~Jade~

“Sir Temerity, I need to ask you something.”

“Yes, Jade?” Temerity looks up from his documents and levitates his quill back into its container. His desk, despite having been set up only minutes before, is already strewn with parchment, ink bottles and a map of Ghastly Gorge. Everything is arranged meticulously, within a centimeter of error.

“Am I interrupting anything important?” I ask.

“No, you’re not. I’m tallying armor and weapons for the battle ahead. I’ve already done it twice; this is just for assurance.”

Always the bureaucrat, never the warrior. If Temerity weren’t so skilled at the former, he never would have been promoted to a commanding officer. Still, it does help distinguish him from the rest of the brutes in the rebellion, what with his perfectly braided maroon mane and well-groomed lilac body.

“Should this battle fall into our favor, I’m sure you will receive most of the credit,” I say to him.

“You’d think so, but it’ll be our dearest Mistress Shokenda that we’ll have to thank for all of this. You being back on the battlefield, my excellence in numbers, and the very fact that at the end of the day, this stalemate will be over and the better half of Equestria will be ours. All of that, we owe to Shokenda.”

I prefer to think of another pony of white color when it comes to gratitude for my being alive. I highly doubt Shokenda would have cared if I was still rotting in that rusty cage, counting the days until I’d be forcefully fed to an imprisoned dragon.

“Right… About that,” I begin. “According to recent intelligence, you were one of Fade’s customers.”

“Hm?” Temerity tilts a thick eyebrow. “Fade?”

“Fade was the corrupt Imperial soldier that sold me off to Sacred Rite and her cult of dragon worshipers. You know this.”

“Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind.” He crosses his forelegs and leans over his desk. “Yes, I remember Fade. Quite a disagreeable fellow, but he was knowledgeable in trade...”

“Why were you cutting a deal with him?”

“I was seeking a few Blackwing recruits. Imperial prisoners are often vengeful, and very persuadable. Why do you ask?”

“According to the intelligence I’ve gathered, all of your purchases were imprisoned children.”

“Very persuadable.” Temerity’s neutral expression hasn’t changed in the slightest, nor has his tone of voice. He gets out of his chair and approaches me. He moves smoothly, and is rather intimidating despite wearing a simple noblestallion’s robe. “Mayhaps you could tell me where from you’ve been getting this intel? Or whom from?”

Shit. My brain goes into overdrive, landing on a decent lie when I remember what Tohro told me in his letters. He stole the book from Fade. All I need to do is change some words around. “I nicked a log of Fade’s sales from an Imperial soldier. Your name was on the list, as was mine.”

“Jade, I assure you, if I had known Fade was responsible for your elongated absence, I would have had his head off in a trice. Please don’t hold me responsible for what happened to you.”

He’s trying to distract me from the real issue at hoof. “Sir, I must question your practices outside of the bureaucracy of the Blackwings. If Shokenda knew about this, I don’t think she would respond well.”

“Mistress Shokenda is well aware of my method of recruiting. Until such time as buying soldiers is no longer necessary, I will continue to do so with her sanction. To file a complaint with her will only harm your standing, not mine, and I think it would be best if you were to not pry any further. Will that be all, Jade?”

His eyes are cool and calculating, perhaps thinking himself a good pace ahead in this verbal chess game. Heh, bureaucrats. "I’m just making sure everything checks out before I report back to our future queen," I say. I turn around without offering a salute. "You forget, Temerity, that my job and trade is information. And one can't know their enemies unless they know their allies first." Without a backwards glance, I take my leave, unable to contain a frustrated sneer. "Damn it..."

“Looking for something, sister?”

Half-Pint appears right in front of me, upside-down. Evidently, she’s been practicing her levitation and invisibility magic, or I’ve just been so distracted that I haven’t been able to notice her.

“Yes, actually. I’m having myself a bit of an investigation,” I answer. Temerity’s tent is just behind me, so I keep my voice down as I lead Half-Pint away, walking towards the edge of the gorge. “Just after Temerity led his conquest through Whinnychester, there were reports of little colts and fillies disappearing right off of the streets. Most of them were orphans, or children of the underprivileged, and Whinnychester is a small town, so there was not much of an outcry. The same thing has occurred in small towns like Hooferton, Ivarstable, and—”

“Riverhoof?” Half-Pint finishes for me. She reaches underneath her scarf and presents some of Temerity’s papers (I could recognize his meticulous calligraphy a mile away). “Honestly, little sister. You think I wouldn’t catch on to your little investigation? You could have just asked me to help.”

“I wanted to be as discreet as possible… Then again, I know who I’m talking to.” I scan over the papers as I speak. “I wouldn’t have been suspicious of Temerity if it weren’t for his name being in Fade’s logbook. Clearly there’s a bigger story here, but I don’t think I can continue investigating without arousing suspicion. I don’t want to get on Temerity’s bad side, much less Shokenda’s.”

I peek over my shoulder. Temerity has left his tent to speak to a group of soldiers, but he keeps glancing away to have a look at me. Then he whispers into the ear of one of Shokenda’s masked elites. After a few seconds, the elite nods.

“Well, shit…” I growl. “Seems I’ve already tripped his wire.”

Half-Pint seems to be more affirmed than scared, but that’s how she usually approaches any dangerous situation. “It’s times like these where we need to ask ourselves if there’s a foreseeable future for us in the Blackwings while we serve somepony with an obviously naughty agenda. Do you see any significant names on that list?”

“Hmm…” I continue scanning over the papers. The tension, along with my heart rate, builds to a crest as I search for somepony familiar… “There. Sir Pathos is apparently in on Temerity’s scheme, whatever it may be.”

Half-Pint presents a quill, which she levitates onto the paper to scratch out Sir Pathos’ name. “Well, in that case, I think it’s time we delivered him a cup of tea. It’d certainly make the upcoming battle easier for our friends in the Empire, wouldn’t it?”

A thrilled smile crosses my muzzle, though I don’t lose my calm just yet. I keep my voice low as I turn to Half-Pint. “I can count on you to deliver these papers to Tohro, right? He’s a clever fellow, he can pick up where we left off.”

“I’ll slip this into his bag, along with a note of what we know so far. And I can count on you to have found a vessel into Saddle Arabia by the time I get back?”

“With how long this winter’s been going, I welcome the desert.” I tousle Half-Pint’s fluffy mane. “I’ll see you in Reinoc, sister.”

~Vision End~

“Caro! Over here!”

Caro has only just broken away from the caravan when he hears Rosemary calling for him. She stands near a surplus of crates that are being removed from the convoy and pried open by unicorn soldiers. Swords, maces, axes, crossbows, splitters, and numerous other weapons fly from the crates, with their new owners galloping off towards their battle positions.

“I see the new armor’s design came out quite well. Wear it proud for me, okay?” Rosemary says. She’s equipped with her black falchion, as per the norm. She turns around to give Caro a look. “A beauty, ain’it? I modeled it after mah daddy’s favorite blade.”

“Why not use his sword instead of a replica?” Caro asks.

“Pragmatism, hon. I used his sword for a little bit but the swords of the Imperial Legion have long since improved. Not to mention it was duller than a conversation with a rock. It was only good for caving in a few Blackwing skulls.”

Caro chuckles. “I fail to see why you’re not participating in this battle, with that attitude.”

Rosemary pulls another crate out of the convoy. This one is smaller than the others. “Cap says I’m too important for the battle ahead. Evidently, I’ve got the spirit of my father and the combined talent of three blacksmiths. That’s why they entrusted me with this job.”

“Aw, I think the good captain has a bit of soft spot for you. I would understand why; you’ve both got similar manes and muscles.”

“Thank you for noticin’. And he would make a decent partner. Tall, strong, valiant, and I am fond of unicorns. But when it comes to throwin’ the rules aside and doin’ the right thing instead of the smart thing, he’s a bit of a dullard. And, unfortunately for him, somepony else has caught my eye.”

As if on cue, Shae enters the fray. She’s no longer in her red overcoat, now wearing an extravagant white robe that makes her blend in perfectly with the sages. “Hello.”

“Hello, yourself.” Rosemary approaches Shae and leans in to give her a kiss, but Shae stops her short, placing a hoof on her lips.

“Did you show him our special project?”

“Ah, that’s right…” Rosemary swings around and goes back to the small crate. “Sorry, love.”

“Always forgetting things, you. Hello, Caro.”

Caro steps up to Shae and gives her a sudden and amorous hug, causing her eyes to slightly bulge.

“Wow, friendly!” she exclaims as she’s set back down. “It’s only a battle, Caro. You needn’t worry that much. I’ll be right here with the sages, and the camp will be safely guarded by three layers of shields, and there are hidden traps laid around the perimeter. Not to mention, I have—”

“Shae,” Caro interrupts. “I’m fine.”

“Okay… I suppose, for once, I’m more worried about my safety than you are.”

“He won’t have to worry about anypony’s safety other than the Blackwings’ with this beastie at his disposal!” Rosemary exclaims. “Have a look at this here.”

Rosemary removes from the crate a sight that Caro will forever remember as one of the most beautiful things he will ever bear witness to. A sword. But it isn’t just anything Caro could find in a marketplace or craft with his own hooves. This sword has a blade that glimmers even in the perpetual grey of the cloudy sky and barren ground. Gemstones embroider three equidistant points of the blade along its smooth length. The hilt and crossguard are all made of the same fine onyx, with gold wrappings at the ends.

“This is amazing,” Caro exclaims, carefully taking the sword, moving slowly as if a single speck of dust could ruin its perfect form. “I could grip both the crossguard or the hilt in my mouth. This versatility is exquisite. The blade is sharp from base to tip, so no matter where it connects, it will always slice clean through. Rosemary, I…”

“Nah, Shae deserves most of the credit. Have a look at those gems, there. Those ain’t no decoration.”

“You know how soul gems work, right?” Shae asks, tapping the highest gem on the blade.

“Master was going to tell me after we got home from Reinoc. Unfortunately, ah…” Caro puts on a pathetic smile. “Well, we never made it home. But I can infer. These things are essentially containers for the Fae, right? ”

“At their core, yes,” Shae begins. “And, of course, warriors use them all the time to recharge special attributes in their weapons and staves. Soul gems refill themselves over time, as the Fae concentrates within them, but they can be refilled instantly with a little soul reaving.”

"Don't worry, fella.” Rosemary pats Caro on the shoulder. “Soul reavin’ ain't like trapping someone's dyin' spirit, leavin' them screamin' in agony."

"I didn't think of it like that until you brought it up,” Caro states bluntly.

"Ah…” Rosemary retracts her hoof and steps back. “Well, the purpose of soul reaving is to take whatever Fae goes unused by a corpse and put it into a soul gem. Shae and I figured that, if you're just going to use a full soul gem to recharge your weapon anyway, why not just make things easier and embed the soul gems into the weapon itself?"

"So I use the sword's power to strike my enemy down and take their essence, which fills the soul gem, which charges the weapon..."

"Like a wheel in the form of a blade,” Shae says with a spin of her hoof. “Go ahead. Give it a whirl.”

Both Shae and Rosemary take a step back as Caro bites down on the hilt of the blade. He rushes forward and swings it, creating a wave of white energy that travels forward, dissipating as it gains distance.

“I like it.” Caro puts the sword away in his armor’s back-bound holster. “It’s no Excalibur, but I’m sure the Blackwings will learn to fear this blade’s glimmer all the same. They don’t stand a chance.” He looks around at the other carriages, his eyes narrowing. “Where’s Tohro?”

“He’s already leading his offensive,” says Captain Gauntlet as he steps into the conversation. “There’s a rock formation west of here that will allow him and his soldiers a stealth advantage. He had to seize the opportunity before the Blackwings did.”

“Oh, well… Good on him.” Caro smiles, but his voice quivers just enough for Shae and Rosemary to notice.

Rosemary clears her throat and asks, “Where should I set up shop, Cap?”

“Wherever you feel is best, blacksmith. Just stay within the confines of the shield. Shae Sparkle?”

“Yes?” the young mare asks with a salute.

“Go to the other sages and meditate to the best of your ability. It would be best to keep your spells at the ready. This will not be a pleasant battle.”

“When is it ever?” Caro murmurs as he watches Shae depart. “And what would you have me do, Captain?”

Gauntlet turns to Caro. “Tohro said it best; you’re our wildcard, Dragonborn. As such, you do whatever you feel is necessary to turn the tide of battle.”

“That was my plan from the start, but I would still like to help in any way I can.”

“Knowing you’re a match for Shokenda is more than enough. But, if you insist, I wouldn’t mind having you along for…” Gauntlet’s ear twitches. He puts on a stern expression as he looks to the gorge, then looks up at the sky. “Hm?”

Caro hears yelling. His eyes snap to where Gauntlet is looking, and he sees an unexpected sight; an Imperial pegasus is careening towards the camp, dropping feathers and blood as he descends. He slams into a tent and rolls to the ground.

Both Caro and Gauntlet run to the pegasus. He has blood draining from his lips, and his pupils are dilated. “He’s in shock,” Gauntlet confirms. He motions one of the sages over.

“Th-they…” The soldiers moves one of his hooves to the lower section of his armor, where a gigantic, horseshoe shaped blemish lies. “They… They h-have... centaurs…”

Gauntlet and Caro share a look as the sages levitate the soldier away. Gauntlet looks especially withdrawn, displaying concern normally reserved only for when Celina is at risk.

“Fuck.”

~Tohro~

“How in the hell did you convince these blokes to join your cause?” I ask a nonpresent Shokenda as I dare to peek over the rock formation. I’m greeted with an incoming arrow, which I’m thankfully quick enough to duck away from. Though I’m sure my surprised expression looks very undignified to my soldiers. Mistral looks at me with a cocked brow, holding out her hoof in disbelief.

“That was a warning shot, little horse,” I hear one of the centaurs say. His call is chilling and threatening, yet composed and dignified. Much like Shokenda herself. Perhaps she and them found a truce through common ground.

“Fantastic,” I growl, drawing my crossbow and loading a bolt into it. “Pinned down, three already dead, and a squadron of unfamiliars breathing down our collective necks. Just… fantastic.”

Mistral lays her hoof on my shoulder. “Any suggestions, sir?”

“Well, they can’t hit all of us. I’m more concerned about Gauntlet’s party; he’s leading most of the heavy hitters of the Legion. That leaves us, the quick ones, to taking out these large merry fellows.” I tap my head against the rocks, my lips curled in frustration. My mind is like a factory, and the workers are all running on fear and adrenaline alone. “I’m not one for sacrifice plays. Let’s all rush them at once. Go for the head; that’s where they’re most vulnerable, I’d warrant. Steel yourselves.”

As I put away my crossbow and take out two of my wing blades, all of my soldiers take on battle stances. I take a deep breath. The rest of my fighters are engaging Blackwings along the gorge. I won’t have these ones put down by Shokenda’s dirty tactics.

“And… go!”

I leap over the rock formation, spread my wings, and take off. I stay low to the ground, kicking off every time I lose even a sliver of my maximum speed. The gusts of wind in my ears are frequently interrupted by the brush of an arrow narrowly missing my pretty face. I’m already blemished; the last thing I need is another scratch.

I’m fast approaching the centaur, whose simian face is watching my every move, with his bow drawn and his firing arm unbelievably quick.

“Touch me, I dare you!” I yell at him. I push off of the ground one last time, bringing my wings out to full span as I head straight up into the air. The arrows become more distant; he can’t hit me while I’m up here. As I slow down, I look down below to see what’s become of my soldiers.

This is going well, with most of them having made to the centaurs. The unicorns have erected shields to block some of the arrows, and the earthwalkers have managed to trip some of the big fellows with their brute strength and a few swings of their hammers. Despite that, I have a brief moment of pain shoot through my mind when I see a few more of my soldiers on the ground, bloody arrows skewering their bodies.

The world returns to me as I face the centaur below me. He has his next arrow nocked. I tuck my forelegs in, my wing blades out to each side of me, and start spinning. I feel the arrow come past me, just barely grazing my ear. Too close, but oh-so-far away.

I come down on the centaur’s neck and slice right through it, hitting the ground hard and skidding to a stop. My wing blades shatter and fall into pieces at my hooves, but I’m okay with that. The blood coating the shards indicates that they’ve done their part. The centaur grips his neck, gargles something unintelligible, gags, and collapses.

Mistral comes speeding past, leaping onto the centaur’s fresh corpse.

I run at her and ask, “What are you doing?”

“Improvising, sir.” She reaches into the centaur’s quiver and pulls out two arrows. With their rather large size compared to the bolts of a pony’s crossbow, they look more like glaives. Mistral takes flight towards the other centaurs, while I gallop to keep up.

My intervention is hardly necessary with what Mistral is doing. While one of the centaurs is occupied with swiping away at the soldiers striking his hooves and barrel, Mistral bodyslams into his chest and thrusts both of the arrows into him, several times over, until her hood is coated in red speckles, and the centaur begins roaring in pain.

I am simultaneously afraid and aroused.

I’m overcome by a large shadow. I turn around to see another centaur, this one holding two large, crescent shaped blades. By the size of his muscles and his many battle scars, I can assume this one isn’t going to go down easily. I grab two more wing blades as I take flight.

“Come on!”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

It had all happened so quickly. I saw the Blackwings across the gorge. They were unicorns, hocking javelins like mad, with manic grins on their grimy faces. After that, I decided that it was high time I made my grand appearance. If Shokenda wants her battle, she’ll have to stop me from killing every single one of her enthralled servants.

So these four Blackwings that lie dead at my hooves will be the first of many. But with first blood being spilt, my time to make an impression is now fleeting.

As I move onward, I take notice of the soul gems upon my new blade. The difference between a full soul gem and an empty one is its glow, and these are shining like stars. I’ve already taken in the essence of those four dead behind me.

Another Blackwing comes along, leaping over a set of stones with a warhammer swinging over his head. I roll out of the way without even blinking, and consider just how poetic this truly is. Dodging his repeated horizontal swings is like breathing to me. This one is going to die, taken by the essence of his former comrades.

I leap away from the Blackwing and swing my sword twice. Waves of pure magic explode at either side of the Blackwing, causing him to stagger. I swing once again. This wave slices his skin like paper, cutting through his neck all the way up to his forehead. With a howl, he drops his warhammer and stumbles over. He’ll bleed out in minutes.

The soul gems look a little less bright now.

The onslaught continues as I gallop up the hill. I would like to survey the horizon and see the battle ensuing around me, but I fear a moment of weakness could lead to an anticlimactic end for me. All I can do is glance around me every few seconds for a wandering foe.

“Would now be an acceptable moment to speak with you, Dovahkiin?” I hear Rasahrel ask in my mind. She catches me by surprise, causing me to swing around by instinct.

“Oh…” I sigh, catching my breath. “By all means. I’ll listen, but I might not respond.”

“That is fine. I just wanted to express an apology for the behavior of particular dovah. I don’t like to think that I would affiliate with the zealots of my kind. In truth, my loyalty to Saviikaan was waning. One can only pursue a goal for so long without reassurance that it’s something worth striving for.”

I listen intently to her words while dedicating my other senses to the battlefield. Up ahead, I see a group of five Blackwings sheathing their weapons as they stand over the bodies of at least a dozen Imperials. One of the Blackwings spots me, spreading her wings to present several wing blades.

“Take the ones you call rebels, for instance. Through your eyes, I see them, and I see the very dovah I once fought alongside. Manic. Obsessed. Their thoughts are those of another, regurgitated into their ears and turned into blind worship for a higher power.”

Despite this, the only thought on my mind is that Tohro could have become like the zealots before me. He was always so clean and well-to-do, but these Blackwings are filthy and depraved, ignorant of the blood on their coats…

Tohro be damned, I could have become like these ones.

“Wuld nah!” I shout. I shoot forward, instantly placing myself right next to one of the Blackwings. He brings his sword around, but it glances off my pauldron. Thank you, Rosemary. I trip him with the flat of my blade, landing him on his back. He’s helpless to block my sword as I pierce his leather armor and gut him.

I hear another one behind me. I bring my sword back up to block a flailing axe, then buck at its wielder. I hear a grunt as the Blackwing goes down, dropping her axe. I pick it up and stand on my hind legs, holding both my sword and the axe in front of me. The spear-wielding Blackwing charges, swiping at my hooves. I jump over her spear with each swing. She gets smart and raises her spear at me as I come her way. Time to make a correction. “Fus ro dah!” I yell, pushing myself away from the mare and bringing her onto her joints.

I’m ready to move in for the kill when the other two Blackwings get the jump on me, attacking from both sides. This is a simple matter of ducking their blades, hooking one of them by the hilt with the crook of the the axe, and pulling. The Blackwing comes with, faceplanting into the mud. I roll away, spin around, and toss the axe at the one standing Blackwing. It glances off his helmet.

I hear Rasahrel chuckle, as if she were just told an amusing story. “I suppose perfection can’t be expected, even from your combat skills.”

“Axes were never my strong suit,” I blurt out. To the Blackwing, I must look like a complete idiot.

I brandish my sword at the Blackwing and let out a roar, leaping forward and landing right in front of him. Curiously, he hasn’t drawn his sword. Rather, he looks quite astonished, and a little bit afraid. He seems keen on running away.

“Well?” I snarl at him as he backs off.

“You aren’t equine, are you?” a weak voice asks. I turn around to see the stunned Blackwing mare, who is clutching her spear just to remain standing. She doesn’t seem like a threat anymore, and if they’re willing to remember what I’ve done to their fellow rebels, they’ll remain that way.

“The key asked you a question, Dovahkiin,” Rasahrel asks. This is the first time I’ve heard a dragon sound downright flirtatious. It’s terrifying.

I stroll past the Blackwing mare and say, “I’m a foal of ponies. Just a little less than most.”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

The sages were right when they told me I would get used to this. After an hour of hearing the moans and cries of the nearly dead, I’ve managed to tune out such dreadful noise. I haven’t lost my empathy for the injured; that would truly be a nightmare. But after seeing a few dozen soldiers come into the tent, losing blood by the pint, I’ve already adapted. I fear that I may have done so quicker than most healers should.

I’m tending to a stallion who was bludgeoned by a mace while running alongside Tohro’s party. He never even had a chance to draw his weapon. Despite this, he seems abnormally cheerful, even though he’s expressed regret that he now can’t see out of one of his eyes.

“That should pass, in time,” I say as I lay a damp cloth on his head wound. “But I don’t think that you’ll be running among your fellow soldiers for a while.”

“Damn,” he snarls, still smiling despite the pain he must be going through. “Perhaps I’ll have to take up work as a town guard. Epona knows Trottingham could use a few.” He feels for his wound, but I levitate his hoof down. “How does it look?”

I remove the cloth to examine the damage. His head has become distended from the impact of the mace, and I can see tears in the muscle tissue. “Not as awful as it could be,” I assure him.

“If you kiss it, it might feel better,” says the stallion with a naughty chuckle.

I know he’s only joking, so I decide to humor him. “Only as a last resort.” I lower my hooves and close my eyes, focusing my magic. I release a wave of green, ethereal solvent from my horn, which I place onto the wound and rub in deep. “That will prevent infection and heal any immediate damage, but it won’t fix your eye, and there will be a nasty scar.”

The young soldier seems nothing but happy about that. “Excellent. A good mare loves a good scar.”

His persistence is admirable, I’ll give him that much. Although I’d love to stay and talk with him, I have to move on to the next injured. “Keep the cloth on and call me back if anything bad happens.”

“Will do, madam.”

I move away from the bed and survey the tent. All of the other beds are laid out in a circle, equidistant from each other. Much like myself, the sages are very astute on arrangement. I fit right in with them, even as a temporary addition to their ranks. I’ve been told by a few of them that I should consider becoming a permanent member, but that will most likely not come to be. I’m sure I have the intellect and skill for the role, but being a sage also requires spiritual resolve, something I haven’t quite gotten ahold of. Furthermore, becoming a sage requires making use of an Elder Scroll that would grant me great power, but also shorten my lifespan, and that is beyond unacceptable. I won’t leave Celina and Luna any sooner than I have to.

Then again, seeing as Celina now has the power to raise the sun, perhaps using the Elder Scroll will no longer be necessary. In that case…

“Miss Shae, we need you,” I hear one of the sages announce.

The sage and three of her brethren are standing over a weak mare whose armor is being removed. She has several arrows in her chest, along with a dagger. That causes the scar on my stomach to tingle. I ignore it and step forward. “Hello,” I say to the mare. She’s conscious, sustained through a recently cast numbing spell (I can recognize the light purple aura that envelopes her wounds).

I immediately get to work on these wounds. I decide to stay away from the dagger and focus on the arrows instead. It’s a grotesque process, levitating the barbs from the mare’s skin. She doesn’t feel any pain, of course, but she’s clenching her teeth anyway, since she can feel everything else.

“I’m sorry…” I keep desperately muttering to her. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“It’s okay, rrgh… I knew what I was in for when I joined this outfit…”

“You’re lucky none of these pierced your heart or lungs. Those are not so easily repaired.”

“I suppose I should count blessings, since that’ll help me endure hours of grueling agony. Hurr-agh!”

One of the sages has removed the dagger from the mare’s stomach. I immediately join him as he casts a cloud of healing upon the wound. The mare’s blood stops flowing, seeping back inside of her, and her skin slowly begins sewing itself back together.

“How’s the fighting out there?” I ask the mare, hoping to distract her from her discomfort. “I just spoke with a pony who seems to have been having the time of his life.”

“Oh, and his fun was well-earned! It’s like a bloody thunderstorm out there. Beautiful, yet fierce and uncontrollable. No matter how this ends, it’ll be a battle for the history books. Of course, you’re used to that sort of thing…”

I’m focused on keeping my healing magic going, so it takes me a moment to realize what she just said. “Huh? How do you mean?”

“Everypony knows who you are, Miss Shae. The mage of Dragonrein. Hero to Everfree. New mother of the princesses. Don’t be humble. You’re an inspiration to us all.”

I could say that being a hero hasn’t exactly been my goal in life, but I’m honored just the same to know of my title. This one is quite right, I’m used to being a part of these legendary events. Unfortunately, I’m only here out of a sense of requirement; that I’m needed at this battle, and as acceptable as it would be to stay behind and take care of my daughters, it would be a greater disservice to not have a part in keeping them safe from a greater threat than scabbed joints or minor acts of misbehavior. Though I do hope the sages looking after them are making sure they eat all of their dinner. Though, knowing Luna’s appetite…

An Imperial soldier gallops into the tent and points outside. “They’re attempting to breach the shield! We need assistance!”

A few of the sages in the tent stand at attention. They’re not caring for any wounded, leaving them free to gallop outside.

I know shield spells… I should be able to assist in the matter, but I shouldn’t leave this mare’s side. She could need me. What if the other sages aren’t enough?

The mare brings my confliction to a halt as she just barely manages to touch my wither. “Better get a move on, girl. Come on back when you do what you have to.”

I put on a broad smile and nod at the mare, touching her hoof to mine as a promise that I’ll be back. I break into a sprint and leave the tent, dashing between sages to get outside and have a look at what’s happening to the shield.

I find myself standing in a small crowd of robed ponies with their heads turned to the sky. I follow suit and see that the situation isn’t as bad as I had imagined it to be. I highly doubt that a shield summoned by the most magically adept unicorns of the Empire could be broken by only ten Blackwing pegasi. They’re hacking away at it with their hammers, axes, and swords.

Rosemary, wearing a blacksmith’s apron over her jacket, gallops to my side and examines the underwhelming scene. “Not as bad as it could be, right?”

“They must be getting desperate,” I say with a relieved smile. I’m tempted to just let these ones have their fun. Eventually they’ll tire themselves out.

My smile drops. I gasp loudly as a small nexus materializes above the shield. A Blackwing comes flying out of it, slamming into the shield on all four legs. Time slows as I share a look with him. He wears a plated mask that covers all but his eyes, and his armor blends with an ornate robe not unlike that of the Gran Magus soldiers of old. He’s like a unicorn equivalent of Zeus.

“Oh… I heard about these blokes,” Rosemary says, acting surprisingly calm and analytical. “Shokenda’s elites. Tohro mentioned fightin' a few back when he went after Muramasa... Rumor has it Shokenda uses an Elder Scroll to grant them special powers.”

I blink twice. “Oh dear.”

The elite raises his hoof and surrounds it in a black aura that seems to suck in all light it touches. He brings his hoof down into the shield, creating a loud impact that violates my ears. It’s like facing an explosion head-on. I’m blinded just from the overwhelming sound.

When the vibrations fade and I can hear again, I shake my head and look forward. The elite is looking right at me. Even as the Imperial soldiers move in and surround him, he still remains fixated on me and me alone.

The Imperials go on the attack, but the elite is swift. He easily leaps over the first sword swing, rolling right over the soldier that attacked him. He strikes with another blast of black aura that surrounds the soldier and binds his legs, leaving him to writhe on the ground.

Rosemary and I won’t have any of this. She draws her falchion with her teeth, and I summon a blade to my horn. I charge forward, right at the elite. I blindside him, slamming the blade into the side of his armor. I don’t aim to kill him outright, just keep him away from the soldiers.

“You…!” With his voice muffled by his mask, the elite sounds more like a monster than an equine. He raises his hoof and smacks me across the face, but I just keep my horn blade implanted into his barrel. “Away!” he yells. He lights up his horn and releases a burst that sends me backward. I dig my hooves into the mud and come to a stop.

The Imperials form a circle around me and him, and Rosemary stands right behind me. “All of us against you, lad, and nowhere to run," she says. "It’s over.”

The elite looks up, noticing that the shield has repaired itself. He doesn’t seem phased, grunting dismissively.

“Wrong.” The elite taps his mask, then lights up his horn again. He crouches down and dashes forward, right at me.

Rosemary steps in front of me and blocks his blast with her falchion. She then spins it around, wreathing the blade in flames. She must have renewed its enchantment. She brings it to the elite’s neck. As if by instinct, the elite summons a shield his neck and leaps backward. He brings his hooves up and slams them into the ground, creating a small crater around him and raising a stalagmite where Rosemary stands. She leaps off of it and makes a midair slash at the elite. He blocks it and every slash that comes after.

An Imperial soldier takes notice of the opening and brings his hammer into the flank of the elite, knocking him aside. He regains his posture and dashes past the soldier, blasting him out of the way. I try to gallop in there to interrupt him, but he summons an ethereal knife and slashes the Imperial’s chest before I’m able to intercept.

This must have been how Caro felt when I was at the receiving end of a knife. I’m not letting anypony else die when it’s clearly me that this one wants.

I leap into the air and summon my scythe. The elite is ready for me, but I blink away, reappearing beneath him. I’m able to stab his chest through his armor, but he’s still too thick for me to land any lethal blows.

The elite swipes at me as he spins around, but I blink out of sight again, going behind him. I slash at his neck, but he’s quick to disappear as well. He reappears above me with his horn charged. He fires his black aura at me. I’m too slow to teleport again, and find myself throttling at the ground, with my legs quickly seizing up, lost to my control.

I land in the mud, with the elite quickly following suit. He’s staring at me with those intense, piercing eyes. “You won’t escape me this time.”

“...This time?” I gasp.

“Shokenda sees your potential. She wants you for leverage. Unfortunately, she’s getting a corpse.” He summons the same knife he used to kill the soldier. He brings it to my stomach.

The revelation hits me like a brick. I've been at the receiving end of this soldier's rage before, a long time ago. “YOU!” I shout, just as he’s torn away from me by a red-eyed Rosemary. As he breaks free of her grip, I stand up and yell, “Caro slit your throat! Why aren’t you dead?!”

“Hatred is a powerful thing, huh?” he muses.

My eyes flash red as I put more of my Fae into my scythe. I charge at him, scraping the ground, and swing right at him. He disappears again, but I was prepared for this, allowing my blade to go behind me. I hear it slice through his armor. Turning around, I see that I’ve cleaved his chest, but I failed to spill any blood He teleports away again.

My scythe is too slow to block his magically-charged blow to my face. I’m pushed away, but Rosemary catches me. She then dashes to the elite and throws her flaming sword right at him. It lands in his wither, causing him to reel.

“Ya nearly killed the mare I love?!” Rosemary is fuming. Without her sword for comparison, I’d assume she’s on fire herself. She runs up to the elite, grabs the hilt of her sword and twists it. While the elite doesn’t yell, his head turns. He’s definitely in pain. As Rosemary keeps tilting her sword, the flames grow bigger, and the elite’s armor starts to glow. With an unladylike scream, Rosemary tears her sword out of the elite, splattering herself and the ground in a trail of steaming blood. She turns to me and shouts, “NOW!”

I ready my scythe, charging the blade as far as it can go before I feel tired. I rush at the elite once again, and unleash the blade. It travels in a wide arc, collides with the elite, and then it’s over.

The elite has nothing left. The entire left side of his armor is distorted and melted, and I can hear furious, labored breathing through his mask.

“Take him,” says one of the Imperial soldiers. “We can make use of his armor. Possibly figure out what it’s made of—”

“Shokenda forever,” the elite interrupts. Black aura wraps around his hooves. He leaps into the air, strikes the shield, and breaks it wide open once again. The moment he hits the ground outside, he flashes one last hellish stare at me before galloping away at an incredible speed.

“What was it he wanted with you?” Rosemary asks, wiping the blood from her face. “In any case, next time he comes around, I’ll cut his bleedin’ head off…”

“He wants me dead, but Shokenda wants me as leverage,” I reply.

I consider what that could mean. A long time ago, Shokenda wanted Tohro to kill me. Clearly something has changed, and she is adjusting accordingly. But what has changed? And why doesn’t she want me dead anymore? Leverage… She’d hold me hostage in exchange for something she could benefit from. Perhaps to have Tohro come back to her? No, I’m not worth that...

Shokenda is difficult to read. Her expressions and movement are so unequine. But I do remember, when she appeared to us at the summit, a desiring glimmer in her projection, as well as what she said when she looked upon my Celina…

“I know of Celina's lineage. I knew she was an alicorn long before she did, long before she even existed.”

She wants me because she wants my daughters.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” I turn away from Rosemary and gallop into into the tent. I intend on gathering my things and leaving as soon as I can. I have to be back in Everfree. I have to be with Celina and Luna. I won’t let anything happen to them. I can’t.

The whole place is in a ruckus, with sages regaining themselves after the elite’s brief interruption. I remember that I left my bag with rest of the medical supplies in the back. As I push through the crowd of sages, I can’t shake a nagging suspicion that something has slipped my mind.

The mare. “Oh, damn!” Celina and Luna can afford to wait a little longer. I swing around on one hoof and dash back to the bed I had left behind.

When I arrive at the bed, my heart rises into my throat. The bed is empty. The only one here is another sage. She’s taking an orb of water to the bed, cleansing it of bloodstains. “Yes?” she asks, glancing at me.

My consciousness is rent, but I try to keep my words sensical. “T-There was a soldier here. A mare. I didn’t ask her name, but—”

“I’m sorry, Miss Shae. We couldn’t stop the bleeding.” The sage cleans up the last of the blood, stores the orb of water in her flask, and leaves quietly.

“Oh. Oh.” I’m unsure how to react, so my body does so for me. I clutch my head and fall forward, leaning over the cot. My teeth are grinding together and my fur feels numb. A hundred different ways this could have turned out, and this is what happens…

A robed hoof touches mine. The gesture is reassuring, at the very least. I hope that this one will be able to comfort me. Any words are welcome. I want to be told that there was nothing I could have done, or that she felt no pain as she passed. I know that there are times that I have to accept what has transpired, but I need someone to help me through it.

I look up and see Clover the Clever, whose touch becomes intense and painful. I want to tell her to stop, but my voice becomes glass in my mouth.

"You shouldn't have expected otherwise," she says, looking over the bed. In just a blink, she disappears, but my hoof still hurts.

Everything hurts.

~Vision End~

~Caro~

A struggle for survival never grows old, but that is no excuse for these Blackwings being such easy targets. The moment they raise their weapons against me, I know that they’re as good as dead.

“Zahkrii bel kinz!” I shout. Three golden swords come to my side, humming as they cut through the air around me. They’re hungry for a target. They very much remind me of how I once was. “Wuld nah!”

I dash at the Blackwings, knowing that they’ll be ready for me. Two of them swing their axes at me, but I leap over, leading my summoned swords with me. One of the Blackwings steps out of the way in time, but the other isn’t so lucky, with a sword impaling his chest. If there is any chance for his survival, I eliminate it by grabbing the sword and tearing through his barrel. I kick off of his bleeding body and slash repeatedly at the Blackwing behind me. He blocks every blow I throw at him, until I fake him out and bring my sword to strike his wither. He takes the opportunity to thrust at me, but I’m quick enough to grab Rosemary’s creation, block the attack, and slash at the Blackwing’s neck with the summoned sword. I finish the job by throwing him to the ground and shoving my sword through his barrel.

One of the summoned swords travels behind me, blocking the sneak attack of a hooded Blackwing. I’m able to strike her down with a single stab, but her friends come to her aid, maces swinging violently. I buck at one of them, then face the other and shout “YUL TOOR!” My breath of fire engulfs him, and he runs away in flames.

“Impressive,” says Malyol.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“I see now that you only strike for the sake of duty, and not out of selfish desire. You were once so angry. You stared me down and screamed at me like a monster. I can’t sense much of that anger anymore, beyond what one would feel in any tense situation such as this.”

I hear Rasahrel chuckle pleasantly. “When one has little to be angry about, it shows.”

“That’s right,” I say, galloping across the barren land. “I know what I fight for. I know what I want.”

I want to explain more to the dragons within me, but I’m interrupted by a sudden shake of the ground beneath me. It can’t be an earthquake. No, by the sign of the shadow that overtakes me, this is something else entirely. I turn around to witness the first centaur I’ve ever looked upon.

He clutches an axe in both of his meaty hands, fangs bared and large nostrils flaring. For one with the face of a monkey, he is decently terrifying, and he doesn’t have that sense of fear or hesitation I felt with every Blackwing I’ve fought up to this point.

I take a deep breath and shout, “YUL TOOR SHUL!” Another round of fire bursts from my mouth, throttling at the centaur. Seemingly unimpressed with a pony imbued with the powers of a dragon, he simply swipes at the fire, causing it to disperse into smaller embers. A few of those embers land on his shoulders and wrists, but he brushes them off like dirt.

“Although,” Rasahrel muses, “there are times when anger is called for. Shall we dispense of this one who makes a mockery of you?”

The centaur raises his axe over his head and brings it down. The blade alone is larger than me, but I have the means to deflect it. “Jaaril!” A barrier forms around me, causing the blade to glance off. That swing was just enough to break the barrier, though, and I won’t be able to summon another one without tiring myself out. It’s time to go on the offensive.

“Rasahrel, you know me too well.” I clench my teeth around my sword and charge at the centaur.

He already has his axe cocked back, ready for another swing. His nostrils expand with a mighty breath. He tenses up his arms, brings his axe around...

A streak of white crosses his arms and disappears in an instant. The centaur drops his axe and clutches his wrist, but to no avail, as an unsavory amount of blood has already escaped him. He was a damn fool not to wear any gauntlets. He must have overestimated his abilities.

The white streak returns, striking the centaur’s chest multiple times, drawing more blood with every pass. The speed of the strikes clues me in as to who has come to save my life. Wouldn’t be the first time.

The centaur lets go of his wrist and makes a grab at Tohro, who easily spins out of the way and lands on the centaur’s arm with perfect balance. Even as the centaur tries to shake him off, Tohro keeps steady, taking out his hidden blade and jamming it into the centaur. He runs right up the arm, leaving a deep cut in his wake.

As the centaur howls, Tohro leaps onto his shoulder, grabs a blade from his wing, and makes two diagonal slashes across the throat. Tohro kicks off the centaur, flips through the air, and lands in front of me in a crouch.

I approach him and say, “What are y—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts.

The centaur comes crashing down, his pelvis hitting the dirt first, followed by his bleeding arm and head. A small plume of dust rises from where he falls.

Tohro bows to me. “Is that how you make an entrance? I think it is.”

“I agree,” I say. I go to Tohro and push on his chest, shoving him away. “Now get out of here.”

“Huh?” Tohro dusts himself off, looking beyond offended. “Why would I do that?”

“Because Shokenda—”

Tohro makes a childish imitation of my voice, “‘—wants to hurt you and make me cry!’ I’m sorry, Dragonborn, but I’m breaking my promise.”

I show him a furious glare, but he’s able to see through it. He knows I’m smiling underneath this frown.

Tohro sighs. “Dammit, mate, she’s my enemy too. I can’t just sit idle not knowing if you’re still alive and fighting or if she’s taken you away from me. If she comes for you, we’ll face her together.” He swaggers up to me, smiling like he would at one of his conquests. “Face it, Dragonborn. You’re stuck with me.”

I want to tell him about how happy I am that he’s breaking his promise, and that it was foolish of me to think I should take on Shokenda alone. I want to break out into song, but I can’t sing for the life of me. So, keeping my stern expression, I just give Tohro another push, followed by a one-legged embrace. “Thanks,” I say into his ear.

I let go of him and ready my blade when I hear marching hooves. I turn around, taking in the sight of Gauntlet, and the dozens of soldiers that follow in his wake. Their armors are bruised and battered, littered with splotches of red. There were much more of these stallions and mares when they left the camp.

Gauntlet breaks away from his soldiers and walks up to me and Tohro. He looks like he could use a good night’s rest. “Corporal Tohro! Why aren’t you moving on the pass? For that matter, where is your squadron?”

“Actually, I was just about to ask about that…” I say, looking at Tohro quizzically.

“It seems that Shokenda didn’t expect us to make it any further than the centaur interceptors," Tohro explains. "Once my team took them out, we made our way to the pass. I lost about twelve to Blackwing assault teams, and a few were picked off by archers. Once we reached the pass, I set up a defensive line. The Blackwings won’t break through without a fight.” Tohro sweeps the ground and poses like a sculpture. “Hold your applause! So, after that, I broke away to clear out any stragglers, as well as meet up with the Dragonborn.”

Gauntlet strokes his chin. “Hm. I would have stayed with the team, but judging by the dwindling number of Blackwings, I suppose it’s all working out okay. I’ll bring my troops to the pass to back up yours. In the meantime, you do as you will.”

“It’s what I do best, sir. Best of luck.” Tohro salutes the captain.

“And to you as well. This battle could have easily resulted in another stalemate, or worse, but I think it’s your leadership and Caro’s ferocity that have made the difference this time around,” Gauntlet says, beaming at me for what feels like the first time. “Your parents would have been very proud, Dragonborn.”

To anyone else, that would have meant much more. I’m sure my mother and father would be proud, and I smile at Gauntlet’s comment all the same, but I don’t need their approval. Master Hammerfell, however… If he can look me in the eye and express his pride, like he has so many times before, I’ll be more than happy.

Gauntlet swings around and addresses his soldiers, who are straddling the fine line between terrified and brave. Perhaps one of those can feed into the other. “It’s time! March on the pass! Destroy any Blackwings that force their way through! Hold the line! The future of this war will be decided right here, right now, and Shokenda will not have a say in it! Go! For Equestria, for our queen, for our princesses!”

The soldiers fall more towards the side of bravery, casting their hooves in the air, shouting with vigor. They stay in formation as they gallop off, kicking up dust and rocks in their wake. More than just a collection of soldiers, right now they seem like an unstoppable force of nature. I’d like to see the Blackwings stand a chance against that sort of power.

Gauntlet seems happy, allowing himself a little smile before he puts on a stoic face and starts to follow his soldiers. He looks up to the sky and stops, levitating twin longswords out of their sheaths. “Corporal, Dragonborn, we have a situation.”

I look to the sky as well. A formation of Blackwing pegasi is coming our way. From a distance, the one in the front looks oddly familiar… Oh no.

I stand in front of Tohro as the Blackwings come in for a landing. The one who helms the pack is just who I thought it was. The deranged mare I met during my lone walk in the woods. I had hoped not to see her again, but I suppose my good fortune is limited.

“I’ve been looking for you!” she shouts, breaking from the group and pouncing towards Tohro, and me in the process. She draws two wing blades and brings them down. I block them both with my blade. She doesn’t seem to acknowledge me, as if I’m just an extension of Tohro. “Daaaarling!”

“Deerstalker. I’m surprised you took this long to find me,” Tohro says. I hear him equipping his crossbow.

The mare cackles and forces her blades against my sword, creating sparks. “You leave a cold trail. Would have had you on your back months ago if you hadn’t kept going from town to town! You just left one loose end!” She stares me down, suddenly losing her grin. “And he won’t get in my way this time.”

Tohro responds to Deerstalker’s threat by reaching around me and pointing his loaded crossbow against her neck. “Here’s a touching story,” I say. “Once upon a time, a strapping young Blackwing killed the insane cultists he once called his companions, and he lived happily ever after.”

Tohro fires his crossbow. Deerstalker dodges, twisting away and biting at the crossbow's string. Tohro pulls it away from her, leaving her head exposed as she recoils. I bring the hilt of my sword to her head. She stumbles back, trembling, then lets out another cackle, one that sounds far less joyous than the other.

I grunt and get low as Tohro vaults over me, flying right at the mare. His blades clash with hers in a cross. After that comes one of the fastest flurries of clashes and dodges that I’ve ever witnessed. Pegasi truly are a breed of swiftness. I can’t find any opportunity to help Tohro.

At least, until he drops onto the ground to dodge the mare’s attack. That gives me a clearing. I quickly shout “Qo ruzaak!” I jump back as a bolt of lightning flies from my mouth. Deerstalker is a crafty one, sidestepping the lightning. Being so shaky and on-edge must do wonders for her in combat.

Still, it leaves her stunned enough for Tohro to trip her with a dancing spin. He hops to his hooves, grabs his crossbow and brings it around her neck. Although she gags as Tohro pulls, Deerstalker seems ecstatic. “Eehehee! Tohro, Tohro, Tooohrooooo!” she chokes out. She brings her head backwards, slamming into his muzzle. She breaks away from his grasp and punches him.

A spike of rage bursts in my chest, compelling me to brandish my sword at this filthy mare. I roar like a monster and leap at her with no regard for subtlety. She blocks my blow with a casual swish of her wing. My sword catches between three of her blades. She then spins around, with her blades pulling my sword away from me.

“Wuld!” I dash over Deerstalker and catch my sword out of the air. I bring it around just in time to deflect a flurry of blades being thrown at me. I hiss as two of them pierce my wither, and another strikes my leg. Despite all of my determination, I give in to the pain and drop my stance. I can take a cut or a gash, but I can feel these blades in my muscles…

Captain Gauntlet appears before me. He looks fierce, with cuts and bruises all over his visible body, but he’s still composed and calm. He lights up his horn, wrapping his aura around these blades. I hold my breath as he yanks them out of my body. The burning pain disappears slowly as Gauntlet’s aura begins to close my wounds.

“Get back up, soldier,” he says, walking away and returning to the Blackwing squadron. Judging by how slouched and battered they are, Gauntlet has them on the ropes.

Tohro is in trouble. He’s holding up a single blade against Deerstalker. She has two, and she’s wailing on his, smiling with utter glee as he crumbles beneath her. Her eyes are bulging, red at the edges.

This time, I’m more cautious. I shout “Wuld!” once again, this time dashing behind Deerstalker. I swipe my sword at her hooves, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto her barrel. Tohro immediately recovers from his fall and brings his forelegs around Deerstalker’s neck. She shakes like a ragdoll in the wind, but she can’t escape his hold.

Deerstalker, having run out of options, lets out childlike screams. I have to turn my head and cover my ear, but Tohro doesn’t budge.

“SHOKENDAAAA!! HELP MEEEE!!” she keeps crying.

“Coward. You know false gods don’t answer prayers,” Tohro says, taking out his hidden blade. He raises it up high, allowing it to gleam against the fires of the battlefield before he brings it to Deerstalker’s neck.

“N… NOOOOOO—” Deerstalker begins to scream again, before her voice turns to whimpers and distorted noise. Then again, everything she ever said was just noise, and she looks no worse dead than she did alive.

As Tohro looks over the corpse, I ask him, “How does she know you? Besides being part of the rebels, I mean.”

“She was the first pony who ever…” Tohro trails off. At first, he seems neutral, but he suddenly looks remorseful. “She wasn’t pleasant.”

“Oh.” My heart sinks. “Oh, I…” I hold out my foreleg, offering him comfort. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry...”

Tohro pushes my foreleg away. “Not now…”

Leave it to me to forget everything else happening around me when I see Tohro in physical or mental pain. I had nearly forgotten about the battle happening around me. I owe it to Gauntlet’s prowess that Tohro and I haven’t been struck down.

Gauntlet fights without flair or restraint, remaining still and stoic as the many Blackwing pegasi bombard him with diving strikes. His armor is thick enough to shrug off most of the damage, and any wounds he suffers to his body don’t phase him beyond a simple flinch. Looking down, I see that his hooves are dug into the ground. That explains why he’s so unwavering.

He takes the offensive. A Blackwing charges at him head-on. Gauntlet raises his forelegs and takes the Blackwing into a chokehold, bringing her to the ground and slamming his hoof into her neck. I can hear her voice shatter.

The next Blackwing doesn’t even get to touch him. Gauntlet captures his wing in his aura and swings him around in a circle before letting go, sending him into the ground. A trail of red follows his jaw as it scrapes along the ground.

The next two that assault Gauntlet are thrown away by a blast of wind from his hooves. It’s not as powerful as my shout, but it’s still enough to stumble the Blackwings. Gauntlet follows up with two precise blasts of a white spell that eats through the Blackwings’ armor. I almost feel sorry for the one in leather armor, who clutches his chest and gallops away.

And we’ve just been standing here, dumbstruck. I see now why he has his rank. Though I can’t help but wonder if skill is entirely to thank for this.

I can sense movement behind me. I turn my head and see three more Blackwings heading our way. Three pegasi… I may be at a slight disadvantage here. But since when has that stopped me?

Tohro taps me on the wither. “Caro, throw me,” he says.

I don’t doubt his choice in the slightest. I reach under his barrel and lift him up. With a yell, I swing my forelegs and pitch him like a javelin. “Fus ro dah!”

Tohro becomes a white streak once again. His wing blades slice through one of the Blackwings like they were paper. He stalls in mid-air and flaps his wings once, pushing himself backward. He brandishes his hidden blade and brings it into the back of the second Blackwing before they hit the ground. The third Blackwing only has a moment to realize his companions are dead before Tohro pounces on him.

I raise my sword as another group comes galloping into the fray. These four are all earthwalkers, and they’re armed to the teeth with warhammers. “They’re sturdy ones,” I think aloud.

“Dovahkiin, might I suggest a shout you haven’t used?” says Rasahrel.

“I’m listening,” I say. The four are advancing on me quickly.

“Allow me, then.”

For some reason, I put my sword back into its sheath. I didn’t intend on doing that… I’m breathing regularly, and I’m able to look around just fine, but my body seems to be moving on its own. Not entirely, though… The way I step forward, it’s like my limbs being pulled by invisible strings. It’s not so much moving against my will, it’s more like a suggestion.

“Trust me, Caro.”

I’m reluctant to, but if Rasahrel wishes to harm me, she would have been able to long ago. I go along with her suggestions, and allow myself to stand on my hind legs, raising my hooves up high. It’s like a salutation to the sky.

Rasahrel and I say in tandem, “Golt kren motaad!” As my hooves come alight with a bronze aura, I slam them into the ground. I feel the earth beneath me quaking. Stone spikes arise from the ground before me, traveling at the four Blackwings. The breadth of the spikes is too wide for them to dodge out of the way. Two of them are impaled, and the other two are tossed aside, left in too much pain to stand.

“Surely you’ve realized that your power goes beyond just a few flashy spells?” asks Rasahrel.

“I did, but…” I look at my hooves in awe. “That was incredible.” I narrow my gaze, as if I’m staring at Rasahrel. “I want more.”

“And you shall receive,” says Malyol. “Your cause is ours, and so we shall lend you our strength.”

“If only you had shown me this earlier…”

“We feared you would refuse.”

I look at Tohro and Gauntlet, who are clearing the field of Blackwings with incredible speed. Gauntlet takes Tohro’s hoof and spins him around, allowing him to slice at the surrounding foes. It’s like Gauntlet is using his soldier as a personal weapon. I’m impressed. But why should they have all of the fun?

I gallop to the battle. One Blackwing stands in my way. I dive underneath her axe swing and shove her aside. “Get lost!” I skirt to a stop with my sword at the ready, alight with the energy of several souls. Tohro and Gauntlet are behind me. A battalion of Blackwings surrounds us, hungry for our blood.

The first Blackwing that attacks me has the misfortune of striking my blade. As I push against his staff, a shockwave fires from one of the soul gems, sending him back into his companions. I leap at them while they recover. “Zahkrii bel kinz!” I shout. My golden swords appear once again, and the Blackwings are helpless to block them.

I feel a weight on my back. Tohro has landed atop me. “Watch yourself!” he yells. He drops down, his back against mine, and swipes at an incoming Blackwing with his crossbow. He fires into her chest as she falls to the ground. Tohro continues to use me as a support as he loads bolts and fires at every Blackwing surrounding us. Several of his shots miss, but at the very least he drives a few away.

Gauntlet slams his hoof into the ground, creating a shockwave and forcing his attackers to step back. He dashes towards one of them and strikes them down with a downward swing from each of his swords.

He’s good, but he doesn’t have a legion of dragons within him. As I leave Tohro to pick off foes with his crossbow, I rush into an onslaught of Blackwings. The rest is a chaotic mix of blades and blunt edges coming towards me. But each second segues into the next, and I don’t get hurt. My body won’t let me get hurt. I weave around each oncoming attack like a snake.

My hoof collides with a Blackwing’s stomach. I feel their armor shatter beneath my attack. Then I feel their mail. Then, their skin. My hoof is alight with the signature golden aura of the dragons. The Blackwing collapses, holding their stomach. Blood and vomit spill from their mouth.

When I feel wing blades coming at me from afar, I leap away. However, with another glow, I leap further than I’ve ever been able to, soaring over a dozen Blackwings. Before I land, I swing my sword and let the soul gems work their magic once again. When the magic wave disappears, every Blackwing standing before me is ripped away, falling onto their sides with vast wounds and broken forelegs.

There’s one more behind me. I can hear him breathing. I turn around and kick off, reaching him in less than a second. He looks keen to run away. I overtake him as he starts galloping.

“Fus!” I shout, blowing a burst of wind that stops him in his place. I take advantage of his disabling and grab him by the scarf.

“No! I don’t want any of this!” he yells in desperation.

“Then you shouldn’t have come here,” I retort.

I can feel the sweat on this one’s neck as he stammers, trying to find some words to appease me. “Please… I surrender. I don’t want to fight anymore. Especially not you.”

That’s what I want to hear. “Would you run?” I ask. “Leave this place?”

He nods hysterically. “Yes! I’ll run! I have family in Riverhoof! Please, just let me give up!”

“Riverhoof?” I hesitate, then let the Blackwing go and lightly shove him away. I don’t recognize him from my hometown… That’s irrelevant. He wants to leave, so I’ll let him. “Good call. Drop your weapon and go.”

“T-Thank you, sir. I’ll repay this kindness, I sw… s...” The now-traitor is reduced to stuttering. As he looks past me, his eyes widen, allowing me to see their veins. “Shokenda…”

I turn my head, hardening my battle stance in anticipation for what’s to come. Shokenda stands before me, just up the hill, and yet she might as well be standing on a mountain, towering above like one of the Divines. This is nothing new. I wasn’t afraid of her before, and I’m certainly not going to fear her now.

Shokenda steps forward. Her horn glows with a sharp, golden light. I raise my hoof and prepare for her first attack. I don’t have time to dodge...

I feel the heat of her magic. However, no pain comes to me. I lower my hoof and see that no harm has befallen me. “What?” I ask aloud.

I look to my left and see that the traitor is no longer there. Not standing, anyway. I look down. The traitor is lying there, his eyes bulging and twitching as blood drains from a grotesque hole in his head.

I look up, ready to curse Shokenda out for such cold bloodedness. However, she’s no longer on the hill. I look around for her desperately, my breaths intensifying as I fear meeting the same fate as the stallion that lies dead at my hooves. However, I see nothing, until I turn my head.

Tohro and Gauntlet writhe and struggle as Shokenda holds them both in her magical grip. Every Blackwing behind her has dropped their guard, many of them smiling as they watch their matriarch.

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

I’m scared. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel my body. Caro is right there… I can’t call out to him...

Shokenda whispers in my ear, “False god?”