droplets of water.

Caro, Tohro and Shae all turn to King Hurricane. It is unknown whether or not the liquid on his face is from the remnants of the dispersed memory or tears of joy. Either way, he looks beyond elated, wearing a broad grin that nopony in Dragonrein has seen before.

“I remember,” he repeats. “I remember everything!” He laughs aloud, pacing around in no particular pattern. The grass seems to be growing greener with every step he takes. “Yes! That’s it! As I walked away from that battle, I thanked the Divines for every single mistake I ever made, as all of them led me along the path to Platinum! I remember! And everything that happened after that, the good, the bad, the unpleasant, the miserable, it all served to make me what I was, up until the day I died. Yes!”

Caro and Shae share a bewildered glance as King Hurricane voluntarily falls and rolls around in the grass, ending up on his back, still laughing like an easily amused child. Caro desperately tries to summon some sort of dignified reaction to this. “Uh… This is the pony who killed the ruler of an entire tribe, right?” he asks.

The king sits up, revealing that several of his wrinkles have disappeared, and his mane has reclaimed some of its color. “What I succeeded in doing that day was taking the first of many steps towards an equal nation built on love and tolerance, not power or domination. If I hadn’t thrown tradition to the wayside, if I hadn’t saved Platinum, I never would have come to marry the most beautiful pony in the world.” He stands up and trots to his seat. As he sits down, it takes on the form of a velvet throne more extravagant and decorated than Discord’s.

“Even more than that,” says Tohro, “you wouldn’t have become the high king of Equestria.”

Hurricane enthusiastically points at Tohro. “Exactly! And even if I didn’t exactly come into Equestria, or leave it, without a few skeletons in the closet, who would I be to say it was all for nothing? Platinum and I, we were the spark for the flame that set ponykind free from its frozen prison of hatred and bigotry.” He sighs and draws his foreleg in, resting his hooves on his lap. “I can’t thank you all enough for reminding me of that. I was so focused on what I lost or how I had failed, I had forgotten what I had done right.”

Hurricane stands again and walks to the cliffside. On the horizon, the sea and sky shift into their rightful places. He turns around, just at the edge. As his fur cape flaps in an oncoming breeze, he puts on a triumphant smirk. Over his shoulder, the sun begins to shine bright, perfectly capturing him in a heroic shot worthy of a frame on the Rainbow Palace’s walls.

As if that weren’t enough to show him in all of his glory, he is joined by the ghostly images of a young, flaunty Platinum, the jolly and bouncy Puddinghead, the cheerfully quiet Pansy, the calm and collected Smart Cookie, and a tranquil, happier Clover the Clever.

“Your Majesty.” Tohro flies out of his chair and salutes the king. “It has been an honor.”

“Indeed.” Shae does the same, as does Caro, without a moment of reluctance.

“Ponies of Dragonrein. You all have my eternal gratitude,” says King Hurricane. He turns to the horizon and begins to spread his wings.

“You have got to be kidding me!” The obnoxious drawl of Discord echoes across the sky. Everypony, including the ghosts, turn their attention to his seat, which has entirely disappeared. The draconequus slithers along the ground in shadow, slipping underneath Hurricane and retaking form in front of him. “That is it?! I put up with your misery for decades and all it takes is a few mindless inspirational speeches from the mouths of them?!” He casts out his talons at Dragonrein. “They’re mere infants compared to me! And you know that nothing infuriates me more than somepony changing somepony else’s mind. That is my job!” The shadows reach up to Hurricane’s wings and snap them shut. All of the ghosts begin to fade. Platinum is the last to go, her image being smashed into dust by Discord’s cloven hoof. He points to Hurricane’s throne, which is slowly turning into a sordid wooden chair. “Now, you will sit down and be quiet. You have a juicy mind chock full of delicious, chaotic memories that I intend to torment you with for a long time! Why, I imagine, with enough time, I could make you into one mean draugr!”

“What?!” Caro leaps onto the grass, his chair collapsing behind him. He gallops up to Discord. He reaches for his sword by instinct, even though it’s not there. “You told us that you couldn’t leave until we set his mind right and did away with all of the… chaos…” His eyes widen, which Discord takes notice of.

“Dear boy, I am chaos!” Discord cackles, raising his arms to the sky. Storm clouds begin to coalesce together, rotating around where he stands. Multicolored lightning strikes at a snap of his talons. “What made you think I was here against my will? I loved watching your beloved king fall apart, his mind visibly shattering before my eyes. The best part, however, was putting his mind back together and acting the sympathizer, just so I could watch it happen all over again! Oohoho, it’s going to be some time until I find a rush quite like that!” The mad god slithers around King Hurricane. He sensually strokes the stallion’s cheek with his paw. “What makes you think I’d be willing to let you go?”

Caro’s heavy breaths are audible, and they’re filled with rage. “You… insolent… depraved… fucking… monster...” he gasps. He is well beyond the point of shouting, but it all means nothing without a sword in his grip. He can only scuff the ground until he has worn away the grass.

King Hurricane, in a bizarre act, turns to Caro, much to the young stallion’s confusion. He is momentarily broken out of his seething anger when the king holds out his hoof. “All will be well, son. You need not fight on my part.”

Caro starts to regain his composure, all the while looking on with wary surprise.

“Discord, mad god of realms unknown…” Hurricane begins as he turns to the serpentine beast in question. “You have shown me, many times over, that you have a most peculiar way of entertaining yourself.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said rending the minds of innocent ponies is anything less than chocolate dipped strawberries to me; absolutely delicious!” Discord clenches his talons and paws together to form tight, gloating fists. “And I could never replicate the perpetual orgasm of discomfort and pain your mind holds!”

Hurricane looks to his left and right. He takes a step back at the sight of a decrepit, bleeding projection of Pansy, and another at the sight of an enraged Squall. However, he reclaims those steps and shoves the projections away, causing them to fade. “You’ll have to forgive me, friend. See, for the longest time I’ve dealt with many an individual who forced their ways of life onto others, blind to the misery they were wreaking upon the world. A simpleminded fool such as yourself whose purpose amounts to nothing more than personal amusement would be an enemy beneath me, if I weren’t the high king of Equestria.”

King Hurricane closes his eyes. When he opens them, a spiked crown, embellished with a rainbow stone, appears upon his head.

“Unfortunately, I am the high king of Equestria. And you are in my realm.”

The king flourishes his hoof as he takes a two-legged battle stance. A long beam of light appears in his grip. As it fades, its true form is revealed; a platinum coated blade with a black hilt, embroidered with a countless amount of radiant gems.

“Hello, Excalibur…” Tohro whispers, his lips curling in excitement.

King Hurricane takes notice of Discord’s rising brow. He gives the sword a few slow swings, showing its perpetual glow. It’s as if it reflects the sun itself, despite the storm clouds overhead. “This was my wedding present. A legendary weapon, forged by Hephaestus himself. I never had a chance to make use of it, for fear of the blade growing dull. Now I realize how foolish I was to think Hephaestus would ever let that happen to a weapon of his creation.”

Caro licks his lips as he steps aside, watching intently. The thought of a duel between a king and a god has him visibly flustered, leaving him unable to blink.

Discord simply holds out his arms and beckons to King Hurricane with his paw and talons.

The king makes the first move. With every gallop, the light of Excalibur grows larger until it appears to have solidified. A mighty slash towards Discord reveals that the light is an extension of the blade. It cuts clean through Discord’s serpentine body. However, it draws no blood. Discord simply merges his severed body back together.

“Come now! Surely the mighty king has more than that within him!”

Without a sound, King Hurricane follows up with another slice. And another. He shows absolutely no restraint or fatigue even as he attacks Discord at speeds that make his limbs blur. The light of Excalibur thickens with every cut through Discord’s constantly repairing body.

“That’s it!” the mad god yells. “Come at me with everything you have! Take your hatred out! Rip me apart! Tear me into shreds! GIVE ME A HUG!!”

The king leaps into the air and spins his now blindingly bright sword around him. A vertical slash relinquishes the light from the blade, sending out a gust of wind more powerful than any storm. Caro, Tohro and Shae end up toppling over, thrown away, along with the dining table, the chairs, and all of the food.

As their eyes correct themselves, Dragonrein pulls themselves onto their hooves. The storm clouds are gone, replaced with peaceful, fluffy ones beneath a perfect blue sky and a pleasantly warm sun. This comes as a nasty surprise for Discord, who sounds out a groan of disgust. “Oh, biscuits and gravel! You ruined everything, Your Royal Menstrationess! I hope you’re pleased as punch! I guess you really did have a lot of anger to exert!”

“None of this is anger, friend,” says Hurricane. Excalibur is casually slung over his shoulder. “It’s simply a desire to do right by Equestria. It’s my sworn duty to protect the innocent, and keep demons like you away from my subjects.” He holds the sword up high, as if he intends on piercing the sun itself. He grabs the hilt of the sword and brings it down.

Excalibur breaks the surface and embeds itself deep in the ground. A glowing seal of archaic lettering (Including the draconic language, as Caro recognizes) emerges from the blade.

Discord isn’t intimidated. He’s outright dismissive. “Fancy light show, but I’ve seen better. Maretonian orgies are quite elaborate.”

“Turn around,” says the king. “Perhaps you’ll have a change of heart.”

“Hm?” Discord casually turns his head. His passive disposition quickly turns into absolute panic when he sees the red letters behind him. They’ve formed into a perfect circle, within which purple flames are beginning to ignite. “Hellgate? Oh no… No, no, no! Not now! What are you doing?! That’s not fair!”

“Excalibur’s primary purpose is to send scum like you back where you belong,” says Hurricane. He sounds calm and content while he turns Excalibur like a key in a lock. “If this is to be my last action as the high king, that will be more than enough.”

Inflamed claws emerge from the flames of the hellgate. They reach out to Discord and wrap around his limbs, squeezing to the point of nearly breaking him. “No!” he shouts once again. With great strain, he raises one of his arms and talks to the claws that have caught hold. “I behaved myself this time, I swear!” He cries out to Hurricane, “Call them off, Your Majesty! Come ooon! We had some fun times, didn’t we?! You wouldn’t send me to Tartarus! You’re a good king!”

Hurricane smiles and nods. “I know.”

~Caro~

Discord is still resisting, dragging his feet along the grass, yelling incoherently and flailing his arms as the claws intensify their stranglehold on his body. It’s a damn spectacle. I’m so enraveled in seeing this bastard brought to such a stare, I almost don’t notice a glint of metal in the corner of my eye. My sword has returned.

A realization has come to me. Discord stands defenseless, locked in a stalemate with the forces of Tartarus. Tohro isn’t looking. Neither is Shae.

It’d be easy. It’d be sensible. Hurricane killed Zeus as punishment for his many years of torment. This would be no different.

“You think logically,” says the distant voice of Hevnodiin. He sounds faint… The dragons within me are supposed to sound louder than this. Even so, I listen well. “Were I unfortunate enough to stand in your place, I too would take the most pragmatic approach. I know what it is to watch something tread where it does not belong.”

My hoof starts to rise.

I understand. It’s frustrating. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s tortured Hurricane for decades. He holds no remorse for his actions. Clearly…

I touch the hilt of my sword and begin to remove it from its sheathe.

Yes. This is the best course of action. Tohro will understand…

I hear Rasahrel exhale. “Of course he will. It’s your choice, after all.”

I stop.

~Vision End~

Discord falls. With his feet, tail, torso and lion’s paw held back by the hellish claws, he only has his gryphon talons for resistance. He snaps his talons until they’re red, but nothing happens to aid in his escape. His frown intensifies. He actually looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

As the claws pulls one last time, dragging Discord through the gate and into Tartarus, the last thing Dragonrein and King Hurricane see of him is his middle talon. After that, he disappears into the flames, and the gate disappears, along with all of Excalibur’s light.

“Goodbye.” King Hurricane removes his sword from the ground. Not a single speck of dirt has blemished its brilliance. “Ah, blessed blade of mine. I missed you almost as much as I miss my beloved Platinum.” He smiles as Excalibur disappears into the light. “But our time has passed. I’m sure you’ll find a worthy successor. In fact…” He looks to Caro with a gleam in his eye.

Caro reads the king’s implication well enough, but he’s quick to back away and lower his head. “If you had offered me such a thing a few months ago, I would have taken you up on it without a second thought.”

“Pardon these old ears,” says Hurricane, with a hint of jest in his voice, “but I do believe you just said you don’t want one of Hephaestus’ finest weapons.”

Caro shakes his head slowly. “I’m not worthy. I’m…” He turns away and looks out at the sea. “No.” In the corner of his vision, he sees Tohro looking at him, surprised, but also pleasantly smiling.

“I see. Then, I suppose…” Hurricane looks at his hooves. “Oh!” Flowers have begun to grow and bloom where he stands. He takes a few steps forward, causing more floral life to spring forth. “Well, that’s certainly pleasant!”

Shae lightly treads on the flowers, taking care to not step on them. She kneels down near King Hurricane and begins collecting a few of the flowers. “Lavender, periwinkle, lucerne, and…” Smiling broadly, she picks up one more. “Rosemary.” She tucks all four of those flowers into Hurricane’s rainbow mane. It serves to make him even more colorful, and yet all the more magnificent. For the first time since Caro, Tohro and Shae have looked upon him, he genuinely looks the part of a king.

“Thank you, Miss Shae,” compliments Hurricane. “You seem quite well-versed in the language of flowers.”

“Celina taught me their names and meanings,” Shae replies. “I’m very lucky to have her in my life.”

King Hurricane chortles as he adjusts the flowers for comfort. “Any daughter of yours is the lucky one.”

“Celina and Luna aren’t just my daughters, Your Majesty. Some day, they will also be the rulers of Equestria.”

“Then I take comfort in knowing they have a good mare to show them the way.” The king gives Shae a confident wink as he continues stepping forward, heading towards the edge of the cliff. As he does so, he speaks to Tohro. “As for you, Tohro Blackwing, you carry yourself like a true soldier, with half the respect for your authorities and twice the bravery. In that regard, you remind me much of myself.” He salutes. “The Empire is in safe hooves.”

Caro tries to keep his distance, but he can’t avoid the king. He reluctantly turns and accepts his addressal. “Hello…”

“Caro…” Hurricane takes a long moment to let the Dragonborn breathe. He lends the young stallion a touch on the wither. “You come from a past bathed in shadows and misfortune. But that does not mean you have to carry such things with you. I know you’ll figure out what to make of yourself, so you can consider yourself worthy of Excalibur.”

Caro nods somberly. “Right now, it’s hard for me to imagine myself being worthy of anything.” He looks past the king to steal a glance at Tohro. “Especially…”

“Child.” Hurricane’s hoof turns Caro’s attention back to him. “Everything will be fine.” He raises his foreleg high. “That’s my promise to you.”

Caro forces his lips to form some semblance of a smile. It’s small, but it’s there. He keeps it on as he watches the king walk away. “Thank you… sir.”

The sky is now clear of all clouds, with nothing but blue sky to be seen. King Hurricane spreads his wings without any resistance, and kneels down, preparing to take flight. “This is good, huh, Platinum?” He closes his eyes, whispering to himself. “I’ll see you in the endless sky.” He flaps his wings, lifting himself off the ground, and begins to fly.

As the high king of Equestria soars into the horizon, the world begins to fade. Shae looks around, mildly alarmed for a brief moment. “Oh.” She realizes what’s going on, and quickly calms down. “Of course. His mind is at peace.”

“He’s dying,” Caro says, his voice oddly stale. “For good.”

The ponies of Dragonrein start to fade as well, joining the world around them as it gradually becomes nothing but a white abyss. Shae quickly gallops to Caro and Tohro and assaults them with an enthusiastic hug. “I’ll see you soon!”

Tohro quickly hugs her back, followed with a slightly delayed reciprocation by Caro. “Of course,” he says. “Give Celina and Luna our best regards.”

“And relay the good news to Platinum!” Tohro adds.

Shae opens her mouth, about to say goodbye, but she is interrupted by the white void taking her, Caro and Tohro away.

~Tohro~

I have many things to say about the events I’ve just witnessed. The first of those things being, “Fuck! My back!”

I let out a loud and undignified groan as I roll off of a particularly painful rock onto a collection of pebbles. Looking ahead of me, I can see that I’ve been dropped at a small pond. Dragon Bridge is off in the distance. That’s good. Now I can give Onslaught a good smack upside the head for turning us over to Discord. Although, inadvertently, he did lead us to fixing His Majesty’s broken little mind, so I suppose it all works out.

Doesn’t change the fact that my back is now royally screwed. I roll onto my front and stand up, albeit with great effort. Stretching out eases the pain a little bit. Still, I wouldn’t mind getting some magic hooves to fix me up. I see that Caro is drinking from the pond. He looks like he’s been awake for a while. “Oi! Mate! Could you help me with something?”

Caro doesn’t reply. He seems to be occupied with some invisible task, besides his rehydrating.

“I don’t regret letting him go,” he says to nobody. “The bastard’s as good as dead anyway, so what does it matter?”

I consider asking him who the hell he’s talking to this time, but I’ll just leave it be. He does this often enough for me to just let it happen. He’ll be back to his old self in time.

“No…” he says, sounding a bit uneasy. “No.” He paces around in a circle. “There was something different. He didn’t kill Zeus because he was corrupt… Zeus was corrupt. But… No, it was definitely something else. I could see it in his eyes. He had a far greater purpose on his conscience than blood or vengeance.”

Under normal circumstances, I’d be a little odd for a pony to be discussing morality with the voices in his head, but I know Caro. In fact, I’m quite glad that I’m around to hear this.

He looks my way. That distracted look has disappeared, so I can assume he’s back with me in body and mind right now. I approach him and ask, “Having a little chat with Other Caro?”

“Something of the sort,” he replies.

I’d normally be in a hurry to get to where we should go next, but because that place is Neigh Hrothgar, I’ll have to follow Caro, and he’s not going anywhere. As such, we both just stay where we are, listening to the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves.

“Tohro?” Caro finally speaks. He sounds a little choked up.

“What is it, mate?” I ask.

“I don’t want to kill anymore,” he says, looking to the ground.

Those are words I never thought I’d ever hear him say, and as such, I haven’t the faintest idea of how to respond. However, I do know that when Caro is down, a good hug from his best friend usually cheers him up. As such, I embrace him, letting him lean against me.

“I mean… I have to stop Shokenda and the dragons… And there will be times when you and I will have to fight, but…” Caro nuzzles up to my neck. I feel him sob, ever so slightly. “I’m tired of all the anger and bloodlust. All it’s done is make things worse. Pyro, Ember, Preacher, Sunflower… I’ll have to live with their deaths until I join them in—”

“You are not going wherever they are,” I say. “You belong in the best possible afterlife for…” I pause and pull away from Caro. I rack my brain as I think out loud, “Hm. What afterlife do earthwalkers believe in?”

“None, really…” Caro admits. “Heh. We just get buried so we may fertilize the soil. A fitting end for a race of farmers.” He tilts his head. “So, what did Hurricane mean by an eternal sky?”

Oh, I’ve been looking forward to telling him about this, but I haven’t had the opportunity in the past. I grin as spread my wings. “It’s a pegasus’ greatest fantasy. It’s a neverending, cloudless sky in which we and our loved ones fly forever.”

I expected Caro to be happy to hear about it, but it seems I’ve succeeded in only making him more miserable. “That’s far more exciting…” Fantastic work, Tohro, you ass.

“Hey.” I pat him on the back. “In my mind, you’re welcome to join me when I go to the eternal sky.”

That makes him look a little happier. So happy, he decides to wraps his forelegs around me once again. He’s a little intense with this hug, but I let him have the moment. He deserves it.

I stroke Caro's complete mess of a mane and whisper in his ear. “I’m proud of you, mate.”