Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there lived a beautiful young princess…

~Tohro~

I hate my home. I think that repeatedly as I look over the snow-drenched burrows of Fillydelphia from atop this hill. I can’t believe it’s never occurred to me before, but… I hate this place. I hate the smell, I hate the cold, I hate the anger that permeates these streets, and I hate the mare responsible for it all.

It’s been so many months since Shokenda scarred me and made her, my eye, and Fillydelphia, a collective black blemish on my life. Fillydelphia especially. Any time I see a map of Equestria, my old home might as well just be a scorching hole in the parchment, with an insignia written in red.

You will never go home again.

And I would reply: “Fine.” Why would I want to go home to a place so filled with rotten souls? There is nothing here for me, especially now that Jade and Half Pint have abandoned the Blackwings. Long ago I made a vow that the only reason I’d set hoof back into this tarpit would be to kill Shokenda. Unfortunately, it seems that will have to wait. I can at least take comfort in knowing I’ll be walking out of there with rescued children in tow, as well as Temerity in chains.

Given that we’re going under the noses of an entire military, Shae saw fit to give us all temporary magical disguises, though even with her powers, she can’t completely change our appearances. My coat and hair have been changed from white and yellow to beige and black. Not exactly an upgrade. Caro looks adorable as a pinto. Shae has opted for switching her lavender coat and black hair, as well as putting on some fake pince nez. Rosemary’s fur is now grey, and her mane is a slightly darker grey. Wolf River and Tangerine’s natural dark fur will disguise them well enough. We are as inconspicuous as bread in a bakery.

As if that wasn’t enough, Rosemary also brought some old clothes for us to wear. Caro reluctantly puts on a worker’s jacket. I wrap a scarf around my muzzle and eye, and prop my hood. Everyone else wears generic winter robes, which I’m sure they plan on shedding once they enter the secret passageway.

For the last bit of levity we’ll have before we enter the belly of the beast, Rosemary sings for us. I’ve never noticed until now, but she has a truly ethereal singing voice.

“For smiling ponies, joy high roll, deny no pleasures to my soul.
Epona is health 'round briskly move, Epona is the friend of love…”

I know this shanty well. While I would never interrupt Rosemary, I find myself muttering the refrain of the song, while images of a smug Temerity Blackwing flash through my head.

“And he that would this health deny...
Down among the dead ones, down among the dead ones,
down, down, down, down...
Down among the dead ones let him lie…”

We approach the entrance of Fillydelphia. The long bridge there is littered with cracks, and the cold wind of the water’s edge stings my fur. This is no weather to fly in. I assume that the Blackwing guards we pass are warmed by their own depravity. They have so much violence in their eyes… That used to be me. I stay between Caro and Wolf River.

“State your business,” says one of the spear-wielding guards at the front gate.

“Trade, sir,” says Rosemary, stepping forward with a plethora of her swords in tow. “I wish to market my wares to the local merchants.”

He grunts. He seems to accept her bluff just fine. Rosemary is a better liar than I expected her to be. “Alright. And your friends?”

“Bodyguards,” Wolf RIver says, tapping his chest.

The other spear-wielder looks us over. Now is where the skepticism sets in. “That’s like bringing two shields to a sword fight, innit?” she asks.

“Leave them be, Orion,” says the male guard. “Thievery is far more common now than it needs to be. She should count herself lucky she found so many dependables. Strength in numbers, right?”

“Rightly so,” Wolf River says. “May we enter?”

The male guard nods and taps his spear to the gate. “You may. Glory to Shokenda Blackwing.”

“Glory to…” I say out of habit, before trailing off. I curse at myself under my breath, for apparently not having completely killed the Blackwing inside of me. I might have to erase my last name, before Caro erases Shokenda.

Here’s a homecoming. Crumbling houses and steps, snow building up unattended in front of front doors, which have broken windows. It’s almost hilarious; there is an absurd amount of broken windows. Fillydelphia is exactly what one would think Shokenda’s realm would look like. This is where decency goes to die.

“Fauste’s horn…” I hear Shae mutter as she stops walking.

“What do your magic eyes see, love?” I ask her, already suspecting her dreary answer.

“Everything here is… This is just wrong. I see shards of red. Auras are broken and scattered, so filled with hate. They leave traces of it wherever they go. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

I wish I had her vision back when I thought this place was a shining beacon of light in a broken country. I might have seen the truth. The ponies that walk these cobblestone streets are ugly and decrepit, both in appearance and demeanor, and yet, they do not seem aware of it.

“It seems we have visitors,” says a passersby. Beneath his hood, I can see that his eyes are bloodshot, and his coat is overgrown, caked with mud. He holds his hoof out and waves it along the many beaten down shops and houses before us in the town square. “Welcome to the Blackwing capital! Might I recommend a few places of interest?”

“No, but thank you,” I say, bowing respectively. “Although we would appreciate directions to the docks.”

The villager points to the street on our right. “Thataway, good sir. But you’ll need a writ of passage in order to access it without a vessel.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” I tap the villager on the barrel. “Go about your business. Glory to Shokenda.”

“Glory to Shokenda,” he says with far too much pride. “Don’t forget to pass by the shrine today.”

I wave to him as he walks off into an alley, most likely off to participate in some form of debauchery, or shit in the streets. I miss Everfree. Though I did find a silver lining in talking to him, specifically the one in his pocket.

“So, we need a writ of passage… Anyone have a boat in their pouch?” Wolf River asks with a chuckle.

I present the folded writ of passage that was in the villager’s pocket. “You think I didn’t already know the rules of this city? What do you take me for?” I give the writ to Wolf River. “Present this to the guards at the docks’ entrance, then slip into the sewers when no one is looking.”

“Sneakthief.” Wolf River grins at me. Now that’s a face Tangerine couldn’t have possibly not fallen in love with. “And that’s where we’ll find the secret passage. With any luck, that’ll lead us to Nutmeg and Cinnamon.”

“Caro and I will go looking for Temerity,” I continue. “It’s midday, so he should be around his quarters in the barracks. I’ll get as much information out of him as I can, and take him into custody. He’ll spend the rest of his life in an Everfree cell.”

Caro, as per the norm, has his thoughts on something other than the task at hoof. He’s looking up at the palace of Ysgramare, Shokenda’s sanctum and pit of depravity. Its pillared balconies and gaping windows overlook the city much like the all-seeing eyes of Shokenda herself, piercing through and semblance of comfort, even through the heavy snowfall.

“Tempting to just burn this whole city to the ground, huh?” I whisper to Caro.

“Huh?” He’s broken out of his trance. “Oh, no. Shokenda is the problem here, not them.”

Knowing who he used to be, I’m surprised that he can stomach the sight of these filthy streets. But I know Caro. He’s a misguided idealist who becomes less misguided every day, without losing any of his idealism. I did this to him.

“Well, at least the mead here is good… at times,” I admit. “Shokenda’s court wizards use artificial sunlight to grow juniper berries. We can pick up a sack of them on our way to the barracks, how does that sound?”

“That’s…” Caro smiles, but his attention is quickly diverted away. I too am caught by the sound of shouting guards, and someone else screaming willy-nilly. That voice sounds familiar, but it’s drowned out by the distance and the sounds of commerce. It sounds like it’s coming from… ugh, the shrine.

“Come on,” I say, tapping Caro on the wither. “I know that voice.”

“Good luck!” Rosemary shouts.

“No dying, now!” Wolf River adds.

Caro and I ascend the steps into the town square. Most holds have a fountain or a statue as a significant landmark. Something regal and beautiful that gives the city an identity. What does Fillydelphia have? A crucifix, with the years-old blood and bones of some pony no one knew the name of held to it by ropes and nails. Children, couples and families gather around it like it’s the most inconspicuous thing in the world.

On the base of the crucifix are the carved words, Shokenda’s future, our future, began here.

“What the fu—” Caro exclaims upon seeing the ghastly sight. I cover his mouth before he makes a scene.

“It’s sacred,” I mutter to him.

“But it’s—”

I shoot him a glare that would put a fire out. “It’s sacred.”

It's not like it matters much anyway. I see what we came up here for further down the street, by one of my favorite book stores. It’s a prisoner convoy, consisting of several guards and two gated carriages. Three unicorn guards have a heavily robed earthwalker pinned to the ground, their collective magic holding his hooves behind his back.

"I don't have anything to do with the Empire! Back off!" the earthwalker shouts, thrashing his head. His hood comes off, revealing orange fur and spectacles. I should have known Smart Cookie couldn't make it out of Blackwing territory on his own. I can’t wait to rub this in his face.

For his impudence, he gets a swift buck to the side of the head by one of the guards. "Silence. This isn't about the Empire, shit-for-brains," she says. She takes Smart Cookie's glasses off, throws them on the ground, and crushes them. "Shokenda simply wants a private word with you. Refusal is not an option for Her Preeminence."

"Get fucked with a rusted spike!" Smart Cookie shouts.

The female guard bucks him again. At this rate, he might as well just be known as Cookie. “No one wants to hear about your libido. Get in the damn cart.” She and the other guards fit chained cuffs on, lift him up by his hooves and drag him along the cobblestone up to the carriages. “If you had just complied, you wouldn’t be going to Shokenda in chains.”

“Surprisingly, people become a little disgruntled when you act like a—” Smart Cookie’s expletives are cut short when he is thrown into the carriage. I hear him and a few other prisoners grunt as he slams into them.

“Go about your business,” the guard says to the bystanders as the carriage is pulled away. She and the other guards disperse, waving civilians off from the scene.

I feared that, at some point, the proverbial carriage we’ve been riding on would derail and we’d have to adjust our plans accordingly, but I didn’t expect this. There’s now a fork in the path, one that could be more important than the road we’ve been traveling this whole time.

Caro and I turn away, returning to the shrine. I speak to him in a hushed tone. “This complicates things a bit.”

“Shokenda will do anything to get the location of the Precursor tomb out of him,” Caro says grimly, breathing heavily. “This is not good. Equestria could lose another one of its founders, and who knows what could be in that tomb that she could use to turn this war in her favor. Elder Scrolls, perhaps, but it could be something even worse. Precursor magic was powerful enough to lift entire cities into the sky, what if that were used as a weapon against the Empire?”

“I think we should weigh our options,” I suggest. “Smart Cookie is one hell of a liar, being able to remain hidden for so long. I think he could turn the interrogation in his favor, or at the very least resist Shokenda long enough… Then again, this is Shokenda we’re talking about.”

I see the determined look in Caro’s eye. He’s already made his decision, and I don’t think I’ll be able to talk him out of this one. “I’m a non-factor in this mission,” he says. “I have the least amount of ties to Tangerine’s family and I don’t know Temerity as well as you do. Shokenda, however, would be expecting me to show up at one point or another.”

“I think you should set your sights a little lower, love,” I say, wrapping my forelegs around his neck. “You’re amazing, and any foe should cower before you, but you are still not strong enough to fight Shokenda.”

“Shokenda wants me as her plaything. It doesn’t matter if I win, I just have to survive. I’ll catch her in the middle of her interrogation of Smart Cookie, challenge her, entertain her for a little while, and let Smart Cookie take care of the rest. He’s resourceful. I’m sure that, given enough of a distraction, he’ll find a way out.”

He makes for a convincing argument, but still… “That’s a lot of what-ifs.”

“Then here’s something definite. Shokenda will be so busy with me that you and the others won’t have to worry about her ruining everything.”

And just like that, he’s got me sold on his insane idea. All I can hope for is that I’m not sending him off to another death. I can’t lose him again. But he has a tendency to make his dreams a reality, so if he doesn’t intend on dying, then he won’t. I trust him that much.

Just as I’m about to kiss him and tell him for the hundredth time how much I love him, a glint of white catches my eye. In the distance, through the snow, I can see Shokenda flying from Ysgramare. She appears to be flying to the slums. But for what reason?

“Caro, eyes up.” I point at Shokenda. Caro turns and spots her almost immediately. “She doesn’t usually leave her abode unannounced,” I say. “This only happens if she has an emergency situation to attend to.”

“Something must have grabbed her attention, something that concerns her more than Smart Cookie.” He smirks. “We can catch her unawares.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” I start walking. “This city can be dangerous, and Temerity isn’t going anywhere. I’ll lead you to her.”

Caro starts to follow, but he’s distracted by something at the shrine. A little filly has kneeled before it, her hooves clasped together. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but it’s fairly obvious that she’s praying. She looks at the skeleton with, dare I say, reverence.

Caro purses his lips and scowls. “I’m going to throw up.”

I put one foreleg around him and pull him away. “Don’t look at it.”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

How any ships make it in or out of this harbor without any damage is beyond me. Between the mountains that border this city, and the river that leads off the mainland, there are thick sheets of ice that I doubt any schooner could get through without a carver.

Rosemary, bless her, is keeping the dock guards occupied with her surprising silver tongue. I think finally coming out of her shell to her mother has helped in this regard. Letting go of a lie she burdened herself for months with has made her a better liar. She’s not working under stress.

While I hide behind a large pillar next to the sewer entrance, I listen through the Fae. In one ear, I hear Tangerine and Wolf River knocking out one patroller after another, while in the other ear I hear Rosemary. “So, a pass to Saddle Arabia is how much?” she asks the guards. Tangerine told her to say absolutely anything, so she’s chosen to do what she does best: annoy authority figures.

“I told you, lady, we don’t sell passes, we just survey arrivals and departures,” the younger of the two guards says. “Besides, if you want to go to Saddle Arabia legally, you’ll need both a pass and a visitor’s writ, which you can obtain at Reinoc.”

Rosemary puts on the face of the most confused mare in equine history. “Why can’t I get one here?”

“Why would anyone want to leave this paradise?” The guard thrusts his hoof out to the walls of Fillydelphia with pride, beaming at their crumbled, inconsistently lain glory. “Shokenda takes care of us. Leaving her is the last thing on any sane pony’s mind.”

Sane? I think.

Rosemary's face lights up with the widest, beaming smile, as she seems to swell with pride. Or withheld laughter, as her aura has become bubbly. "Aye, but why should we not spread the wondrous news of Shokenda across the world? The Empire may turn their simple minds away, but her gloriousness would surely not be lost upon others."

"You know those lands are beyond saving,” says the young guard. “At least, that's what Shokenda says. Equestria is the last beacon of light for this poisoned world, and the founders lied to us when they said they'd make it a perfect kingdom. That's why we'll remain here, until the light truly shines."

They don't know light. The only thing they know is dogma. Poor souls...

Rosemary steps forward, and the guards step back in turn. "Do you think her light so weak, it needs protectin' from the weak-minded beyond these walls?" The guards are now backed into a corner, and seem to have forgotten their wings as they cower. "Are you questionin' her power to bring all the world into her control?"

That'll do. Through the Fae, I hear the last of the six lookouts kiss the pavement, done in by Tangerine's deft hoof. I tap the pillar and softly whistle to Rosemary, then kick off, running quietly yet quickly along the water's edge until I reach the sewer entrance. I shuffle along the edge, avoiding touching the water, lest I tear this whole operation apart before it truly begins. I hear Rosemary follow from behind.

“Will your new friend follow?” I ask.

“No. Apparently you can love Shokenda a little too much for some of her so-called children to tolerate.”

I tap my muzzle to Rosemary’s cheek. “Good. More for me.”

“Now’s not the time, kids,” Wolf River says, emerging from around the corner. He has blood on his hooves, which he washes off in the sewer water. When he pulls his hoof back out, it’s covered in a thick layer of sludgy unmentionables.

“Oi, wash that jabby off...” Rosemary says, scrunching up her muzzle. She’s just now noticing how putrid the scent of the sewers has grown with every step we’ve taken. “Anyway, when they were all good and riled up, I knocked ‘em out, so we shouldn’t be havin’ any followers. Where’s me Mum?”

“Right here, hon.” Tangerine drops down from a balcony up above. “Keep your voice low, you’re startin’ to echo.” She raises her hoof to her lips, which are also covered in blood. That raises more questions, which she answers when she notices me and Rosemary’s eyes widening. “Oh, I had to transform for a wee bit back there… One of the burlier soldiers was gettin’ loud, so I tore a bit o’ his neck out. Wasn’t clean.”

“I’ll say…” Rosemary mutters.

Tangerine shrugs incredulously. “I didn’t swallow.”

She’s a wolf in spirit now, that’s for certain.

It’s gotten colder. I can’t tell the difference between night and day much anymore, but even a little bit of light has a presence in the Fae, and I can no longer see it. I’m not looking forward to diving into the unknown like this, but the thought of meeting my future in-laws helps me smile through the dread.

At the end of the long sewer, we turn the corner into a brick hallway. It alone is cleaner than all of Fillydelphia, at least as far as we’ve seen. Still, I can imagine that, with the foul scent and lack of sunlight, only those who want to be here would ever come.

At the end of the hallway is a steel door with a window slot. Beyond the door, I see and feel the auras of more red, shattered Blackwings… and one child. One can only wonder what they’re doing to the poor thing.

Rosemary, fearing that she might still be recognized on the other side, pulls her hat down and hides her face from immediate view. I adjust my hood, and Tangerine tightens her scarf around her muzzle.

Wolf River takes the helm, leading us to the door. He turns his head towards the three of us. “Let me do the talking. The Blackwings know me the least.” He smirks. “Mostly because I’ve killed every single one I’ve met. I don’t think I’ll be breaking that streak today.”

Tangerine clicks her tongue. “Too late, you haven’t killed Tohro yet.”

“Yes, but I like Tohro. Therefore, he was never a Blackwing.” He puts his hoof against the door. “No more delays. Let’s save those kids.” A blunt metallic clang rattles my ears as he knocks.

After a few seconds, the window slot opens. The face of a Blackwing comes into view. “What dies when it drinks?” he asks.

Wolf River clears his throat. “Fire, my brother.”

There was an index of riddles scribbled in the corner of Fade’s sales log, on an indiscriminate page. If we hadn’t found them on the journey over, we’d all be in serious trouble.

“Why aren’t you in uniform?” the guard asks.

Wolf River takes a subtle bow. Even with the benefit of knowing he’s lying, there is sincerity behind every word he speaks. “We’re not with the Blackwings, but we’ve sympathized with the intrepid spirit of this rebellion for some time. We wish to look into this secret operation.”

This is good so far. The guard seems more curious than suspicious, and his aura remains steady, if still shredded. “Who sent you?”

“We wouldn’t know. The letter telling us of your location was pieced together with other letters.”

The guard turns away. My heart skips a beat. I look at the auras of the Blackwings in the room again, this time noticing a particularly stable aura belonging to a sitting pony. He turns his head. I think he’s making eye contact with the guard at the door. I wait another agonizing moment, knowing that the whole mission could be torn apart with a single gesture.

The gesture is a nod. That could mean anything.

The guard closes the window. I hear a click on the other side. The door opens.

“You may enter,” a softer voice says from the inside.

I follow Wolf River through the entrance. Contrasting the degrading city that sits above this facility, everything in here can’t be described as anything but pristine. Clean walls, cushioned seats, a rug, there’s a bottle of wine on a glass table… In order to get this all in here, there must be other secret entrances. That, or a powerful unicorn learned how to teleport across rooms. Even I haven’t quite gotten the hang of that; it’s not a matter of strength, it’s a matter of finesse.

The Fae wasn’t lying, there is a child in here. A grey filly sits in the corner, playing with wooden blocks. She looks up from the little house she’s building and waves to us. “Hiya!” she chirps.

I ignore all other ponies in the room and walk over to her, though I remember to pick my words carefully, as I have three Blackwing guards breathing down my neck.

“I don’t think this is a place for children, little one,” I say to the filly. “I suggest that you go home.”

The filly looks offended that I would suggest that. “But me Daddy told me ta stay here until he got back.”

“Hello,” says the soft voice. I turn back around and see the sitting pony, a lilac stallion with a braided maroon mane. He sits at a meticulously organized desk full of papers, quill and ink levitated at his side. “Welcome to my home away from home… My second quarters, if you will. I’m glad you caught me, I was just about to go back upstairs.”

“Who are you?” Tangerine asks. Judging by the tremors in Rosemary’s aura, I can already guess.

“Temerity Blackwing,” he replies, putting the ink down and writing his signature. “Well met, all of you.” He speaks so affably. After all the monsters, both equine or otherwise, that I’ve had to face, it’s surreal to hear this kidnapper talk as if his greatest crime is tax evasion. But I won’t let that get to me. This is somepony I know is responsible for ruining hundreds of lives.

“And you as well, sir,” says Wolf River. Only now do I hear a little of his sincerity disappear.

Temerity stands up and walks around his desk. He has a limp in his left hind leg, further emphasized by the metal brace that comes into view. This explains why he would find sitting behind a desk far more enjoyable “I’m happy to have outsider opinions on my magnum opus, for once,” he says. “Better than the usual array of bootlickers I find myself surrounded by.”

One of the three guards posted around the room grunts. I can’t tell which.

Temerity points accusingly at the guard at the far wall. “Don’t deny me, Arwen, you’re a bootlicker and you know it.” He looks back at us. “I’ve been meaning to broaden the scope of this project. It doesn’t have a future without exposure beyond the Blackwings. Otherwise it’s just masturbatory, if I may be so blunt. So, what do you currently know about the project?”

“I’m led to believe that it’s a sort of facility for reeducation,” Wolf River says. “Something involving children?”

“Of a sort. I would understand if you were squeamish at the thought of children in uncomfortable situations. I won’t pressure you into investing yourselves.” He points to a door behind his desk. “With your permission, I’ll show you what Mistress Shokenda’s most esteemed have created.”

“By all means. Lead the way, Temerity.”

The part that scares me most about Temerity is something I couldn’t confirm until I could get a close look at him. His red aura is entirely intact, and smooth as a sheet of glass.

~Vision End~

~Caro~

It’s not as though every single pony who lives in Fillydelphia is toxic, but it’s hard to keep one’s eye on the pleasant-seeming folk when the downtrodden demand attention.

I suppose I should be happy for the three cheerful children Tohro and I nearly trip over. They don’t seem to care that they live under the oppressive, watchful eye of a deluded matriarch. How long will that blissful innocence last, though? Will it end when their lone, tired mother lets slip her distaste for this city’s pisspoor food stock? The celery she’s negotiating for is still muddled with dirt, for Epona’s sake.

If Everfree is the Equestria I’m trying to preserve, this is the Equestria that I’m trying to save. Trying being the key word here. How do you save a city that believes it’s already been sad?

Tohro and I pass by the ruins of a collapsed house. I expect it to be empty, but for some reason a family of five has taken up residence here. They’re huddled up against one another beneath their meager ceiling space. The overly thin young ones are swaddled between the equally skinny adults on either side of a grossly overweight elderly earthwalker.

“Love? You okay?” I hear Tohro ask. He’s as focused as ever, but I need a moment.

I step into the ruins and shove scraps of wood into a pile near the family. This grabs their attention. I pass a glance and a smile at them, but they just frown at me. The fat one, which is the epicenter of their huddle, scoffs at me. “They already took me son, steal whateva’ ya want.”

My smile disappears. I roll my eyes and let my actions speak for me instead of my lips, aside from one word. “Yul.”

The wood comes ablaze. The adults pull the fat one off his ass and bring the kids over to the fire. Something welcoming to gather around, for a change. “Thank ya, Dragonborn,” says the fat one. “Can I repay ya?”

“No. Feed your kids,” I grunt, turning around and heading back to Tohro. I’m stopped by one of the children tapping me on the hind leg. “Hm?”

The kid’s teeth are yellow like pollen-coated metal and one of his eyes is lazy. He looks up at me and asks, “Dragonborn, are y’gonna fight S’kenda?”

I don’t believe in lying to children. I’ll save them from anything but the truth. “Yes.”

The kid clasps his hooves together and kneels before me. “Please don’t kill ‘er. She’s da only ‘un we can trust anymo’.”

I look up at the family and see that they’re kneeling too, praying to me. Even the fat one is curled over as much as he can be. “Be a noble demon,” he mutters. “Take whatcha want, jus’ don’t leave us widout her…”

The frigid cold has intensified all at once, freezing my hooves to the ground. Or, perhaps, some powerful unicorn has locked my joints so I’m temporarily unable to move. That’s a better reason for me to be rendered immobile than this. I’ve always known that Shokenda needs to die so this war can end and Equestria can be saved. Then, I would turn my attention to Saviikaan.

How can I save those who don’t want to be saved?

“What would you do if Shokenda died?” I ask the family.

“I ‘unno,” says the fat one, his somber expression making him look even more pathetic. “We’d ‘ave nuttin’ iffit weren’t fer ‘er. I ‘unno what I’d believe in if she’re dead.”

Maybe they need to be saved from themselves first. “You have a family. Believe in that,” I say definitively. I turn in place and walk away, like I should have in the first place. “Equestria is going to change, very soon. Come what may, you’ll have to be prepared for it.”

“Please don’t kill ‘er!” the kid squeals.

I didn’t lie to him, at least… I squint my eyes, cringing at the sound of someone other than a Blackwing wishing Shokenda anything but the worst. When I open them up again, I’m treated to the welcome gaze of Tohro, whose sparkling blue eyes calm my anger. Not entirely sure who I’m angry at, but it might be myself.

I look at Tohro, and somehow everything makes sense again. “I didn’t come this far to question where I stand.”

Tohro nods at me. “You’re not here to give them what they want. You’re here to give them what they need.”

It could’ve been any rundown shack in the worst part of this cesspool, but it’s beyond me why Shokenda has touched down in this one specifically. Every house on this road is abandoned, and I doubt anyone is in a hurry to gentrify a district that reeks of blood and piss. There is nothing here for Shokenda.

And yet, as Tohro and I peek around the edge of a brick barrier, we see her, in all her albino glory, standing among the wreckage of an unseeming ruined cottage. Despite her presence being overpowering as ever, she seems distinctly bothered by this place. All the more reason to wonder why she’d be here, but more than that, in the past she was too arrogant to be bothered by anything other than disobedience, or me landing a lucky blow on her. Now she has a look of, dare I say, sadness.

“You have been unruly,” she whispers.

My heart jumps. Tohro pulls me back around the barrier and holds his breath, covering my mouth. We await some sort of magical explosion, or a sea of summoned blades, but nothing comes. After a minute or so, we dare to have another look.

Shokenda is still just standing there, sad and alone. I can’t imagine she ever had any need for friends, but seeing her without anyone to demean or subjugate is almost pathetic. Like a part of her is missing.

“Do we need to do this again?” she whispers, slowly walking to the one unruined cabinet in the room. She opens the top drawer, and pulls out a silk cloth. It looks like it’s wrapped around something round. The cloth drops to the dusty floor, revealing what it contained; a simple white orb with a faint glow.

I gently nudge Tohro and mouth the question, ‘What is that?’

Tohro speaks in the quietest voice he can manage. I lean in close enough that his lips brush my ear. “I think it’s a memory orb…” He takes another look at it, then nods. “Yes… Definitely a memory orb. They’re a Precursor invention. You can use them to get rid of bad memories. I mean, the memory will still be in your head, but the specifics, like sight and sound, go into the orb. The Blackwings use them all the time to forget traumatic battles… I think that’s how I was able to get past all the people I killed. But eventually, I couldn’t forget enough. The emotions kept building up, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Shokenda has tapped her horn to the orb. She stands rigid, her eyes closed, remaining in that position.

“What could Shokenda possibly want to forget?” I ask.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Tohro puts his hoof on Muramasa’s scabbard. “Before I go, do you want to give this a spin? Across her neck?”

“No.” I summon Excalibur to my hoof. “The last thing I want is to go into a blood rage. I need to keep my composure. Find the right opportunity to strike, then get away. Besides, you can use Muramasa as a threat against anyone who spots you... “ I chortle. “As if that could happen. You’ll be one with the shadows.”

“Caro…” I can see a glint of desperation in Tohro’s frown. His hooves shake, creating the sound of rattling metal. “I’m so scared… I...” he speaks through clenched teeth. “Do you have any idea how many nightmares I have where you don’t wake up from that coma?”

“Probably just as many as I do.” I place my free hoof on Tohro’s, putting his trembling to an end. “I’m scared too… But, you know, I’ve been scared for a long time. When I went under, for a moment, it seemed like I had done enough. Like I had cast a light for my friends to follow. But then there was you. You gave me a reason to wake up. I needed to hear your answer.”

He nods. I notice a few tears escape his eyes. “A-And my answer was yes. So don’t keep me waiting again.”

“...Okay, just a little longer.” I gently pull Tohro against me, his head resting gently against my neck. I keep him there, satiating his reluctance to leave me, and let him blanket me with his wings. Under the cover of hundreds of feathers, the snow lets up its assault on us, and the chilling wind is gone, if only for a little while. Until we muster the courage to move onward, we are each other’s shield. Even Shokenda seems like she’s a whole world away, instead of a few steps.

But those few steps must be crossed. So, with one soft, tender kiss, I tell Tohro, “Good luck.”

Tohro takes me in a tight, warm embrace. “Please don’t die,” he mutters, his voice strained. Even as he takes flight, he doesn’t stop looking at me, and I don’t stop looking at him until he merges with the snowy sky.

I cross over the barrier, and with long, steady strides, move forward. I roll my neck to work out a kink, take a deep breath, twirl Excalibur in my hoof, and step into the house.

Shokenda is gone.

Huh.

Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. I can’t imagine she would want to maintain a presence here. Besides, what has me more interested than a fight, for once, is that mysterious object of hers. A memory orb… For all of her posturing, Shokenda is still quite the ghost, having come out of nowhere to haunt the world. There must be something about her in this orb that could reveal a debilitating weakness, or at the very least help me understand her more, perhaps allow me to get under her skin.

I reach for the top drawer and pull out the silk cloth. I unveil the orb. It’s mystical in its perfect shape and gentle glow, but also unseeming. One would mistake it for just another magical trinket, and not a very interesting one at that. Considering the hundreds of Precursor artifacts and legendary weapons that lie in waiting for the yearning adventurer, a single glowing orb is hardly noteworthy.

And yet, knowing what this is, I just have to see what it contains. But it’s no good. Touching it without the cloth doesn’t do anything. I touch it to my forehead, but again, nothing happens.

“Damn you…” I growl. If this thing won’t be useful, then it’s wasting my time. What if these precious few minutes are the difference between life and death for Nutmeg and Cinnamon?

After tapping the memory orb to my head a few more times, I get a little rougher. I tap it on the side of a broken table. Nothing. I drop it on the ground. Nothing. What the hell? My one glimpse into Shokenda’s past and it’s sealed inside a fucking rock?!

I hear Rasahrel speak. “Caro, watch your temper.”

“Shut up!” I yell, staring intensely at the memory orb. I growl at it, ignorant of how stupid I might look to a passersby. “Dumb rock!” I throw to the floor and watch it bounce away, undamaged. I stomp in a circle, biting my lip in frustration. With nothing logical left in my head, I ready Excalibur, charge at the memory orb, and bring the blade dow͏̭̜͚̮̜n̶̴̟̲͕͔̳̯͟ ̪̲̯̜̯̗̟̳̹o͖̠͇̙̲͙͎-͔̱͍̩̱͠͡ͅo̙̳͉-͔̳͇o͚͇͖n̥̭̻̲̞̞̗

W͏̸̯̣̝̣̤͈̮̥̪̕h̵̡̩͉́e̶͎̬r̵̵͌͛ͩ̈̐̈̚e am̶̢̨ I?҉ Oh, fuck, my head… It’s nothing but cracks and noise and nails on my skull… I can’t see, I can’t think...

“Oh,” I mutter to myself as I look up. I’m in the same shack as before, but it’s no longer ruined. It’s no palace, by any means, but somehow the walls and ceiling are back, the furniture is restored, and it actually looks like a home. It’s comp͢lete͠ ̵ ͡ ͜ly l̡y͟ restored. “It worked, I... g̶̵ùès͞s̵͘?”

“I warned you thaT was a bad ide͟a-͠a-á-a͞,”̶ Rasahrel murmers to me, “But whẫt’s done is d°ne. Since we’re here, we’d best pay at-10-tԷn-tention.”

I feel sick. It’s like my innards lept back and forth across the room while still being inside of me. “What do ý̷̨ǫ͝u҉ m-mea-an?”

Now that I can focus, and my head is no longer keen to split open, I look at what’s in front of me. Next to the ca͝b̶͘in͝è̡͘t̶̵͠ is a hanged portrait, framed within a scra҉t҉che̡d and scu̸͡f́fed wooden frame. The portrait itself is worn down, but I can’t mistake who it is. Young and proper. A purple mane and a light blue coat. It’s S͡q̧u̴a͜ll.

“...This was Squall’s home?” I ask aloud. “What does he have to do with this? Shokenda was after his time.”

I hear Rasahrel click her tongue. “Guess again, Caro. Turn and see ̶ou̡r̛ ̢e̡n͟emy.”

I do as she says. Sitting in the center of the room, on an ursa fur rug, reading a scroll, is a little albino un̛̓ͮíͤc̷̄̊̈́̐̒o̔ͬͫ͂̅̽̓rn child. I step back, gasping upon realizing who she might be. Even if it’s beyond a reasonable doubt, I don’t want to say she’s who I think she is until someone else confirms it.

“It can’t be…”

“What more must you see to k̨n̢ow̨ the tr҉u̕th̡?”̛

I don’t know… Something. What has me even more confused is the scroll she is reading. After one too many close experiences with their kind, I would recognize an Elder Scroll when I see one. It does not belong in the hooves of a child. But this is the past, so I’m helpless to stop whatever monstrosity is about to occur in front of me.

Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there lived a beautiful young princess…

Who said that? It sounded like Shokenda, but...

The front door squeaks open, and in walks Squall, a sack of groceries slung over his shoulder. He does not look like the young prince anymore. His hair is short and unkempt. His eyes are sunken and hollow, one of them white and clouded. There is no royalty left in him. “Hm. Still nothing?” he grunts at the child. “You’re u̕͡͝s̶e͘҉ĺ̵es͘s̵̕ as ever, Cloud.”

But the princess did not live in a beauți͓͍f̘u͚͞l ̣̫͝c̷̭̼̜a̢͙̮̺̩s͈̦̝̗͇̣͢t̫͈̲̞̗le. She lived in a humble cottage with her f̵̵̵̧͔͎̼̮̤̗̦̟̮͎̪̝̜̠̟̭̮a̡̙̱̘̬̤̲̯͘͟͡ͅţ̶̱̦̳͍͈̟̫̻̟̞h̶̢͚̬̹͓͉̥͙͉͈̠͘͟͢ͅę̟̲͈̪͞r̜̖̺͔͓̟͔͚͚͔̗̤̪̘̜̮͞.

He thr̵ow̷̡s̨͢ ̡t̛͠he̡̡ ̡s͡a̧̛ᢇ

〽ck aside, letting the moldy carrots and withered potatoes spill out onto the floor. Cloud looks up from the Elder Scroll, wincing at the sight of spoiled food. “You’ll get that if you make a lick of progress,” Squall says to Ç̶̫͉̫̹̠̤͘ḷ̵̸̛̪̜̞̻̟̹̖̺̻̘̗͍͙̗̀o̧͇̩͈̝̙̘u̶̡͔̼̜̮̜̝̹̻̮̜͇̭͕̝͎̗̼̯d̩̠̟̺͔̜̦̯̮͕̯̹̠̟͜ͅ.̸̴̶̳̠̞̘̕

Cloud rubs her eyes and s̶̡̐ͮ͑̔͗̃̒̋t͆̊̿͛͑̆̅̀a̡̅ͧ́̚n̨̽ͩͥ̏̓͋͐̄͢ḑ̏͆s̶ͮ͐̒ͮ̓͊̀͑͜͡ up, her whole body shaking ever so slightly.

I make a stނangled, choking sound. Cloud’s eyes are naturally red like any albino’s, but with an unnat̡u̵͢r̢a͝l̴͢͠ and sticky gleam. I can feel bile burn at my throat as I watch the blood from several popped veins slosh around inside the little filly’s eyes. Small red tears trickle out as her hoof leaves her face.

“Father, my eyes hurt…”

Squall pulls up a chair and sits, glaring at Cloud and the Elder Scroll with fur̛͡í͏̷ous im̶̕͡p̶̵͡a̶͝t͏̵ien͡c͢e. “Get used to it. Keep reading.”

The princess’ father did not want her to go out and play. He wanted her to stay inside and read. The princess did not have very much fun.

Cloud frowns indignantly at Squall and kneels back down, pulling out more of the Elder Scroll and reading further. “Hmph. Well, excuse me…” she mutters, rubbing her eyes again.

“What was that?” Squall snaps at her.

Cloud hides her face behind a portion of the Elder Scroll. “I said nothing, Father.”

“Good. Read.”

And Cloud reads.

I take a close look at her, and every second is more unsettling than the last. Her eyelids twitch frequently, and she makes quiet yet noticeable sounds of anguish, but she still reads, even though the Elder Scroll is clearly hurting her. For all I know, it’s killing her.

It doesn’t matter which. I see the real monster here, sitting in his chair, letting it transpire. Squall, forcing this upon a child, his child… the child who would become Shokenda Blackwing. Shokenda… and the child, Cloud. It’s an answer that only raises more questions, and makes my stomach churn further.

“Keep reading, my child,” Squall says, a dirty smile on his muzzle. “Eventually you’re going to see something b҉ḛ͉͜ā̳͎̉u̾͊҉̗t̴̘̀i̹̙͚ͥ͟f̥͉̻͖̭̫̔͑̽͢u̮̐̄ͩ͡l̢͊.”

Cloud quickly glances up at Squall, with nothing but hate in her eyes. For a brief second, there was Shokenda.

“I don’t get it,” I mutter, still aghast at the sight of my nemesis like… this. “She’s only a child.”

“And you weren’t?” Rasahrel asks.

I stand and walk over to Squall. “And you… How dare you?! You had more than your parents ever did! You were free of their burdens, a bright future ahead of you, and you threw it all away for an insipid fantasy! And now your own flesh and blood suffers for that?! You created a monster! If Equestria dies, it’ll be your fault! But you’d welcome that, wouldn’t you?!”

Rasahrel sighs impatiently “He can’t hear you, little one.”

“I don’t ca엑

ꭌ. Ȼɐꭌ. Caro.” I flinch at Rasahrel’s voice. A sound like crackling wood tells me the memory has cracked again. Squall has disappeared.

I see days pass in mere seconds, each moment a painting that disappears as quickly as it forms. The shadows shift, c̀͒͊̾̀ͮ̽̈́͂o̸ͬ̐ͬͧ̆̀̚n̴̋̄ͤ̅̑̊͗̓͜s̸̸ͪ̍ͦ̄̚u͌̈̄̿̎͘m̐ͧ̎̄̂͢ę̛ͮͦ the room, are gone in the next second, then reaqqear. Cloud and Squall move without moving, blinking aboưt̕ t́h̴̴̸é̷ ̡ŗ̷͘oom as time flashes by. Cloud shifts in her spot on the floor, moving no more than a few inches, at times appearing to sleep, while Squall does as he pleases. Here he reads a book of his own, there he drinks mead, now he’s settling in to more food than he gave to Cloud… I’m going to be sick a̶g̢a͠in.

Is this it? Is this all there is? I’ve seen abuse, but it would take one hell of an unstable mind for this filly to make the jump to Shoken̶͖̫̼̘̟͉̠̩d̶̗͔̬̘̣̻͝͝a.

The memory goes all sherbert and I taste purple stained glass, and everything suddenly snaps into focus. Cloud looks like she’s aged a little, probably a year or two, and with her longer hair and unfocused eyes, I can see a lot more of Shokenda in her now. But she’s still a child, and doesn’t carry the same air of madness or malice as Shokenda, so I’m still at a loss.

Until one day, when the princess decided to attend a formal occasion, unbeknownst to her father.

There’s a commotion outside, one that Cloud takes notice of. She checks around herself, even poking her head into the bedroom, before smiling with conviction, throwing on a fur robe, and stepping outside.

The princess did not see her kingdom as often as she liked. This was the first time she had gone out in the snow.

As the memory drags me with her through the snowfall, I’m treated to the alien sight of the mare that would become Shokenda frolicking. In truth, I can’t blame her. For a moment, she is free of her cruel bonds, walking in a much less ugly Fillydelphia. The buildings stand steady, the roads are clean, and the people seem outright affable. Then again, anything is pretty in comparison to the hellhole I’ve been witnessing. Don’t worry yourself, little one, you’ll ruin this city in due time.

The commotion in question is an impromptu gathering of townsfolk around the marching royal guard, and the pony that they’re guarding. A younger Queen Platinum walks alongside the guards, who all carry etchings I can’t make out from this distance, and neither can Cloud, thanks to the crowd that blocks her path. She can’t get through.

The guards are presenting the etchings to the townsfolk, asking questions along the lines of “Have you seen this pegasus?” and “We are looking for this stallion.”

Platinum herself is speaking to a large green stallion, whose embroidered robes lead me to believe he’s the jarl. Cloud’s eyes are wide, for once from something other than the Elder Scroll. She manages to mosey her way through the crowd to reach the perimeter of guards surrounding the queen.

“Don’t cross the line without permission, kid,” one of the guards tells her.

Cloud looks past the guard and waves her hoof frantically. “Queen Platinum! Your Majesty!”

The queen stops talking to the jarl, noticing Cloud. “Huh? What is it?” she asks, waving her forward.

The guard stands aside and lets Cloud come into the perimeter. “Who is it you’re looking for?” she asks Platinum.

Platinum looks aside, swallowing and sighing. “I’m looking for my son, Prince Squall.” She shows an etching of her own to Cloud. It’s a lifelike recreation of Cloud’s face. Of course, I’d expect a mother to never forget, but to think that she doesn’t know who this filly really is…

Cloud gasps and backs away from Platinum. She moves her lips, but anything that she wants to say refuses to come out. “Say it…” I whisper. “Tell her who you are... Ask her to take you with her.” Cloud is still frozen in shock. “Cloud! Do it! Tell her you’re her granddaughter! Go with her! Stop this war before į͞t́͠ s̕t̵̡̛A͟͠ŗ̸̀t́͢͝͠T̸͠͠s̸̕͞ ͘͏s͏̢̀ ̴̷͢s͜!̢̕͜”҉͜

Rasahrel growls at me. “Caro! She can’͢t̨ ţ̝͖̌̓̊̉̒ c͕͙͉̣̟̀a͕̻͙̻͍͞ņ̪ţ̸͇̳͕͈̙͍̺̦ heear y͝o̶̧̢͢u͞҉̴uu????u????u????_

The princess had discovered who she really was. She was very surprised. She ran home as fast as she could to tell her father.

The memory shifts again, yanking me by my tail until I’m thrown into the cottage. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s disorienting, landing on my back like this in a place several city blocks away from where I just was. I hear breathing in my left ear. I turn over, and immediately leap to my hooves when I see Cloud’s disturbingly reddened eyes staring back into mine. The blood pooled in her corneas slosh disgustingly as she struggles to get off the ground, but is held back by the chains and shackles that bind her.

The princess’ father did not approve of what she told him. He was very cross.

“Say that again, I dare you!” I hear Squall yell, his voice raspy and haggard. Cloud is being held to the ground by him, his dirty hoof forcing her face into the wrinkled Elder Scroll. Every time she shifts under his weight, he forces harder. “Say it!”

Cloud grits her teeth and yells, “I! Am! A! P̶̧̖͍̤̼̰͞ŗ͠͏̩̹̼̪̺͓̝͓̘̜̘̦̬i̮̣͈̲̥̝̭̭̖͈̕ͅņ̸̛͖̟͍̝͇̙̹̀̕ͅc͝͏̯͓̭̻̝̲͕͈̠̦̬͙͞͞e̴͈̘̖̝͉͙̳̩̠̩͎̖͉̞͈̬̬͜͟s̵̲̜̹͎͉̕͜͠s͙̦̣͖̗̝͍̯̘̹̙̻̀͢͟!”

Squall punches her in the jaw. She screams and pulls on the chains, but only for a moment before Squall covers her mouth. “You are not,” he hisses. “I am not a prince, and you are not a princess. There is nothing between us and the Empire.”

Cloud thrashes her head and pounds the floor, even as Squall keeps her silent.

Once she stops struggling, and the sound of rattling chains fades, Squall uncovers her mouth and continues talking. “Even if there was, you’re better off with me than with their kind. Don’t you know that’s why I keep you here? Their kingdom is not one that you deserve. You deserve a new Oly̶͢͝m̸͠p͡us. A kingdom on mig̡͜h̛t̸y ̢win̛ǵ́͡s̨̀! A new age of pegasi, keeping people safe, destroying those who would take such glory from us! That will be our kingdom, Cloud! And you’re trying to take it from us.”

“I don’t want that kingdom!”

Squall punches Cloud again, then lets her go. “You don’t kn҉̴̶́ò̕͝w̨͘͜͏ ͜͝͏w̶͠͞͠ḩ̵̶͘̕a̡͝͝t you want.” He walks around her, punctuating his ranting with hard kicks to her body. “I was betrayed by that bl⧞d traitor who calls himself a king, and his whore is no better.”

“That’s my gran̸̛͘͞d̷̕͝m̶̀o̴̶͞t̸her, you—”

“WHÔR̒E̸͋!̊͑̑"̈͊̽̓͂̚ Squall turns on her and bucks her so hard she turns over, curling into a ball to grip her stomach. “Don’t you dare betray me too. I won’t let you.” He lets out a long, distressed breath, and turns towards the dining area. He goes to the cupboard, opens up a drawer, and pulls out a knife.

I feel my hackles rise as the atmosphere in the room suddenly becomings suffocatingly heavy with malice. Squall pins Cloud to the floor again and holds the knife to her horn. Cloud opȩ᷂ͬn͌̒ͅs̄͟͜ h͚̲̹e̵᷉̓ŗ̗͖͕̱̝̀͠ ̴̶̹̜̺̺̘̹͘͟͜ͅe̸͓̰̳̳̳͈͚͉̦̫̲y̷̶͉̖̘̗̜͍̺͖͓̤͉̫͇͢ȩ͍̣̹͓̕͘͜͞s̢̗̹̞̣̜̺͡

I̧͊͆ͣ’͛͌ͮ͗҉m̎͑ͥ͢͢ ̧̢͂ͭͮ͗s̏̃̀ť̸̡̽ͣͥͫ̓̾͛́a͌͌̌͆n̨̔̇d̏̒́͠i̢ͧͤ̅͊̌̀̏͝ṅ͌̀̀͞g͗͊ͥ̽͋͝ i̶̕n̴̢͏ ̴͡f͜͞r͝o̴n̷͢͟ţ͘͡ ҉̷҉o͝f̀̀͟ ̵a pǎ̸ͧ̆̒̊͊ͩn͐̓͊̽͂̓ͩ̍̚͘͢͞ĭ͋͏̡c͆ͭ̎̀ked and thrasḩ͌i͗ͥ̑͢͜͡ņ̉͆̉̽̕g Squa͏̸l̛l. He points through me, accùs̡i̛n҉gly, slowly stepping back. “Who the h̢͡҉̵͉̻͓̦̼̥̬̰̯͔̯̪̜̮̭̫ͅé̷͠҉̪̞̪̰͈̞̭̙̜͎͞l̵͖̥̮̤̙̻͓͘͝ͅͅĺ̖̼̯̺͕̲̹̳̦͉̺͎͍̠͎̰͟͟ are you?! Give me back my daughter!”

I turn and see Shokenda standing among the ruins of the cottage’s front wall. She’s smiling imperiously down at me. Through me. At Squall, but it feels like her gaze is penetrating reality itself so she can glare at my soul, and every dragon that lies within me. I tear my eyes from hers and look her up and down. Wings have appeared on her back, blood a mixture of red and gold oozing down her sides, though only one wing is filly attached. The other is bent and warped, hanging on by muscle tissue alone.

The princess decided to put ͘h͜e̛r̶ ͘p̴aśt ̶b̢ehind̨ h̕er.

Her eyes are bleeding freely, the red draining as it is replaced with gold. Her pupils spasm as they contort into draconic slits. Her gums shimmer with gold as her teeth carve themselves into dangerously sharp fangs. I have never seen Shokenda in her truest form until now.

“She does not want to be your d̸au̸̕ǵ͝h̶̡t͘͞e̢r anymore.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Cloud, please… Don’t be this! I’ll give you anything you want! I’ll let you be a princess, just please come back to me as you were!”

“She does not want to be a princess either. She grows tired of you insipid equines and your delusions of grandeur. She chooses to evolve beyond the chains in which you have bound her. In the place of a princess, y̴O̡U̕̕ w̢̨i̶͘Lļ̛҉ ̕h͟͡͏Av̷̕̕e̛͞ ͢͝͠A͡ ͢G̀͟O͠͠Dd̶È̸͡s̵̢̨S.̶̶”̷̛

Squall flinches, and so do I.

The ̡p͠rince̸s͢s͟ had̷ learned̨ ͝t̀o b͝e̡lìeve̶ ͘in h͏e͘rse͘l͞f͞, an̶͝d͝͡ ̡͜l̴i͏v̡̀ę̀͡ ͏̷̨h̸͞e҉̵͏r͏̷ ͏̶l̢͢i̧̢͘f̸͜͏e͏ ̶t̴҉͝ǫ͟ ̨t͞he҉̀ ̕f̢́͘ư̴̕ll̶es͜t̢͞.҉͏

“She will allow you to apologize to Her. If you are sincere, you will live.” Shokenda puts out her hoof. Her horn, cracked and jagged, glows gold, and Squall is pulled through me, suspended by his neck in front of her. He gags and gasps for breath. “Go on, little horse. Talk.”

“I-I… I…” Squall chokes out. “I-I’m s-s-s…”

“Hm?” Shokenda tilts her head.

Squall puts on a pathetic, desperate smile. “Cloud, please, it’s me… Daddy… I’m s-so, so sorry…”

Shokenda nods. “Again. Make sure she hears you.”

I hear the broken chains rattle. The rusted spike that holds them to the floor is removed by Shokenda’s aura.

“I’m sorry, Cloud…”

The spike rotates until it is pointed directly at the back of Squall’s head.

“Again,” Shokenda whispers.

Squall whimpers like a little foal, having given up struggling against her aura, while the spike flies at him. “Ì'̧͘m ṣ̰̬́o̸̦̯͠r͠͏͇̹̤̰̞̯̭̘͢r̙̖͍̕y̩y̛҉̡ý̧͘ý̶̢͜y̢҉̀͘y̵̨͜͝͝y̸͘͘͞Ý̡͟͠͝Y̢̕͞Y͜͏͠Y҉̷Y̸̴͖̩̤̖̪̺̼͎͟Y͡҉͏͈̝͓̮y̵͙̮Y̳̯̲̮̝̜͟ͅy̴̻̭̲̝̩̼͓͉͜͞ỳ̷ͅy̴͇̮͟Y̴̺̪͓̖͓̖͢!̨̨̧͙̱̥̯Y̶͙͙͕̩̭͕͉̺̩͖͚̬̬͖͇̠̫̩Y҉̡̘͓̪͇̤̥̣̝̳̤͔͖Y͚̣̖̤̻̯͈̣̼̞̹̳͟͞Y̷̧̡̧̞̰̙͕͇̝̰̰͇̻̰̤͠Ý̳͓̙͖͎͈̖͕̥̞̠̳̜͖͘Y̨̡̛̼͕̪̖͕̺̙̰̙̺̦̫̟̜͚̠͖͜͞ͅY̴̡̡̪̰̠̞͍̙̱̗̠̘̺͕̞̫̲͟͟ͅY҉̢̡̩̺̲͎̫̕͡ͅY̨͚̳̖̪̫̬̼̜̦̘Y͕̻̻͈̞͢͞Y̕͟͠҉͖̫̙͓̫͓̻̯̤̩̯̻Y̶̨̠̲̻͚̗̺̪͖̹̤̼̣͔͕͇̣͍̻ͅY̷̗̙̪̮̪̗̙̳Y͘͡͡͏͏͎͖̮͍̺̩̣͕̭͉̥ͅY̡̰̼͕̠̗̠͓̭̺̙̝͚̰̭͝Y̵̙͍̮̤̱͞Ý̢̗̳̹̤̪̭̪̯̫̩̰͚ͅÝ̴͕̝̫̦͍̲͍̥͖̤͉̮̰͚͕̜͓͢͝͞ͅY̰̰̻͕̠̯̖͍͇͓̗̜̮͜͜͠͡Y͞҉̛̥̻͙̖̮͓͞Ý̡͏̦̭̭͔̦͙̩͈̱̙Y̸̟̞͎͔̺̤̟̪̳̰̫̹͈Y̷̜̟̙̱͎̝̭͙͓̲͈͢͠͠Y̸҉̡̱͈̱̖̹̯͙̭̬̤̩̥̹͇͍̥͖̦ͅY̤͍̼̘̺̗̫̻̫͇̼̬͟͠Y̵̢̰͇̱̲͍̦̺̻͕̲̼͙̫̖̻̯͞ͅͅY̗̮̗̮͖̙̩͈̖͙̭̝̳̦͕̩͜͜͠Y͇̻̭͉͢yY̵̴̨̱̰̤̣͔̪̗̬̬̠͠͠Ỳ̷̷̯̪͎̰̺̮̙̣͟͠Ỳ̖͚͇͔̭̥̥Y̛҉̮̮͔̮̞̯̱̼̹̖̩͖͇͎̘̟̜Y̷̵̰̞̻͙̩̹̤̻̗̼̞̠͚̦͔̘͈̰̼
_͙̠̭̰͙͚͍̦͔̹͚̻̜̱͘͟ͅ_̶́͢͏̻̪͎̤͔͕̘̤͔͔̦̘̰̣_̸̨̢͖͎̩̺͖͠ͅ_̱̞͓̩̺̗̦̳͍̗̱̖̀͟_̴̻̼͓̮̖͔͉͝_̡̧̝̗̳̘̘̻̯͖̼͉̣̙͈ͅ_̷̙̖̩͔̻͎͖͈̳̹̳̱̮͙͎̤́͢͝_̷͙̣̹̻͇̫̠͈̗̜̩͖̻̦̯͡͝_̸̝̙̬̪͈̩͕̖̱͙͕͡ͅ_̧͏̸͖̹̮̱͔͇̥̩̫̯̘͖̩͕͔̤͉_̗͙̰͙͇̳̪̻̭͙͕̱̣͓̹̣̳͎́̕͜ͅ_͏̧͚̘͔̹̥̻̹̱̝͔̻͉̹͇̥̭̱̼̕̕_̨̢̧̙̜͈̞̰̥̗̳̜͔̗̺̯̼̖̙_̡͎̟̱̳̜̠̯̲̞͔̙̹̞̱͈͉̞͠_̺̻̣͍̝̦̯̹̮̹͔̥͙̝̻̮̣̯̭̕_͏҉͇̟̻̳̙̤̟͢_̢̣̜̭̹̩̲̀̕͡_̢̢̗̯͍͍͟͡_̶̶͢͠͏͚̮͇͙̹̣̰͈̗̙̹̝̝̭̼͙̘̬_̛̥͓̝͓̤͈͈̩̞̜͟͡͡_̀͞҉̸̬̥̩̻̰̲͔̩̝͇͠_̢͏̸̼͍͖̱̗͇̥̬̪̲̜͡And the princess lived happily ever after._̶̵͝͏͇̰͍̖͖̥̫̳ͅ_̵̷̨̢̠̹̘̙̲͚͖͚͚̣̖͈̪̤͎̳͚̞̰͘_̡̡͕̳̙̠̰͔̥_̴̵̢̰͕̻̀̕_̢̡̼̖̱̲̭̥̪͉́͘ͅ_̶̢̹̥̯̻̹̻͔͟_̵̵̡͍͔̥̭̤̼͙̩͍͜͝_̧̜̮̣͉̜͕͙̹̟̰͚̦̫͢͠͝ͅ_̵̰̟̬̖̘̠̹̠̭̯͇͙̞͙͞ͅ_̪̦̫̫̠̜̪͖̱̮̺̥̮̮́̕͜͡͡_̴̘̜̭̜̭́͘_̵̵̨̪͍͓̪͚͙̦̻̀͜_̷̡̹̖̞̱͚̖̟͖̰̰̮͚̬̀ͅ_͖͉͉͎͈̮͈̗͖̻͉̜̬̥͙̙̀̕͝_̷̷̞̳̰̲͉̀͝͡ͅ_

“Little one!” Rasahrel pleads. “Caro, my sweet, please get up.”

I resist the urge to scream as my eyes fly open. I feel the cold air on the many beads of sweat that coat my face and neck. I’m panting like a feverish dog, clutching my pounding heart like it’s about to break. As I turn over and make an effort to stand up, I see blood drip onto the floor. My nostrils are bleeding. I take my disguise jacket off and wipe my muzzle clean of red.

“How long was I out?” I ask Rasahrel.

“I’d estimate an hour. You had me and the others so worried… You wouldn’t stop twitching.”

At first, an hour doesn’t seem so bad. It wouldn’t be if it were any other day. But not right now. I gasp and growl, furious at myself. “Son of a bitch!”

“It’s okay. An hour isn’t too long.”

“Yes, it is!” I throw the jacket aside and start marching. “It’s long enough for Shokenda to crack down on the first sign of a disturbance! Tangerine and the others might need my help! If Tohro slipped up, he’d be dead by now, or worse…” I feel faint. It’s like claws gripping my heart. “Oh, please, don’t let me be a prophet…” I shake it off as well as I can before galloping out of the wreckage.

“Caro! Your coat!” Rasahrel shouts.

“Huh?” I hesitate just long enough to notice that Shae’s disguise spell has worn off. My coat has returned to turquoise, and a quick glance at my mane and tail reveal that they’re grey again. “Shit! What am I going to…”

I notice a flickering glow in the corner of my eye. Beneath the broken table is the memory orb. Excalibur left a noticeable crack in it. I did that, and it revealed to me what Shokenda really is. Beneath those fake wings and towering figure, gifted to her by an Elder Scroll, she is just a scared, whining little child who hates her daddy dearest. If I weren’t so panicked, I’d be laughing.

Still, this makes the thought of facing Shokenda much less terrifying. Now I can get under her skin for a change. It’s not as though that skin is even real to begin with. Once the truth spills out, and it’s made known that their beloved future queen is a false god, the Blackwings’ loyalty to her is sure to rattle. After all, if they can’t trust her to be what she claims to be, how could they trust her to lead them to victory?

I pick up the memory orb and tear an old curtain off a broken window. “Rasahrel, do you know what I’m thinking?” I ask, wrapping the curtain around me and hiding my face.

“Yes. And I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

“We’re coming for you, Cloud.”