"Because you should probably get some sleep?" Tohro says to Rosemary in a firm yet scalding tone. "I haven’t seen you so much as close your eyes since you set up shop here."

Rosemary ties a protective cloth over her eyes and grips her hammer tight. She swings it downward, missing the pommel laid over the iron. She hits it on her second swing. "There we are." She clears her throat, takes a few breaths, and continues swinging, warping the pommel into a smoother form, one much more suited to a pony’s mouth. "Caro’s sword was in surprisin’ly good shape, seein’ as it went through the bowels of an acid spittin’ dragon. I must’ve crafted that beauty better than I thought I did."

Tohro peers over Rosemary’s work. The blade of the enchanted sword is set right next to the iron, bent out of form and partially eroded, but still intact. Much like Rosemary herself, but she seems as though she can collapse at any moment. "You’d be even better if you got some sleep. The battle’s over. And it’s not as though Caro will be using that sword anytime soon."

Rosemary removes the pommel from the iron with a set of tongs, dropping it into the bucket of water adjacent to the forge. "Actually, laddie, I’m happy you’ve brought that up." She skips over to the workbench, which is almost unseeable beneath piles of leather strips, assortments of ingots, knives, various pieces of metal, and other innumerous scraps. She pushes a few out of the way, letting them fall to the ground, and picks up a journal. "This here be my journal! Whenever I get myself one of those pesky ideas, I drop everythin’ and jot it down in here."

"You know you can’t write," Tohro says in deadpan.

"Aye, but I can draw, cannae?" Rosemary slams the journal down on the iron and opens it. She flips through several sketches of swords, axes, hammers, pieces of armor, and so on. Tohro catches quick glimpses of the armor Caro wore to Ghastly Gorge, as well as some other pieces that Rosemary had supplied Dragonrein in past times. A whole minute passes before Rosemary slows down her turning.

Tohro rubs his forehead, in disbelief at Rosemary’s manic dedication. "You’re… quite the artist."

"Flatterer. Now, have a look." Backing away from the open book, Rosemary nudges Tohro forward.

On the page is a rather grotesquely intricate design for a prosthetic leg. The main portions of the leg are drawn to be made of wood, with many gears making up the joints. When he examines the base of the leg, Tohro covers his mouth, his throat feeling inordinately tight. "That’s…" He shuts the book and pushes it away. "That’s a lot of wire."

Despite Tohro’s squeamishness, Rosemary is utterly beaming, clutching the journal tightly to her chest. "It wouldn’t have the functionality of a full-grown, flesh and blood leg, no sir, but it would allow him to stand and fight!"

As enthusiastic as Rosemary is, and as much as Tohro wishes he could humor the glimmer in her eyes, he still can’t ignore the holes in her concept. "It’d be a detrimental weakness. The moment an enemy sees he has a bum leg, they’d rip it right out, or break it in half. Caro wouldn’t have his usual agility or strength to prevent that."

"I’d be there to fix it." Rosemary’s enthusiasm is so constant it’s almost become a monotone. "Look, I’ve thought it over, I’ve gone through one design after another, I even discussed other options with…" She looks away from Tohro. "Oh, lassie! There you are."

Shae enters the vicinity of the forge, leaving pools of rain in her wake as she approaches Tohro and Rosemary. Her hood casts a disconcerting shadow over her face, almost distracting Tohro and Rosemary from her hastily tucking away her amulet under her coat. "Hello," she says in a dry voice.

"What was it you suggested, Shae?" Tohro asks.

Shae looks away for a second, then turns back. "Huh?"

Tohro narrows his gaze and steps closer to Shae. "Caro’s leg. What did you suggest we do?"

"Oh, uh…" Shae puts her hoof up to her neck. "I, uh… See, there are some great warriors out there who have lost their limbs in battle, but to compensate, they have a unicorn companion create artificial limbs. Magical constructs."

"But it seems that even magic can’t solve our problems in this conundrum," Rosemary says with a sigh.

"The unicorn casting the spell have to be astronomically powerful, and even then, the practice is impractical." Shae says. "Magical limbs wear off over time, and they can be destroyed with enough trauma."

Tohro nods along with Shae’s explanation. "Not to mention Caro would be entirely dependent on you, and you have your own responsibilities back in Everfree," he says. "So, yes, a prosthetic leg is our best option." He smiles at both the mares. "Well done, both of you. I’m happy to have such bright mares on my side in a time of crisis, and I know Caro will appreciate the effort, even if our situation isn’t exactly ideal."

Tohro departs the forge, throwing a cloak on over his robe to cover his head as he steps out into the rain. The downpour was so loud, he almost doesn’t hear Shae talking under her breath.

"He won’t wake up, Tohro."

Tohro turns around, his smile gradually disappearing. "Say that again."

Shae pulls down her hood. The shadows on her face remain, with her irises shining the same intense red as her horn. Despite being in her usual overcoat, with her mane straight and proper, and her stance tall and firm, she looks nothing like the Shae Sparkle that Tohro knows. "He’s not going to wake up."

Rosemary backs away from Shae. "Lassie…"

Tohro grits his teeth behind his closed lips, trying to steady his heartbeat. "Don’t talk like that. You know Caro. Even this would never be enough to do him in."

"Accept reality. It doesn’t matter how much you demand it. You won’t get what you want."

Tohro detects that something is wrong with Shae. His ears perk up as he steps a little closer to her. "It’s not what I want… I mean, yes, I want him to live through this, probably more than anypony, but I know that there are so many ponies waiting for their Dragonborn to stand tall and reassure them that we can win this war."

"Keep your reassurances for yourself. You can’t fight the inevitable. The one you love will betray you in the end." Shae speaks in the exact same apathetic, distant tone she has held the entire time she’s been at the forge.

"...Stop talking." Tohro shoots a glare so intense he feels as though he could pierce through solid brick.

Despite that, Shae is unwavering, and she continues her droll speech without pause. "In the end, all you have fought for, everything you desire, it’ll all be for naught. You’d best just let it all go."

The hair’s width of patience Tohro has left is just about to snap. He advances on Shae and raises his hoof, ready to do something drastic. The only thing that makes him restrain himself and stop walking towards her is Rosemary. Just seeing her frightened and open-mouthed is enough to pull him back.

But only for a second. Tohro launches at Shae, but instead of attacking her, he grabs her by the collar, puts all of his weight on his hind legs, and lifts her up into the air. He ignores the burning of his wounds and the soreness of his muscles, all for the sake of screaming, "HE WILL WAKE UP!!"

Shae’s expression remains still. "What makes you so sure?"

"HE! WILL! WAKE UP! HE HAS TO! I can’t explain it, I can’t… I can’t comprehend it, I… I just know! He will wake up!"

"Why?"

Tohro isn’t even sure if he’s looking at Shae anymore. In his refusal to blink, his vision has become blighted with tears of anger. "BECAUSE I LOVE HIM!" He never knew he could be so miserable, angry, and happy all at once. "I LOVE HIM! THAT’S ALL I NEED TO KNOW HE’LL WAKE UP!"

"What’s wrong with you?!" Rosemary screams. "Put her down!"

"NO! THERE’S A LINE, AND SHE CROSSED IT!"

"Tohro…" Shae gasps.

"I TOLD YOU TO STOP TALKING!"

Shae clasps her hooves around Tohro’s forelegs. "No, please! It’s me!"

Realizing her plea is genuine, Tohro looks into Shae’s eyes, and sees the magenta irises he’s used to It’s as though they were never red to begin with, and he’s able to recognize her again. The innocent, loving face he’s come to know has returned, and he can’t comprehend why he’s holding her aloft. He lets his anger wane, and he sets Shae down. "I… I am so…"

Rosemary walks up to Tohro and socks him across the jaw. "She crossed a line?!"

Tohro barely flinches, even though the impact hurts. He rubs the welt that Rosemary’s hoof has left on his face, and turns away from his friends. "...Don’t ask me to be the voice of reason right now. I’m in no condition for it."

"You're doin' a right awful job as the voice of shame, too," Rosemary says in a scolding tone.

Shae remains quiet, her head hung low and her grip tight around her chest. Tohro takes notice of her distant demeanor and approaches her, though he’s intercepted by Rosemary. He lays a hoof on her shoulder. "Okay, I’ll make up for this, I promise. For now, I just want her to do something for herself."

"What is it?" both Shae and Rosemary ask at the same time.

Tohro reaches out to Shae and slips his hoof beneath her overcoat, his hoof touching the amulet she’s been so keen to hang onto. He pulls it away from her until the chain goes stiff. "You’re taking this off."

"No, I need it," Shae says almost instantly, as if it were rehearsed. "It belongs to me."

Tohro tugs on the chain. "I don’t care. This is turning you into something you’re not, and if you’re not going to remove it, I will. Take it off, Shae Sparkle."

For a moment, Shae’s eyes flash red again, her teeth baring. She seems ready to strike Tohro for touching the amulet, which only assures his suspicions, giving him enough reason to stand his ground and stare back at Shae.

"Take it off," Tohro says again.

"I need it."

"Take it off."

"No."

Rosemary joins Tohro in holding the amulet away from Shae’s neck. "Do what he says, lassie."

Shae’s grit disappears in an instant. After a lingering glance between Rosemary and Tohro, she closes her eyes and exhales. "...Okay."

Her aura turns from red to magenta as she levitates the lock open and removes the amulet from her neck. Just as she does so, she shudders and gasps, and loses her grip on the amulet. It falls to the ground, landing with its red gem facing upward.

Shae blinks rapidly as she glances around, looking confused and worried. "T-Tohro, were you just yelling at me?"

"No, not you." Tohro kneels down and scoops up the amulet. He examines it closely, particularly captivated by the sinister red gem. He’s able to see his reflection at first, but as he focuses his gaze, he’s able to see the faint silhouette of a tall unicorn. She’s hunched over, her body shaking with fury. Tohro tears his gaze away from the amulet and holds it up to Shae. "I was yelling at her."

"Her?" Shae reaches out to the amulet, but Tohro pulls it back.

"Look. Don’t touch."

Shae’s pupils constrict when she sees the mare inside the gem. "Clover!" she squeals, taking a sudden step back, nearly tripping over the leg of the workbench. "That’s… That’s Clover the Clever."

"I thought you—" Rosemary speaks up, then quickly cuts herself off. "She’s dead, isn’t she?"

"She is, but… She… She was trying to…" Shae steadies herself on the workbench as she calms down. "I felt her inside me. She was eating away me. But I couldn’t get rid of her. I felt so…" She goes quiet as Rosemary wraps her forelegs around her. Her frail body melts into the embrace, and a smile crosses her lips. It looks like the first genuine smile she’s worn in ages.

"She won’t be hurtin’ you anymore. I’ll make sure of that." Rosemary lets go of Shae and walks over to Tohro. "Might I have that amulet?"

Tohro happily drops the amulet into Rosemary’s hoof. He watches with a smirk as she goes over to the firepit and drops the sinister artifact onto the burning coals. As the light of the fire gleams off of the red gem, Tohro swears for a moment that he hears somepony screaming. He flicks his ears and ignores the noise. "Now, as for the both of you," he says to Rosemary and Shae as they embrace once again. "We’re in a sorry enough state without the souls of our enemies trying to sabotage us from the grave. I’m going back to the infirmary, and as Corporal Tohro of the Imperial Legion, I order you both to get some sleep."

"Actually, um… You might want to hold off on calling yourself a corporal." Shae takes a step forward, pulling two letters from beneath her coat. "The reason I came here in the first place was to give you these."

Tohro takes both of the letters from Shae. One of them is embroidered with the royal seal, which is broken, and he recognizes Queen Platinum’s writing immediately, although it seems a bit shakier than usual.

"Sorry, it was already open when it arrived."

Tohro reads aloud as he scans the queen’s words, which seem to run together at times. "‘...with incredible sorrow…under extreme circumstances…Captain Gauntlet informed me…couldn’t be more sympathetic…’" Tohro sighs before reading the last line of text. "‘I hereby promote you, and deem you Sergeant Tohro Blackwing.’ Fantastic."

Shae watches in confusion as Tohro tosses the letter aside. "Isn’t that good news?" she asks.

"Wonderful news. Hundreds of Imperial soldiers died for nothing, but at least I’ve been given a greater position of power. Half the Imperial Legion would follow my command even if I were still a private, and we have sergeants and corporals falling left and right. What does my official rank even matter at this point?"

"Public relations?" Rosemary suggests. "Possibly for the same reason my mummy dearest became General Tangerine immediately after my daddy died. Those loyal to the Empire want there to be some semblance of control over the situation. Back then, the name of Spice carried a lot of weight. As does yours, these days. Like it or not, your title matters." She lowers her head. "Shame your own flesh and blood don’t…"

"Huh?" both Shae and Tohro ask simultaneously.

Rosemary’s head snaps back up almost instantly. "Nothin’. What does the other letter say?"

Tohro keeps a watchful eye on Rosemary as he opens up the second letter. "Hm… Oh, it’s from Half-Pint!" he exclaims, his mood suddenly lifted at the reminder of an old friend. "Seems she has some information from behind enemy lines."

"Seems you’re not the only one takin’ the role of turncoat, eh?" Rosemary japes. "A bunch a’ one-eyed traitors comin’ over to the Empire, now that’ll be a sight."

Tohro shakes his head. "It doesn’t seem Half-Pint is interested in joining us, I’m afraid. She and Jade are fleeing the country to Saddle Arabia…"

"Are they that desperate to get away from Shokenda?" Shae asks.

"No, they’re trying to get away from Temerity Blackwing."

Rosemary’s smile disappears. "That name sounds a little familiar."

Tohro continues reading the letter closely as he explains. "I might have mentioned him before. If the Blackwings are the scum of Equestria, then Temerity is the rag that keeps them all in check."

"Even a rag gets covered in dirt."

"Exactly. He runs numbers for the Blackwings. Keeping track of inventory, resources, treasury, soldiers, and so on. He has one hell of an eye for detail, and he’s quite the strategist. If it weren’t for him, the Blackwings wouldn’t have survived the first battle of Trottingham. I’d have killed him already if he wasn’t so elusive. He rarely leaves Fillydelphia, and never sticks around to witness the battles he plans out."

"What does he have to do with your friends hitting the road?" Rosemary asks.

Tohro delays his response until he’s able to read more of the letter. "Jade and Half-Pint were investigating the disappearances of children in small towns that the Blackwings had taken over. There are direct ties between these abductions and Temerity. It seems he has something big planned, but Jade and Half-Pint aren’t entirely sure what."

"Maybe you can find them and ask?"

"Not likely. They’re stowed away on a boat with a band of dashing rogues by this point. Lucky them." Tohro tucks the letter underneath his robe. "I’ll look into this when I get back to Everfree. If the Blackwings are kidnapping children, then I’m sure plenty of ponies will volunteer to ensure they don’t get away with whatever they’re planning."

"Don’t hurt yourself," says Shae.

"I won’t. This is an operation that requires strategy over strength, and I’ve been wanting to outwit Temerity for some time. As soon as Caro wakes up…" Tohro glares at Shae, anticipating one of two responses.

"He’ll wake up," Shae says with another genuine smile.

Tohro continues. "As soon as that happens, I’ll escort you and him both to Everfree. While Celina and Luna get to spend time with their mother and uncle, their other uncle will be ensuring the Blackwings’ plans are outed. Then Shokenda will lose one of her greatest resources. I’ll need to write some letters to Queen Platinum… Uh, Rosemary? Do you have any quills to spare?"

Rosemary isn’t standing where she was just a few seconds ago. A quick look around the forge reveals that she’s left entirely. Her coat is gone, in addition to a few weapons from the workbench.

"Maybe she needed to attend to something?" Shae suggests with a hopeful smile.

"Let's hope not," Tohro says grimly.

~Caro~

It’s so easy to reflect on a horrid event that’s happened in one’s past after a significant amount of time goes by. One’s mind can choose to forget the worst of what was seen, or we convince ourselves that what we saw wasn’t as awful as it truly was.

I’ll never forget how I felt that day, when my whole world was burned to ash, and the only thing I loved was destroyed. But seeing it again, watching myself collapse, ears bleeding from the sound of an incomprehensible language, Master at my side, ready to die for me, and Nahkriin, the first dragon I would ever kill, with her claws shimmering in the light of the fires she set to Reinoc.

The only question on my mind is if I willing to watch this again.

I don’t have any questions for why I couldn’t move, nor do I have any as to why Master was so willing to throw his life away. I know why Nahkriin was there, and that it was at the behest of something far more monstrous than her.

The result is all the same. Master falls, his sword is broken, and he’s left just as helpless as I am. Nahkriin takes her claw to his body, slashing at him until he’s reduced to mere pieces… I turn away and swallow what would be vomit, assuming I could vomit in the expanse of my mind.

There’s the answer. I couldn’t watch. This isn’t the origin of a mighty Dragonborn, it’s just a tragedy. Even if the effect lessened by it being a memory, it’s a tragedy, and the last thing I want to see today.

"Rare is the journey with a happy beginning, don’t you think?" says Rasahrel.

I frown at her, but I stop when I realized that she’s trying to counter the sordid sight before us with a little humor. I’m able to at least fake a smile to show her I appreciate the effort. "There were happy moments, and I’m sure more lie on the horizon."

"So why hang on to this moment?" Rasahrel gestures towards the carnage, which I will myself to look at once more.

"Just because it’s an unfortunate event doesn’t mean I can just get rid of it. It’s part of who I am. To deny that this happened, regardless of all the good that it’s brought, would be to deny part of myself, and that’s just…"

"Foolish," says Nahkriin.

For a moment of anger, I step forward and turn my gaze to her as she looms over the mangled body of Master. I expect her to be gloating, absolutely gleeful before my past self takes up a sword and attacks blindly until she’s sedated. But something feels off. I don’t remember Nahkriin ever saying that, even if the memory is distant. She only spoke her native tongue that day.

"A meaningless death for a meaningless cause," she says. "And who was the one who made it happen?"

"Not you, that’s for certain!" Rasahrel says pleadingly, looking at me as she nods towards Nahkriin. "She was a different dragon then, wasn’t she? Do say so, Caro."

I don’t need to look at Nahkriin to know she’s telling the truth. Even so, I don’t want to. What I’m about to say will no doubt crush her spirit. "You were a different being, yes, and I do thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I likely would have been reduced to an even worse state if you hadn’t done your part during our last battle, and yet—"

"That is all I can do," Nahkriin interrupts. "I wasn’t so important to Saviikaan. It is pleasant to have somepony who respects me as an individual, rather than a puppet."

"You’re right. I respect you, Nahkriin. And I trust you. But, at the moment, that’s as far as I can go when it comes to your partnership."

This might be the first time I’ve seen a dragon reel back from anything other than one of my attacks. "As far as you can go?"

"I eagerly await the day that time heals this wound. To say I haven’t recovered would be a lie. Master is alive and well, and a dragon at that. Not to mention the good friends I’ve made that have helped fill the emptiness that I felt when you…" I pause when I see Nahkriin’s distraught expression. "The thing is, Nahkriin… I don’t think I can forgive you yet."

"Caro…" Rasahrel says with caution in her tone.

Nahkriin points a claw at her. "No, let him speak. I was prepared for this."

"Okay, then." I let out a slow sigh and continue. "I saw my master get torn apart and taken away from me. Regardless of how temporary it was, it hurt. Yes, the scars have healed over, and I’ve become so much more than I could have ever dreamed of, but that doesn’t change how I felt that day. It still hurts. And I know plenty of the dragons inside of me are responsible for greater atrocities, but I have to be selfish about this one thing." I frown at Nahkriin. "Saviikaan gave the order, but my world ended that day because of you. I know it seems like insult to injury after I took your life, but can’t forgive you."

I wait for Nahkriin’s response. After my words sink in, she nods. With a turn of her head, her body shifts and bends, shrinking into a hybrid of pony and dragon, much like Rasahrel’s current form. Nahkriin’s new appearance is much like I would expect it to look, her red mane wild and swept about, and her black scales unkempt and grungy. What I don’t expect is what comes out of her mouth. "Then allow me to make up for it."

I snicker and tilt my head. "I don’t think there’s much you can do, unless you think your bones would make for a decent set of armor. But I doubt even Rosemary could—"

"Caro. I want to give you my soul."

If there were any sound to be heard in this white abyss, odds are this would be the part where everything went mute. Nahkriin’s words fly over my head, with every syllable being more nonsensical than the last. "Excuse me?" I ask.

"That’s…" Rasahrel walks around me and stands beside Nahkriin. "That’s why I asked you to show me your memories. Nahkriin was nervous to ask, but she wanted to know if you forgave her. In the end, though, the result is the same. She wants to give herself fully to you, so you might live."

"Well, I respect you for sticking your neck out for her," I say, my voice mildly hysterical, "but I’m still confused. I already took her soul, and yours. You’re all a part of me."

"Yes and no. Your body is a host to our souls, and you can call on us whenever you wish. However, a time will come when we will eventually fade into your subconscious. Surely you’ve noticed the signs?"

I say to Nahkriin, "You have been a little quiet lately. I mean, not as loud as you once were."

"I’m already beginning to fade, Caro," she says. "Eventually, I’ll just be nothing more than a power source for you to call on when needed. While I wouldn’t mind helping you in that way, I’d still prefer giving myself up now so you might wake up."

"Behold." Rasahrel points her foreleg upward. The white void turns to black as I look up and see what I can only assume is my soul. At least, what I picture as my soul. It’s a white orb, though it isn’t contained into a perfect sphere. It fluctuates, with wisps of white coming off of it and reconnecting in equal measure.

"I thought it’d be worse for wear," I say with a light chuckle. My sense of humor disappears when my soul rotates around, showing how broken it is. It’s like shattered glass, with the shards floating nearby, unable to attach themselves to where they should be. "Oh," I utter grimly. "...I did die, didn’t I?"

"If you were anypony else, you would have. The only thing keeping you alive is our presence," says Rasahrel. "Multiple souls in one body. Never considered the perks of such a thing until recently, did you?"

"To be honest, no… But, then again, I can’t relate to anyone in my situation." I look at Nahkriin. As the pieces come together, I realize exactly what she and Rasahrel have been implying this entire time, and I’m not thrilled about it. "You’re going to sacrifice yourself for me."

"My soul would become part of yours, and in turn you’d be able to live. One life for another."

"Mine, or my master’s?" I retort. "You don’t have to make up for what you did. Just give me a little time, and I’ll—"

Nahkriin bares her fangs at me, though it’s far less intimidating when she’s in an equine form. "Your forgiveness would mean nothing. So long as I am unable to make amends for what I did to you, I’ll never be able to forgive myself. Get it through your head, Dragonborn; I want this."

Our eyes remain locked in a fierce yet solemn stare. I can see my draconic slits in the reflection of hers. Seeing her bravery and her unwillingness to back down from such a decision is enough to make me break the stare.

"Well…" I face the emptiness beneath me and sigh, shaking my head as I choke out my confession. "Maybe I… I don’t want to lose anyone else. I just watched Sahvot die for me…"

"Are you sure that mere words are enough to convince someone to betray the path they’ve chosen?" Rasahrel says. How fitting for a dragon to say something so scalding. "Caro, you of all ponies should realize by now that sometimes you have to accept a loss."

"I’ve accepted the loss of my leg! I don’t want to lose more than that! Not after what happened to Sahvot."

"Oh… Oh." Nahkriin steps in a circle, one of her hooves brushing through her slick mane.. "I think I understand. I knew Sahvot well, and I can see why his loss hurts you so."

She has no idea. "A good dragon. One of the only two I’ve ever met. I didn’t have to take in his soul for him to fight alongside me. And yet, the Dragonborn can’t seem to leave a dragon alive. Isn’t that just a fucking blessing? And here I am, having to let another dragon die for me, lest I lie in bed as a living corpse for the rest of my existence! Yes, Nahkriin! It hurts!"

Nahkriin waves her hoof at me. "Go on."

"It’s… It’s what I deserve, isn’t it?! I’ve slaughtered a lot of ponies without a second thought! How kind of Epona, or Fauste or Dragos or whatever fucking Divine is smiling down on me to let a few good dragons die! Am I the only one there is, mortal or otherwise, who wants there to be peace between ponies and dragons?!"

Nahkriin’s eyes widen.

"Well?! Answer me!"

I feel Rasahrel tap me on the wither. When I turn to face her, I’m met with one of the most bizarre embraces I think I’ll ever experience. Rasahrel’s scales brush up against my coat, making the simple gesture of her wrapping her forelegs around my neck feel so alien. And yet, knowing why she’s doing this and what she’s come to mean to me, I’m able to accept the gesture wholeheartedly. I return the embrace, leaning my cheek against Rasahrel’s neck and letting out a small sob.

After all the anger leaves me and I’m able to think rationally, I look at Nahkriin through my teary eyes. I wipe them clean so I can get a good look at her. It feels odd to notice this now, but she looks nice with a pony’s mane.

Letting go of Rasahrel, I approach Nahkriin. I look up to the shattered mass above me, then back to her. "I accept your gift."

Nahkriin smiles at me. Her lips are crooked, causing her fangs to poke out of her mouth. She sighs and holds out her foreleg. "Oh, come here."

This is the last thing I thought I’d ever do with her, but the truth dominates the strangeness of it all. The dragon who was once my enemy is now my friend, and I’m not ashamed to hug my friend. Although, she is a bit more aggressive than Rasahrel, with her grip a little tight around my neck.

Our mutual caress lasts for all but a moment. When I start to put my one foreleg back down, Nahkriin’s body is already disappearing. As is fitting for a dragon, she is overcome by a thick golden aura. When her body completely fades, with her smile being the last thing to go, the aura rises, flowing like a river into my soul. The fractures are filled in, and in seconds my soul is made whole again.

"You’re worth more than you realize," says Rasahrel, drawing my attention away from the surreal sight. "Even the more disgruntled of our kind will grant you power, and that includes sparing your life should you take mortal damage. Nahkriin was happy to be the first."

"Well, don’t be in a hurry to throw yourself away for me," I say to her. "I’m not about to make a pecking order, but I think it’s fairly obvious who I value around here."

"Don’t worry. If I can help it, I’ll stay with you to the very end."

Upon that final word, the void around me begins to distort. Rasahrel is growing farther away from me by the second. A great wind rushes through my mane, as if I’m flying high, and then I’m brought to a halt.

And now it’s just a matter of opening my eyes.

It’s nothing too different from waking up from a long, pleasant sleep after a hard day’s work at the forge. I’ve had many mornings like this, but the only reason I make such a comparison is because I just witnessed a reminder of those days.

My waking is made even more pleasant by a refreshing scent filling my nostrils. I look down the length of my bed and see the source. Flowers. A whole garden’s worth of flowers laid out for me. I just hope that these are supposed to be tribute, and not some sort of funeral decoration. My blissful mood falters slightly when I wonder something.

How many ponies think I’m dead? A good many, no doubt. I can’t truly blame them. Anypony else would have died from such an impact, not to mention all the blood loss. There’s another thing to wonder about; how many times did the sages have to restore my blood? And how long have I been asleep? Days would be too generous... A few weeks perhaps? I hope it hasn’t been months. ...No, it can’t be, I’d be a total mess by that point. As I am now, just a cup of tea and some breakfast and I’ll be right as rain.

Speaking of which, I hear a teacup shatter nearby. I look over to the infirmary entrance and see a young sage standing above the pieces of the cup, staring at me blankly. “Oh, my…” he utters.

I let out a well-earned yawn and stretch out my one foreleg. “Good morning...” I say to the sage. My voice is weak and ragged. It’s a little painful to say anything, but it’s negligible.

“It’s… It’s actually late afternoon,” the sage replies. “And, uh… Goodness!” Somehow forgetting about his magic, he kneels down and gathers the pieces of his teacup into a pile.

“Goodness indeed,” I say, chuckling at him. “Do you need any help with that...?”

“No, no! Y-You just… stay in bed, Dragonborn, I’ll…” Now he remembers he has magic. He levitates the pieces off the floor and heads into the hallway. “I have some good news to spread, it seems!” He gallops off… somewhere. If I knew where I was, I’d be able to hazard a better guess, but I assume he’s going to tell everypony that, against all odds, I’ve come back.

If I concentrate enough, I can hear music playing a few rooms over, accompanied with the lovely singing voice of Xephyr. He seems to be playing something akin to a tavern waltz. At least, until I hear the shouting of the clumsy sage.

“He’s woken up! Everypony, s-stop what you’re doing!” he commands, causing the music to come to a halt. “The Dragonborn’s alive! Come and see!”

If only the air itself didn’t feel like a weight on my frail body. If that were the case, I would brace myself for the incoming cacophony of revellers. It’s something I’ve wanted for much of my life, but I feel this is not the most opportune moment. In truth, I would rather have a moment to reflect on losing Nahkriin.

Nevertheless, I wear my smile proud and allow the events to transpire. The first pony to enter the room isn’t anypony I know. Judging by his bulky figure, he’s probably a soldier, though odds are he won’t be seeing duty for a while with that missing eye of his. He waves hello as three more ponies come in. This group consists of two sages and a housemaid.

Along with a few more new faces, Ironclad enters, joined by Onslaught. Just as Onslaught raises his foreleg, he’s trampled by an overzealous Treesap. “Hello, Caro!” he shouts when he hops back onto his hooves.

I’m about to ask where Tohro is, but I’m interrupted by two female pegasus soldiers who come flying in over the crowd to assault me with an embrace. “Woah! Easy...” I advise them, waving them away. “Th-Thank you, though…”

Gauntlet emerges from the crowd. “Both of you, get over here! Don’t crowd him. Honestly, you’re civilized ponies, now act like it.”

“Sorry, sir!” both the pegasi say as they return to a standing position alongside the good captain.

“Dragonborn,” Gauntlet says. I expect that to be the end of it, but then he places his hoof to his brow. Epona’s mane, he’s saluting me. “Once again, I find myself in gratitude towards you and your actions. The battle may have been lost, but it’s a shallow victory for the Blackwings with so many lives spared.”

“I just…” Even my innards feel week. I haven’t talked much since my awakening, and I’m already out of breath. I inhale and continue speaking. “I just did what I…”

Gauntlet finishes my sentence for me. “What you had to. And that’s it, isn’t it? You didn’t have to. But you did. It’s one thing to dream, but there are so few that would actually go so far as to…” He clears his throat and resets his train of thought. “Many of us owe a debt to you.”

“Don’t feel pressured to repay it…” I mutter. I raise my hoof and place it against my forehead. It’s hardly a proper salute, but for once, I feel like an attempt at the gesture is warranted.

Shae is next to come to me. She pushes past Gauntlet, galloping to my bed and hastily throwing herself around me. Given my condition, she might as well be an out-of-control carriage. She pulls away from me the instant she hears my pained grunting. She looks worried at first, but we then share a smile.

“See...? I can keep a promise…” I say to her.

“Huh?”

“I saved your life...”

“What?!” she exclaims through her smile. “Damn you, is that why you had us all scared half to death? Just to prove a point?” She lightly pushes me against my pillow. “Don’t joke about things like that!”

“Well, I’m not lying…”

“You are such a…” Shae bows her head, stifling a sob. She covers her eyes, but she’s unable to hold back a few tears from traveling down her hoof. “Damn you... Don’t put me through that ever again. You and Tohro, both of you… You’ll be the death of my sanity, I swear.”

“Wouldn’t count on it… You’re a mother, Shae…”

“You and Tohro both have more immaturity in a hair strand than Luna has in her entire body. And neither of you are alicorns, so stick that down your throat.” Despite such criticism, Shae still wears her smile. She gently presses her hoof to my cheek. “Thank you for coming back.”

“CARO!”

Ignorant of how much it hurts to do so, I sit up at the sound of a certain somepony’s voice, nearly throwing Shae off of me in the process. “Tohro!” I strain myself to yell. “Where are you?!” I search desperately for some white hoof to appear among the crowd, but it’s a pointless effort when all of these ponies are moving around so much, and many of them have white coats. “Tohro?”

“Let me through… LET ME THROUGH!”

I see a few of the gathering ponies shift about as a determined force breaks through their ranks. The pounding of my heart escalates into my ears, reaching its climax when I catch a glimpse of Tohro’s blonde locks between two soldiers. They move aside for him, allowing him to step into the open.

“Caro…” he whispers, his voice cracking.

I can see the exact moment when he becomes stricken with everything he could possibly feel from being where he is. His lips clamped tightly together, trembling as he resists the urge to yell at me for making him worry. His eyes twitching, filling with tears. His movements towards me are heavy and hindered, partially by the wounds that blemish him, but also by the weight of his emotions, and the indecision as to what he could possibly say to me. Even as he comes to my side, gently laying his hoof on my chest, he’s still at a loss for words.

“Hello,” I say to him.

“H-hello…!” he chokes out. “I… S-see, this…” He gestures to all of me, emphasizing my lack of a left foreleg. “This is why we…”

I finish his sentence for him. “We have to stay together…”

He nods repeatedly. “Hardly anything good happens w-when we’re apart.”

“To be honest, a lot of bad things have happened when we…”

“True, but even when I was scared, I had you to face those things alongside me. That’s…” He wipes his eyes with my blanket. “I was more afraid of Shokenda when I served her than I am now, because I know you’ll always be there to keep her from hurting me.”

“Along with anypony else that tries to touch this.” I touch his cheek, brushing down to his chin.

“T-This?” he asks.

“Your pretty face, you fool.”

“Oh!” Tohro laughs out loud. Xephyr could write the most perfect symphony and it wouldn’t sound as heavenly.

“And you’ve always been there to keep me sane in my darkest moments… I would have been so lost without you.”

Tohro draws his hoof across his neck. “Would have lost your head without me.”

I chuckle. “In more ways than one, my angel...”

Tohro flinches, and I fall back a little, finding myself having made a bit of a presumptuous comment. I look away for a second, then turn back to Tohro.

“Sorry, that was…”

“No, no, it’s…” Tohro leans back in towards me. “I don’t mind.” He places his hoof back on my chest, laying his other hoof over it as he puts his head against my cheek. “I love you, Caro. I’ll accept whatever silly pet names you conjure up for me, but on one condition.”

“And what would that be?” I ask, although I’m sure I know the answer already.

Tohro closes his eyes and presses his lips to mine.

I’m suddenly reminded of what Hurricane said about his mistakes… He said that every single one he ever made was just another step towards meeting Platinum, and remembering that was how he found his solace. At first, I didn’t fully understand what he meant. The arrogance in me assumed that any mistakes one makes should be looked upon with regret. How wrong I was.

It’s like the ripples on a calm lake have disappeared, and I’m looking into a clear image for the first time. I know now what the late king meant… If any series of events in my life had gone differently, then I wouldn’t be here, just having escaped the clutches of death, looking into the watering eyes of a beautiful stallion. Not just any stallion, though. There’s nothing to compare him to. There’s nopony else.

Our kiss, my first kiss, ends. I hear Gauntlet clear his throat, which forcibly pulls me out of my trance. I see that he was getting the attention of the gathered crowd, which I had nearly forgotten was there in the first place. Gauntlet, along with a few soldiers, quietly ushers everypony out of the room. Some are more reluctant to leave than others, but they all do as they’re told, leaving me, Tohro and Shae alone.

Come to think if it, I almost forgot Shae was here. She’s turned slightly away from me and Tohro, her face looking a tad more red than lavender. “Are you… Are you done?” she asks with a squeak.

“You didn’t have to stay and watch,” Tohro says, wearing his usual sly grin.

“Surely I would have rather missed this! You two are so… so…!” She raises her foreleg. It shakes vigorously before she lowers it. She exhales, then leaps towards me and Tohro. She seizes Tohro one foreleg, and me in the other, bringing out heads against hers on either side.

~Vision End~

A set of talons wraps around a small flask. As Altair rummages through a large sack, he raises the flask to his beak, leans back, and takes a long chug. “Well, I should have expected as much,” he says, wiping a few drops of mead from his beak. “I heard many Blackwings are prone to desperation attacks, but to see them carry so little worth keeping…” He tosses the rusted sword he had been analyzing behind him, letting it clatter to the ground.

Mistral lands on the rooftop and sits next to Altair, folding up her wings. She looks down to the field below, analyzing the crude number of Imperial and Blackwing corpses. Some patches are so thick with dead ponies that the ground goes unseen for long stretches. “They came to this battle prepared to die, using quantity over quality. The only reason they win at all is because they either overwhelm their enemies, or—”

Mistral grabs Altair’s flask with her wing and takes a swig. “An acid dragon falls from the sky, right on top of their enemy’s camp.”

“I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often.” Altair takes the flask back. “Still, we’ll at least make some profit. I’d estimate around a thousand bits. I’ll hold a banquet for the rest of the guild when I get back to Baltimare.”

“A celebration? Is that really appropriate?” Mistral points to the corpses. “Given the state of things, I mean.”

“A gathering of company is especially appropriate in a time like this. Another victory for the Blackwings could spell trouble for Baltimare, and I’m not too fond of what Shokenda might think if she showed up on our…” Altair slows down when he sees Mistral tremble slightly. “I lost my path of thought. My point is, we should try to remain in high spirits, if it’s a choice between that or accepting defeat.”

Mistral turns to Altair, her expression dark and scolding. “Don’t become so enamoured with your sugar and alcohol that you forget what’s at stake here. At least assure me of that.”

“I assure you.” Altair places his talons on Mistral’s back. “A banquet, then we will continue our efforts to keep our guild afloat. I’m considering setting up a perimeter around Baltimare’s outskirts. Any Blackwing that gets within a few miles is a target. With any luck, a patroller’s haul will be more bountiful than—”

“Sir?” Mistral interrupts.

Altair stops himself and says, “Go ahead,” as he passes the flask to Mistral.

After she takes a drink, Mistral clears her throat and speaks. “Are, uh… Are we good?”

Altair blinks. “...I don’t follow. Thieves aren’t meant to be good, we just—”

“I’m not talking about the guild. I’m talking about, um…” Mistral leans in close to Altair and whispers to him. He nods slowly as she pulls away. “I don’t feel entirely in the right here. I didn’t feel like I was doing the right thing, when I took Excalibur out of King Hurricane’s bedroom. If Caro had Excalibur during the battle, the Empire could have walked away victorious.”

“Any number of things could have led to the Empire’s victory. You can’t chalk it all up to a single pony’s weapon, and you certainly can’t assume that Caro was even worthy of its might to begin with.”

Mistral sighs. “You never even let him find out.”

Altair points a talon at Mistral. “You know how Excalibur works. Once it finds a worthy wielder, it and the wielder are bound for life. Caro would have made use of it against the Blackwings, yes, but you saw what nearly became of him. What if he died? What if a particularly noble and strong Blackwing were to find Excalibur on his corpse and slaughter the Empire’s forces one by one? In any case, we never would have gotten it back.”

Mistral points back at Altair. “And what if that didn’t happen? What if Caro and his friends are unable to win this war by their strength alone? Are we just dooming the Empire, and our guild, to a slow and painful death because we’re unwilling to take a chance?”

Altair stands up and trots around Mistral. “I thought you knew what you signed on for when I offered you your position.”

“Here’s something to consider,” Mistral says calmly. “What if we were to rethink our purpose? Perhaps, instead of ensuring power doesn’t fall into the wrong hooves, we could ensure power falls into the right hooves.”

“Right hooves?” Altair grunts. “You know the term ‘might makes right’? I despise such a sentiment. It’s just something those in power use to justify the purging of the weak, who never had a chance to become strong in the first place because of those in power. It’s a paradox. No. I believe in might for right, and I haven’t met a single pony in my many years of service to Hephaestus that is worthy of his creations. And what if right hooves turn into the wrong hooves? What if the wrong hooves take the power for themselves? It’s not meant to be, Mistral. Hephaestus has tasked us with this job because it is the best option. It is the only option.”

“Tell that to Scar when he finds out that the Carrier Clan’s most sacred artifact has been stolen. Again,” Mistral grumbles. When she looks at the bodies littering the ground below, she motions Altair over to her. He does so reluctantly as she casts her hoof out. “A better idea; tell that to them.”

Altair deliberately looks away from the carnage. He takes his bag of spoils, fastens it to his belt, and leaps off of the rooftop. He grabs a windowsill to slow his fall, then lands on his talons and paws perfectly. “I have to go. I’ll be in Trottingham if you need me.”

“Understood.” Mistral says begrudgingly. She crosses her hind legs and relaxes against the roof, looking up to one of the few cracks in the perpetual cloud cover that has spoiled Equestria in days past. She waits for a minute or so until she knows that Altair is out of sight and earshot. “Well, Hephaestus… I asked for permission.”

She sits up, reaches for her belt, and snaps off a small pouch. She opens it and reaches into it. She hasn’t quite gotten used to the concept of enchanted bags, and seeing her leg disappear into the bag without coming out the other side is still unnerving. After some searching, her hooves close around the hilts of two weapons.

“I suppose I’ll just have to ask for forgiveness now.”

~Shae~

Night has fallen, and yet it’s now of all times that I awaken from my sleep. Somepony forgot to light the lamps in the infirmary, so now the only sources of light come from the hallway lamps, as well as the gleam of the moon through the high windows. The only other two ponies in the room don’t seem to mind how dark it is. Of course they don’t; they’ve been lost in each other’s bright eyes for hours now.

Caro and Tohro don’t seem to care that they’ve long run out of things to talk about, or that it’s the middle of the night. They seem perfectly content with lying beside each other, forelegs intertwined and muzzles close enough for their nostrils to brush. I’ve sure they’ve breathed each other in several times over by now.

It’s such a happy sight, one that I’m glad to witness, but I can’t help but feel that Caro and Tohro are using their union as a metaphysical wall for an unfortunate truth; Caro is missing a leg. Eventually, that wall will crumble and we will have to confront the issue.

I would be able to get past this issue just as well as those two if I had somepony to hold, but Rosemary isn’t here right now, and I have no idea where she’s headed off to this time. I was able to take solace in her previous absences because she always reassured me that she would return, sealing her promise with a kiss. But now she’s gone and disappeared without a word, and that terrifies me.

I’m not the only one suffering in her absence. We need her skill set specifically in order to construct Caro’s leg. No other blacksmith could possibly do it. But even when she comes back, that leg will take weeks to make, at the very least. Patience is manageable in the face of much greater threats, but not when the reward would be a mechanical limb prone to failure. Not that I doubt Rosemary’s abilities, but flesh and blood cannot be replaced with wood and wires. It’s just not good enough.

But maybe that’s why Caro and Tohro are the way they are at this moment. They’re grasping a thread of happiness to hold back a grim truth. The fact that they constructed this thread themselves makes it all the stronger, and less likely to slip away.

So then, what’s my thread? What have I created that allows me happiness despite the hardships that try to tear me apart? I had nearly forgotten with Clover the Clever clawing at my mind. I know the thread Rosemary and I have created is still there, but I need her with me to face the darkness. She’s not an option at the moment. But I do have another.

I’m reminded of what’s waiting for me back in Everfree when I feel the moonlight touch my fur. If I concentrate, and embrace the moonlight fully, it’s almost as if I can feel Luna. It all comes to me at once. The chirping sounds she makes when she can’t form the words necessary to express her happiness. The innocent gleam in her eyes when she becomes fixated on the sky. The kneading of her hooves on my barrel when she needs my milk. The smooth threads of her mane on my chin when we share a bed...

I have to go.

I rise from the bed in an instant, kicking the covers away. I levitate my overcoat from off the floor, put it on, and prop the hood up, then grab my bags. I search through them, just to ensure I have all I need. I find a total of two red potions… Is that all I have? ...That’s right, I gave them away to the sages and healers so they could tend to the wounded.

Caro and Tohro are bound to have some, though. I walk over to them just as Tohro nuzzles one of the many scratches on Caro’s cheek. He opens his eyes and looks up at me. “Hello,” he says in a hushed yet gleeful voice. “Are you well? No more amulets come to mess with your head?”

Caro turns over to me, pushing Tohro away with a pillow. “You look a little distraught.”

“I’m going back to Everfree,” I say simply. “I’ve been away from my daughters for too long. I was away too long from the moment I set hoof away from them.”

“No need to be so dramatic, Shae Sparkle,” Tohro says with a hoof across his chest as he forces the pillow onto Caro. “If you feel the need to go, then go. We won’t be offended that you want to be a responsible mother.”

“Dragonrein can afford to be apart for a little longer,” says Caro. He reaches out to me and touches my wither. “You’ve played your part. The worst of it is over. Let’s all be with our loved ones.”

I sigh with relief. I knew their response would be nothing short of supportive, but I still felt as though I might be letting them down by leaving. But they have the capacity to know priorities. They’re such good friends. “...Thank you. I’m a tad short on potions. Would you happen to have any extras?”

“Loads,” Caro says enthusiastically. “Take all you need, we have plenty to spare.”

“It’s a shame they weren’t potent enough to fix your bones, else you might have woken up sooner,” Tohro says to Caro. “I tried to make you swallow a few, but they didn’t make enough of a difference to warrant their use. The sages had to put you back together the traditional way. After that, we just had to wait.”

“And was it worth it?”

“What do you think?”

After that, their conversation becomes muted to me. As I search through Caro’s bag and take a few of the overt amount of potions that he somehow came across, I find something else among the clutter. I don’t notice its significance until it shifts slightly, allowing its gems to shine in the moonlight. It’s an Elder Scroll.

I stifle my gasp, but not soon enough. Caro turns over and addresses me. “What is it?” He realizes what I’ve found. “Oh. I never told you, did I?”

“Where did you find this?” I ask. I try to lift it out of the bag with my magic, but as I suspected, it’s immune to my aura’s grasp. I instead pick it up with my hooves and hold it out to Caro. “These aren’t things you pick up on the side of the road.”

“An undead dragon gave it to him,” Tohro says bluntly. “On the side of the road.”

“Hilarious,” I say without a rise. I look between Caro and Tohro as they share a smile. “Oh! Undead? Truly?”

Caro nods. “His name is Durnehviir. Otar revived him, though he doesn’t truly have a soul without Saviikaan’s magic. He’s not long for this world without somepony to keep him alive.” He sighs and leans back against his pillow. “Damn.”

“What is it?” Tohro and I ask at the same time.

“If Sahvot still had a body, I could ask Otar to revive him, at least for a little while.” He brushes his hoof across his brow. “...Never mind. It’s a moot point. I haven’t seen Otar since I awakened, or reawakened… whatever it is you want to call it. I’m guessing he’s long gone by now.”

As I put the Elder Scroll back into the bag, I ask, “Does it bother anypony else that this is all normal for us? Undead creatures, souls as tangible elements, dragons speaking to us on a regular basis…” I can’t even finish coming up with examples before I’m lost to a fit of laughter, one that Tohro heartily joins me in, with Caro removing his frown to laugh as well.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says.

I pocket five large vials of red potion, three medium vials of magic potion, and four small vials of stamina potion. “In that case, I am off to the Rainbow Palace to be reunited with my adopted alicorn daughters,” I say with another laugh, though this one is a bit more hollow, fading into nothingness as I take one last look at Caro and Tohro.

For all of their happiness and the love in their eyes, Caro is still missing a leg.

I’ve discovered another thread. Rather, I just remembered it. It’s the moments I share with these two stallions, and how they help me feel strong and dependable even in my lowest moments. I don’t recognize myself when I reflect upon my days as a mere student at Wintercolt Academy, and as time goes on, I realize how much I’ve come to accept that. This is my new normal.

And yet, am I too quick to leave it all behind? The reason I came to Ghastly Gorge is simple; I felt I needed to help in some way. But my assistance amounted to little in the end. Ponies still succumbed to their injuries. Pain and death tore through the battlefield all the same. And I wasn’t able to save my best friend. Now I know the pain he felt whenever he failed to protect me in the past.

I want to hold on to this thread because I’m nothing without it. And the thread is coming apart with every second I’m away from Caro and Tohro. And now that Caro is bedridden and broken, unable to fully reclaim what he used to be, will that thread be lost forever?

“Quant vo douceur adoucir vuet mon amer, dont loer et aourer…
Et vous cremier, tout souffrir… Tout conjoir, Tout endurer…
Vueil plus que je ne desir Guerredonner…
Foy porter…”

I stop beside a cabin when I hear a low singing voice. I never knew Jarl Drake was an alto. Her singing voice is very distinct, and quite pleasant, if a little shaky on her long notes. She is clearly drunk, if the bottle at her side means anything. What bewilders me is why she’s inebriated whilst looking over a map of Ghastly Gorge.

I’m about to let this oddity slide and move on my way, but then Jarl Drake stops singing. “SHAE SPARKLE!” she yells with a squeak in her voice. “What brings you heeere?” she asks with an exaggerated tilt of her head.

“I was just leaving, actually,” I say, pointing further down the road.

“Can’tcha have a cup?” Jarl Drake asks with a slur. “Come on, I have spirits!” She raises the bottle, only for her to realize that it’s completely empty, aside from a single drop that spills onto the tabler. She looks down the bottle and frowns. “Ah. Had. Past tense.” She drops the bottle and lets it roll away. “Such sweet misfuuurtune to have befallen ussss... I’m dead inside.”

I have myself a guilty chuckle. It wasn’t what she said, it was the way she said it. “I’m sure there’s more alcohol at the infirmary, ma’am.”

“S-Shae, ‘old on a second. Minute.” Jarl Drake sways off of her chair into something that resembles a standing position. She has to lean on the table to keep herself from falling as she works her way over to me. “D’you suppose…” She swallows. “Shae, ‘m I a bad parent?”

That’s a loaded question isn’t it? I guess Luna and Celina can wait a little longer. Just a little, though. I step into the cabin. “Well, uh… Do you want an honest answer, or do you want to be reassured?”

Jarl Drake snorts and bursts out laughing like an insecure child. “Ghaaa, what?” she asks. “Y’know, just… say whatcha gotta.”

Honesty is what’s best in this situation. “Jarl, I haven’t been a mother for that long, and I don’t know your exact methods when it comes to raising Boysenberry, but I think you’re... decent. You gave him room to stretch his legs, and he became an intelligent, wise young mage.”

“Oh, I see… I see…” The jarl stumbles back to her seat, suddenly becoming dull and quiet. She rubs her head as she sits down. “Think I shoulda kept him on more of a leash?”

“Excuse me?” I ask, tilting my head.

“Not a literally leash, I no a monster… I just… I spendin’ so much time lookin’ into that bowl of liquid glass, divinin’ errything happening in Equestria that I could, but I ain’t seein’ my own child resenting me from right across... ‘cross… the, the bleedin’ room.”

“Why would Boysenberry resent you?” I ask.

“He’s the type of child who… fixates. Once them ideas getting into his head, doesn’t let it leave. All ‘a little mistakes I make over the years… Executions, isolation, that first battle of Ghastilliry Gorge…”

“Ghastly Gorge.”

“I know. He know. I mean, he knew. He couldn’t get past ‘em, more so than any of my enemies, and he was obligated to stay alongside me through all of it.” Jarl Drake looks past me. “Epona’s mane, I considers how offin’ he considered running away ‘fore now.”

“Wh— He ran away?!” I exclaim. “Where? Did he leave a note?”

“He most certainly didn’t not!” She hides her head away between her forelegs as she levitates a torn scrap of parchment over to me. The words are angrily scrawled, and much less elegant that Boysenberry’s usual penmanship.

I’m done with your lies. I have to find the truth on my own. Don’t try to find me.

Who knew words could be as sharp as a knife? I hate to imagine how it would feel if this were written by one of my children. “Did something happen? Was there a last straw?”

“Oh yes… Yes, there were straws, an’ this was the last one.” Jarl Drake removes her head from the table. “He was in deep… Blamin’ hisself for what’s happening, er, happened during the battle, goin’ over the battle plans again and again again again to the point of ex…haustion. I feared the worst migh' happen.”

“His... other side?” I ask cautiously.

“Nearly came out again… I done put a stop to it, I did! Don’t tell I ain’t honest! I tell him exactly why the battle don’t play out the way he wanted it to. Why more ponies died than was nece... necessarily. At very least, I’m able to put his self-grievance to rest, but then goes and he turns his anger onna to me. All I do is sit, watchin’ as he gone storm off, and when I went looking for ‘im, I found this note. Now, well, here I am…” The jarl reaches for her bottle, only to realize it’s not there anymore. And that it’s still empty. “Fuck.”

It wouldn’t take an academic to know that Jarl Drake has done something truly awful. Awful enough to lose her son and her sobriety in the same evening. “What did you do? What was the last straw?”

“I shoulda have rid myself of that liquid glass years ago…” she moans. “...Can detach myself from my mistakes so easily, and yet I can’t let go of a single bowl of that accursed sub...stance. C-Can I have another bottle?”

I kick the empty bottle away. “No, you can’t. Keep talking.”

Jarl Drake looks like she’s about to cry. She takes a deep breath and continues talking. Or, at least, some form of talking. "There I am, looking at Boysenberry and Captain Gauntlet's agreed battle pla... plans, I'm thinking... This here? It's good. I couldn't think of a better plan if I tried. And believe me, I tried. I wanted to ensure we got through like the gold-wearing glory seekers we are. I see a way to ensure victory lies ahead of us... After all, if I were to look into the liquid glass with the battle plan memorized, then all I need to do is adjust where we might fail.”

I narrow my gaze at her. “You didn’t...”

“Minor wrinkles in a fine robe, flattened and smoothed out. Sent the new plans to the commanding officers... Now look at what's happened. So many dead. Snipers and assassins picking off the stragglers. Fuckin'... unicorn elites with their scary masks... Boysenberry's plan accounted for the unexpected, and I went and messed it all up, ‘cause the liquid glass can only look into the known future... Why dunnit work when I need it most? Tell me that, Shae..."

I was miserable before just now. So much has been lost because of circumstances beyond our control. All we had to our advantage in that battle was the Dragonborn and a meticulously crafted battle strategy. Now what do we have? A field full of corpses, an infirmary filled from end to end with ponies struggling to stay alive…

They’re the lucky ones; I had to watch many a fighter die right in front of me. My two best friends, Equestria’s greatest hope for the future, were nearly among them! If anything had gone even the tiniest bit differently, they could have walked away from that battle with their heads held high, welcomed back to Everfree as the heroes who led the Empire to victory!

"Well, uh..." I say, trying to answer Jarl Drake’s question. I have nothing. I’m too occupied with trying to hide my anger.

No one could have foreseen the arrival of Shokenda, or the acidic dragon. But knowing that at least a few of the horrors that occurred at the gorge could have easily been prevented if a certain somepony had just left well enough alone…

One of many things I've learned from my travels with Dragonrein is that actions speak louder than words. I've also come to accept a certain truth: as versatile and applicable as levitations and matter manipulation is as a magical ability, nothing compares to the satisfaction of punching somepony with your own hoof. I realize that truth more than ever as Jarl Drake falls out of her chair at my mercy.

"Are you out of your mind?!" I yell as she laughs at herself, unable to support herself on two limbs.

She looks up at me with a darkened eye and a toothy grin. "Well, I am drunk!"

I regret my actions the instant that I see the pathetic tears that fall from the jarl. Though it’s not so much regret for what I did to her. It’s more like regret that I was the one who had to do it.

Still, I must apologize. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I am so sorry," I mutter repeatedly as I take Jarl Drake's legs and lift her up. "You're hurting enough as is. I shouldn't go and make it worse."

“Somepony had to…” Jarl Drake nearly falls over again as she picks up her chair and sits back down. "I know I act the ig… ignorant fool, but that is only because I don't wanna to seem a coward. Ever since I became the jarl, I’mma relied on the liquid glass. Issn’t not ‘cause I think it makes good decisions. It's ‘cause I worry that if I go act of my own free will, I’d do even worse..."

“You didn’t need to take part in this battle,” I say with an intense glare.

“That is the truth… I’m nothin’ but the fool here.” The jarl rests her forehead on her hoof. “And here I thought I’d caused Caro enough pain as is…”

“Rationally speaking, I don’t think you could have prevented what happened to his leg.”

“I coulda prevented sommat else!” she shouts with a sudden burst of anguish. “I ain’t talkin’ about this battle, I’m talkin’ about the other one.”

It takes me a second to make sense of her drunken talk. “The first battle of Ghastly Gorge?”

“Thaaas the one,” she says. “Gold Heart and Earthquake, the finest soldiers I ever did know. Good friends, dedicated warriors... Unsung heroes of the Legion, I say. They spoke of Caro offin’, sayin’ he was such a happy little colt, so full of life, and how it pained them to leave ‘im behind to fight for the Empire."

I have difficulty believing this to be true. "You knew his parents."

"Yes, I did, and I expected that… that they would be the ones to win this w-war."

"Yeah, that turned out well..." I mutter, my one foreleg tightening around my stomach.

“During the first battle of Ghastly Gorge, Ore… Orega…”

“Oregano Von Spice.”

“Right… He was killed in action, and I was the one to take the helm o' control in his place... I made many, many decisions with the liquid glass that day, but this was not one of them. See, I... saw an opening. I ordered a small battalion to escort a cart of explosives to the Blackwing camp and set it off. Then, halfway across the battlefield—”

I remember Caro’s long-winded talk about it well. "A happenstance arrow set off the explosives, killing several Imperial soldiers and Blackwings," I say dryly. "And killed his mother and father."

"...I might as well have."

As it turns out, some other things have to be added to my burden. I hunch over, sigh deeply, and start pacing back and forth. "Does he know?"

Jarl Drake slams her hooves onto the table and leans in close to me. "Don't you dare. There are many secrets I have to keep, and this one I'll take to my grave. Not just for my sake, but for Caro's. If he knew... Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? I don't know how he'll react. But I'm afraid. And I can't risk losing him to the same anger and loathing I lost Boysenberry to."

"You'll have to tell him eventually," I say, glaring at her.

"I will,” says Jarl Drake, suddenly appearing very sober. “When this is all over."

I’ve tried to keep a mental list of everything we’ve lost in recent times. I wanted to remember the names of the ponies who died under my watch. I wanted Tohro to make an instantaneous recovery like he always does. I wanted to be the one to find a complete solution to Caro’s missing leg. I wanted ponies to lean on each other in this time of crisis, but now I see that it’s not quite that easy. "We've lost too much, Drake.”

"I know,” she mutters.

My mind wanders to the recent memory of gemstones encrusted in bronze, glinting in the moonlight. "If there were any way to bring any of it back... Any of it?"

"I wouldn't hesitate. But it won't happen, Shae."

Just goes to show how much she knows. I turn around and storm out of the shack. I hate to keep Celina and Luna waiting, but I’m sure they can spare a few more minutes. I just hope they’ll be able to forgive me.

The world steps aside for me as I walk back uphill. No passing villager stands in my way, and the rain trickles to a stop. The skies are clearing out, at least a little bit.

Acceptance of inevitability can be tragically calming, as there are things that one simply cannot change. Even the Weather Guild must make way for a happenstance storm at times. Even Rosemary can’t craft the perfect weapon. A parent can’t fully control their child. So now, here I stand, at the gate of a decision. I can either enter the infirmary, or turn around and go back to Everfree. Do I accept the inevitable? Or do I take a chance and change one thing?

I’ve already decided. I open the doors and step inside.

Mother, what are you doing?

I politely nod to the injured soldiers who have taken up resting places in the entrance hall, and again to the healers on standby. They look at me oddly, no doubt wondering why I’ve returned after making my exit.

Something is only inevitable if, well… it can’t be changed. Even if somepony were to go after Boysenberry, he wouldn’t return to Jarl Drake. He crafted that inevitability. Further, even if Jarl Drake hadn’t so stupidly interfered with the battle strategy, we still couldn’t have prepared for the damage Shokenda would do. Or what the dragon did to Caro.

But perhaps I can change what happens next. After all, I have access to an artifact that exists outside the bonds of probability. Something that can change history itself.

Yes, that’s it… History will change by my hoof. The world needs its hero, and I will not let him fade from history because of circumstances beyond his control.

Mother, please consider what you’re about to do…

Nothing slows me down as I ascend the stairs and step through the hallway. Not even the thought of what happened to Squall when he made use of an Elder Scroll. After all, his actions were purely selfish, driven by a mad desire nopony would have wanted. He couldn’t withstand the Elder Scrolls’ might because he didn’t have respect for its power.

But I do. I can comprehend its might. I’m borrowing only a sliver of its full potential, and it’s all so Equestria can be saved.

It’s foolishness, Mother. You don’t have to do this. Come home.

I enter Caro and Tohro’s room quietly, hoping that they’re both getting a good night’s rest. I see them right where they were before, lying on their sides, wrapped up in an embrace tight to the point where I can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins. And, thankfully, both of them are fast asleep. In an odd reversal of what I’d expect from them, Tohro is the one cradling Caro, smothering the larger stallion’s head between his neck and chest. I suppose it’s the better option than the reverse, seeing as Caro is quite the snorer.

Just let them be. They’re able to find happiness despite their heavy hearts, and you should do the same.

The wooden floors are suddenly so loud. I don’t recall them creaking this much before. When I set my hoof down, the sound ravages the quiet night air. Thankfully, Caro only shifts slightly with a nasally grunt, burying his muzzle deeper beneath the collar of Tohro’s robe. In subconscious response, Tohro tightens his embrace and rubs his cheek against Caro’s mane. They’re too deeply entrenched in each other’s dreams to notice the world around them.

I cast some light levitation magic on my hooves to soften the impact of my steps. Now I’m nearly silent, which serves me well as I slowly approach the bag where I found the Elder Scroll.

I open the bag, dreading for a moment that in the short time I was gone, somepony had went and moved the Elder Scroll. I let out a long breath of relief when I see that it’s still there. I try to levitate it out, but my aura dissipates the instant it wraps around the scroll’s casing. I should have expected as much, but it was worth a try.

This is a sign, Mother. Please stop what you’re doing. There’s still time.

With hooves trembling from fear and excitement, I unravel the scroll and reveal what lies upon its immortal parchment. I didn’t know what to expect in the first place, but this… It’s something different. I cast a soft illumination spell to get better acquainted with what it says.

The letters seem to shift and change before my eyes, as I’m reading them. I can’t get through a single sentence, let alone any spells (assuming there are any), without the text suddenly transitioning into something completely different. For a moment, I’m looking over a writing about a volcanic eruption, and before I’m able to finish it, it has shifted into a passage about a being of shadow that plagues a distant land. Before I’m able to read that, the text disappears entirely.

You’re tampering with forces beyond your control! Don’t do this!

I’m already disoriented just from trying to read lines of scripture on this bloody thing. I look further down the scroll, passing more moving blocks of text, and stop when I see a few etchings. A detailed map catches my attention. It’s Equestria. And I don’t think it’d be out of line to assume this is the most accurate map of Equestria there could possibly be. I see mountain ranges that aren’t on any maps I know of, as well as uncharted forests and roads nopony has likely traveled before. If only I had more time to look upon it…

The map changes. It expands upon the parchment, as if I were looking at it through an eagle’s eye. Now I find myself looking at a skyward view of Ghastly Gorge, and just next to it is the small town I happen to be in at this very moment. Could it be that the Elder Scroll is trying to show me something?

It can only lead you astray, or worse! Don’t believe what it tells you!

The map changes again. I’m looking at a schematic of this infirmary. With a little searching, I can see the room I’m sitting in, and there, next to the beds… I’m right there, in ink form, reading this scroll. For a moment of sanity, I look up at the ceiling, expecting to see myself looking down at myself. It’s enough to make my head spin.

Mother, stop right now.

I look back at the map. The ink form of me begins to move. She sets the Elder Scroll down, then sits. After a moment where nothing happens, I realize what I should do. I set the Elder Scroll down, then sit. I keep an eye on my ink self, my heart pounding until she starts to move again. She stands, turns to the bed next to her, and begins casting some sort of spell.

I look to that same bed, where Caro and Tohro lie. Yes, this should be exactly what I’m looking for…

Mother.

I step away from the Elder Scroll and glide over to Caro and Tohro. I wrap my aura around Caro’s hooves, neck, and head. Then, I gently remove him from Tohro. His motions are slow enough to not rouse him or Tohro from their sleep. I turn Caro over onto his side, now able to clearly see the stump where his left foreleg should be.

Mother, please.

I look to the scroll again. This time, there is no map to be found. I fear I did something wrong, but then I see myself upon the parchment again, joined by a caption that writes itself out as my ink form’s eyes turn white, and power surges through her body. More power than any unicorn could possibly imagine. Power that defies the limits of an alicorn.

Mother, stop!

I silently plead with the Elder Scroll to let me have that power. Just for a moment. I won’t use it for any purpose other than to help my friend, and in doing so, help countless others. Equestria needs its Dragonborn, and the Dragonborn needs me. So please, give me the strength to bring him back to his full glory. I won’t ask for anything else.

NO! MOTHER! STOP!

My hooves feel heavy. They drop to the floor, hitting the wood panels hard. I don’t see it come from anywhere, but I feel the Elder Scrolls’ gift flowing into me, manifesting into something I’ve never felt before. This isn’t just power, this is everything. This is absolute. The will of the world imbued within me.

I turn to Caro. I direct this power through my horn as I conjure up the most powerful healing spell I could possibly think of. But it takes none of my strength. I feel no limitations, no pool of magic being depleted from my body. It’s an infinite stream of pure black aura that encapsulates Caro, slowly lifting him from his bed.

But the strange lights and sudden sensation of being airborne is what causes Caro to open his eyes. He shifts around in the air until he sees me. Understandably, he’s rife with confusion. “W-What is this?!” he yells. “Shae! What’s happening?!”

“All will be well,” I reply with tranquility. Despite the nightmarish black light surrounding me, I still sound like myself. I’m in control. I know what I’m doing.

MOTHER!

“Shae!” Caro is forcibly turned until his stump faces me. I cast everything the Elder Scroll has given me into him. The black aura gravitates to the stump, growing and shifting until it takes the form of an appendage.

IT’S NOT TOO LATE, MOTHER! YOU DON’T NEED TO DO THIS!

Tohro rises from his sleep at the sound of Caro’s voice. “Mrragh… Is it morning already?” he grumbles. He’s taken out of his sleepiness the instant he sees Caro floating above him, as well as me, casting a nonstop stream of the Elder Scrolls’ power. “What in Epona’s name?!” he shouts.

The black aura has finished its job. Its shape is just like that of Caro’s old foreleg. It removes itself from Caro, and in its absence leaves him with the growing flesh of a new foreleg.

I mentally thank the Elder Scroll for its strength, and stop casting the spell.

But I can’t stop. It won’t let me.

MOTHER!!

“Oh no. Caro…” I have to get away from that thing. I step away as a sudden terror overcomes me. “Caro, Tohro! Somepony help!”

The spell won’t stop. The Elder Scroll won’t leave me alone. I can see its text in the corners of my vision. It’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t read it. It’s all too much. It’s too much information. It’s too much power. It becomes a haze, rapidly clouding my vision.

I fall onto my hind legs. I clutch my head between my hooves and shake my head furiously. It still won’t leave me alone! Why won’t it stop?! I don’t want this power anymore! I don’t want this! I don’t want this. I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this

“SOMEPONY HELP ME!!”

I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

If this were any other magical anomaly, I’d call upon a sage to help us. But this is beyond the realm of any mage’s understanding, much less my own. Caro is stuck in the air, holding his restored left foreleg, growling in pain as the raw flesh grows upon him before his eyes.

I can come to conclusions right away. This is the same black aura I saw in King Hurricane’s memories, when Squall did… that… to those helpless ponies. This is not natural. I don’t care if an Elder Scroll is the will of the universe. It already played a part in destroying King Hurricane’s life. I’m not going to let it take another.

I leap from the bed and land right in front of the open scroll. I lift it up from the ground, and while it’s as light as any given scroll, it still feels as though I’m picking up an entire world. I turn the knobs upon the seal until the parchment is rolled back up. Even then, the aura doesn’t disappear. Shae is still screaming as lies down, and Caro is still floating.

In a moment of panic, the only apparent solution to me is to bash the Elder Scroll against the ground several times. After three hits, the aura fluctuates around Caro. That’s progress. I turn around and ram the scroll into the bedside table, then the wall behind it.

“Leave them alone!” I yell at it.

I throw it on the ground and watch as it rolls to a stop. The aura is weaker, loosening up on Caro, but Shae is still paralyzed by it. Her eyes are still and unblinking.

“Somepony…” she chokes out.

I reach into my bag. I count the seconds until my hoof finds my gauntlet. I slip it on and trigger the hidden blade. I gallop to the Elder Scroll, plant my hoof on it, hold the parchment still, and drive my blade into it with a desperate cry.

I’m flung against the bedside table, hitting the back of my head hard enough to make my vision go topsy for a second. I shake it off, and rub where I’m pretty sure I’ll have a bruise.

Caro has landed back on the bed on his front. He turns to me and shows off his left foreleg. It’s restored in its entirety. Well, aside from a lack of much fur, but that’ll come back in due time. At least, I hope it does. I never thought such a normal part of a stallion’s body would be so amazing to look upon.

“Amazing…” Caro whispers, stroking his leg as if to prove to himself it’s even real. “How did she do it? Shae?”

He looks over to the little mage. She’s still in shock, lying on her side and holding herself. A few sparks of black aura are still coming off of her.

“Shae?” The wonder in Caro’s voice disappears. He gets off the bed. His new foreleg hits the ground first. He kneels on it for a second, then fully stands up. He’s just as majestic as I remember. But neither of us have time to bask in this miracle. We run over to Shae as she begins to rise.

Why couldn’t I see it before? Shae was in pain and I never stopped to think I should do something to help her! I was so lost in Caro’s touch, I assumed that time would stop for me until I would inevitably have to step away from him… Now look at what’s happened.

“Shae… You could have died,” I say to her. “Are you mad?”

She turns her head my way, though she doesn’t look at me directly. “Maybe a little,” she murmurs. “I felt so helpless. I didn’t want to just let this happen…”

“I owe you everything for this, but never scare me like that again.” Caro kneels down to her and lifts her up by her withers. She leans on him as he speaks. “You should know by now, if it’s a choice between a piece of myself or you, I will always pick you.”

“I know… I just…” Shae’s lips pucker as she lets a few tears fall.

“Shae,” Caro says firmly. “Look me in the eye and promise me that you’ll never do anything like this again.”

Shae continues to whimper as she looks past Caro.

“Shae, look at me,” he says, tapping her on the cheek.

“I can’t.”

Caro and I glance at each other. “You can’t promise him that?” I ask.

“No… I…” Shae chokes. Her words are broken and inelegant beneath her sobs. She turns towards the vicinity between me and Caro. “I can’t see...”

Her face comes into the moonlight. Immediately, I see what she’s crying about. Her pupils shine, reflecting the image of the night sky. Her eyes are clouded and distant, unable to fixate upon anything.

“I… didn’t think this would... I just… I couldn’t stand by and… I couldn’t just do nothing… I had to… t… aaaah…”

I trot closer to Caro and Shae, kneel down, and bring my forelegs around them both. I share a grim, miserable look with Caro. Silently, we resolve to stay there beneath the moonlight, taking in the misery of our mage’s loss. We don’t leave her even as the sages come running in, demanding to know what just happened.

~Vision End~

~Shae~

Mother...

I'm sorry.

Mother, why did you do this?

I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry...

Why did you do this, Mommy?

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry