The sound of crickets filled the night, their rhythmic chirping a faint reminder of normalcy in a world that had become anything but. Twilight Sparkle sat alone in the field outside the walls of Maritime Bay, the cold grass brushing against her legs. Above her, the stars stretched endlessly across the sky, distant and unchanging. Once, they had brought her comfort, a reminder of the vast universe beyond Equis and its endless possibilities.

But tonight, they felt cold and indifferent.

Her gaze fell to the horizon, where the faint lights of the city glimmered like embers, barely holding onto their glow. The ponies inside were no different. Their hope, once burning bright, was now a flicker on the verge of extinguishing. And she couldn’t blame them. She felt it too--that heavy, suffocating weight of defeat.

Dean’s words echoed in her mind, sharp and biting: "My family’s lives are at risk! How could you use this lie to try and keep me here? How could you be so selfish? Once I kill the Emperor and end this war, I’m going home!"

Twilight shut her eyes tightly, but it didn’t stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks. She hugged herself, her wings trembling as she tried to steady her breathing. His anger, his accusations...they had cut deeper than any wound. But worse than the pain was the truth hidden in his words. She had been selfish. She had clung to him, not just because he was their best chance at winning, but because she needed him. She needed someone who understood, who could shoulder the burden with her. And now he was gone.

Her voice cracked as she whispered into the empty night, “Why does everyone leave me?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered. Shining Armor, Cadance, her parents... All gone. Her friends--captured or worse. And now Dean. The loneliness was unbearable, a gaping void that threatened to swallow her whole. She pressed her hooves into the ground, as if grounding herself physically could stop her heart from breaking further.

"Twilight?"

She flinched at the sound of Spike’s voice. She hadn’t even heard him approach. Slowly, she turned her head, finding him standing a few feet away, his green irises filled with concern. His larger frame cast a shadow over her, reminding her of how much he had grown over the years she had been absent.

She didn’t respond, didn’t move as he cautiously stepped closer. When he finally reached her, he knelt down and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. That was all it took for her composure to shatter. A sob tore from her throat as she buried her face in his shoulder, her body shaking with the force of her grief.

Spike held her tightly, his claws lightly tracing circles on her back. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Her sobs came out more as a hacking wheeze than anything, and she desperately clung to her younger brother as he held her. In that moment, all she could think about was the loss she had experienced. Being in the Everfree for two years had been terrifying, but there had always been hope that she would find her way and see her family once again. What she was experiencing now was well beyond that experience. Her friends and family were gone. Her love had turned on her when she had needed him most, and all she had left was Spike. Now, she wasn't so sure that he would last long. It was some cruel joke the universe was pulling on her, laughing with indifference at her suffering.

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut with all her might to the point that an ache began to develop in full. She wanted it to be over. She wanted to make it all stop.

Spike made shushing noises as he rocked his sister back and forth. His eyes held a distant look as he glared back at the town. He saw confused guards running about, and many of the citizens who were still awake. The one person he did not see--the one that should have been there, or even right where he was now, was Dean. He turned back to his sister.

Twilight’s chest tightened as another wave of emotion crashed over her. The word alone echoed in her mind, each repetition heavier than the last. She clung to Spike like a lifeline, her trembling body barely able to hold itself up. Eventually, her cries subsided, leaving her drained and hollow. She pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the faint moonlight.

“Why, Spike?” she croaked, her voice cracking. “Why did he leave me? Why does everyone leave me?”

Twilight’s chest heaved once again, her tears soaking into his shoulder. He held her without a word, his claws lightly tracing patterns on her back, waiting for her sobs to subside. 'What is she talking about? Who left her? Dean?'

“Twilight,” he said softly, breaking the silence, “what happened? Why are you out here?”

She stiffened in his embrace but didn’t pull away. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was raw and quiet. “I don’t know what to do, Spike,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gone. He left me, and now... now it’s all on me. I can’t... I don’t know how to fix this.”

Spike blinked, his brow furrowing. “Dean? What do you mean? He wouldn’t just--”

“He yelled at me,” Twilight cut in, her tone sharp with lingering anger and sadness. “Said I was selfish. Said I... I lied to him to keep him here.”

Spike’s grip tightened as his claws lightly dug into her fur. “What?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why would he say that?”

Twilight pulled back slightly, her face streaked with tears and her eyes red from crying. “He said his family is at risk, that I w-was trying to trap him a-and keep him a-all to myself," her voice lowered to a panicked whisper, "and then he told me... he told me he’s going to kill the Emperor and go home. T-That he’s done.” Her chest shook as she leaned into Spikes chest, her sobs quiet.

Spike’s mouth hung open, his expression slowly shifting from confusion to anger. “He said what? That doesn’t make any sense! He’s been fighting with us this whole time--how could he just... just accuse you of something like that?”

“I don’t know!” Twilight cried, her voice rising as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t know why he’s so angry with me. I thought we were in this together, Spike. I thought I meant something to him. I thought he loved me..."

Spike stood frozen for a moment, his claws balled into fists at his sides. “That’s not fair. He has no right to say those things to you. None. You didn’t do anything wrong, Twilight.”

Twilight let out a hollow laugh, wiping her face with a hoof. “Didn’t I? Maybe I did try to keep him here, Spike. Maybe I was selfish. I-I kissed him. I... he... he's done so much for me and I thought--I thought..." Images of the strange monster bearing her old mentors face flashed across her vision. It's hallow laughter and horrific appendages causing her to shiver. "It’s not enough, Spike. I need him. He’s the only one who understands...who can handle all of this. Without him... I’m nothing.”

“Twilight, stop.” Spike stepped in front of her, gripping her shoulders tightly. “You’re not selfish, okay? And you are not nothing without him. Dean’s wrong. Whatever’s going on with him, it’s his problem, not yours. And you don’t need him to be strong. You’ve always been strong, even when everything was falling apart. You've faced stacked odds before, and yet you still came out on top.”

Her lip trembled, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like it, Spike. I feel so... so lost. Like I’m failing everyone.”

Spike’s anger didn’t fade, but his expression softened as he saw how deeply her pain ran. “You’re not failing anyone,” he said firmly. “And you’re not alone, Twilight. I’m still here. We’ll figure this out, even if Dean can’t see straight right now.”

She sniffled, a small spark of warmth breaking through the cold ache in her chest. “I don’t know if I can do it without him.”

“You don’t have to,” Spike said, his voice quiet but steady. “We’re going to fix this. But right now, you’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Twilight leaned into his embrace again, letting his words wash over her. For a moment, the heavy weight of loneliness lifted, if only slightly. But Dean’s accusations and departure still lingered, a wound she wasn’t sure would ever fully heal.

"I just hope he's alright..." she whispered, staring off into the night.

The scratch of a quill, the flash of a memory. He saw his aunt. He saw her blood. He saw the one responsible. Here he sits, a pawn, a puppet--or so the Emperor thinks.

Prince Blueblood Platinum was an interesting character. He had been adopted by her highness, Princess Celestia Solaris at the young age of four, and he had lived in the castle ever since. He came across as rather pompous, and was hated by many for his aloof attitude. He was called rude things behind his back, he was mocked for his standing as a 'prince' without power. They said he was a fool.

And they were wrong.

When the Dark Elves invaded, Blueblood had been on his way to the throne room. He had been using the servants corridors to get around, not wanting to deal with any of his fellow nobles as he went to find his auntie. He had heard the explosions, and upon racing into the throne room from a side entrance, he had seen something he would never forget.

Atop Celestia's throne sat a creature, and laying on the floor before the throne was Celestia herself. Her blood pooled around her body, and her lifeless and scared eyes stared into nothing. In that moment, Blueblood could not register anything for a brief moment. He had felt fear, heartbreak, and anger. It burned within him as he turned his eyes to the figure on the throne, who was now looking at him with a brow raised.

Staring into each others very souls, both unrelenting, it was the Emperor atop the throne who had spoken first.

"Little pony, a Prince no less. I was wondering when you would show up."

The Emperor stood and walked down the steps. Blueblood had said nothing, only continuing to stare even when the Elf was directly before him.

"I am in need of a...puppet. Someone who will be a figurehead for Equestria now that its rulers are indisposed.

Blueblood’s breath was shallow, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum. The Emperor’s shadow loomed over him, stretching across the crimson-soaked floor. Yet, Blueblood didn’t flinch. He felt rage, an inconsiderable rage. He was seconds from lighting his horn and attacking the being before him, even though it would end in death. But the words of this Emperor...

A puppet. A figurehead.

The term coiled in his mind like a venomous serpent, and in that moment, Blueblood understood his role was being decided for him. But outwardly, he gave nothing away. His blue eyes, cold and calculating, did not waver.

The Emperor tilted his head slightly, studying him. “You do not beg. You do not grovel. That’s... unexpected.”

Blueblood's voice, when it finally came, was steady. “I serve Equestria. If serving under you is necessary for its survival, then so be it.”

A lie, perfectly delivered.

The Emperor’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Practical. I can appreciate that.” He leaned in closer, his pale face inches from Blueblood’s. “But betray me, and I will make you wish you had died with your beloved aunt.”

Blueblood held his gaze. “I wouldn’t dare.”

But deep down, Blueblood dared.

The Emperor’s smirk faded as he pulled away. “Good. You will address my soldiers, rally the remaining nobility, and assure the ponies that this... transition of power is in their best interest. Appear loyal, and you will be rewarded.”

Blueblood gave a slow, calculated nod. “As you command.”

And with that, the Emperor turned his back, dismissing him like a servant.

Blueblood’s mind raced. His stomach churned at the sight of Celestia’s lifeless form, but he forced himself to move. He had to play the part. The aloof noble. The obedient figurehead.

But inside, the fire of vengeance burned.

As time went by, Blueblood had been hard at work. He organized events, curated propaganda in favour of the the Elves, and personally attended many an execution of suspected Resistance members. He also burned every entry that had to do with the little coastal city of Maritime Bay, "lost" two invisibility generators to Shining Armour at the beginning of the war, and ensured the imprisoned Elements were kept in a secluded wing where the odd Elven noble or horny soldier would not find them.

Indeed, he had been working hard. But it all came crumbling down.

In a move he could not have foreseen, Blueblood had personally witnessed the Emperor duel with the Demon in Metal. The fight was fierce, but short lived. The Demon was no match for Dommick Blueblade, and was on the verge of defeat. In a moment of panic, Blueblood had fired a concussive energy blast, shooting the Demon and Dommicks sword off of Canterlot Mountain and hopefully into the lake far below. It was a gamble, an extremely risky one, but Blueblood knew that if the Demon were to die then and there, it was over.

Blueblood had played the role of the fool perfectly. Every sneer he endured, every false praise he lavished upon the Emperor, every noble he charmed with his insufferable pomp--it was all calculated. But now, as he faced the consequences of his gamble, he realized the line he’d been walking had all but vanished. His next move could be his last.

That brought him to now.

"You did what?" Rarity's shocked voice cut through the quiet, snapping Blueblood from his work. The scratch of his Elven pen halted mid-stroke as he looked up from the parchment before him.

Her tone carried disbelief, but it was the tremor in her voice that gave him pause.

Rarity stood in the dimly lit chamber, her battered form an unspoken testament to the horrors she and her friends had endured. Despite her tattered condition, she still managed an air of grace, though Blueblood couldn’t help but wince at the bruises poorly concealed beneath her fur and mane. The Elves had not been kind to her--or any of the others for that matter.

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy had suffered equally cruel fates. The former’s wings were now bare of feathers, her once-proud appendages a mockery of what they had been. Burns marred her body, reminders of her most recent, and nearly fatal, escape attempt. Fluttershy, quieter than ever, bore similar wounds, her voice a hushed whisper of its former self.

Applejack and Pinkie Pie had fared no better. Their natural strength as Earth Ponies had been seen as a threat, and the Elves had taken measures to ensure it would not be used against them. They were fed smaller portions--just enough to keep them alive but too little to give them strength. Feeding times had been segregated to prevent them from rallying the others.

And then there was Rarity.

Blueblood’s chest tightened as he regarded her. She had once been elegant and proud, the epitome of charm and sophistication, even during that terrible Gala all those years ago. Now, she was a shadow of her former self. Early on, she had been chosen as the Emperor’s servant, subject to the whims of prowling nobles. Her ribs had been broken not long ago, and there were too many nights when she had simply... disappeared, returning later with hollow eyes and shaking limbs.

By the time Blueblood had managed to intervene, claiming her as his “personal wench” to protect her, it was far too late. The damage had already been done. Since then, he had done all he could to ease her suffering, sneaking extra food, soft blankets, and even subtly manipulating schedules to keep her and her friends as safe as possible. But it was never enough.

Rarity’s wide, disbelieving eyes bore into him, demanding an answer. Blueblood took a slow, steadying breath, carefully setting the pen aside as he met her gaze.

“I did what I had to,” he said finally, his voice low but firm. “For all of you.”

Rarity opened her mouth, but no words came. Her expression was a swirling storm of emotions: shock, pain, confusion. Blueblood didn’t blame her. What he had done, what he was doing, was far beyond anything she could have expected from the stallion she had once dismissed as a pompous fool.

Taking her silence as permission, he returned to his work. The letter needed to be finished. Time was slipping through his hooves like sand, and with the Demon seemingly out of the picture, the hour to act had come.

For five minutes, the scratch of his pen and Rarity’s quiet whimpers were the only sounds in the room.

---

...We don't have time. Operation L.E. has been put into effect. I do not know how long this can hold, but I am sending five special deliveries to the factory drop-off in two days. You know what to do. If the plan fails, organize the workers and make for the predesignated safe spaces. The magical event will wipe us all, and it will be up to you and the others to ensure our survival. There is still a hope--a spark in the north. If the Griffons succeed in safeguarding her, perhaps, one day, all that was lost can be restored."

In the meantime, tell wifey I said hello. I hope you and the young ones are well. This may be my last message. If so, it has been an honor to work with you, J. All of our kind will forever be in your debt.

Sincerely,
P.B.P.

---

Finally, the letter was done. Blueblood set the pen down slowly, his hoof trembling as he closed his eyes. Emotions churned within him--anger, sorrow, regret. But most of all, fear.

The era of ponykind had ended with the Elves’ invasion. He had known that for some time. But this...this was worse. If the Emperor succeeded, there would be no survival. No hope. They would all be reduced to hollow, mindless husks. Puppets, rotting away as their world crumbled around them.

Except for the Elves.

They would rule unchallenged, pushing beyond the barrier once they discovered its secrets. And with It on their side, nothing would stop them.

Blueblood shuddered, the memory of that day in the castle gardens haunting him. Dommick had been so casual as he walked past the ancient statue. But Blueblood had known what it was. It was no ordinary human. His aunt had told him the stories of humanity, their incredible power and resilience, but this... this was different.

That statue was a god. A god that was frozen in time.

The tale was ancient--two beings from a time before history had fallen to their world. Their power had been unmatched, their fury capable of splitting continents and shattering mountains. They were destruction incarnate.

And now, the darker of the two was set to be unleashed upon Twilight’s capture.

Blueblood’s heart raced as he stared at his desk. This wasn’t just fear anymore. It was terror. Terror that this was the end--not just of Equis, but of hope itself.

All he could do now was prepare and try and play his part. Maybe, just maybe, what he was about to do would give them a little more time...

Twilight Sparkle trudged through the quiet streets of Maritime Bay, her hooves scuffing against the cobblestones. The sun had barely begun its rise, casting long, wavering shadows across the empty alleyways. The city felt hollow, a far cry from the hope and determination that had once radiated from its walls. Ponies moved in silence, their eyes downcast and their steps slow. The spirit of resistance that had once burned bright was now a flickering ember.

Twilight barely noticed them as she passed. Her head hung low, and her wings dragged against her sides. The echoes of Dean’s words still rang in her ears, a cruel mantra that gnawed at her resolve.

"My family’s lives are at risk! How could you use this lie to try and keep me here? How could you be so selfish? Once I kill the Emperor and end this war, I’m going home!"

Her chest tightened, and she blinked rapidly to push back the sting of tears. She wanted to speak to him again, to explain, to fix whatever had broken between them...but he was gone. And now, it seemed, the weight of their collective struggle rested solely on her shoulders. She had felt his lifeforce fade; their connection notifying her the very moment his heart was pierced by...something. She hadn't wanted to believe it, but the the truth was now out in the open. The worst had happened, and soon she would need to chose between her life, and the survival of this world.

A group of guards lingered near the town square, their armor dull and unkempt. They leaned against walls and muttered quietly amongst themselves, their postures weary and defeated. Twilight slowed as she approached them, but her hooves faltered. Her breath hitched as she took in their despondent faces, their lack of vigilance. They took no notice of her presence.

What am I doing? she thought bitterly. What could I even say to them?

Instead of addressing them, Twilight turned away and made her way up to the fort overlooking the city. She passed more despondent guards along the way, their gloom reflecting her own thoughts. Slowly, she made it to the building she had avoided since the morning. The officers quarters where nearly empty, as most had been dismissed to go see their families by General Blight. She plodded along, avoiding everyone's gaze. Even Midnight, who watched in silence as her tear streaked face stayed hung near the ground.

Suddenly, she stopped. Her nose twitched, and her ears perked up slightly. She glanced above her, and the sudden spike of happiness didn't last long. She was in front of a room--the room where Dean had stayed.

The door creaked softly as she pushed it open. The air inside was stale, carrying faint traces of the man who had once occupied the space. Maps and notes lay scattered across the desk, some crumpled in frustration and others neatly folded, awaiting strategies that might never be enacted. His armor stand stood in the corner, and a pile of equipment--along with metal ingots of some kind--lay in a heap on the floor next to his strange, but silent machine.

Twilight stepped inside, her hooves feeling heavier with each step. Her gaze landed on the bed, its sheets still rumpled from the last night he had spent there. She approached the desk and ran a hoof over the papers, her touch lingering on the careful marks he had made. For a moment, the room was silent save for the sound of her breathing.

Her eyes settled on a single note pinned to the map at the center of the desk. It was written in Dean’s unmistakable handwriting:

"If they’re scared, fight harder. If they’re lost, lead them. If they’re hopeless, remind them of why we fight. Rangers lead the way!"

Twilight’s breath caught as she read the words. A spark flickered within her, chasing away the cold grip of despair. She stood there, the shadows in the room receding as she noticed more notes. Some were inspiration, and others Twilight deduced Dean had written in between moments of clarity before he had ran away.

"I love her. Her strength reminds me of Marie. I just wish I could reciprocate the feeling."

"You are needed, be it on this world or your own. They need a saviour. They need a light in the dark."

"Do not lose hope. The monster in your mind will not win. You are strong. You are Human."

Twilight gasped, her mind racing. Surely he didn't mean that monster? The one who had seemingly entered her dream and done... terrible things to her? She noticed a crumpled up piece of paper on the table, and slowly unfurled it with her magic. Before her was a letter.

"I don't know how long I have left. It won't leave me alone, and I can no longer fight this battle. The...thing... it has plagued me in the early days of my campaign on this planet. It tried to show me things, tell me falsehoods, and bend what I believed to be the truth. The operation is in a few days, and I am afraid.

Twilight. She means well. She is a light in the dark tunnel that is my world. I have fought for seven years, believing the war would never end. Then I met her. I know that in another world reality, her and I would be happy together until the end of our days. We would finish the war, she would go on to be the greatest leader of this strange world, and I would love her unlike any other. But there lies the problem. I do love her, but I cannot. I do not know if Marie and Jaxon are still alive, but what I do know is that I cannot stay. I am needed, and it is killing me inside. Jenkins would have a field day, making fun of me for liking a talking purple pony with wings... but he can go fuck himself if that's the case.

I need to leave. I need to kill the Emperor and end this war before it is to late. I know that the monster will turn me against Twilight, Midnight, and the resistance as a whole. I cannot tell anyone about this plight. Twilight, while good with magic, has suffered for to long. I will not make her go through my screwed up head. It would take to long, and I have a suspicion that it will take the opportunity to attack her, to. I need to keep her safe. Whatever the cost.

Twilight let a small sniffle escape her as she read. She had no idea he had been suffering so.

'Why didn't he tell me?!'

She read on, the paper wavering slightly in her magic as her emotion began to bleed through.

"I do not know if I will succeed. I do not know if I can win this battle. I can feel that monster clawing back up, trying to make me believe that writing this is all for nothing. It will not win. I am Dean Forrester. I am Human.

Whoever finds this, tell my squad that it was an honour to serve with them. I could not ask for better soldiers, or better friends. I would also request that in the event that I do not return, that my fabricator is given to Iron Mallet, the blacksmith. The password is on a sticky note on the wall. I can't remember which.

Lastly, I want you to find Twilight. I need you to find her and tell her I am sorry. I am sorry for letting her down, and I am sorry for how I hurt her. Tell her that even while I may be gone, she is a Princess of Equestria. I did some reading and asking around, and I know just how powerful Alicorns can be. You are strong, Twilight. You were strong when you survived two years in the Everfree, alone. You were strong when you suffered under Trignar and his soldiers. You were strong when you believed I would return and save the town of Ravenford. You were strong when you were taken by the Changelings.

You are strong Twilight. You can still win. You have Spike, you have Midnight, and you have the Resistance at your back. The world is looking to you as their leader, and I for one believe you will be a good one. I love you.

Regards,
First Sergeant Dean Stewart Forrester
Rangers Special Task Force

Twilight’s hooves trembled as she lowered the note, her magic flickering unevenly around the edges of the crumpled paper. The room seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing against her as if to mirror the weight crushing her chest. She swallowed hard, her throat dry and aching, as Dean’s words replayed in her mind.

"I am sorry for letting you down... You are strong, Twilight... I love you."

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor, clutching the note to her chest. The words blurred as tears welled in her eyes and spilled over, soaking into the parchment. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, as the enormity of what he had written settled over her like a suffocating blanket.

“You fool...” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You absolute fool... Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her chest heaved with silent sobs as she pressed the note closer, her tears staining its surface. She could almost hear his voice, calm and steady, as if he were standing beside her, offering those same words of encouragement in his gruff, matter-of-fact way. But he wasn’t here. He was gone, and she didn’t know if he would ever return.

The memories flooded her mind: Dean and her in a competitive but friendly duel, his quiet laughter during their few moments of respite, the way his eyes softened when looking at her when he thought she wasn't looking. He had carried so much pain, so much responsibility, and yet he had always stood tall. Now, reading his words, she realized how much of that strength had been a facade.

“You didn’t have to do it alone,” she choked out, her voice shaking. “I would have helped you... I could have helped you.”

Her wings trembled as she wrapped them around herself, seeking comfort in the absence of his embrace. The room felt colder now, emptier, as if his departure had stripped it of warmth. Yet, amidst the grief and anger, something else stirred within her. A flicker of determination, faint but growing stronger with each passing second.

Twilight slowly unfolded her wings and lifted her head, her tear-streaked face hardening with resolve. Dean’s words echoed in her mind, not as a haunting reminder of his pain, but as a rallying cry.

"You are strong, Twilight. You can still win."

She pushed herself to her hooves, her legs shaky but steadying with every step. She set the note carefully on the desk, smoothing out its edges as if to preserve the man who had written it. Her gaze swept across the room, taking in the scattered maps and notes, the remnants of Dean’s presence.

“You believed in me,” she said quietly, her voice steadying. “You saw something in me when I couldn’t even see it myself. And now...” She took a deep breath, her wings flaring slightly. “Now I’m going to prove you right.”

Twilight turned toward the door, her steps purposeful as she left the room. The lingering shadows in her heart receded with each stride, replaced by a growing light. She couldn’t let his sacrifice be in vain. She couldn’t let the despair that had seeped into the resistance snuff out the spark of hope they still carried. She had been idle for to long, and now was a time for action.

As she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, her horn ignited, casting a soft glow ahead of her. The distant murmur of voices reached her ears, the guards and civilians carrying on with their duties in subdued silence. She would change that. She would remind them why they fought, why they endured.

"If they’re scared, fight harder. If they’re lost, lead them. If they’re hopeless, remind them of why we fight. Rangers lead the way."

Dean’s words became her mantra, her guide. And as she entered into the main barracks, and beheld the faces of the many soldiers, she knew that it was time to fulfill her role as a Princess of Equestria. Glancing to the left, she noticed Midnight and Spitfire approaching.

"Princess... are you okay?" It was Spitfire who spoke first, her eyes flicking from Twilights tear-matted fur to her determined gaze. When she saw the look Twilight was giving, the young Captain stood just a little bit straighter.

"I am okay, Captain," Twilight gave an encouraging smile, "I need you and the Lieutenant here to assemble the Resistance soldiers in the courtyard along with the council in fifteen minutes. I wish to give a speech."

The two officers nodded without hesitation before galloping out of the building. The few soldiers still present watched them go before turning to face her once again. Twilight took a deep breath, in and out, before sweeping her gaze across the small crowd.

"Soldiers, assemble in the courtyard posthaste. I want your armour in pristine condition, and your weapons sharpened. You have fifteen minutes!"

The soldiers jumped into action, and Twilight gave a satisfied nod before trotting towards the front door. All the while, her determination only continued to grow.

This is my chance, she thought. I have to show them that we can still fight. That we can still win.

Exiting out through the double doors, Twilight prepared to deliver a speech. She just wished Dean were still here to see her.

Silence gripped the house, the only sounds coming from outside as Elven soldiers assembled and moved equipment. Lyra and Jowl sat in tense stillness, their breaths shallow as they exchanged uncertain glances. The oppressive quiet inside was only broken by the occasional clink of metal from outside, each sound sending a fresh jolt of unease through them.

The figure standing before them was nothing short of imposing. Dean’s battered armor bore the marks of countless battles, and while his helmet was gone, he still managed to conceal his face in shadow. The blade in his hand, faintly glowing with an ominous red light, was a stark reminder of what he’d endured...and what was soon to come.

Jowl’s voice broke the silence first, though it was little more than a whisper. “Bloody hell… you’re alive.”

The human's eyes landed on the burly elf, then proceeded to narrow. His silence was deafening as he sized Jowl up, looking for any excuse that the Elf posed a threat. He glanced at the aquamarine pony sitting beside the Elf and noticed its relaxed posture. It saw his gaze, and shuffled closer to the Elf, almost protectively. He needed answers, but first, his stuff.

"I will ask again. Where is my gear?" His voice was just above a whisper and he noticed the two were now staring at his sword. Looking down, Dean realized the blade was glowing the same color red that tinged the edges of his vision. Whatever this...magic was, it was tied to his emotions. He closed his eyes, took a few breaths, and then regarded the pony and the Elf with a cool expression. They seemed to have calmed down, and the redness was gone from both his eyes and sword. The pony gulped.

"Uh... M-Mr. Demon, sir, uh, y-your long metal stick i-is in th-the closet, along with anything else we took off of you." Her voice cracked slightly as Dean stared into her enlarged eyes. For a moment, neither seemed to want to look away. For Dean, something about the pony seemed familiar, and the same went for Lyra.

Breaking the silence, Jowl gestured to the corner where an old wooden closet stood. Dean followed his hand, his steps deliberate as he crossed the room. He opened the door to reveal his rifle, pistol, gloves, and various nick-nacks. A grenade, two flashbangs, four rifle magazines, and two pistol magazines. His tac-pad sat to the side, though the screen was cracked and likely out of battery. His fingers brushed over the weapons, the familiar weight grounding him as he picked them up one by one and stowed them away.

As he strapped on his equipment, the faint hum of Elven voices carried through the walls. Dean’s jaw tightened as he finished securing his gear. Fully armed and prepared, he turned back to Lyra and Jowl, his presence radiating quiet intensity.

"Pony. Do I know you. Why do you seem familiar?" Dean suddenly asked, stepping forward. The mare gulped.

"I-I don't know. I saw you... in a dream, but that's all I can remember. You are the Demon in Metal, right?" She asked timidly. The Elf beside her visibly shuddered, causing the man to swivel his gaze to him.

"And who are you?" Dean questioned further. His sword was still in his grip, and while there was no glow, he was well within reach of Jowl.

"M-My name ish Jowl Mr. Demon, sir. Ah, own dis 'ere house. A-ah also a've been takin care o' Lyra and--and..." His eyes flicked to the side, causing Dean to turn. The man noticed a previously unopened door now sported a crack, and within that crack, four pairs of eyes peeked out at him. Any regular person would have seen shadows, but Dean's enhanced eyesight revealed to him the forms of four small children--foals. His lips twisted into a snarl, and his blade rose with a flash.

"Why are you holding children in your basement?" His voice was a deadly whisper, but the tone carried the weight of an executioners axe mid-swing. Jowl could only shiver in place, a quiet squeak escaping him as the blade was leveled at his neck. This was not the response Dean wanted, and his gaze hardened. "Why the fuck are their children in your basement!" He growled, loud enough to snap the pony sitting beside the Elf to give a startled gasp.

"W-Wait! W-we are taking care of them! W-w-w-we rescued them f-from the Elves! Please, don't hurt Jowl!" The aquamarine pony shrunk back as Dean's blade flashed towards her before resting mere inches from her own jugular. Maybe these two did rescue him, but he needed to know they were not working with the enemy. The fact children were hiding in the basement was not a good look in their case.

"We will see about that." He growled out before lowering the sword and stalking towards the door. He heard the shuffle of hooves and panicked whispers, but paid them no mind. Instead, as soon as he came within reach of the door, he swung it open with unrivaled speed.

Before him sat three fillies and a colt. The first and closest to the door was a mute orange with purple hair. Her stance was protective as she raised her wings in an attempt at intimidation. The slick in her hair almost made her seem tomboyish, and Dean merely raised an eyebrow. Behind her, two fillies stood side by side. The white one had light purple and pink throughout her mane, and the curls were surprisingly well defined despite what Dean had expected. Beside her sat a yellow Earth Pony with valentine-red hair. Her distrusting eyes stared up into his, and she flinched when he looked at her.

Finally, there was the colt. He was quite small and lanky, his legs more akin to toothpicks as he stared up at Dean in what could only be awe. The fur around his eye was a light brown, while the same colour of splotches dotted across his entire body. It was cow-like, in a way, and Dean's interest was further piqued when the little colt gasped.

"Whoaaaaa, you're the Demon in Metal!" He stated in awe, his voice cracking despite being on the deep end. Dean guessed the colt, along with the fillies, were entering into their teenage years, much like Spike. His gaze softened, and he smiled at the little colt.

"That I am, little one. Sergeant Dean Forrester, the Demon in Metal, at your service." He smirked when the colt gave a rather serious looking salute, to which the white filly elbowed him in the side. Dean ignored their antics, and instead faced the most reclusive one of the bunch, yellow.

"Little girl," he spoke softly, crouching down slowly so as not to startle her. His voice, though low, carried an undeniable weight of authority and concern. The yellow filly glanced at him, her shoulders tense and eyes darting away from his face.

Dean kept his movements steady, his gaze softening. "The Elf and that pony--have they hurt you at all?"

Apple Bloom’s ears twitched at the question. Her jaw tightened for a moment before she slowly shook her head, her red mane swaying slightly with the motion. Though she said nothing, her posture shifted, the rigid tension in her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

"Good," Dean said gently, offering a faint smile before standing. His armor clinked as he rose, the sound making the filly flinch slightly, but she held her ground. He gave her one last reassuring nod before turning back to the table.

"Why do you two have these kids in the first place?" He asked, genuine curiosity tinging his voice. He heard the pitter-patter of little hooves as the four quietly made their way over to the table, and he watched as they gathered around the Elf, Jowl, and the Mare who's name he still didn't know. "They seem to trust you."

The mare nodded, a smile appearing as she looked down at the kids with adoration. Jowl watched the mare before sighing himself.

"We rescued da little 'uns from me kin. They's er Scootaloo, Sweetiebelle, Applebloom, an' Pipsqueak." Jowl pointed to each foal as he named them, and Dean nodded in understanding. His smile widened, causing the tense atmosphere to dissipate even more.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all." Three smiles, one head nod. Applebloom it seemed was not the talkative type. Concerning, but there was nothing he could do about that now. Dean looked at the aquamarine pony. Didn't Jowl say her name a minute ago? Lyre? Lamp?

"My name is Lyra, Lyra Heartstrings, Sergeant Dean." Her soft voice snapped him from his ruminations. He didn't know what expression he held, but Lyra giggled into her hoof as she cocked her head to the side. "I saw you trying to piece together my name, so I helped out."

Nodding, Dean glanced around, noticing a lack of windows in the room. His sense of time was all but gone at the moment, and worry seeped into him as he wondered just how long he had been out. Seeing as the pony was sitting there talking to him, the Emperor hasn't done the spell yet. Perhaps there was still time?

"How long was I out." Dean's gruff tone returned, his demeanor falling back into that of a soldier.

Jowl scratched the back of his head, his expression uneasy. "About two days, mate. We kept ya patched up, but ya looked like you was knockin' on death’s door. Not sure how you's is even still standin'. Ya mus' be some kinda super...demon, being....thing."

Two days. In that very moment, Dean’s mind froze. The weight of the words crashed down on him, placing an iron grip around his veins as his eyes widened. Two days was an eternity in a war like this. His heart began to pound, and he could feel his breathing quicken. He had tried to stop the invasion, but in doing so, he had given the Emperor the perfect opportunity to retaliate. The implications sent a cold chill through his veins.

'How did I not notice? I've been wasting time!'

"Two days," he repeated, his voice low and laced with urgency. "He thinks I’m dead. He...He's going to attack..."

Jowl frowned. "Aye, that’s what they’ve been sayin’. The Demon’s gone, out of the picture. Da Emperor’s shif'd focus apparently, heard dey was preping an attack on eh town somewhere near da ocean. Mary's bay? Mooney's Bay."

"Maritime Bay." The words escaped his mouth as a growl, his fist clamping around the hilt of his sword, and his teeth gritting with nearly unrestrained fury. The four children were startled by his change in demeanor, but Dean was outside of noticing. A million emotions were rushing through him, but it all took a backseat compared to the fear.

Dean’s stomach twisted, the words he had uttered hitting him like a physical blow. With a split second decision, he shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He was out of time.

"I have to go. Now."

Lyra’s eyes widened. "Dean, wait! You’re barely recovered—"

"If he’s moving on Maritime Bay, then he’s planning on capturing the Princess," Dean snapped, his tone sharp and unyielding. He had tried to end this on his own, to kill the Emperor and put an end to the war. But he had failed. Worse than that, he had given the Emperor exactly what he needed: time.

The room fell silent as Dean began strapping his gear back on, his movements hurried but precise. His hands trembled slightly as he tightened the straps near his legs and shoulders, the sense of impending doom clawing at him with every second that ticked by. The image of Twilight, vulnerable and unaware, flashed through his mind, and he cursed under his breath. He would not let a repeat of his late wife and son happen here. Not again.

'How could I have been so...weak.'

Jowl stepped forward cautiously. "Mate, you can’t fight ‘em alone again. You’ve seen what he’s capable of."

Dean turned, his eyes blazing with determination. "I don’t have a choice. If the Emperor gets to Twilight, it’s over. Not just for the resistance, but for the world. I need to get back to the city. I need to stop them from getting Twilight."

"Wait, Twilight? As in Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship?" Lyra asked, hope tinging her voice.

"Not for much longer," Dean growled, " if the Emperor gets his hands on her, it's over."

“Dean, wait—” Lyra stepped forward, but he rounded on her, his eyes blazing.

“There’s no waiting!” he snapped, his voice trembling with urgency. “If the Emperor captures her, it’s over. Do you understand that? Not just for the resistance, but for this entire world. I fucked up! I tried to kill the Emperor in my selfish need to try and get out of this mess of a fucking world!" Dean's figure became imposing, his shadow seemingly lengthening. His right eye glinted with a red glow, and the five ponies and an Elf grew fearful as Dean raised his sword, his words coming out in a harsh snarl.

"It's my fault that Maritime Bay, my friends, and the one I LOVE are in danger! It's my fault, and I will not let them win!" Dean's voice then fell into a deadly whisper. His entire presence seething as though he was forcing the words from his mouth.

"They will rue the day that they deceived me. They will remember what it's like to know true fear. I'm done running--from my past, and from the present. I am back, I am whole, and I will bring destruction upon the Emperor and his armies."

Blinking, Dean seemed to fall from his trance, though his gaze did not soften. Instead, Lyra watched in real time as the seemingly rageful warrior's eyes took on a cold glint. Rage was not an apt description for whatever was going through the being before her, and she wondered if hiding him in her house had even been a good idea. His eyes held a cold, calculating fury, his body was rigid and ready to spring into action, and his aura was one of vengeance.

"They gave me the name 'Demon in Metal.' I'm going to show them just what kind of Demon they have unleased into their world. No more monster in my head, no more doubt about the past. I am their death. I am their judgement."

Turning, Dean grabbed his sword and stalked towards the front door. He heard the orders being given, and the shouts as soldiers were loaded into transports. Dean had a plan. As he reached for the door handle, he paused. His eyes shifted downwards before he turned and faced the six people behind him--people whom he had just met, and risked their lives for his sake. His gaze softened upon seeing their fear filled expressions.

"You brought me in to your home, even when you didn't need to. You ensured I survived, even though it would have been better to let me die. I am forever indebted to you, and I will remember you when this war is over, and we have won. Thank you, and stay safe." Without waiting for a response, Dean yanked the door open and stepped into the night. The chill air bit at his exposed skin, but he barely noticed. His mind was already racing ahead, mapping out the fastest route to Maritime Bay, calculating every risk and variable. The sun was beginning to set, and the night was brought forth. The Elves were loading into their transports, and their leaders where giving inspirational speeches. It did not matter.

Little did the Dark Elves know, a Demon was in their midst, and soon, all would feel his wrath.

Twilight stood behind the podium, her wings tucked tightly against her sides as she took in the sight of the courtyard below. The gathered crowd was larger than she’d expected. Soldiers in mismatched armor, some civilians clutching whatever weapons they could find, foals clinging to their parents, along with the remaining Griffon forces. Their faces told a story of exhaustion and despair, and for a moment, her breath caught in her throat. The sheer weight of their expectations felt like a mountain pressing down on her. Dean leaving had an impact on them all it seemed.

She glanced at Midnight, who gave her a nod of reassurance from the side. Spitfire stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd while the rest of Dean's old squad stood nearby. Yet, Twilight couldn’t shake the unease that gnawed at the edges of her mind. Something felt... off.

“Where is General Blight?” she whispered to Midnight, her voice barely audible.

Midnight frowned, his gaze darting around. “He was supposed to be here. He’s never late for an assembly.”

Twilight’s heart sank. General Blight’s absence wasn’t just unusual, it was alarming. He was a stalwart presence, a figure the soldiers looked to for strength almost as much as they did her. She turned to a nearby guard, her voice firm despite the tremor in her chest.

“Find the General,” she ordered. “Now.”

The guard saluted, rushing off into the darkness of the barracks, and Twilight took a deep, steadying breath. She couldn’t afford to let this rattle her. Not now. The crowd was waiting, their weary eyes fixed on her. She had to be their anchor, their guide.

Midnight leaned closer, his voice low but steady. “You’ve got this, Twilight. They need you.”

Twilight nodded, though her nerves churned in her stomach like a storm. She wondered how Midnight and Spitfire were handling Dean being gone; she would talk to them after her speech. Stepping forward, she felt the eyes of every pony, griffon, and creature present lock onto her. She placed her hooves on the edge of the podium, the cool wood grounding her for a moment as she gazed out over the courtyard.

For a heartbeat, she said nothing. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, broken only by the occasional rustle of armor or the faint cry of a distant bird. Twilight’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears. She swallowed hard, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to find the words.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost trembling. “I know you’re tired.”

The words hung in the air, soft but carrying the weight of truth. She saw heads lower, some nodding in silent agreement.

“I know you’re scared.” Her voice grew stronger, steadier. “I know you’ve lost so much. Your homes, your families, your friends. I’ve lost them too.”

'Once I kill the Emperor and end this war, I’m going home!'

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a shared understanding in their eyes. Twilight took another breath, the weight in her chest easing just slightly.

“But I also know this,” she continued, her voice rising. “We are still here. Right now, in this moment, we are still standing. And as long as we stand together, we have hope. The Dark Elves can take our homes, our land, even our loved ones, but they cannot take our spirit unless we let them.”

Her wings flared as she leaned forward, her eyes burning with a newfound determination. “He wants us to be afraid. He wants us to give up. But we will not. We are stronger than he knows. We are more united than he can understand! And together, we will fight. Not because we want to, but because we must. Because this is our world, our home, and we will not let it fall.” A tinge of purple glowed at the edge of her vision. Twilight heard an intake of air from Midnight, but the fire growing in her chest allowed her to ignore it. The murmurs turned into faint cheers, growing louder as her words sank in. Twilight felt the shift in the air, the spark of hope rekindling in their eyes.

“We fight not just for ourselves,” she said, her voice unwavering now, “but for those who can’t. For those who are counting on us. For the future that we can still build, together.”

The cheers rose again, louder this time, and Twilight felt her own confidence swelling. The despair that had gripped the courtyard seemed to lift, replaced by a growing energy, a sense of purpose. Her horn sparked, and invisible lavender magic seemed to radiate off of her very being. And as the noise grew, Twilight’s gaze swept over the crowd. For the first time in days, she saw something other than fear in their eyes. Determination. Courage. Hope.

But even as the momentum built, a small part of her mind remained on General Blight. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here? She had made some statements for him to speak on while waiting at the podium. The questions nagged at her, but she pushed them aside for now. This moment wasn’t about him, it was about them. About all of them.

Twilight stood tall at the podium, the morning sun at her back and the echoes of the crowd’s cheers still ringing in her ears. She felt a warmth blooming in her chest, a fragile ember of hope reignited by their response. For the first time in days, she truly believed they had a chance. Dean may have been gone, but the Resistance still stood strong!

Then the doors behind her burst open.

A startled gasp rippled through the crowd as the guard she had sent off stumbled into the courtyard, his eyes wide with terror and pain. His armor clinked noisily, and he wheezed, barely able to catch his breath. All eyes turned to him, and Twilight froze, her confidence wavering as she saw the panic etched into his face.

“Princess!” the guard cried, his voice trembling and panicked. “General Blight-he--”

Before he could finish, his body jerked violently. His words cut off into a sickening gurgle as he was yanked upward, his hooves flailing in mid-air. Twilight’s heart dropped into her stomach, her breath catching as she stared at the guard, who now hung suspended, choking and gasping for air.

“NO!” Twilight screamed, her horn igniting with a furious glow. But before she could act, a low, wet gurgling sound filled the air, chilling her to the bone.

From the shadowed hallway, something emerged. Something wrong.

The figure that stepped into the light was General Blight, or at least, what was left of him. His once-pristine armor hung in tatters, splattered with dried blood and viscous black ichor. His skin was a sickly, pale gray, and his eyes, once sharp and calculating, now glowed with an eerie, dull-green light. His head lolled unnaturally to one side, as if his neck were broken, and his movements were jerky, marionette-like.

A collective gasp swept through the crowd, and Twilight felt the hope she’d so carefully built begin to crumble. The stench hit her next--a putrid mix of decay and rot that made her stomach churn. This wasn’t the General Blight she knew. This was...something else. The work of a monster.

The guard hanging in the air thrashed helplessly, clawing at the invisible force that gripped his throat. With a sickening snap, his body went limp, and he crumpled to the ground like a discarded doll.

The crowd erupted into chaos. Soldiers drew their weapons, civilians screamed, and foals clung to their parents in terror. Twilight felt the urge to run, to retreat from the horror unfolding before her--but she stood her ground, her wings flaring as her horn blazed with magic.

“Twilight Sparkle,” it hissed, the sound crawling over her skin like icy fingers. “The Emperor sends his regards.”

The lifeless guard hit the ground with a dull thud, his body sprawled in a heap at the base of the podium. Twilight’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze snapped back to the grotesque mockery of General Blight. The puppet took another shambling step forward, the green glow in its eyes pulsing faintly as if feeding on the fear emanating from the crowd.

Then, a distant rumble shook the ground beneath them.

It was subtle at first, like the growl of a far-off storm. But it grew louder, more insistent, until the air itself seemed to vibrate with the force of it. A bright flash lit up the horizon, followed by a deafening boom that sent a shockwave rippling through the courtyard. The explosion came from the edge of town, where the invisibility generators were stationed.

The air was suddenly alive with motion and sound. Soldiers shouted orders, civilians screamed, and the sharp blare of the warning horn cut through the chaos, its mournful tone sending a shiver down Twilight’s spine.

“We’re under attack!” someone yelled, their voice rising above the cacophony.

Twilight’s mind raced, her body frozen as the courtyard erupted into chaos. Ponies scrambled into action, mothers shielding their foals as soldiers rushed to their posts and towards the city. The horn continued its unrelenting drone, and the sky above began to seemingly deteriorate. Cracks formed in the shield concealing the city, and within seconds, it was visible to the whole world.

All of this was inconsequential, as Twilight couldn’t move. Her hooves felt rooted to the spot as her wide eyes remained fixed on the shadowy figure emerging from the darkness behind what was once Blight.

It was barely visible at first, a vague shape that seemed to melt and reform with each step. As it moved closer, its form became clearer--and more horrifying. It was massive, its grotesque body a patchwork of sinew and bone, pulsating with a sickly green hue. Its elongated limbs ended in jagged claws, and its face--the face of her dead teacher--was a twisted mask of malice, its eye sockets glowing faintly with the same eerie light that filled Blight’s.

'Oh faust, i-it's real... Celestia... Luna... what did they do to you...'

The stench of rot intensified, wrapping around Twilight like a suffocating shroud. This, along with the realization of what she was looking at, made her stomach churn and bile rise into her throat. She felt her legs tremble, her magic flickering weakly as the weight of the creature’s presence bore down on her. It exuded a palpable aura of dread, an oppressive force that made her chest tighten and her breath come in shallow gasps. Another face formed on the side of the monsters head--Luna, her mouth open in a moan of horror and pain.

The puppet that was Blight stopped abruptly, its head jerking unnaturally to the side as if acknowledging the monster behind it. Then, in a voice that was both guttural and otherworldly, it spoke:

“This world is already lost.”

The words sent a ripple of fear through any that remained in the courtyard, but Twilight barely registered them. Her gaze remained locked on the towering abomination behind Blight. Her mind screamed at her to move, to act, to do something...but she couldn’t. She was frozen, her body betraying her as the creature took another step forward, its claws dragging against the stone with a sound like nails on a chalkboard.

“Princess!” Midnight’s voice cut through the fog of fear, sharp and commanding. “We need to move! Now!”

Twilight’s head snapped toward Midnight, who was frantically waving her over. Spitfire stood beside her, barking orders at any free soldiers scrambling to form a defensive line around her. She turned back, ignoring the Pegasus Lieutenant.

Twilight couldn’t tear her gaze away from the creature. It stopped just short of the doorway, its eyeless face tilting upward to meet hers. For a moment, the world seemed to fall silent, the chaos around her fading into a distant hum.

And then it smiled.

The grin was impossibly wide, splitting Celestia's face from one side to the other. Rows of jagged, uneven teeth glinted in the faint light, and a low, guttural laugh rumbled from deep within its chest. Twilight felt her heart lurch as a slimy tentacle slithered toward the lifeless body of General Blight. It latched onto his flank with a sickening squelch, dragging the corpse into its waiting maw.

Crunch.

The sound reverberated through the courtyard, sharp and visceral. Twilight’s legs trembled as she watched the abomination devour what was left of the General. The soldiers Spitfire was trying to organize went silent and still, their legs trembling and their faces going pale. One turned and ran on the spot, which prompted two more as well. Spitfire was screaming to form a line, but it was hopeless in the face of this beast.

The creature’s voice came again, a chilling whisper that echoed not in the air but in her mind, seeping into her thoughts like a venomous fog.

“Run, little ponies,” it purred, the words oozing malice. “Run while you still can. The Emperor awaits.”

Twilight staggered back, her horn igniting instinctively. A surge of magic crackled around her, its violet glow illuminating the dark shroud that covered the courtyard. She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to breathe, to think. Fear clawed at her insides, but beneath it, something stronger began to rise--anger. Determination.

She turned sharply to Midnight and Spitfire, her voice breaking but steadying as she barked her orders. “Fall back! Get everyone to safety! Defend the citizens at all costs! Prepare the escape route into the caves!”

Midnight hesitated, his eyes flicking to the monstrous figure, but the fire in Twilight’s voice jolted him into action. He saluted briskly and took off, shouting commands to the soldiers below. Spitfire, however, lingered, her wings twitching with unease. She felt Twilights magic in the air, the sheer power causing her hair to stand on end.

“Princess, you can’t-” Spitfire started, her voice tight with worry.

“I can,” Twilight cut her off, her tone brooking no argument. “And I will. This is my fight. Go. Protect the civilians. That’s an order.”

Spitfire’s jaw tightened, but she nodded, her sharp gaze softening with reluctant understanding. With a single beat of her wings, she took to the sky, rallying the defenders as Twilight turned back to the monster.

The abomination loomed larger now, stepping fully into the now abandoned courtyard. They faced each other for what seemed like minutes, locked in a contest of wills. Its twisted form was framed by the burning glow of the horizon, where the first defenses outside the wall had fallen. The air already reeked of blood and ash, and the creature’s guttural laughter sent chills down her spine.

Twilight planted her hooves firmly, her horn glowing brighter as the magic within her surged. Memories flashed through her mind--of Trignar’s cruelty, Chrysalis’s violation, and the countless nights she’d spent clutching to hope by the thinnest thread. She thought of Dean, his strength, his belief in her, and the letter he’d left behind.

You are strong, Twilight. You can still win.

The words steadied her trembling heart. Her fear began to wane, replaced by a fire that burned brighter with every passing second. She stared down the abomination, her wings flaring wide as her magic coalesced into a brilliant, blazing aura around her.

“You took my family. You took my friends. You took him,” she said, her voice low but carrying across the courtyard like a thunderclap. “You think you can break me? You’re wrong.”

The creature paused, its grin faltering as it regarded her with something akin to curiosity. Twilight stepped forward, the raw power of her magic causing the air to hum with energy.

“I am Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Equestria,” she declared, her voice rising with unshakable resolve. “And I will not run.”

The creature’s grin returned, more malevolent than ever, but this time, Twilight didn’t flinch. She held her ground, her magic flaring brighter than ever as she prepared to face the abomination head-on.

Above them, the night sky was torn apart by streaks of fire and magic. The gates groaned as the first waves of the Elven army battered against them. Soldiers shouted, civilians prayed, the bell tower tolled, and the horn’s mournful wail continued its relentless drone.

And amidst the chaos, a single name was whispered, carried on the lips of soldiers and civilians alike as they prayed for a savior.

The Demon in Metal.

The battle for Maritime Bay had begun, and as Twilight faced the monster before her, one thought burned in her mind.

I am strong. And I will not fall.