Octavia slammed down atop the stopped elevator, tore open the service hatch atop it, and dropped inside. It was empty and unpowered, its once-polished wood marred by abuse. The doors were jammed half-open, enough for her to slip through with her cello case upon her back. She ran through the empty corridors of the hotel, a sense of unease growing with each step. The atrium was just ahead. She could see a hellish glow flickering from around the corner, and as soon as she rounded it she saw that the summoning was indeed underway. Octavia slid into cover behind a cleaning cart and assessed the situation. What had once been an common area, then a garden, had finally degenerated into a smoldering wasteland. A tinge of sulfur filled the air. Hunks of rock floated off the ground, all that had once been green was twisted into strange spiked growths, and the cultists were gathered in a circle around a wide depression in the center of the floor. What seemed to be molten magma swirled within its depths. The Daughter stood atop a raised hunk of rock that stretched out over the glowing hole, cackling like a madmare. She held an earth pony by the scruff of his neck, an earth pony that Octavia recognized.

"Wait!" he shouted. "No! You promised-"

"Rejoice, Grip Steel!" screamed the cult's leader, loud enough for Octavia to hear her clearly even over the groaning winds, bubbling molten rock, and chanting cultists. "Your inner spark is about to be joined with the Great Glow!"

"No! This isn't what I wanted-"

"All power requires sacrifice, and yours shall feed mine." In her other hoof, she held what looked like a dragon skull. Octavia drew her rifle from her case, and looked through the sight. What seemed to be bones were swirling around the magma-filled crater, somehow surviving the incredible heat. Yes, the summoning was definitely underway. She sighted in on The Daughter, but held back. That semi-visible pink field around the lava pit would likely stop her bullets. It was not as strong as some she had seen, The Organization had a few mighty mages, but it was being generated by several unicorns channeling their magic together from within the field. They were amateurs at best, though probably still enough to stop a single sniper's shots. She put her shoulder against the cart and rolled it toward the barrier, hoping that the field would only stop energy pulses or things moving too fast. Truly impenetrable barriers were tricky things indeed, usually only cast by exceptionally talented unicorns. She doubted that any of these ponies had gone to Celestia's School.

"Oh, yes. I have come so very, very far." The Daughter gave Grip Steel a shake to silence his whimpering. "But now, at long last, it is within my grasp. Power, power overwhelming!"

The grey mare slid inside the pink bubble, unslung her rifle, and once more sighted in on Scoffing Song. A floating chunk of rock drifted between her and the target just before she could center the sight on the maniacal unicorn.

"Now, to the abyss with you, and to the heavens with me!" She threw the screaming earth pony and the dragon skull down into the molten pit and laughed. Octavia knew she was out of time. She slid out of cover, around the meandering hunk of rock, centered the sight, and pulled the trigger. Time seemed to slow. It was a good shot, right on target. She should have done this from the start, should have just killed everypony in the building... but... no, that was not how The Organization was permitted to operate. They had to have proof of guilt. And... she had saved one. The bullet soared through the air, on course for Scoffing Song's head.

Then a great scaly arm shot up from the pit of lava, and snatched the projectile just before it hit. Octavia felt her heart quiver as another arm rose out of the pit, splashing lava across the transformed atrium, and then a giant horned head rose. Streams of molten rock cascaded off the dragon's body as it emerged from another world. It was a majestic creature, its scales sparkling and bright, but also unspeakably horrifying. Instead of a rounded body or sculpted muscles like the tapestries back at Central, it looked like a skeleton with a thin layer of scales stretched over its bones. Runes traced over its shimmering skin, strange and odd symbols that burned Octavia's eyes, and its teeth were jagged and misshapen. The Carpathian wormed its way into the physical world, then with his eyes still shut he smiled down at Scoffing Song.

"I honor your sacrifice of magicka and flesh, little creature, and I thank you for calling me forth." His voice was a booming, rolling thunder that sent all the cultists cowering to their knees. With eyes still closed, he heard them trembling in fear and laughed. Then he rolled his neck and shook out his arms. The bottom half of his body still remained below the swirling magma. "Now, tell me what boon I might grant, that I may be loosed upon this world once more!"

"There is no need for haste, mighty one," Scoffing Song smiled wickedly up at him. "I have many things that will yet be of use to you. All I ask is a lioness' portion of your power as it grows."

"As you have spoken, so it shall be," he replied. While those words still echoed off the dilapidated walls of the atrium, he opened his eyes.

The entire building shook as though it had been struck by an invisible sledgehammer. Octavia felt a primal urge to run. Her ancestors had been as ants to the ancient dragons. The Great Old Ones had been reapers of flesh and fortune, taking what they wished for their hordes. Ponies existed only because they allowed it, and their short lives had easily been brought to premature ends if the infinitely-superior dragons willed it. Their desires were beyond pony comprehension, their lifespans near-infinite. Awe and obedience were the only acceptable reactions. Octavia saw the cultists felt just the same as she did, falling to their knees before their arisen master. She pushed the instinct down as best as she could. This was a new age, one of reason and harmony... right?

His eyes were pools of black, dotted with red specks and orange slits. They were not the eyes of a modern dragon, or a gryphon, or a pony, or anything she had ever seen before. "Ahh, ponies." The dragon smacked his lips and rubbed his claws together. "Yes, yes, yes. It has been too long since I have feasted upon the flesh of those who believe themselves rulers of this land."

"Strings," her comm-bead crackled softly. "Get out of there. Run!"

"No," she whispered back. "I have to stop him."

"You don't have anything that'll punch through his scales, and even if you did, those runes would disintegrate it on contact."

Well, at least Rollins was watching. She glanced about, wondering if perhaps she could shoot the unicorns projecting the protective bubble. They were already distracted by the dragon...

"Get out of there. He hasn't fully manifested yet," the gryphon pleaded. "He'll be tall as a skyscraper when he is, and mean enough to eat an Ursa Major for supper. I've... seen one before."

"How did you stop him?" Octavia asked patiently while The Daughter and the dragon spoke to one another of sigils and plans.

"I didn't," muttered Rollins as he watched from a window high above. "And the rest is classified." That did not stop it from appearing in his dreams. He had been little more than a child, leading a group of fellow children with lasguns. All fresh from Pendulum, all believing they were the secret sentinels of Equestria, running a routine night operation that had turned into a three-way catastrophe after the cultists turned out to be summoning a dragon instead of trading in illegal artifacts. They hadn't been able to stop the summoning. Things had gone from bad to worse when the murderous machines appeared. Electric eyes and metal hearts, miniguns and maces that spark. He shivered, remembering the savage battle between the cultists and the hulks of steel. How he and a few of his team had kept their sanity and escaped, he did not know. Those memories were ranked high among the many he wished he could forget. So much blood, so much noise. Instead of a simple policing action, they had carried friends home in body bags. All the drill and discipline in the world couldn't have prepared his team for what they saw unleashed that night. Then when even that was not enough, the machines ripped the night sky open and threw down a star or seven. Burned the land, boiled the bogwater, and stalked away into the mists. He'd never get the image of that sky-fire out of his head.

The gryphon wiped his brow and tried to focus on what was happening right now. I've been awake too long... He fumbled in a pocket and downed another capsule. The Organization had rewarded the survivors of that night with gag orders and security clearances. He would have been happy with a mind eraser, no chaser. Some other Operatives envied him, thinking his swift rise through ranks and billets had been due to some kind of favoritism because he was a gryphon. They could not have been more wrong. The Organization was full of secrets, but highly classified knowledge had a terrible side-effect. It made you "special". Whenever somepony with authority was putting together a "special" team to do "special" operations, the gryphon was already on the short list. Sometimes he wondered if the Lady Bon Hadescream's father had placed that night under seal because even he did not know what those metal monsters were. It had been one of his last acts. All Rollins knew was that those files were part of a supposedly burned archive labeled CONSTITUENT THETA, and he never wanted to see them again. He kicked himself, knowing that he should never have let the cellist go. Whatever wonderful song she might have been planning that would drop the cultists to their knees and make them see the light of reason wouldn't work now. At least, he guessed that had been her plan. "Strings. This is an order. Get out."

"No," she replied softly as Scoffing Song and the dragon finally turned to look at her. Even though she was hidden behind the cart, she knew they knew she was there. "No, I cannot stop now. The show must go on." Octavia stood up tall. High above, the gryphon switched off his mic and muttered something to himself about her guts.

"Ahh, the little mudmare with the idiot father and mad unicorn in her head," laughed The Daughter. "I am so glad you could make it! Do you like what I've done with the place?" Before the sniper even had a chance to answer, the cult leader turned back to the dragon. "Destroy her."

"Dragon!" called Octavia, "by what right do you assert dominion over these lands?"

The Carpathian's eyes lit up. He rubbed his claws together as the darkness and light in his eyes floated in erratic patterns. "My, my, what have we here?" He laughed. "What right? This entire world belongs to the dragons, my little pony. It belonged to us from the beginning of time, and we never gave up our claim. Your society has never scratched the surface of our grandeur, nor have you ever wiped us from existence. Instead you coddle my degraded kin who remain, and step lightly for fear of their wrath." His jaw snapped shut, and smoke poured from his nostrils. "They are the least worthy of my race! Had we not left a vacuum with our bickering, your kind would never have had the opportunity to unite. Even now, you gather up the scraps of our magic and science that have not decayed to aether and dust, treating them as the greatest of treasures!" He clapped his claws together and grinned. "Without us, you are nothing. You never were anything more than food and amusement for my race, and you never will be anything more. I claim dominion because I never gave it up. I am Carpathian, I am immortal, and I am more than you could ever imagine."

"Yes, yes, that's wonderful," Scoffing Song agreed without much enthusiasm. "Now hurry up and destroy her."

The dragon rolled his shoulders and yawned. He paid no attention to the unicorn. "Well, little pony," he leaned toward Octavia. "Are you satisfied with my claim?"

"No. I have yet to see that your culture has surpassed ours." She chose her words carefully, as always. Dragons were usually orderly creatures. They liked reason and logic. The idea of a set of weighing scales that balanced all things, of some intangible cosmic justice, often appealed to them. They enjoyed outwitting that sense of justice as well, though. "You spoke of science and magic. What of art and music?"

"What of it?" asked the dragon. "I cannot imagine that ponies have created any great works of either. Look at your little hooves." He flexed a claw. "The opposable thumb club has always been better at such things."

"Noble and honored dragon," Scoffing Song said nervously, "please hurry up and destroy her. She bothers me with her presence, and we have far more pressing matters to address."

"Oh, very well then. I shall destroy her." He chuckled, a deep, booming sound, and the lava around his waist glowed brighter. With a sly grin, the ancient dragon with runes crawling over his body folded his claws and rested his chin on them. "Little grey pony with the cello case on her back... let me tell you what." The scent of brimstone and the distant screams of those doomed to eternal agony filled the air. "You probably did not know it, but I am a fiddle player too. And if you would care to take a dare, I shall make a bet with you."

"A bet?" screamed Scoffing Song as she threw her front hooves in the air. High above, the faintest hint of a smile appeared on the beak of a gryphon. "I spent years of my life dragging you up out of the ashbin of history, and you're stopping to make a bet with the first purple-eyed floozy who taunts you?"

He turned his head toward the unicorn and fixed her with those unsettling eyes, then looked back to the gray mare. "Perhaps you play a pretty good fiddle, my little pony, but give a dragon his due." One claw dipped deep below the magma, and drew forth a cello made of gold alloy. Its body reflected the reddish light that filled the atrium. Other priceless metals were inlaid for detail and utility, and its strings shone like platinum. Octavia gasped, for it was a thing of both beauty and utility. She felt a twitch of greed, as did everypony who looked upon the instrument. It was made in a bygone age for dragons, and was of course enormous, but as he pulled it out of the magma it seemed to size to his current height. The cello appeared to be made without regard to acoustic resonance, or the laws of physics, but there was no obvious form of electromagical amplification built into its slim frame. Nevertheless, its design and construction clearly indicated it was a masterwork of some forgotten artisan. The dragon snickered. "I shall bet this fiddle of gold against your soul, for I think I am better than you."

The gray mare answered clearly, her head up and eyes locked with the dragon's. "My name is Octavia, and it might be a sin," she smiled, feeling the egotistical antics of her domitor swirling through her mind. She pressed them down, relying instead on her own talents. "But I shall consider your bet, which you may regret. However, what good to me is a golden cello if it is too large for my hooves, or if you plan to destroy me along with the rest of this land even if I win?"

"Ha!" the dragon clapped. "I can already tell your soul will be tasty indeed. So much vigor!" He rubbed his chin. "Very well. If you win, I shall also discorporate."

"What? Are you dumber than a stack of bricks?" shouted Scoffing Song. "Kill her and be done with this!" She stamped her front hooves on the rock.

"Now, now," the dragon waggled a talon at the unicorn. "You told me to destroy her. That is precisely what I am doing."

"By betting with her?" The unicorn shrieked, and the dragon smiled wide. She slumped to the ground, suddenly looking and feeling very old. "This is the kind of iron-fisted competence that ruled the world long ago? You destroyed enemies by beating them in parlor bets?"

He reached into the molten lava and drew out a shiny cello bow. Then he chuckled while inspecting it, for many aeons had passed since he had last played the instrument. "I will demonstrate to her that draconic music is superior to pony music. She is a musician, as evidenced by that cute little mark on each side of her, and I am a master of all the great arts." A wicked grin spread across the dragon's face. "To be defeated in that which she loves, that which she believes is her destiny to produce, will hurt her worse than any physical pain."

"I don't care about hurting her," the cult leader tugged at her hair. "I tried that already!" She glared up at the dragon she had summoned, upset at not getting her way yet again. "I just want her dead!"

High above, Rollins nodded slowly.

"Really, Scoffing Song," Octavia said with a calm, wide smile, "if you cannot be sporting about all this, just be quiet." Vinyl referred to such a smile as her "trolling face". The term was wildly inaccurate. Trolls' faces in no way resembled a smug mare's. "Didn't you say just a little while ago that I probably wasn't that good of a musician anyway?"

"No, no, no! This isn't how it's supposed to go! We have a city to destroy, and power to gather, and-"

"And all of that can wait until after the performance," finished the dragon. Magma dripped from his fingertips as he readied his cello and bow. "Now, then..." he drew the bow across the strings of his cello, and it gave an evil hiss. "I shall start this show."

Scoffing Song marched down the elevated rock while he was tuning his instrument. Desperation showed clearly in her eyes. A small gaggle of her most loyal followers were gathered at the base of the outcropping, awaiting her command. She hissed to one of her guards, "kill her quickly, before-"

The dragon snorted, and a gout of flame blew just above Scoffing Song and her guards. They dropped to the floor and cowered while he finished tuning. After a moment he rolled his neck and chuckled. "Now then, my little pony, rejoice. You have the privilege of hearing music long forgotten by this world before your demise!"

Author's Notes:

I wanted to mention that I updated the description for Bon Hadescream this past week to better reflect how the story has expanded since its original conception. That expansion is thanks to you readers. As much as I enjoy writing this story, it's a ton of work. Knowing that someone else out there enjoys reading helps make the writing more fulfilling. That's also why I came back to this story, I wanted to see it through not only for myself but for you readers!

Fossiles is a part of The Carnival of the Animals that relies on strings, pianos, clarinet, and even a xylophone to give the listener a sense of bones clacking together in activity. That idea helped inspire the "dragon bones" theme that's run throughout this story arc, and I'm glad I was able to sequence the events so that this chapter is the one that shows off what those fossils are capable of!

Oh, and yes, that's a Them Crooked Vultures reference that Rollins makes. I dunno if anyone caught it on the first read, but Mind Eraser, No Chaser is a song that's always struck a special chord with me. "Give me the reason why the mind's a terrible thing to waste? Understanding is cruel the monkey said as it launched to space." Some things are better off forgotten, especially when your job involves staring into the abyss on a daily basis. I try to write Rollins as a "minion with a nametag", a sort of watershed for all the trouble that Operatives have to face on a daily basis. Losing friends, seeing horrible stuff, fighting through bad situations, and facing down great evils are all things every Operative has to deal with. There's a lot of trauma in their minds, just as modern-day soldiers have a lot of horrible things in their memories after completing their deployment. One friend of mine who used to crew helicopters has nightmares almost every night about falling after mechanical problems mysteriously jam the rotor.

A ton of thought goes into every chapter, like the above paragraph. That usually results in a pile of notes y'all never see. I hope it shows in the quality of the writing though! In order to deliver what I feel is a quality product, I have to put in that time and energy. Just sitting down and hammering out a bunch of words rarely produces a good story, in my experience.

Finally... yes, there's a wink to a certain Bioware series in here. Specifically to the first installment, and a certain overconfident opponent...

Hoping to get out another chapter next weekend. I want October to be full of Bon Hadescream madness! Let me know what y'all thought of this one!