There are times that I fantasize, briefly mind you, that one day I'll be cut some kind of a break, that I'll wake up after a full night's rest rather than once every hour or so, sweat-soaked and panting from my latest night terror. That there will come a time when pain isn't the bog standard by which I judge how well my week has been and that I might even come to associate my life with something other than trauma and madness.

This was not that day.

I have a lot of bad memories centered around waking up in unfamiliar places, it bothers me a great deal more than most. Now here I am, once again, waking up in a place I've never seen before though on the plus side I had to admit it's far nicer than some places I've fallen asleep. The room was, in a word, plush. The large banister bed in which I awoke had the smell of laundered sheets, bright sunlight streamed in through the window, a tray of food was left on the full stocked writing desk to my immediate left and to my right was a pitcher of water with a number of crystal drinking glasses. I could only see out of my right eye though I noted that this was due to most of my body being swathed in bandages and though my body ached badly I at least felt relatively well rested.

All in all I probably should have felt that my panic was entirely unwarranted after a minute of observing my surroundings. And yet... something, or rather a great number of things, felt somehow off. Looking at the room had the surreal feeling of looking a caricature of somepony you know particularly well, you recognize it but at the same time there is so much wrong that it becomes disturbing. I learned years ago to trust me sense of paranoia to tell me when something is wrong and it was running haywire every time I shifted my gaze over my new bedchambers.

Ok, Jasper, I detached myself from my panic and sought to take in my surroundings the same as any battlefield, find what's out of place, it's here, you can almost...

There was a stink wafting from the desk, the food was spoiled, it had to have been sitting out for at least a day. My bandages itched badly telling me they hadn't been changed in at least as long though probably longer. The sheets of the bed were soaked with more sweat than a single night and they smelled musty, like the bedclothes in an overloaded hospital where little things like changing sheets had to give way to more important actions. A light coat of dust had settled over everything as well, if I had to ballpark it I'd say nopony but I had been in these chambers in, at the very least, a day and a half, though I was willing to give it at least two.

That begged the obvious question: “Where the buck is everypony?” my words echoed around the still air of the room. It sent shivers up my spine, not because it was in itself eerie, but because the tonal distortions gave the distinctly unpleasant impression of place that had no life at all. Not in the way of a mausoleum, where only the dead are kept, because even there the process of decay furthers the natural cycle of life and death. This was different, it felt sterile... empty.

My body groaned, cracked, and popped as I moved for the first time in, if my estimate was correct, almost forty-eight hours. I dropped to the floor with an unceremonious thud as my legs refused to take my weight, I did my best to rise by using the bedside as a crutch. A small tinkling chime caught my attention as I finally made it to an upright position, I looked around blearily for the source which fortunately was nearby.

A tiny crystalline sphere sat behind the pitcher of water.

I grabbed it in a telekinetic sheathe and lifted it closer so I could examine it, I'd never seen anything like it before but if I was where I thought I was, in the Crystal Empire, then it's conceivable that they might have magical methods completely different from Equestria's.

It chimed again, I assumed it was set to do so at certain intervals to alert whomever owned it in some way but... I focused on the matrix with my magic, feeling the tiny lines of magical energy racing through the crystal veins. There was something else there though, something just below the surf-

Static buzzed and hissed from the tiny sphere and suddenly I was looking at a grayscale image of Twilight Sparkle shuffling uneasily from hoof to hoof as I realized with no little surprise that she was in this very room. A recording device then, I decided; I could hear the sounds of pitched battle coming from the window, shouts and yells that were as familiar to me as my own voice, and somepony was speaking to Twilight from outside the visual range of the crystal. The sound was distorted and filled with static as well making it difficult to catch some of the words that were being said.

“I know ...*static*... lejack, just give me a minute.”

“We ain't go ...*static*... ute sugarcube, say what ya gotta say and let's git!”

“O-ok, here we go. Jasper, if you're w ...*static*... this it means we lost. First thing's first, Silver Twist is here and he has an army, oh go...*static*...es, there's so many of them, the Crystal Empire's mili ...*static*... n't up to full strength yet and it looks... bad. I'm so sorry Jasper, I ...*static*... for sure we'd be safe here, nopony could have ...*static*... the kind of resources Twist had access to. It's like half of the Griffon War just ...*static*... up out of the ground and marched to our doorstep! I... I'm scared, Jasper, but if you're seeing this then we still have hope. After I finish this recording I'm going to sequester ...*static*... room and everything in it sideways into ...*static*... pocket dimension, I figured out how Sombra did it and I... I think it'll work. There ...*static*... some... kinks I guess, but they shouldn't be a problem since you're... that is... I'm so sorry, Jasper. You'll have to find you're own ...*static*... out of the dimension, but there ...*static*... always an exit. Twist might be able to find the doorway ...*static*... the pocket dimension but he won't be ...*static*... to get in. But... he ...*static*... send something else in instead, be careful, I've warded the door to your room so... even if he does you should ...*static*... safe in there. I can't really explain how it works or how to get ...*static*... of the spell easily, it's all advanced metamagical theory ...*static*... tesseract physics, sorry. Zecora is here, we met up with her on the train, she treated your wounds but... oh goddesses, ...*static*... didn't want to believe it. What ...*static*... Twist did to you was... was...”

“Outta time sugarcube! Let's ...*static*... here!”

“Ok, Ok! Look, one last thing; it's Twist, there's something wrong with him, it's ...*static*... he's falling apart or something. I can only imagine the ...*static*... he must have done to himself. There might be a chance to end him once and for all. The girls and I ...*static*... safe, there's a royal, uhm, panic room I guess. Cadence is ...*static*... us there now. I hope it holds... I think it will since ...*static*... will be looking for you, not us. Sun watch over you Jasper, I... I l-”

“NOW TWI'!”

The message cut out after that and I set the now-dark crystal back where I'd found it on the dresser. I should have been feeling panic but instead... instead all I felt was mix of anger and elation.

Finally. Finally we were at this point, finally we could finish it. I'd forced that hateful bastards hooves too many times and now he was at his wit's end. It was an all or nothing push with every ounce of strength and his disposal. It was almost a relief to know that the guile and backstabbing was done, all Silver Twist could do now was wait for me to come to him.

Now it was my turn.

I poured myself several glasses of water, I hadn't realized how thirsty I was but every swallow served to remind me of my time spent sleeping. After the pitcher was empty and searched the room thoroughly, rifling through the wardrobe and desk drawers yielded my various personal effects including my greatcoat (freshly laundered) as well as my scythe and my long-arc. I had no doubt that, assuming what Twilight said was true concerning the good Doctor, I would have some nasty customers waiting for me outside of Twilight's little warding spell.

“I can't have them waiting all day for me though can I?” I muttered cheerfully as I worked, I'm not sure what it said about my state of mental well-being that the thought of discovering whatever horror Twist had sic'd on me and putting it down served only to put a smile on my face. Speaking of which...

I sought out a mirror, or at least a section of crystal reflective enough to serve as one to find the knot so I could begin unraveling the infuriatingly itchy bandages. Every section removed revealed a new part of my thin network of scars, it was as though I was a doll that had burst every single seam only to be sewn back together. Finally I reached my face, it wasn't exactly my favorite part of my body, I'd always thought I looked a little homely to be honest, but I grimaced with each fresh scar that was shown, then I pulled the largest mass from over my left eye. I dropped the bundle in shock as I peeled it away, I was staring, still with only my one good eye, as a tangled mass of scars radiating out of a brutalized eye socket.

The damage was so horrendous I doubted I could be effectively healed even with the direct intervention of one of the Princesses. This wasn't just a single wound, it was dozens of smaller one localized over one small portion of flesh, obliterating my eye in the process. It didn't matter though, more accurately I couldn't allow it matter at the moment, there a too much at stake for me to spend time losing my mind over my missing eye. Instead I just grabbed some of the cleanest looking bandages and wrapped it back up and went back to clearing out the room of anything useful.

Along with my weaponry I had a few extra energy crystals for the long-arc, not enough for a pitched battle by any means but I was only one pony so that kind of fight wasn't really in the cards anyway. I slid a crystal into the chamber with a 'snap' and was rewarded by the low hum of the weapon readying the charge. I holstered it into the back-strap and loosened my scythe in its clasp inside my coat. I was ready, or ready as I was going to be as I lifted a hoof to the door and pushed, feeling the complex ward give way with ease, it having been made to keep things out rather than in.

I'm not sure what I expected beyond the doorway, more ghostly emptiness? Scattered blood and viscera from the inhabitants? More spectral nightmares coming to drag me away? What I did not expected was the familiar blue flash of a Griffonari talwar cutting the air, years of honed reflexes were the only thing that pulled my head back enough that the attack was allowed to leave only a shallow cut on my chest. Had I been a split-second slower my head would have rolled.

A seasoned Griffon elite stood before me, scarred and grim with the talwar held level in my direction. My scythe was out and ready in with a snap of metal, the act was so innate that even I hadn't noticed I'd drawn it until a moment after I'd done so. This Griffon warrior was skilled, there was not a single extraneous movement in his form, he was waiting, watching, and... somehow he seemed almost familiar. That was impossible of course as any Griffon I'd be able to identify on sight would never have left my presence alive. That fact didn't stay the nagging sensation that I'd met this soldier before.

“Do you remember me then?” he growled, his voice was thick and burred with a heavy accent. I narrowed my eyes at him, he still hadn't made a move, he was waiting for my answer.

So I looked back, searching my once-sealed memories for his face. It was difficult, even without the seal the memories were haze of violence and blood. His voice tickled the edges of recollection though, as did the scarring on his face, along with the wide and badly-healed gash on his chest. I made a note not to admire the toughness of a fellow who could bounce back from a wound like that. But the face... his face, it was...

“Loctes,” I muttered, even knowing that it was impossible. But I remembered Twilight's words from the sphere, something about half of the Griffon Wars being up and about. I cursed Twist again for his depraved magics. The name drew a satisfied nod from the Griffon warrior though. Loctes had been the chief adjutant to General Phaestus during the Battle of Shining Valley and I'd had to face him in combat before reaching Phaestus himself. I recalled how vicious of a warrior he'd been. More importantly, I also recalled spilling his insides all over the battlefield with a single, eviscerating slash. “So he brought you back too?”

“Clearly,” the Griffon sneered, “now that you recall, I'll give you the death you gave me three years ago, Red General.”

Loctes' blade became a blur of feints and slashes, cutting nicks and tears into the cloth of my greatcoat with every swing. I knew his style though; it was fast but predictable if one was quick enough to react, almost textbook in its perfection with no room for improvisation. He was truly disciple of the sword arts. A upward cut slid off of the blunt side of my scythe and I turned with the momentum of his attack to roll away from the wall he'd pushed me against. I sent a bolt of red energy at him, harmless in truth but he dodged anyway. I curled away from his counter-strike and slashed at his exposed side. I felt the tip penetrate his flesh but it stopped cold as he caught the crook where the blade met the haft with his own weapon. A single swing pulled it out, a small trickle of blood leaking from where my attack struck, barely a flesh wound but it was the first blood of the battle and the anger from the proud warrior was palpable. Loctes attacked with renewed fury, but with that fury came sloppiness as his anger got the better of him.

Exactly like last time.

The scarred Griffon barked a harsh laugh as my flank bumped against the hallway wall and Loctes surged at me in a wild overhead cleave. I knew he would too, it was the same fight as in Shining Valley. The wound drew first blood and the same overconfident strike would spell his downfall. The only difference is that instead of kicked off against one of my own soldiers that I'd backed into and opening his belly up as I passed beneath him, it was the wall. The sound of guts spilling over the carpet and the sickly stink of formaldehyde mixed with exotic spices filled the air.

“D-damn...” he choked as he propped himself up against the wall, the greenish energy slowly leaking form his body. “Am I... really just a ghost? Just... repeating myself?”

“Maybe,” I flicked the blood from the blade and sheathed it. “I think we both are, a little.”

He laughed bitterly past a wash of rotten of blood, “I'm not the one he sent, you know, there's another who's waiting for you.”

I scowled, here I'd been hoping I could search in peace.”Who?”

Loctes laughed again, provoking another, weaker, flood of the poisonous-looking slurry. “Who do you think, little General?” He turned to look over his shoulder at me, his golden beak stained black with toxic blood. My face had gone pale at his words though, which I suspect was exactly what he'd wanted to see because he slumped over with a decrepit laugh. “He waits... in the false... throne room... little General.” I could hear the unwholesome animating force fleeing his body. Loctes was strong, much stronger than Summer had been when I'd ended her on the floor of my cottage. “Do not... keep... him... w...a...i...t...-” a noxious breath wheezed out of his throat as he finally passed for what I prayed was the last time.

I knew the way instinctively, I could feel him, a soul rife with hate and violence echoing down the halls like a siren's song. I walked unmolested down the empty and lifeless halls, the dull hum of power in the air resonated with the crystals creating an almost soporific effect as I tread the unfamiliar ways. Thoughts of battles past and dead enemies haunted my mind, more so than usual.

“Damn you Twist, will I be fighting this sun-forsaken war forever?” I muttered under my breath, more tired than angry. “Will I ever know peace?”

“Hey Captain, do you think we'll ever know peace?” Lightning Dasher asked idly as we stood overlooking the beautiful green valley below, marred as it was by the enemy's cook-fires and blackened sections of forest.

“Peace?” I responded in a low voice, “not so long as that bastard still breathes we won't.”

The news had come at a bad time, most of the army's forces were deployed over the network of islands when it had arrived. A warband of Griffon elites were cutting a bloody, kamikaze swathe through the skies lead by a seemingly unkillable warrior. Two regiments of Pegasi Skyguard had been utterly wiped out in the resulting blitz over a stretch of the eastern shoreline between Manehatten and Fillydelphia called Hills End Beach. The Griffon forces had taken refuge in one of the great valleys in the mainland just west of the beach, hence the name. Over three hundred soldiers on the enemy side had fallen according to the AAR, but over twice that in pegasi had fallen alongside them. Nopony had been ready for the sheer violence of the Griffon's charge, it was suicidal and had caught our mainland defense force completely off guard.

The 109th had been pulled off the line for the time being and were under review for 'overly violent methods of warfare' when the call to arms came. There were no other forces that could be called upon to face the threat without leaving primary targets like Manehatten crucially weakened. Of course it became a non-issue when the description of the leader was circulated: A massive, scarred griffon warlord clad in heavy scored plate barding, serrated blades on his wings, and a huge falchion. He also had what appeared to be a brutal scar on his throat, as if somepony had nearly cut it out.

Dasher sighed and looked out over the valley with me, his eyes far sharper than my own as was common with Pegasi. “We're outnumbered, ya know that right Captain?” his voice wasn't worried or admonishing, just a statement. We'd been in too many scrapes for him to question my judgment in tactical matters.

“I know, I'm going to even the playing field a little, don't worry.” Dasher scowled at that, he knew what I meant and he didn't like it. My magic gave him the 'heebie jeebies' as he put it, but it didn't matter, despite the devastating losses they'd suffered over the Hills End Beach. “Besides, outnumbered or not, this is our fight, you know that, if it's him then it's up to us. For Summer.” Lightning flinched but immediately his features steeled.

“Aye sir, that it is, for Summer,” all trace of doubt was gone, I'd done my job so I turned away from him and looked back down, levitating a pair of binoculars up to get a better view. There were just around two hundred and fifty Griffon's down there, the problem was that they were all Griffonari Janissaries: fanatical warriors, each and every one of them was a battle-hardened veteran worth two or even three of our own soldiers. They worshipped war like it was a god and the battlemaster was their prophet.

“I you are here...” I hissed venomously as I glared at the largest nest of campfires, “...then I will end you once and for all, I swear it.”

The day came to end and I hadn't moved. The rest of the 109th had, however, they surrounded me at the hilltop looking down over the campsites that had gone dark. It meant nothing to us, the terrain itself meant nothing since it was all about to change.

“You're sure this will work Doctor?” I asked quietly, the mares and stallions under my command were doing last minute prep as I consulted with Silver Twist. “This is... further than we've ever gone.”

“You can do it my boy, you're the best, no doubt,” he answered in that same faintly aristocratic tone, warmed just slightly with a paternal kind of pride. “You just have to do as I said, and you'll have your revenge.” His voice echoed strangely in my mind, but he was right, I was sure of it. I just had to do as he'd instructed, us the charm he'd given me and the spell inside of it, and everything would turn in our favor.

“Alright, get back then, and let Treasure and Charmer know that I'm ready to start,” Twist nodded curtly and turned to follow my orders. Moments later I was joined by the two unicorn mares I trusted most, their eyes had a curious flatness to them.

“We're ready to begin,” was all they said, I put it down to pre-spell jitters, they'd never used one of the Doctor's (Master's) charms before.

“Ok,” I pulled out the hoof-sized sphere of jet that the Doctor had given me, it seemed darker than even it should be, as if the light around it were extinguished simply by its presence. “Follow my lead.”

I floated the gem out between us as Starlight Charmer, Gentle Treasure, and I all surrounded it, standing equidistant from each other so as not to disrupt the flow of energy between us. As one we touch our horns to the gem and began.

Pain flared and I heard them both cry out, neither of them broke the ritual though, that would have been disastrous. Two unicorns enacting a spell was common in combat situations, one to provide the framework for the spell, the other to provide the power. Three was far less common and only necessary for the most complicated of battlefield spells. The spell itself was shaped by me, I was the only one with the necessary experience and attunement to perfectly wield the magic, Treasure controlled the spatial flux of the spell, ensuring that it had the proper width and volume, and Starlight aligned the spell so that not only did it hit the right amount of area, but the right location.

In this case, the target was the entire valley.

Doctor Twist theorized a curious phenomenon in nature that he called the 'Genius Loci', or the Spirit of the Land. The idea that swathes of land had a sort of spirit all its own that ensured harmony between the flora and fauna, and allowed the magic of the world to flow freely. In a sense, it was the soul of the land itself. Numerous time Doctor Twist had proven that some controlling force existed in nature but nopony had ever taken it seriously, his detractors laughed the idea off as mere fancy while even his proponents saw little point in the fact even if it were true.

Of course, they had never thought to try and enslave the soul of a valley to the will of a single pony before.

I felt the unholy reaches of the spell spill out into the land, usually it was like trying to control a river, this was like trying to reign in the tide. Yet I did it, I let the power ebb and flow, eroding the bonds that the valley's genius loci had with its precious valley. I could hear the earth scream in protest as I poured the soul's equivalent of acid over a part of it. A fierce pride flared in my breast, not even the land itself could escape my grasp as I sent hook after chain after barb into the pseudo-flesh the spiritual presence. The valley shook and trembled, avalanches tearing themselves from the mountainsides as they're governing power was ripped and torn from where it rested. The earth began to seize horrendously, some trees withered and died in an instant while others tore up their roots and collapsed as if uprooted by some giant and invisible grip.

Suddenly I could feel them, all the life in the valley; all the scurrying rodents and frightened beasts, the Griffons too, their alien claws that didn't belong in on the dirt of this valley. I could feel their fear, so I reached out through the animating force I'd chained to my magic and willed the earth become swamp. The Griffons' campsites sank along with weapons and armor, even the odd unlucky soldier who wasn't quick enough. They took to the air but it mattered little, the winds were mind as well. I stirred up a powerful wind from the mountains and the spirit screamed in agony as I ripped it downwards, catching the Griffons utterly off guard as the sky itself turned against them. The were carried wildly through the air, some slamming fatally into trees or outcropping rocks, others driven into the ground with the force of a hammer. I felt their bones crack and their death rattles choke from their dying throats as they were battered and slain by the hoof of an angry god.

The land screamed again and again as I slew them in their dozens, those that tried to escape found themselves hurled about unforgivingly by rogue cyclones and hurricane force winds. Some sought shelter in caves only to discover unnaturally enraged beasts and sudden terrible avalanches. Some even tried to set about burning the forests themselves by fanning their campfires out of control only for the trees to uproot themselves and sweep their camps and soldiers with fiery death of their own making. And through it all the land continued to scream.

Finally the screaming became a weak wail, then a moan, and then finally silence as I felt the land itself die, the entity finally expiring in my mystical grip. With it's governing entity brutalized and slain the land simply died beneath under my hooves; in an instant the trees became husks, the rivers began to stagnate, and even the stone turned brittle and lifeless. My trance ended and I looked around only to find Treasure and Charmer unconscious at my hooves, bleeding from their eyes and muzzles.

I casually stepped over their prone forms and regarded my blank-eyed brigade of warriors, Silver Twist was grinning manically at its head.

“I'm so proud of you my boy.”

I matched his smile as I turned and gave the order.

“Slaughter them.”

I shuddered at the memory, what had I been that I had been capable of that. More to the point what kind of unicorn was capable of that kind of power, that kind of magic? Silver Twist was a genius without a doubt, but... I had no words to describe what kind of being it would take to envision such a spell. The death of the land itself. I couldn't think of a more horrifying alternative to Harmony.

Before I knew it I stood before the vast crystalline double doors that could only lead to the throne room. They were curiously similar to the Canterlot throne room and I wonders vaguely whether the these ones imitated those, or vice versa. Regardless I allowed my moribund memories to fall to the wayside and with a grunt of effort, heaved the heavy doors open.

And there he was, just as I remembered him. Although now he was clean, rather than flecked with mud, filth, and blood from his fallen warriors. He stood grasping the hilt of his blue steel falchion, its wicked driven a half-inch into the crystal floor, the brutal scar on his throat pulsed with each breath as he waited patiently for me to close the distance.

“Jasper, you received my message then?” his voice was a raspy, bass rumble, the accent cleaner and more clipped than Loctes'. “I'm glad.”

“Glad? By the sun and stars Phaestus, how many times do I have to kill you?” I spat and to my surprise he was struck by a look of... sorrow?

“Far too many, old friend.”

“Friend? FRIEND?! You killed my friends! How dare you call me that,” the hate was palpable now but it was all coming from me. Phaestus, on the other hoof, just smiled wanly.

“Who knows me better than you, little General? Who do I consider my equal? It is a sorry day, I suppose, when the closest friend you can count is your worst enemy though, I suppose.”

“What do you want with me? Didn't you come to fight me again?” Now I'll admit, I was curious, this wasn't the Berserker I knew, this was a shadow of that fierce warrior. “What... happened to you?”

Phaestus sighed deeply, casting his eyes up to stare into the sky through the clear crystal dome through which clear sunlight filtered through. In a voice that sounded stretched thin, and decades older than his years, Phaestus replied, “I am tired, Jasper, I am... so very tired.”

“Then quit,” I deadpanned, “stop fighting, it's not like you...” a thought struck me, a memory of servitude, “...you can't... can you?”

“Can you?” I stopped cold, ready to refute him, but the retort died in my throat. What had I done since I'd arrived? Fought? Killed? I'd been free for less than a week before dragging the war to Ponyville. It's true that I could blame Celestia for her plans, or Twist for his psychotic experiments. In the end however, I chose to fight.

“So, now what?” the fires in my heart were becoming embers, the truth was I was just as tired as he seemed to be. Neither of us wanted to fight any longer, I never imagined it but I could see, in his eyes, the desire for it all to simply end. “Do we just... dance the same routine? Is that all we are? Just ghosts repeating our last actions until we fade away?”

“Not if I can help it,” there was a tiny clink of shattered gems as Phaestus pulled his blade out of the floor, I tensed for the coming storm. “I have a favor to ask of you Jasper. Or rather, a favor to ask of the Red General.” I crooked an eyebrow as I shifted my withers, loosening the coiled scythe in its sheathe. “Kill me, this one last time, and leave me here.”

I stared hard at the aged warlord for a moment before asking, “why?”

“Because I am sick and tired of war,” that statement more than any other struck me as impossible for a soldier who once bore the sobriquet of Berserker, he continued though, speaking in that same wan and raspy voice. “I once believed that war was the ultimate expression of power and life, that it was a glorious thing to be raised up on a pedestal and aspired to, but no longer. After six years of unending, sleepless, undying bloodshed... I have found that I all truly want is some peace. I know, little General, that I do not deserve it, that I am an unforgivable monster. I asked your traitorous Doctor Twist for this unholy life so I could continue to fight, but I was so very wrong, and I have suffered for it since then, unable to rest, my soul in agony every waking moment. Please, I beg of you, end me.”

His words were spoken with the broken sincerity of one who has reached the end of his line, I could hear the jaded desperation in his voice and, cruelly, a part of me wanted to ask: why should I? Why should I give you rest after what you've done?

For the right reasons, Jasper. Do it for the right reasons.

“Fine.”

Phaestus blinked in surprise, I think he honestly expected me to spit on his request out of spite, and to be fair I had been sorely tempted to, but there were others who thought better than me and they deserved better. The Griffon battlemaster bowed his head in a strangely humble gesture that seemed at odds with his posture, “T-thank you, and I am sorry but I cannot make this simple, Twist controls my actions, once we begin I will try to destroy you with everything that I am.”

I smirked, “well it wasn't enough the last two times, so that shouldn't be an issue.”

Phaestus gave a choking but genuine laugh, “I suppose that is true... and... Jasper?” His tone gave me pause as I gripped the mouth-grip of my scythe and drew it out, snapping the blade into place, I met his eyes with a questioning look. “I have had sleepless years of pain to reflect on the war and... I need you to know something...” he took a deep breath as he leveled his blade towards me in that familiar stance, “I am sorry, for the girl, I truly am.”

Whatever it was I expected him to say it wasn't that, I nearly dropped my blade and only years of combat experience kept my grip strong. What could I say to that? How should I respond to something so completely unlooked-for? I wanted to hate him, in that moment, more than ever, I wanted my old, simple hatred back. It was gone though, all I could do instead was wonder just how many of his friends I had coldly slaughtered, whether on the stained concrete outside of the Winding River Bunker, or in the brutal hellscape I'd made of Shining Valley.

So I shrugged and met his feral yellow eyes, I could not and would not ever forgive the bastard for taking Summer away from me, but the message I sent was as clear as day.

'It was war.'

Then the world blurred as he moved like lightning with a brutal cleaving sideswipe, seeking to part me from my lower jaw. I made as if to parry, swinging my scythe to meet his blade only to vanish in a flash of rusty red light and reappear to his immediate left, continuing the momentum of my 'parry' into a severing attack on his left leg. There was a spark and the ring of metal as his wingblade caught my ruse. Following the flow of his swing Phaestus whipped around, sweeping his falchion like a golf club in a swing that would have bisected me. I caught him by surprise by hooking the curve of my scythe around the offending wingblade that had spoiled my surprise attack and pulling myself forward in a reckless charge, spearing my horn through his wing and drawing a roar of pain and frustration form my opponent. With a flick of his massive feathered wing Phaestus sent me flying and as suddenly as I was in the air, he was too, screeching a cry of war as thrust his curved blade at me. Desperately I tried to twist in the air with a telekinetic push to the right, knowing I didn't have the time to concentrate on a midair teleport and managed to avoid the brunt of his attack, but I hissed in pain as he opened up a bleeding scar on my left side. I landed hard along Phaestus who dropped to the ground as well, we both were breathing raggedly, me from my foot-and-a-half shallow slice and him from his punctured wing which had clearly been overtaxed by his wild assault as it twitched and shuddered with pain.

“You've improved... little General...” he rasped as he fell back into his stance, albeit a little more shakily than before. I didn't give him the opportunity to regain his footing and collapsed a section of crystal floor beneath his feet, throwing his balance off further, wildly he attempted to raise a defense but I wasn't charging him. Instead I'd rolled the bit of my scythe in my mouth so that was reversed and out of my way as I pulled up my charged and loaded long-arc from my back, the familiar snapping crackle of the firearm discharged, blowing a hole through his left wing. I cursed my newly annihilated depth perception effusively as I tossed the weapon aside, Phaestus already recovering his peerless balance and lowering his center for a wild charge.

I should dodge, move out of his way. That's what my brain told me, my mind was screaming to evade the almost-certain death that remaining in place would bring.

But my instinct said stay.

Take aim.

Level the weapon.

Phaestus flourished his blade before him as he stepped into his rushing assault, obscuring his body with spinning blue steel and spoiling any possible aim at his vitals. That didn't matter though, because I wasn't aiming at him.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Fire.

There was a snapping crack of energy and the blast shot true this time, colliding with the hilt of his blade mid-flourish, blowing off claw-like fingers and sending the finely artificed blade clattering away. Phaestus suddenly found his momentum changed, his charge broken as he staggered through the pain and surprise. I was already upon him though, he had yet to arrest the force of his movement and I used it as I rushed forward to spear the barrel of the long-arc through his belly and up into his ribcage with a wrenching crack of bone and flesh, I felt the stock fracture under the immense weight of the Griffon warrior. Rotten blood spilled from Phaestus' beak in a stream that was cut off by a single brutal swing from my scythe as I buried it deep in his old wound, the blow nearly severing his head as I felt the tip scrape and slice into vertebrae.

Green light spilled out from the wound and my old enemy seemed to visibly deflate, the fight going out of his body as the animating force of his soul escaped through the wound I'd dealt him. There was a faint whisper of a smile lingering around the edges where his mouth met his beak, and a look of profound contentment on his features.

“It's time to sleep, you old featherhead, the war is over,” I intoned solemnly as I gently pulled the blade from his throat. He nodded vaguely and slumped to the floor, my ruined firearm still lodged in his chest. With a grunt of effort Phaestus lifted his remaining claw and pointed towards the throne, gesturing at the seat with all the meager energy he could spare. I furrowed my brow, “what? What is it?”

“...E...ex-...” he choked through another spill of black ichor, but I understood what he was getting at.

“The way out? It's there?” he nodded weakly and gave me another ghost of a grin.

“...T-tha...nk... y...ou...” the final words of one of the most reviled war leaders of the last decade escaped in a hiss as he thanked his killer for ending his life. Phaestus' scarred and muscular form went slack with death for what would be the last time, I would make damn sure of it.

I cleaned the blade of my scythe but left the long-arc where it lay, it was ruined and the crystal in it was barely a shot from empty. There was no reason to defile his corpse any more than it already was and I was content to let his remains rot away in this empty pocket of reality for the rest of time. I made my way towards the throne and sure enough, if I looked at it from just the right angle, there was what appeared to be a tiny tear in space with a wan light filtering out.

“Time to end this,” I muttered to all the dead who would listen, and I stepped into the light.