The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: The Dracolich

A thing of immense and terrible power, the Dracolich was not merely a fearsome and vile beast, but also a ruthless and cunning one. He was a foe who looked at them with both cold intellect and a sly, cruel grin that told them he enjoyed their pain, he thrilled in their suffering... and he thought he had an advantage on them, that would prevent them from attacking it outright.

And for the moment, Sol did hesitate to strike: she knew that such creatures were cunning and deceitful, but that they were driven by baser things than loyalty or honor: no, with the right threats and the right encouragements, the creature would gladly surrender information to them. It would have to be destroyed, that was certain... but Sol would be glad to allow the monster to live a little while longer if it gave her the right answers.

The Dracolich bowed its head humbly when she demanded information from it: it visibly hurt the creature to do so, but it played the part of the submissive well, saying that it would stand no chance against them and thus had no wish to do battle. Titan was wary did not believe its words, but Morgan was bolstered by it... and her senses were dulled by the fact that the poisons she so desired were so close at hoof, maddening her mind and all her emotions.

Sol took control of the conversation: interrogating the beast. And every question she spoke, it gave her an answer for, an answer that made her angrier, yet also pleased her. Its words were venom, and Titan tried to urge her sister to turn away, but Sol would not listen.

Veliuona had created an empire for herself, far away from the reaches of the ponies. Veliuona sought now to fortify and protect that land, while Sol chased out the Tyrant Wyrm. Veliuona, and all other creatures of Equestria, hated the Tyrant Wyrm, that was true: but the Goddess of Cursed Shades was thinking far ahead, readying her own home for her inevitable betrayal. When the time was right, she would turn on all of Equestria to make them submit to her evils, after what she viewed as the only true threat to her supremacy was wiped out.

The Dracolich told this all, without asking for anything in return. But all the same, his desire was clear... and yet Sol's reward was a swift and merciless strike to the Dracolich once her information had been gleaned. The beast had made one fell mistake: he had stated that Veliuona would gather all dark things to her cause, and was already sending out emissaries. Sol would not allow the Dracolich to remain ally or emissary for her foe.

The battle was harsh, but the three emerged victorious all the same, rending the Dracolich apart. Yet all the same, Sol knew it would rise again in a matter of months, as its phylactery was hidden away: a cunning move on the part of the Dracolich. But she did not care. The point was made, the damage was done: the Dracolich would not be able to serve in Veliuona's army. And the creature should be grateful for such a mercy.

Sol stated that they would spend the night in these ruins. Titan was loathe to stay in the camp of the enemy, even if taken, but Morgan was eager, and her Paladin all too happy to agree with his lover. The Blood Seer sided with Titan, but if anything, this only made Sol all the more determined to spend the night here, so she could find more evidence of Veliuona's wrongdoing and bring justice against her.

Titan feared, however, that this was only a plot of the Dracolich: such creatures were known to be capricious and vicious, and the battle had been too easy, and his answers too simply given. And it was well known that such beasts often thirsted only for ruin and destruction, and were capable of great and savage schemes: it would be easy for such a fiend to compel others to serve it, and to desire destruction of another 'lord of death,' as it so were. Perhaps the creature wanted Veliuona destroyed so it could take her place as head of the empire: perhaps, it only wanted death and destruction, not so differently from the Tyrant Wyrm.

All Titan knew was that this was a bad idea. And he feared that all of this was only the beginning of a path of worser things yet to come.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Accusation

Sol chose their path, and led the way. She let her siblings and compatriots rest little along the way, and swore bitterly at them every time they begged to stop. Sol was angry: at the world, at her siblings, at everything. And most of all, she desired vengeance.

For weeks now, they had been harried by the pawns of the Dragon Cult: Sol was beginning to suspect that whoever their true master was, they recognized that all they were doing was delivering more pawns to their death... but they were also delivering more poison to Morgan, who was sneaking the Dragon's Blood behind Sol's back.

Bold and strong as it made her, Sol thought that more, the Dragon's Blood made Morgan a coward, and pathetic. But she also recognized grimly that if she wanted to get to the root of the problem, then for now, there was no point in addressing it directly. Morgan, instead, was able to sense where the Dragon's Blood was, making her invaluable when it came to predicting ambushes from the cult, and moreover, in tracking where the cult members had tread.

This allowed the siblings to hunt down the root of the cult within a few short weeks: Sol was unsurprised to find their headquarters guarded not simply by more cultists and mercenaries, but Dead Dolls and other deathless puppets that defied both the natural cycle and natural morality.

Sol led a frontal, vicious attack on the enemy: as so many of the cult's living forces had been used in ambush against them, she expected their defenses to be weak, and centered around the undead. She was proven right: monstrous, deathless drakes and swarms of zombies of every shape and size swarmed out to meet them, only to be rebuffed in but moments by powerful exorcisms and blinding holy magic that made even Morgan flinch.

There were no games this time, no playing, no suppression of power for the sake of fairness or mercy. There was only the blinding, hellish wrath of the sun, as Sol punished her way into the cult's fortress. She did not care who she tore apart or tore into: slave, conscript, thrall, or fanatic, all fell before her magic, as her siblings followed behind her and their comrades backed them up as best they could.

Sol fought her way quickly to the inner sanctum, sparing no mercy and no curiosity: she was focused on her objective, and her objective was not the leader of the cult, whom she did not let speak a single word before blowing apart and storming past: it was the creature past the cult leader, the beast that had puppeted this cult and provided their dark magic, their raw materials, their poisons and enchantments and reason for being.

There, in the heart of the fortress, Sol found the Dracolich, and as they gazed upon each other, she had but one question for it:

"Did Veliuona send you?"

And the Dracolich, smiling its lipless smile, with a gaze of cold, calculated cunning and ruthless wisdom, replied simply:

"Yes."

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Poisons

Poison did not grow in the body alone: the most dangerous of poisons took root in the mind. And both Sol and Morgan had their own poisons, Titan sadly knew. One was a very physical thing that had all the same dug itself deep into Morgan's spirit, while the other was an affliction of the mind in Sol that had all the same begun to take its toll on her body, with her endless pacing, her irritability, her moments of anger and flashes of distrust.

It was Sol he worried for more: Morgan needed healing, but that healing he trusted would come in time, and it was not the poisons he worried taking power over her, but rather, the power itself. He knew his little sister well, and that even if the substance was what had unlocked this door, what she loved most was power: not in the way Sol did, but in a darker, and perhaps crueler way. In a way that sometimes made him afraid for what she might become, if such lusts were not tempered.

Sol, however, had always seen things through the lenses of the poison that bubbled and boiled away in her mind, and it led her back to making the same decisions she regretted, again and again. He admired his sister for her strength, her fearlessness, her tenacity, her dedication to her cause... but he feared, too, where those things would take her as well. Sol did not back down. Sol did not show mercy, unless it was begged and pleaded for by himself and Morgan. Sol did not know that love was something you tried to share with the world, not just your own family. And Sol, he knew, would not hesitate to sacrifice anything and everything that she saw as a threat. Perhaps, sadly, even her own kin, if they became something she saw as 'enemy.'

For that was Sol's poison: absolutes. That there was absolute good, and absolute evil. That darkness and light had to be at either end of the scale, always opposed. That night was one thing, and day another; how was it that for someone so strong, so smart, so dedicated, Sol could not see nor understand that these beautiful things shared the same sky?

It made him sad. It hurt his heart. Sol could become so much more than she was, if only she would learn that life was not lived in extremes and absolutes: that she was imprisoning herself, endangering herself, with the way she struggled to make every event an all-or-nothing gambit.

Titan knew there were poisons in the minds of both his siblings, but even if Morgan seemed to be in the greatest danger, he knew that it was Sol who was suffering most. Perhaps it was Morgan's poisons that had brought Sol's own toxic thoughts back into her mind. It made him hurt to think of how Sol railed on Morgan for 'weakness,' while not recognizing the vulnerability of her own self.

Titan hurt, because his siblings hurt. And yet he knew there was only so much he could do. Ultimately, they had to find their own way, he knew. He could only try and help them along the path, and be there to catch them, should they stumble or fall. And he would be, as much as possible, for he loved his siblings, and would do anything for them, anything to see them safe.

And Titan knew, in his heart of hearts, that when the day came, he would give his life to keep them safe. He only hoped that they would remember the few lessons he had to teach, and remember above all else to take care of each other.

For even if they both suffered and hurt under the ache of their own poisons, Titan knew that sometimes there was no better cure for one's own ailments than helping another with theirs.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Teeth

At some point, all of us have to choose to fight for something. All of us reach a point where we can no longer be pushed, where the choice is to either lose what makes us, us, and become slaves, or to discover that there is a piece of us, a part of us, that cannot be bought, that cannot be crushed, that cannot be traded away for any price. Ultimately, we all have something we would give our lives for; ultimately, we all have something we would sell our very souls to protect.

Morgan had never truly felt that before, but she was beginning to experience that now. Even if, in every other way, the poison she had started to take was taking a terrible toll on her, at the same time it made her come to a realization: she had to be more than just Sol's puppet. She had to be more than just Sol's good little sister sometimes, and she had to stand up for herself.

She was learning this for all the wrong reasons, but all the same, she was learning. And while it caused great friction, Morgan had at least begun to stand up for herself... even if for the wrong things. Titan wanted to be proud of her, but his fear for her, and where this path would take her, overwhelmed any pride or joy he might have felt.

Sol, however, was disappointed by her sister's refusal to fall in line. She thought it was an ill omen, of bad things to come. She thought that it meant that Morgan was beginning to descend into the darkness, the place where she would inevitably fall. She thought many things, all of them cruel, many of them unfair.

Yet all the same, Sol did not act: Sol instead blamed Veliuona, even if she knew their true target had to be the cult that had attacked them. And she went so far as to threaten the Blood Seer to stay away from her sister, even though he and Morgan rarely spoke, and she did not even know that the Blood Seer could artificially produce serums very similar to the dragon's blood that Morgan lusted after.

Her Paladin was no help on either front: he was too cowardly to stand up to Sol, and too weak to resist Morgan's pleas, sneaking her vials of the crimson concoction she so desired, acting as a mule, and perhaps enjoying the attention and affection she gave him as a result. He felt there was little he could do... and he was not wiling to resist her, in any event. In a way, he liked her taking charge, he liked feeling free of responsibility, and without a doubt, he loved the affection the mare heaped upon him in exchange for her 'needs.'

And yet, while inwardly they quarreled, outwardly, the group of heroes fought off brigands, defeated monsters, and chased the cult halfway across the nation without fear or hesitation. They were strong, determined, worked as one together: there was no foe that could stand against their might, especially with Morgan made so ruthlessly strong by the poisons she was taking.

But all the same, their inner fractures were what would lead these mighty heroes to failure and ruin.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Taste

She needed the dragon's blood. Needed it, more than she'd needed anything before in her life. It gave her strength, it gave her power, it gave her pleasure... it took away her fear. It made everything alright, just as it had also made her realize how long it had been since things had truly been okay: too long, she thought bitterly. It was no wonder the Paladin was afraid all the time, that they were always fighting or arguing. It was Sol's fault, for dragging them along on this quest, and not preparing them, not letting them rest.

Morgan didn't think Sol understood how good the dragon's blood was: suddenly, she understood why the cultists had used it to make themselves stronger, and why so many other mages and warriors had relied on what she'd considered to be weakness in the past. But that has been from a lack of understanding, before she had known or realized what power it provided. How it stabilized her, and brought out the hidden strength inside her, and numbed the pain; what was bad about any of that?

And she wasn't weak, weak like she knew so many of those cultists had been. She was strong enough to keep herself in check, strong enough to swallow the side effects, strong enough with the dragon's blood that she could take on the world and resist any unpleasant changes. She wouldn't become an addict, or weak. She didn't have any problems with relying on poisons. It simply benefited her, and it was here, and right now... she needed... no, wanted it. She didn't need it, of course, it just... made things easier.

Morgan didn't think Sol understood that. That was fine, though: she was strong enough that she didn't need to rely on Sol. And if Sol was just going to hold it against her, patronize her, treat her like she was weak, then that was fine as well. She would prove her strength to Sol.

Titan, of course, was very quiet about the whole thing, but Morgan thought nothing of it. There were other things to attend to, and she knew that the journey had worn on Titan as well. He wasn't worried about her. Why should he be worried for her? She was strong.

She was strong, and she wouldn't give this up, just because Sol wanted her to. When she had it taken away, it had hurt so much, every pain of the world had become so clear to her... no, she would hold on to this for now. And besides, the power the dragon's blood gave her was the power they needed to smite back their foes. And now, with it in her veins, she could almost sense where the other cultists were... with their stores of that precious elixir.

She would prove to Sol she was stronger this way than without it. She would hunt down the cult, reap through them like the whirlwind, and take their treasures. She would take revenge and gain bounty, all in one fell swoop.

She was not weak.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Deathsiege

The dead surrounded the town on all sides, clawing at the walls and crowding in on the gates, their groans echoing through the air as they laid siege to the town from every direction. They were not like Veliuona's minions, moving with their own minds and tenacious will, but rather, they were puppets: nothing but an army of husks, the pawns of some superior mastermind.

Sol wanted to blame Veliuona for this. But she knew that the blame rested with the leader of the cult... even if more and more, Sol suspected the dark goddess' hoof in these affairs. But she had no proof, and there was nothing she could say to convince Titan... and Morgan was in no shape to fight, or to even discuss the subject. She was simply in agony, trapped in bed, whimpering for the poison that had infected her veins.

Titan was gullible, and Morgan was... weak. She couldn't rely on either of them at this juncture. Titan would always give others chances they didn't deserve, and Morgan... couldn't make any decisions.

The Paladin pleaded with Sol, but Sol didn't care about his opinions, any more than she cared about the suggestions made by the Blood Seer. What she cared about was that they repelled this attack by the shambling pawns, found whatever was controlling them, and then preferably destroyed that source after extracting enough information from it to know who was the mastermind behind these orders.

She knew the walls wouldn't hold forever, and this town had no appreciable militia. All she could do was rally the ponies, get them to the largest and easiest-defended structures, and tell the families to watch out for one another while she and Titan and the Blood Seer went out to meet the ravening horde. Morgan they had no choice but to leave behind, with the Paladin looking after her, caught in the throes of agony.

The enemy was not strong, being a horde of puppeted corpses controlled by dark magic, but they were vast and many: they pressed in with weight of numbers, and there was little they could do to stop them. All the same, Titan and Sol fought onward, even with the odds against them, as they forced their foes into a bottleneck of barricades to try and give themselves the advantage.

Morgan wanted to help... but was helpless, consumed with pain, and need and desire. And her Paladin was weak, and her Paladin was afraid, and her Paladin heard her pleas and soon forgot the promises he had made to not give her the deadly stuff she needed. Instead, he stole into the room Sol had been using to research the cult and their poisons, and took from it a vial of the dragon's blood, ignoring the warnings and heedless of his own guilt as he hurried to his love's side.

Morgan drank it, deeply and greedily, and became consumed again by the fire of the dragon's blood. With it burning in her veins, she leapt up with newfound strength and vigor, but where she ran first was not to her siblings' side, but to Sol's study, to steal away more of the poison, to feed her need and hunger. Her Paladin she all but forgot in her ecstasy, as she fed upon the rest of the stolen dragon's blood, then leapt out a window, hungry for the battlefield.

She knew not what happened: Sol and Titan only saw Morgan descend in a blaze of burning glory into the ranks of the undead, cutting through the horde. She tore through their ranks, drawn onward by not the promise of glory, but the reek of the poison she so lusted for. For the cultists, too, kept themselves strong with the drink of dragon's blood, and they stank of it.

She killed them, each and every one, and so overcome with hunger she was, that the last she drank the blood of like fine wine. But when Sol and Titan found her there, she was calmly cleaning her weapons, smiling, proud of herself; unknowing that the proof of her sin was streaked across her own lips.

But Sol saw it. And Sol feared what her sister was becoming, and Sol blamed Veliuona for this atrocity, and swore that she would have her revenge.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Deadly Assumptions

Morgan shivered, wracked with pain and need from the dragon's blood. She hungered for it, lusted for more: that brief taste had given her both pleasure and power beyond measure, and now, without it, her whole body hurt.

They had no choice but to lock her away in her room, her Paladin keeping her company, while Sol researched the cult further and Titan spent his time with the Blood Seer. The Seer had offered his help, but Sol didn't want to take that route yet: not simply because she did not trust the Seer, but also because she thought grimly that it might do Morgan some good to feel the pains of her own actions. She had saved them, certainly... but she had also put herself at great risk, and this was not an experience that Sol wanted to repeat.

Sol's instincts told her they had been betrayed, but she had no evidence, and the cult had vanished from the town. She thought they might be able to track them down... but it would be a waste of time and resources. No, better to find out what she could from the few witnesses to the cult's deeds, and then continue on their quest to discover the root of the Tyrant Wyrms. They couldn't be distracted.

Yet at the same time, something nibbled at her. Why would Veliuona betray them? That didn't make any sense, and Veliuona wasn't foolish. Was she just looking for an excuse to turn the tides of war onto the self-proclaimed goddess of undeath?

But wouldn't it be better to destroy Veliuona when they had the chance?

No, they needed each other to stem the tide of the Tyrant Wyrms. Perhaps this was simply the cunning ploy of another force of darkness and evil, seeking to turn all its enemies against each other so that it could take over Equestria once they had sufficiently weakened one-another...

She would have to research. She would have to figure things out, before she allowed herself to make any moves. Her passion drove her towards revenge, but... no. She couldn't always follow her passions. Sometimes, she had to repress them.

But one thing she knew was that a foe who had worked so hard to kill them would not simply give up the fight because they had failed once. Sol couldn't let this experience repeat itself, though: they had to be ready for when their enemies rose up against them again.

For now, she thought they could afford a few days' rest here in the town. It was unlikely the enemy could return, and Morgan needed to get the dragon's blood out of her system. It had made her powerful, certainly, but a poison was still a poison for all its pleasant effects, and a maddened Morgan was not something Sol could see a use for in the future. If she wanted a hunting dog, she would buy one from a trader.

No, they would wait, that would be safest, Sol thought.

But as it turned out, Sol thought very wrong indeed.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Dragon's Blood

The cult was well-prepared for them: too well prepared, Sol thought. The foe had both numbers and strength, and the captured Blood Seer was helpless to assist them, caged by both iron bars and magic. Sol would have been impressed, were they not providing so much frustration and distraction when their circumstances were already dire.

They fought, but the enemies were prepared for them: they dispelled Sol's magic and tried to keep her from pressing past the antimagic-secured hall of their home, to keep her from wreaking devastation upon them. Titan they kept back with deadly, barbed spears and weapons wreathed in cruel flames of necromantic magic, trying to pin him and keep him helpless. And the chargers attacked Morgan with all their strength and fury: her Paladin had already cut the battle, leaving her trying to fend off cultists, raging and empowered by dragon's blood, as the master of the cult shouted threats and recriminations at them.

The cult had been well-prepared for them, and seemed to be interested in them and them alone: even when the Paladin cut and run, he drew little attention, as the Blood Seer left hanging above the hall in his iron cage was of no interest to the cultists as anything but bait, now forgotten in the chaos of battle.

No, something, or someone, had betrayed them, knowing the rumors of a cult that worshiped the Wyrms would draw in Sol's attention. And now, this cult was throwing everything they had into savaging and destroying them, into taking their lives and bringing them low. Sol's first thought was Veliuona... but she had no time to figure out why, or how, at this juncture, with the enemy pressing ever harder on them.

Titan was cornered. Her magic was being negated. They were both wounded and there was no retreat, no exit, with the enemies so close on them, so eager for their blood. Hacking and slashing, drunk on the battle and dragon's blood, they were forcing them steadily further and further into a corner.

But as the tides began to crash down upon them, Sol saw Morgan, in desperation, attack one of the cultists, driving him down and snatching away a vial from him. She guzzled its contents, and with a roar, leapt into the fray with a rage and violence Sol had rarely seen.

Morgan tore through the cultists, fueled by the dragon's blood she had sipped: strong enough to make a normal pony into a fearless warrior, it turned Morgan into a true force of devastation. With fury and violence, she ripped and tore  her way through the masses of foes, roaring and uncontrollable. In her rage, she tore through the enemy, devastating their forces with such a show of strength that it terrified those who had not also been driven berserk by the dragon's blood.

And with the cultists suddenly scattered and distracted, the berserks broken and bloodied, and Morgan wounded grievously yet unfeeling, unflinching in blood-burning rage, Titan and Sol were able to press the advantage, destroying the foes trying to hold them back, and sending the leader fleeing with his few remaining disciples.

Morgan wanted to give chase: perhaps it was better to say that she tried to pursue them like a blood-maddened huntbeast. But even her rage and fury could not overcome the wounds of her body, and it was only moments before she fell into unconsciousness.

And to Sol, this did not feel like a victory.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Wyrmsbane

As with all things great and powerful, it was not long before Sol heard rumors of a cult that worshiped the Tyrant Wyrms. This drew her attention: not because of the fact that they worshiped a great and terrible evil that would undoubtedly devour them instead of granting their wishes, but because the cult's master claimed to be able to speak with the Wyrms, and his claim was backed up by the fact that he had thralls of the Wyrms at his beck and call.

So Sol led the way onward to find this cult: Titan was unsure, and Morgan was ready to do battle, while her paladin loitered along with them and the Blood Seer who had joined them on their quest followed at a distance. Morgan did not like the Seer, and Sol was even less fond of him, but Titan saw much good in the stallion and often praised how he worked to turn his powers, powers that were capable of such great evil, into a weapon in the service of good.

And it was by the Blood Seer that Sol devised a way to meet with the cult, for she knew they would want more who would be able to commune with the Wyrm, and she knew that they would take an interest in a mage with powers such as their companion's. Titan frowned upon Sol using the Blood Seer as bait, but the mage himself seemed pleased only to be included, and to be given the chance to show the other ponies - and in particular, the grating Paladin - that he was here to help, not hinder their journey.

When they found the town frequented by the cult, Sol, Titan, and Morgan found their lodgings, and Sol made the Blood Seer forge a charm for her. Through it, he would be able to call for help once he had been taken to the cult's temple: a simple enough plan, and one that Sol hoped would work, as she sent the Seer out to search the markets and the taverns for any sign of the cult.

The Seer did not return that night, and nor was the charm activated. Yet Sol was not surprised: neither that the Blood Seer had failed, nor when assassins attacked them in their own rooms. They failed miserably in the assault: only the paladin suffered a wound, and even that was but a minor scratch. They were all surprised, however, by the ferocity of the attackers, but as soon as Sol saw the corpses of the ponies when they pulled back their tattered robes, she understood: they had taken dragon's blood, in order to strengthen themselves. And this was the first clue for Sol that perhaps this cult leader was speaking to a wyrm, but not the kind of wyrm it thought.

Titan was eager to move: he hungered for the battle and was anxious to save his friend. Morgan looked to her sister for advice, but she too wanted to protect the Seer, out of obligation more than friendship, for she felt that they had let him fall into this trap and thus they were responsible for his life, whether she liked him or not. She too, longed to fight... and Sol agreed there. The Paladin was cautious and worried, but Sol knew that even empowered, their foes would be no match for them with the strength of dragon's blood alone.

Yet she knew too, in her heart, that it was unlikely this was all that waited for them... but still, she was determined to press onward, to pierce the heart of this cult, and get the answers she so sought, no matter what the cost.

Brief Break

I've only experienced writer's block once or twice, where I couldn't write at all, no matter how hard I tried. Other times, I've much more precisely experienced that feeling that I don't want to write at all, because there are other things distracting me, or I've lost interest in a project, or I just "don't feel like it." These things aren't actually writer's block but I think people call it that because, you know. It's easier. And it's more "acceptable" to say "I can't write" instead of "I don't want to write" when you're supposed to be a writer, whether as a hobby or professionally.

But sometimes we do need or deserve a break, for whatever reason, so I'm going to take a few days for a short break and I'll get back to this next week. Been crazy here with Luna, after all, and even I only have so much energy to give.

~Scrivener Blooms

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: On The Road, Again

It was good to be on the road again. To be walking this path, to have returned to what felt like where they truly belonged: in the wilds, in the camps, on the untamed road.

During their first day, they encountered bandits, which Sol took out her recent frustrations on. During the second day, Sol heard there was a witch lurking in a swamp near a village, who demanded tribute and terrorized the villagers, and so Sol set out with her siblings to find and destroy this creature. It made the foolish error of challenging her with its dark magic, and Sol took great pleasure in the carnage that followed as Titan and Morgan only watched.

For a week, they traveled aimlessly back and forth in spite of Sol's usual cold focus, as Sol simply reveled in the freedom and the rightness of being able to walk this path. But at the end of their wild week, Sol finally took control of herself, reminding herself of the threat of the Tyrant Wyrm, and that no such wilds would exist any longer if she did not deal with the monsters she direly did not want to.

For she knew that the Tyrant Wyrms were evil, and destroyers, and that every time they stood against them, their dark voices tainted them. She knew that Equestria would treat Veliona like a hero, should the Dark Goddess and her deathless hordes aid in conquering the beasts: the most cunning and cruel of victories for Veliouna would not come with open war, after all, but with acceptance. And Sol simply could not accept that such an evil being would be allowed to live out its days beside her... worse, accepted, more than perhaps she was.

So perhaps for a little while, she did not mind leaving Equestria to flounder, demonstrating that it was she who could solve any problem, defeat any foe, even as the Wyrms returned to ravaging their territories. But she knew she had to save the nation: if not for the ponies, then because her siblings were getting anxious.

Sol knew what had to be done, and she would do it. It would perhaps be done at her own pace, and she would perhaps use the Wyrm's incursion as a method to cull some of the weak and foolish from their ranks, but what was the harm in that? She planned to save every innocent life in Equestria.

There simply weren't that many innocents left.

Was there anything wrong with what she was doing? She didn't think so. It was justified, and she had no place being here, fighting for these ponies, anyway. She was here because of her siblings, and she was here to protect her foolish siblings. She would destroy the Wyrms because yes, she recognized their threat, and she would find a way to unite Equestria, because yes, the nation needed to be united, under one banner and one strong ruler.

But it was only a fool who thought she was doing any of it because she cared for these people, or this nation. Sol cared only for two things: her siblings, and her victory over evil.

And all who defied her, she was happy to mark as 'evil.'

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Where We Belong

The open road awaited them again, after what felt like too long. Sol would never admit it, but even though Canterlot had been a fine base of operations... it hadn't been home. No, home always had been and always would be the open road, the fields and plains, the forests and even the dungeons that they delved, long before it would be a city. Sol always acted like she preferred the stone walls and the whitewashed, polished castles... but no fort nor home would ever feel as safe to her as the open road. No, houses and cities were nothing but gilded cages.

Titan and Morgan were much more enthusiastic and honest in their happiness to return to traveling together... although Morgan had insisted on bringing her Paladin. Of course, the Paladin himself had been the one to insist, but it was Morgan who acted as his voice and carried his word. Sol thought perhaps Morgan even disagreed with the decision, but all the same... here he was. Morgan was a servant to her love, after all; it was a weakness, Sol thought, but she thought that it was a vulnerability that was growing smaller, as Morgan became more tired and more aware of what she was giving up for this foolish young stallion.

And another would join them on the road, whom neither Morgan nor Sol desired... but Sol recognized his value, and Titan encouraged them both to trust in him. He was a Blood Seer, who had traveled with them for some time before as an adviser, serving alongside the other mages, hiding in plain sight. He was talented and young, and he was keen to learn more of Tyrant Wyrms. Sol did not trust him or his kind, and would gladly have put him under her sword... but she recognized his value, and he was assiduous in his research and, so far, had not been foolish enough to lie to them.

So they were not quite alone... but nor were they babysitting an army, and nor would they have to worry about slowing their pace or changing their ways. Their guests would simply have to learn to keep up with them on their travels, although Sol had no doubt that ever-generous Titan would help the two along when they stumbled, and Morgan, of course, would not leave her Paladin behind.

It was a compromise Sol only allowed out of the love she had for her siblings, and the little usefulness she could see in these ponies accompanying them. The Blood Seer for his strange and dangerous powers, the Paladin for his connections to the Holy Order, and because he was high enough rank to make it easier for them to pass through waypoints controlled by soldiers of the faith, who lived in and between every barony to help keep the peace.

Veliuona would be staying behind, in Canterlot: they would communicate with her when necessary by night magic that she had taught Morgan, and when information needed to be passed along but was not urgent, by simple magic letter. Sol knew Veliuona would use her time in the city to twist and manipulate what minds she could into seeing the world through her dark lenses... but she also knew that Veliuona would not risk doing overmuch, for fear that it would bring Sol rushing back... or worse, might encourage Sol to herd the monstrous Tyrant Wyrms straight against the city. Sol, after all, cared little about saving the baronies: even her desire to save Equestria waxed and waned with her mood, which was as ever-changing as the sun's journey through the skies above.

For now, though, Sol knew that one way or the other, the Tyrant Wyrms had to be stopped: and so it was with that in mind that she set out, with her siblings and allies beside her, ready to find the source that had brought about all this evil, and put a stop to this grave new threat to the nation before it could become any more dangerous than it already was.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Regrouping

Their course was set: they were on the return to Canterlot, to gather more supplies and develop new methods of fighting back against the threat of the Tyrant Wyrm. They had repelled at least part of the invasion, and Sol felt that this was not a foe any army could march against: not with the terrible powers that the Wyrms had.

No, it would be better to train the armies of Equestria to learn to repel and survive the invasions of the Wyrm, how to defy them and defeat them. But hunting down the source and the pack-lords among the beasts, that was something that Sol wanted to do with only her siblings at her side.

But the thorn in her hoof was Veliuona: she did not want to leave the dark goddess in Canterlot, where she could work her malign manipulations over the ponies there. Nor did she want to bring Veliuona with her: she was not blind to the fact that the Goddess of Cursed Shades seemed to have some strange and evil intent on Morgan, whatever she might say otherwise. Worse still was the fact that Veliuona walked with an army of the dead. There was no telling what they would do, clustered in the home of the living...

Sol had at least devised a partial solution: she had asked Veliuona to divide up her army of the dead, to send small contingents to every city around Equestria, where they would help defend them against attacks from Tyrant Wyrms. Veliuona had agreed... although she had been less pleased when she had discovered Sol had already sent messengers on ahead to warn of the incoming platoons of living dead, and that shelters were to be erected for them outside of city bounds. Sol knew it was still dangerous, like having caged beasts outside the city walls for defense. But it was better than having the undead inside the cities, and it was far better still than having that entire army congregating in one area.

Sol did not know what she would ask Veliuona herself to do: as much as she valued the Goddess of Cursed Shades as an ally - whether she would admit that or not - she didn't trust her. She hated her, and perhaps feared her, and most of all, did not understand the creature, nor was willing to acknowledge what similarities they possessed.

Veliuona, however, helpfully provided a solution for her: she wished to return to her own dark tower, where she could gather more Velites and soldiers to bring forward to their cause. Sol disliked the idea of the goddess bolstering her armies further, but all the same, knew it was necessary. If the people of Equestria were to survive the wrath of the Wyrms while she and her siblings searched for the source of this evil, then they would need every weapon and defense they could find, and the undead were the only creatures they knew of that could withstand the poisons of the Tyrant thralls.

So there, at the crossroads to Canterlot, they went their separate ways: yet Sol knew this was far from the last time she would see Veliuona... and she did not know whether or not she hoped that the next time they met would be as friend, or as enemy.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Sinner

The Paladin was weak, and the Paladin was foolish. This was something that Veliuona had known from the beginning... but how weak and how foolish was something she was still learning, with both interest and perhaps the slightest feeling of pity. After all, she had no designs on him, and knew that antagonizing Morgan or worse yet, Sol, would just work against her.

But the Paladin was weak, and the Paladin was easy to manipulate... so easily twisted, as a matter of fact, that Veliuona was forced to manipulate him purely to halt the trials of others upon his head. He was foolish, and he was easily led astray, and most of all, he seemed to crave power: Veliuona wondered if Sol knew about his failings, or if she suspected, as the Goddess of Cursed Shades had come to, that it was not poor Morgan the Paladin loved, but rather... Morgan's power.

Still, the Paladin was also nothing more than a pawn, and one who was barely worth the time to look over: unicorn or not, he had no magic that could sap Morgan's strength, and Paladin or not, he was no strong fighter, no first-class warrior. He was a son of the Order, with no parents to return home to, his whole life taken up by the church. He was named, as all lost children were, with a name that spoke of his abandonment. A cruel reminder, Veliuona thought, that he had been born into the Order's chains.

The Paladin was terrified of her. But terror had an allure, and it had not been long before the Paladin was sneaking in and out of her encampment in the dark of the night. She would play host to him, mostly because the one advantage the Paladin held over her was his closeness to the legendary siblings... although she learned precious little from him. Partly because she did not want to use him to spy on the siblings, as she had no doubt that sending him on such a mission would end with his head on a platter, and Sol turning on her. Sol did not miss details: as it was, Veliuona suspected that Sol knew that the Paladin was visiting her secretly.

Poor Morgan, Veliuona thought! Her lover, a traitor to her. Perhaps not yet in the ways that Veliuona suspected he one day would be, but to love another, and to discover that they had been holding clandestine meetings with another... Veliuona knew her own wrath would be terrible, and that was even before considering what such secret meetings might hold. It was a breach of trust: so strange and ironic that a goddess of darkness should not be the one to call these meetings, but who was, in fact, trying to urge the Paladin to speak up.

That, perhaps, was her one wish, her one manipulation: to use the Paladin to bring Morgan back to her, back to where she could teach her, instruct her, show her their kinship. For she knew that Morgan was just like her, in her heart of hearts: she longed for a greater goal, but one that could only be accomplished with shadows and dark powers. She did not belong in Sol's blinding day: she, too, was a creature of the night.

Veliuona saw Sol only as a dangerous ally whom she knew would one day turn on her... but Morgan, she thought, could still be twisted. Could still be...saved, perhaps, was the word she was looking for.

Because for some reason, Veliuona did not expect even the love that Sol had for Morgan... would ever be enough to outweigh the tyrant heroine's love of herself, and hatred for the long, dark night.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: With Equal Gaze

When Veliuona and Sol spoke, after the Tyrant Wyrm ambush, it was as equals. For the first, and perhaps the only time, they gazed into one another's eyes without judgment nor suspicion, and spoke to each other with respect and candor.

They spoke of the Wyrms. They spoke of the country. They spoke of each other, and what they would have to do, and how ready they thought they were for the evils ahead. But although they had found respect for each other, they were soon left wanting more, for they both carried a dangerous pride, and an equally-dangerous desire to see themselves treated in the way they thought they deserved.

Veliuona and Sol were very similar in many ways: both wielded forbidden magic, although one spoke haughtily of the arts of light and the other arts of darkness. Both desired control, and to see order in Equestria. Both thought very little of all outside their chosen family, and a few choice champions who had demonstrated their mettle.

But it was this similarity that bred contempt in one another. They were blind to where they were the same, and what they shared. They saw only the qualities in each other they hated, and could not swallow the bitter rivalry between them. Or perhaps, to be fair, Sol could not: if not for her constant provocation, how she could not help but tilt conversations in her favor, always making further demands of the dark goddess, they may have all the same found some middle ground, some meaning between them.

But, as Sol would learn, if one spent all their time accusing another of being heretic and traitor... eventually, they would drive even those with the best of intentions and the greatest of patience to committing the very acts they so loudly warned of.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: A Tyrant Of Tyrants

The creatures fell upon them, laughing; laughing at their pain, laughing at their fear, laughing at their weakness. They were all exhausted from the hurried and long marches, from the violent campaign they had fought across Equestria... and now the foe was taking advantage of that, and moving to destroy them in one vicious swoop.

Two powerful, large Wyrms rushed them, and a third lingered in the background, watching, waiting, and calculating: it too was making a move towards them, but it allowed the other Wyrms to rush ahead. And these were no small Wyrms, nor were they playing games: they swept in, breathing death and roaring their poisons... but by now, Sol's strong will had begun to build a resistance to those toxic words, even with the weaponized hate they tore at her soul with.

She roared orders over the Wyrms: Veliuona's minions surged forwards to slow the beasts and allow the mortal troops to evacuate. Titan unslung his mighty shield, and leapt into the fray, using it to bait the Wyrms into attacking him, but their claws could find no purchase on this rare and special artifact of Titan's.

Morgan flew overhead, and struck at the Wyrms with dark magic... but then was blasted out of the air by a terrible psychic force, a hell-mind that Sol felt the malice of even from where she stood. Morgan fell limply... but she was saved by a dark familiar of Veliuona's, the shade whisking the mare from battle, and Sol was forced to give the Goddess of Cursed Shades her grudging thanks.

Sol knew what had to be done. Powerful or not, the Wyrms battering forwards were only distractions and pawns. As she called upon her magic, she did not look at them: instead, she looked at the massive Wyrm that followed in their wake, striding into the battlefield like a king of war. She sent holy flame at the beast... but it laughed at the blast, the powerful magic doing frighteningly little.

They would have to strike at its heart, and hope that it, like its brethren, shared the weakness. But as this Wyrm began to speak, its verses clouded Sol's mind, made it impossible for her to give orders; not that they would have been heeded, anyway, as the dead screamed in pain, joined by the howls of the living. And the smaller Wyrms began to push forwards, eager, vicious, and hungry...

Sol saw a rare thing that day: she saw her brother, Titan, show true anger. He tore his shield from his foreleg, and in a fit of rage, flung it sharply at one of the Wyrms with such force it smashed through its chest like nothing but brittle brick, and the Tyrant Wyrm was knocked head-over-heels: but by the time it landed on its back, it had already become nothing more than muck and porcelain. The other Wyrm did not care about the ferocity of the attack on its brethren... but their master, the lord-Wyrm, paused in his speech, and the pause was long enough for Sol to summon up her power - more than she wanted to call upon, more than she wanted to reveal, and even knowing it would leave her weak, and vulnerable  - and summoned down a star that fell from the heavens, crashing through the head of the mighty Wyrm.

She knew it would not kill the beast, but the king-wyrm was disoriented by the loss of its head, its lower jaw unable to speak with no skull attached above it. It was only able to gurgle and howl, as Veliuona's forces surged forwards again, swarming the servant-Wyrm that remained and forcing it down under sheer strength of numbers, binding its jaws, attacking the pistons of bone on its back, bleeding it dry of the mire-blood that gave it strength.

And Veliuona herself summoned death-magic, the likes of which Sol had rarely seen, to crack and rip rip and shred the front of the lord-Wyrm, hewing through its armory scales and plate-like breastbone. And as it weakened, confused and furious, Titan tore loose a boulder and flung it with all his might, shattering bone, and crushing the soul-cage beneath that served as this thing's hideous heart.

The lord-Wyrm died as the other Wyrms did: dissolving, and yet laughing, as if all of this was naught but a joke. And even as the remaining Wyrm was suffocated under sheer numbers, as it died beneath the deathless servants of the Goddess that had, today, earned Sol's respect in spite of her suspicion... there was little feeling of victory, but instead, a sense that this cruel ambush had been yet another test... and there were worse things still waiting for them in the times ahead.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Unifying

Sol did not like that both Titan and Veliuona were pushing to reunite their forces. Granted, during their months apart, the campaign had become far bloodier and more desperate than Sol had expected it to. Even as their forces worked hard to purge the Wyrm menace, trading information back and forth, recruiting ponies - and other servants, both fair and foul - to their cause, and helping to push back the corrupted thralls of the beasts, they found their forces never fully gaining an advantage, and that another worse foe and harder challenge was always waiting for them around the next corner.
And yet Sol did not think they had yet encountered either the source or the worst of these Tyrant Wyrms: more than once, in the distance, she had seen something larger and more fearsome than any Wyrm they had faced so far, watching her, judging her, as they skirmished with some wretched foe or another... not that it ever stayed until the end of the engagement to risk her wrath.
It made Sol nervous: the Wyrms clearly didn't care about their lives, but threw themselves to their deaths, only seeking to do as much damage as possible before they perished, laughing. If whatever ruled these Wyrms was calculating enough to stay back and watch - or worse, it was cruel enough to send its servants to their deaths, to test them, to weaken them, while sacrificing what were likely only pawns - and could even be some form of Master Wyrm itself... it displayed a cunning, a cruelty, and a strategy she was not prepared to fight.
That was what compelled her to finally agree to reuniting their forces to form one major front: that, and the news that in other places, the Tyrant Wyrms had finally begun to lose their grip on Equestria. Here, though, in the range between the mountains and Central Equestria, the Wyrms had lost none of their strength.
But that was also what worried her: it was very possible this foe wanted them to be grouped together, so it could do as much damage to them as possible at once. Sol hated this thought, and hated that she might be playing into the claws of a dangerous foe... and worse yet, she might have to rely on the aid of Veliuona and her minions for support.
But there was nothing else she could do, and the risk of leaving Veliuona where she was, was not worth a reward that would benefit only her own pride. Furthermore, if she appeared weak, then Veliuona could seize the opportunity and attack her, or take her own territory in Equestria...
Still, every day was spent in trepidation and doubt, until one morning, Veliuona and Titan's forces appeared on either horizon, and by the time the sun stood at its highest over their heads, both armies had rejoined her own.
And, like a bittersweet reward, the moment of their reunion, her sister's shout and Veliuona's flares of magic warned her almost too late of the shadow sweeping down on them from the north, and the foe she had both feared and hoped would rear its ugly head when all its worst enemies united in one place.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: The Fear Of A Goddess

Veliuona had her plans and her gambles, certainly: she would not mind subduing these ponies, and in particular, making the mighty, prideful Sol bow her head. But she was also far from stupid, and recognized that they were faced with a foe that would require them to work together... that even she, a goddess of the darkness, bow her head and obey the orders of even a tyrant like Sol of the Burning Sun.
These Tyrant Wyrms, whatever else they were, were bringers of not death, but destruction. They would annihilate this entire country if allowed to linger here for long... and the brought with them a hideous form of beyond-death that made even her darkest necromancies seem like paltry flights of fancy in comparison. If they destroyed this country, it would be with such a fire that not even her most ethereal of spirits or her most reclusive of liches would survive.
Veliuona craved many things... but what she craved most of all was to live, and to keep her tribe alive alongside her. Power she had in spades, and even if her dark empire had little land to claim its own, she ruled the dark night, and the endless caverns beneath the earth, and the unholy places in this world. She had not been driven out of her homeland, as many seemed to think: she had left them in peace, not wanting to kill her former people after she had ascended to the rank of goddess, taking only those who wanted to come on this long journey with her.
While Sol certainly did not want her alive, and seemed incapable of being reasoned with, she also was capable of being influenced by her siblings. Veliuona did not think it impossible to reason with Morgan... and Titan, for all his foolishness, seemed strangely... honest. She thought he was noble, as a matter of fact... and nobility was not something she had seen very often in these ponies. Nor had she ever witnessed such a willingness to try and negotiate and understand others... at least not like this. She had seen and done business with many gullible and naive fools, after all, and often to their folly; but to do business with a goddess of the dead without wisdom was to court disaster, was it not?
One such fool, Veliuona reflected, would be either very useful or very dangerous for her to work her manipulations upon: that fool, of course, was Morgan's sweet paladin. He was easy to tempt, easy to mold, easy to twist whichever way she desired, for he was very weak. Part of him was loyal... but that part was easily overwhelmed by his seemingly-endless wants and desires. He had come to her on the pretense of asking for wisdom and advice, using to to badly hide his true desire for strength and power... but she had deflected him for now. She was not above twisting him to get to Morgan, should her survival depend on it... but she did not desire to stoop to such lows, either. And nor did she want to risk making an enemy of any of the siblings at this point, especially with Sol already so suspicious of her.
Besides. Such things could wait, she thought, as she studied the corpse of the death-puppet at her hooves. Such evil husks were raised by the Wyrms' toxic breath and words, vicious not-life whose only sentience was given by its hatred for the living... she didn't want to imagine what else the Wyrms were capable of. At least they seemed to fall when their masters were destroyed... but still, a... malignancy lingered in them, just as it did in the ground that the Wyrms scarred with their touch. Veliuona did not like what it meant... any more than she wanted to imagine what would happen should the Wyrms be allowed to gain a true foothold in this world.
No, she would not let that happen. Not for the sake of the ponies, perhaps, but for her own survival. And survival was the greatest reason of all to bow one's head and make allies out of one's worst enemies... she only hoped that Sol would be able to look past her prejudices and see that as well.
For in spite of all the machinations she might have, she knew that she could not make any of her desires a reality or bring any of her plans to fruition until these evil parasites were stomped completely out. And she knew that none of them could succeed in such a task alone against such vile evils.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Morgan's Sight

Morgan dreamt that night, of a wasteland.
She saw a world of darkness, of mire and poison. It made her thirst, and she did not know why.
She herself was different: blacker, more than touched by the night... she was saturated in it. She felt strong, and terrible... and weak. Like for all her power, there was something missing. It was all to cover up a hole that would not, could not be filled...
She thought of those she loved, and she felt lifted by them, like they could aid her, free her from the chains wrapped around herself, the false strength that filled her... but she realized that while Sol was there, and Titan was there, her Paladin was not. She loved him, did she not?
She loved him, did she not?
She did not know. What was love, anyway? Who would love her, if she was weak? Who would love her, if she was too strong? For her Paladin always wanted her to be submissive to his desires, and yet all the same, he always wanted to hide behind her. He followed her, but barked and bragged loudly, stepped in front of her in places that were familiar, when he had an idle audience, when he thought he boasted the advantage.
He never had the advantage over her. And while she did not mind playing along with his games and letting him lead when he would bark, with teaching him how to be stronger, with helping him to assert his silly dominance... she was growing weary of it.
Still, he cared for her, and she cared for him, very deeply. And the thought of him helped wash away this tide of darkness around her, reminded her that even if they were flawed, there were good ponies in the world, those who loved and accepted her and wanted to be beside her. And she knew, too, that it was for more than just her power that he cared: that was what meant the most to her. For if he wanted to court power, he would court Sol, would he not? Nay, he had chosen her.
She had been chosen.
But who else had chosen her, she wondered? And why did it feel like the stars were gazing down at her, as if filled with their own purpose and intent? Or was it something further, something beyond that firmament, that gazed down upon her, that whispered to her, that tried to lure and lull her...
Who was she, really, beneath all the things she had been taught, beneath the layers of pony? Who were her siblings? She loved them so dearly, so deeply, and yet in some part of her, she saw that while they were all very much the same... they were also all so very, very different. They were three different worlds, she thought, of earth, moon and sun...
Morgan dreamt of a dark world that sprawled and stretched out before her, endless and ominous, lit only by the stars that glowed high above. She dreamt of shadows, and dark creatures, and all the things that Sol said they were trying to stop.
And what scared Morgan so deeply, what made her feel so fearful and ill was not that this was a portent of the future... but that she felt so much at home in this dark and terrible place. She knew in her heart what these chains were, why she was cursed with false strength, what hurt her dearly and deeply, and why in her dreams she called upon her loved ones to aid her, to help her, and only the thought of them quelled her hubris and her ego.
Morgan knew she was a part of this dark world. And she knew that only in her dreams, would her family accept that this was who she was.
Because in the real world, the sun slaughtered the night.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Unforgiving Sun

The Tyrant Wyrm was choking on its own black blood, its lower jaw missing, its body a broken mass of torn and tattered scale. It gargled, but it could not speak its ill verses, any more than it could drag itself forwards, or heal itself with the ground beneath it irradiated with Sol's holy fire.

Her foe was languishing in torment... but all the same, it showed no sign of weakening, or giving in. Instead, it feebly dragged itself forwards through the sludge and ash, head tilting back and forth as it glared down into Sol's eyes, and Sol glared fearlessly back, in spite of the hooks she felt trying to grasp into her mind, the way it tried to assault her with psychic malice.

But Sol had plenty of experience with psychic powers, both benign and evil, and its hooks found no purchase in her mind, and its attempts to manipulate her emotion only fueled her righteous fury. She glared at the creature as the creature stumbled towards her... but no matter how much mightier this beast was than the belly-crawling servant lizards that had first attacked their camp, this vermin would die as they did.

It stumbled, then fell into the flames with a broken chuckle: it was only moments more before its body turned to porcelain, and it fell apart into ruin and dust. For as mighty as they were, these Wyrms still had weaknesses she could take advantage of, she saw, and there were other ways to destroy them than simply by piercing the core within their breast, if so their hoof was forced. It was something else Sol would take into account, and something she had noted was useful also against the thralls: creatures she had been warned of too late by Veliuona's minion.

She did not think it was a coincidence that this disciple of the Goddess of Cursed Shades had only warned them of the dangers of the undead that had swept down upon them after the Tyrant Wyrms themselves had attacked. She did not believe in 'coincidence,' and that such a stroke of 'fortune' had not been engineered, after their forces had been conveniently weakened, and before the disciple and Veliuona's forces themselves could be blamed or endangered.

Sol watched the way Veliouna's disciple rounded up her undead to gather the fallen thralls of the Wyrm from where they writhed on the earth, moaning and gargling as they lost their unnatural life. Still, the Disciple wanted to burn them, spoke of dark and terrible magic powering these empty vessels, even though they had been dying and fading from from the moment that she had cut their connection with their master by suffusing the larger Wyrm in golden flames.

There was much to reflect on. Much to consider, and much to think about. The Tyrant Wyrms were far more dangerous... and perhaps Veliuona meant to destroy them sooner than Sol had first anticipated. She would be watchful, and she would be wary, and she would not be foolish enough to take her weaker sibling's advice and offer Veliuona either mercy or reprieve, should Veliuona or her minions show any sign of betraying them in the future.

In spite of all the evil she had seen, Sol still would not believe that the greatest threat to Equestria was not Veliuona, but the Wyrms. And in a strange way, she was right.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Ruin

That was all they saw: ruin, chaos, and destruction. Titan was silent as he surveyed the wreckage of what had once been a prosperous settlement, and now was nothing but a mix of black mire and ruined, fallen-apart buildings.

Morgan was horrified, and her Paladin shivered in fear at the destruction that had been left in the wake of the creature that had passed through this place. Not a single soul had survived, it seemed: every home, every possible escape had been plowed through or broken open like an egg, and there were bodies strewn here and there through the mire... and worse yet, shapes as if bodies had once lain here and there, but then had been dragged off by something.

Titan and Morgan slowly explored the wreckage, the Paladin lingering close behind, the disciple of Veliuona striding along with them, for once seeming alert and aware instead of distant and aloof. It spoke to them in harsh tones, but Titan heard fear in its voice when it said that dark and ominous things had been at work here, and that death and undeath had both been perverted to the cause of the sinister creature that had attacked this place.

Titan said quietly that the Tyrant Wyrms had given their reply, for this, he stated, was the first sign of what such beasts were truly capable of. Yes, they had seen great destruction in the past, but this had warped nature itself, and when they touched the black mire, they felt poison in the soil, and a terrible evil that tried to stretch itself up into their minds.

Morgan heard such terrible voices. Felt such awful feelings run through her... heard a whisper she had never heard before, as they walked through the bog-land, a voice from the deepest darkness inside her. And her Paladin quavered as he tried to stride beside her, but at the same time, walked not like a noble knight but instead a scared foal, trying to slip beneath his lover's wing, uncaring of what he looked like.

And Titan heard not just mockery, but callousness and cruelty, a disdain for all that was that attempted to claw into his very soul. For Titan was a creature of nature and the world, but also a being who believed in love, and strength through mercy and virtue. This voice in the mire whispered that all such things were worthless, with how often it was conquerors who wrote history and decided what would be fact, and what would be fiction...

But no. Titan knew there was more than power to rule, just as those who lived by force, died by it as well. He knew that all must sow what they reaped, for that was the law of nature. He would not let such terrible persuasions take root inside him, and instead guided his group away from the mire, and its unnatural heat and evil voices.

They found little in the village of use to them, but Veliuona's disciple, on the other hoof, became suddenly anxious as they approached several burned, dead bodies, twisted in unnatural display. She asked permission to examine them: the paladin was horrified, and Morgan neutral, although she little liked the idea of letting the disciple play with these murdered lives. But to her surprise, Titan agreed immediately, then reassured his sibling that nature had already taken back these lives: there was no disrespect in allowing Veliuona's disciple to examine these corpses.

All the same, Titan watched closely as the disciple looked over the bodies, then used its dark magics to bring one of the corpses to a state of half-undeath. It could not move... and immediately, Titan sensed that something was wrong. Not in the balance of life and death, but rather, in the way the disciple stiffened, and the now-moving corpse shifted, unnatural even by the standards of the living dead...

It rasped at them. It spoke, in a tongue that Titan could not understand, and yet all the same he recognized: the language of the Wyrms. It hissed what could only be threats, until the disciple of Veliuona suddenly ended its magic, and the corpse fell still again.

For a time, it was quiet, even as Morgan shifted and her Paladin blurted questions, shouted accusations until he was silenced by his lover. And Titan asked a single question, but he already knew the answer, even before Veliuona's disciple turned to him... grim, even for the living dead, and answering in a voice that was filled with the same fear that so many of the living felt for those touched by undeath.

The Wyrm that had destroyed this village had stolen the corpses... but not merely to feast. Titan was right: the Wyrms were taking the offensive now, instead of merely playing their games of destruction. They were beginning to show what they were truly capable of: tarnishing the spirits and bodies of those they killed so blackly that they became deathless servants, connected to their master, who existed only to spread their disease into others.

And Titan realized that no matter how quickly they moved, they were fighting a losing battle: these Wyrms in play had already destroyed dozens of settlements and tarnished who knew how much of their land black with mire. Now, if they were marshaling their own armies of the dead... he feared what they would have to do, merely to survive.

He feared this was a battle that even together, they could not win.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: In Face Of Tyranny

Titan and Morgan were ambushed by a Tyrant Wyrm past the edge of the canyon: the black beast fell on them like a living tide, roaring its challenge to the two. They leapt to meet it ahead of their company of knights, with the paladin Morgan so loved dallying behind them, letting the stronger ponies go first.

Titan slammed into the creature, a living cliff that the wave of the beast battered itself uselessly against and was pushed back by, and Morgan attacked the beast from above, harrying it and distracting it. Titan pushed forwards again, to force the creature further back, and yet at the same time Morgan wondered: why did Titan not devastate the beast as she knew he had the power to?

All the same, the Wyrm was no match for them, pushed all the way out of the canyon and into a broad waste. The skirmish became fiercer in the open, but with more room to maneuver, Titan quickly began to outpace the beast, striking at its legs and tail as Morgan smashed off its horns, then blasted away the bony pistons that stood out of its back, and she thought she began to understand what Titan was doing.

The Wyrm fell before them after not much longer, and Morgan and Titan both settled in front of the creature. It lay with legs broken and back bleeding, wounds covering its body... and yet still it grinned at them, mockingly. It was smaller than the other Wyrms they had seen: Morgan would guess it was but a juvenile, and perhaps not of the same ilk as the greater Wyrms they had seen before had been. This one, after all, did not speak in poison words.

But still, Titan approached it, fearless, looking into its hollow-hell eyes before he asked what its intentions were. And to their surprise, the beast laughed, and responded with words that hurt their minds, twisted their souls... and yet even so foreign as they were, could still be understood.

It was here to test them. And that was the only answer it would give, the rest of Titan's questions greeted by laughter until Titan finally asked why the creature had not fought with all its strength. Why it lay in ruin, when they knew that the creatures were capable of putting themselves back together from the power of the earth.

To this, the Wyrm asked derisively why it had not yet been killed. That was its only purpose, to die at their hooves. For it was destruction, it declared, with a terrible pride. It was destruction, to bring and to feel, and that was what it was waiting for. That was what it longed for.

Titan said he would not grant the Wyrm destruction, and the Wyrm, mocking, asked if that meant Titan would sacrifice his sisters, his friends in its place. But Titan only smiled, unafraid and unfettered, before he replied that there would be no sacrifice of those he loved, either. For Titan had a message for the Wyrm to carry to its maker, whom he knew had denned near the Grey Mountains, and he asked the Wyrm to take it there for him.

The Wyrm laughed, and Titan gave his message: the the Wyrms leave this place, and return to whence they had come. That they swallow their need for destruction, or else find a place where their destruction would aid creation. That unlike his sister, he wished to give these Wyrms, whether they were poison or not, one chance to leave, elsewise the next they meet his hoof would be forced to destroy these desolate creatures.

And then, before the Wyrm could mock, or deride, or laugh, Titan picked up the great beast as if it was no lighter than a child's toy, and to the shock of the soldiers who had nervously gathered to watch the parlay, Titan flung the tremendous Wyrm far out of sight, well-beyond the plains they had pass and towards the Grey Mountains on the other side of Equestria. For all the soldiers knew, the Wyrm may very well have landed in that forbidden place to deliver Titan's message.

Titan, satisfied, turned to lead the caravan on, and Morgan laughed, feeling that she had learned much of negotiating that day... and learned all over again the art of mercy, and how to offer peace to even the worst of monsters was not an act of weakness.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Titan's Passage

Titan and Morgan led their own contingent of soldiers onward, heading along the route that Sol had marked for them. Morgan's loyal Paladin hurried along at their side, almost as if in supplication, even though it had been days since they had last argued; it made Morgan wonder if he had done some other ill deed she had yet to discover.

But for now, she concentrated on the road ahead. Their passage was not an easy one through the marred and scarred gorge that their journey took them through, but they were able to avoid the worst of the weather above. And while it was difficult terrain to navigate, it proved an excellent place for camp, with abundant detritus for them to burn for fires.

Titan had slowed their march a little and was not pushing his soldiers as hard as Sol had: they seemed grateful for it, and Morgan was curious why the stallion had chosen to slow their pace so greatly. And Titan replied that nature had warned him not to exhaust their soldiers: they would need their help, as the foe was waiting for them.

Titan quieted, and Morgan frowned. She didn't know how the Tyrant Wyrms could continue to predict their movements. But Titan only smiled, and answered before she could even think of how to phrase the question, that the Wyrms were so easily predicting them because their attack on Equestria was not just a destroyer's rampage. They were calling out the strong, eager to lure out what victims they could... eager to separate them, just as they had done, so they could try to ambush and destroy them. Titan had realized that as foul as these enemies were... there was something fouler still guiding them.

Morgan didn't like that thought, and the paladin, too, was made uneasy by it. Morgan was curious if Veliuona might have either inkling of the foe they faced, or something to do with the enemy... but Titan only smiled, and reassured her that no, the Goddess of Cursed Shades had no complex game against them. What her goals were in the future, he was not sure: as to whether or not they would one day be enemies, he sadly predicted that yes, they would. But until that time came, he would treat her and her brethren as he would treat any other pony. And he would never forget the good that she had done in this mission, 'lest he prejudice himself against others who had done no crime against him, but were similar in nature to the Velites.

His sister laughed at this, and pointed out that few ponies would care for the feelings of the undead. Titan, however, only smiled, and said that he was few ponies, in that case.

When the night was over, and they made ready to leave, Titan started the day as he always did: greeting mother nature and his family with love, speaking to the soldiers he was leading with affection and kindness, and then boldly striding forwards to accomplish what had to be done.

It was a new day, and Titan would see that they made the very best of it, no matter how dark the future was. Because the future was nothing but shadows and echoes, but the present was what they lived in, could touch, and owed to themselves to make the most of.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Cold As Ice

Sol pushed onward, leading a mass of soldiers, alone. She pushed into the cold and the wind at the head of her small army, fearless of the monsters that waited ahead and ignoring the numbing cold that bit at her. The wind howled, and the snow poured down, and the frost bit at her, but all of it Sol ignored. Such things were trivial to her: all she cared about was seeing this job through to the end, destroying the Wyrms, and then returning to attend to the other problems that plagued their world.

Problems such as Veliuona. Sol hated her: she knew that the Goddess of Cursed Shades had her own dark designs in mind, but she also knew that she was a necessary evil... for now. But when the first opportunity arose, Sol would ensure that Veliouna, and all her kind, were purged from this world. This world was for the living, was for the ponies. This was no place for darkness to make its claim.

And how it ached to see her brother making palaver with Veliuona... and worse yet, her sister acting like the dark goddess was a friend, even mentor. Sol felt bitter. A bitterness so icy that it made the world around her seem warm in comparison. Her soul thrummed with it, as it bled through her entire being, mixing with the ache of memories still ringing inside her mind, unlocked by the Wyrm's hideous powers.

But she wouldn't be distracted by such lies and treachery. She knew now that the Wyrms had powerful psychic abilities, on top of the devastation they left in their wake. She understood that these memories were not likely her own true past, howevermuch the compelled her. No, they were a trick, a deception... just as everything that Veliuona was doing was trick and deception. She would not fall for any of it. She would not be made a fool of. And she would not allow darkness to continue to leak through the world.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she realized almost too late that they were being watched, and it was at the last moment, as they approached a sheer, icy cliff, that Sol looked up to see the Wyrm sitting there, watching, waiting... grinning. It leapt down towards them, but Sol was in no mood to play, as she called up her magic and mixed her strength into the whirling blizzard.

In less than a minute, the battle was over. The soldiers stood in awe of her, but Sol knew that the power she had displayed was... foolish, not admirable. She had given into passion and rage, and she had taken her frustrations out on the carcass that was now slowly turning to porcelain before her. It had only been a small Wyrm, after all... not one of the larger beasts, that had such malicious power. These ones seemed to serve more as... soldiers. Perhaps they were juveniles; perhaps they were only drones.

But still, it brought new life to her troops, so she supposed that she would make the best of this outburst... and ensure that they all did their job here quickly, so they could make haste back to Canterlot... and return to the job of ridding Equestria of the disease that was still trying to infect their nation.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Division

So it was decided: Sol would continue to the north, taking half the army with her. Titan and Morgan would head towards the west coast, with the other half of their army. And Veliuona would head east with her undead minions. One small addendum to this plan was made by Veliuona, one which she would not be dissuaded from by Sol's most fervent arguments: that one of her undying Viziers travel with each of these groups, so they could freely trade messages between them.

Sol didn't like it for a number of reasons, but Morgan and Titan both seemed much more receptive to the Goddess of Cursed Shades... and worse, her siblings seemed to be questioning her plan, perhaps even her ability to lead. So finally, she was forced to grudgingly agree to these terms.

They did not separate immediately, even as Sol began to marshal the soldiers into different camps: they still had several days of travel together before they would have to go their separate routes. Titan and Morgan decided to make the most of this by spending their time with Veliuona... although Morgan noticed a strangeness, a tenseness, in her paladin. She did not like how fearful he was of coming to the undead's camp, or sharing a table with her... and there was something more than simple fright of the living dead in his eyes, she thought. There was something else, like he had some secret he was desperate to keep.

But Veliuona was welcoming, kind, even compassionate. And even if something about her was... perhaps cunning, perhaps manipulative, there seemed to be an honest desire for them to work together as well. Morgan was not as good at knowing others as her brother, Titan, was, but she felt that she had come to know Veliuona. And she knew that the Goddess of Cursed Shades, for all her failings, would not betray them, nor use her Viziers like assassins in the night. It was not that Veliuona knew honor in the same way they did, oh no... but Veliuona did understand the seriousness of the predicament they were all in, and more importantly, she was not stupid.

Titan seemed to trust Veliuona, and that too was more than enough to fortify Morgan's belief in the deathless goddess. That, and the fact that Sol seemed to be acting out of her passions, and her anger, and perhaps what was even jealousy, rather than by logic and thought. But Sol had always been passionate and rough, driven less perhaps by instinct, and more by whatever feeling spurred her on at the time. And as Morgan had learned, wild passion could turn the tide of a battlefield... but it could also fracture alliances and break apart bonds that would be better left unmangled.

So for the night, Morgan and Titan found themselves playing peacekeeper, while Sol sulked and concentrated on other duties: a strange turn of events. But Sol was troubled by Veliuona, and by the voices still whispering in her mind of things from the past she did not entirely understand. Besides, ultimately, she knew her folly was not in the risk of making Veliuona an enemy: it was in the risk that they would be too weak apart to drive out the Wyrms.

But after seeing what the Wyrms were capable of, and hearing what secrets they had to speak... she knew that they had to make haste and take a risk, rather than move slowly... and most assuredly leave the rest of Equestria to burn black beneath the Tyrant Wyrms' touch.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: The Warning

Not two, but three Tyrant Wyrms awaited their army on the field, almost as if excited for the coming battle. But Sol saw immediately that two of these Wyrms were very different from the Wyrms they had seen so far: they were smaller, sleeker, and shivered with anticipation... and Sol thought that there was a visible hierarchy in the way that these smaller Wyrms seemed to obey the larger one... and it clearly wasn't just out of animal instinct.

It warned Sol of what was yet to come... just as the way the Wyrms waited told her that there was something more nefarious, more malicious, than simply hellbeasts going out of control. But she was distracted by the fact that when she ordered her army to halt, Veliouna mimicked her, telling her own deathless army to stop... and then looking at Sol in a way that somehow made her feel patronized, even as the Goddess of Cursed Shades treated her with deference.

Sol strode forwards towards the Wyrms as they waited for her, and she hated that Veliuona joined her, walking beside her like an equal. It frustrated, angered, and distracted her... and her feelings seemed all the more amplified here in the presence of the Wyrm. Just as she felt like she could sense Veliuona's secretive smile, and the eyes of the undead abomination lingering on her, watching her, studying her every movement...

But Veliuona had no plans to move against Sol, or to deride her: she, too, could feel the miasma and the emotional toxicity given off by the Wyrm, but in her, it caused fear, an emotion that the deathless goddess had not felt for a long time, and one she would do anything to get rid of. All the same, it was very hard for her to bow her head to Sol; harder still for her to whisper to the mare that she would do as she asked.

It was hard for Sol to pull herself out of her anger... but she did, all the same, and forced her rage to instead focus on the Wyrm instead of Veliuona. To put the hatred she had for this undead monster before her, and sharpen her focus like a blade, as she looked up at the Wyrm. And the Wyrm looked back at her, before it said in its terrible, dark language, in words that her mind could barely handle and yet all the same understood:

We know you, swordmaiden.

Sol didn't know why, but those words chilled her... and drove such a spike of fury through her, that she could not stop herself from lashing out in pain. Pain, and anger, and memory that was still nothing but blurs... but there was something there, all the same. Eyes, watching her. The scent of blood. And laughter. Cruel, cold laughter...

When Sol next was aware, the Wyrms were dead. The smaller beasts had been almost too easy to destroy: they did not sing like the larger Wyrm did. But even the larger Wyrm had not fought hard: it had almost seemed eager to die, as a matter of fact. As if death was merely the fastest way it had to leave the battlefield, and return to its waiting Master...

That was a thought that chilled Sol to the core. But when she looked at Veliuona, she did so with impassive eyes, and a thankless heart. Even though the Goddess had fought beside her and even submitted to her will, she still could see her as nothing less than an enemy, be it spiritual or political, if not physically a foe right now.

And Sol would not show any mercy for her foes.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Jealousy

Morgan learned much from Veliuona. Too much, Sol thought, as she watched her sibling carve Velite runes into bones to help with repairing the undead infantry after a skirmish with bandits. Sol was concerned that Veliuona was trying to lure her sister away... and she was very frustrated with the fact that Titan seemed willing to aid the undead army himself in any way he could, although she put this down more to what she saw as his naivety than the manipulations or machinations of the undead against her brother. Sol, by know, knew Titan better than that.

But Morgan was different. In the past, Morgan had always followed her, admired her... and now Sol was watching her sister being taken in by a different sort of mentor, one who acted as if she better understood her, one who played for sympathy... and Sol was disgusted and frustrated by it. All the more so because she had originally encouraged Morgan into the enemy camp, in order to gain information and to possibly eliminate the need for Veliuona...

Now, Morgan was doing too well. And while it was good she was learning the magic and skills of the enemy, at the same time Sol felt... uncomfortable seeing her display such prowess in interacting with the dead. To control and manipulate them was one thing, but Morgan seemed as if she was capable of doing more than that...

And as if Sol hadn't noticed that paladin Morgan was so taken with slinking around the Velite camp and sneaking off to see Veliuona in the depths of the night. She was sure that Morgan was either overlooking it or perhaps, foolishly, trying to be 'supportive' of it, seeing it as her ridiculous lover perhaps 'taking an interest' or some other nonsense. Sol kept cursing the fact that she hadn't squashed this relationship when she had the chance to: this paladin was nothing but a hindrance, and she knew that if this kept up, then one day, the paladin was going to cost more than just their patience. Especially with how soft Morgan was with him, and how she continued to dote foolishly on him.

No. Sol would not allow this to continue. One way or another, she would wean Morgan off this darkness, and she would find a way to get rid of Veliuona. It was only a matter of time and logistics, that was all: the only reason they needed to stay on the good side of the Goddess of Cursed Shades was to prevent being caught in a crossfire between her and the Tyrant Wyrms. And since the Tyrant Wyrms had to be eliminated anyway... Sol thought the best that she could do was force the camp to march even faster towards their destination, to engage the Wyrms on the territory they had claimed, and let Veliuona's troops do the brunt of the work for them.

As a matter of fact, once they dealt with the Wyrms in Central Equestria, she thought the best course of action might be to split their forces. Then Veliouna could go her own way, and Sol could take her forces to deal with the other incursions. Perhaps she could trust Titan and Morgan enough to deal with a Wyrm themselves as well: they had to act quickly to drive back these monsters, after all.

And Sol wanted to ensure that even if they were being forced to lay down with dogs, they wouldn't attract too any fleas.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Titan's Question

While there were many things Titan was known for, his sharpness of mind was not one of them. But sharp of wit he was, and in more way than one: although never could he be called cunning, with his candor and near-naivety, but he was able to learn of ponies and know them inside and out even before many ponies had the chance to know themselves.

Titan had studied Veliuona and her consorts, and Veliuona's interactions with both of his siblings. And now, after seeing how they had worked together to fight off the ambushing Wyrm, he thought it was as good a time as any to have a chat with the Goddess of the Cursed Shades, and take his own personal assessment of their new ally.

Titan walked fearlessly through the ranks of Veliuona's undead: even if they were creatures compelled by magicks that were not of nature, he knew that he had nothing to fear from them. Many of them still acted as ponies did: some were fearful, some were zealous, some were rude and some were welcoming, but in all of them he saw their own spirit and their own soul, even if the flesh had long departed from their bones. He thought it was a good sign for the meeting that was to come.

Veliuona greeted him pleasantly enough when he found her: she did not seem to be surprised by his presence, but Titan knew there were many things that moved unseen through the air, for as many physical beasts prowled along the ground. But she was very interested in him, he thought, and he welcomed her curiosity, gladly allowing her to begin the conversation and answering her questions truthfully and honestly. Morgan may have lied to save face at some, and Sol surely would have argued simply to spite the goddess with others, but Titan was jovial and pleasant, and did not want conflict. He simply wanted to know the measure of the mare he was speaking with.

They spoke for quite some time together, and across a broad range of subjects: although she told him little of her past, Titan learned much about Veliuona from what she found interesting, from when her voice became impassioned, from how she held herself so high and mighty... and yet at the same time, she extended such honest concern over even the smallest subject of her vast, deathless empire. And in the way she spoke of things, how she phrased things, Titan learned that even if Veliuona was a goddess now, she had not always been one: it became all too clear, as they broached the subject of cultures and homelands, that the strange place Veliuona spoke of with such honest love was, without a doubt, the homeland of the zebra kin.

When they parted ways, Titan thought they parted as friends, and he felt that she would be someone he could trust in the days ahead. He recognized full well they might end up as enemies afterwards, but he saw an honest love in the empress for her deathless citizens, and knew she would not risk putting her people into great peril by placing them at odds with both the Wyrms and Sol's army.

And for now, Titan was satisfied with this answer: until they were enemies, he would treat her as the best of friends, as he thought was only right to do.

The Legend of Sol, Titan and Morgan: Kiss Of Promise

Amid all the violence, the clamor, the philosophizing and the preparation for war, Morgan continued to find herself being drawn back to one thing, again and again: the fact that her lover, her charger, her faithful paladin had promised again and again to be by her side... and yet when they had faced the Wyrm, he had been nowhere in sight.

In spite of everything the paladin said, and all his promises and kindness and affection during the moments of peace, or when they were alone, the young paladin was... well, she did not want to think he was a coward, but the truth was there, all the same. And it was growing harder and harder for her to blind herself to the fact that the stallion would not stay beside her, and ran every time the chance was given to him. Nor was she fond of the fact that he seemed to be growing haughty, if not arrogant, and was all too glad to push his work onto the hooves of others. Both Titan and Sol had taught Morgan the value of hard work for its own sake, and it was a lesson that Morgan would never forget.

But the paladin was not like them, and not like her. In some things, Morgan loved that about him. He could be gentle, and he would listen to her and obey her, and there was such nobility in his struggle to overcome his own weaknesses, and, as a mortal stallion, to fight alongside heroes like they were. But at the same time, he was not willing to push himself, and he seized on what gave him the greatest reward for the least amount of work, and he could be.. pedantic, she thought. She had no problem with when he was rude or they argued, but how she loathed when he whined and whimpered to her like a colt instead of the rugged stallion in paladin's armor he was supposed to be...

Morgan went to see him, when they made camp after destroying the Wyrm. She was unsurprised to find he had taken refuge the furthest he could from the undead, while still remaining in the light of the camp's fires. He smiled when she approached, and leapt to her like a puppy... but she caught him, steadied him, stopped him. And his smile faded at the look upon her face.

This was not the first time they would speak of his failings, and nor would it be the last. And in spite of how Morgan could look upon even the most pitiable pony with a cruel eye if it was required, or her mood was dark as her eyes, this paladin somehow always seemed like a foal to her, and her words, however well-intentioned or better-earned by him, too wicked for the wretched fool.

In the end, as always, the paladin promised her with a vow and a kiss, that he would do better for her. That he would be stronger for her. That he would not let her down in the future, nor ever betray her. Morgan was unsatisfied, but let it be enough for now, and she left the matter alone to listen instead to his sweet nothings and feel his gentle affections.

But after she slept, the paladin slipped away from her. On trembling legs, he made his way to the camp of the living dead, and searched until he found the Goddess of Cursed Shades. There, they met, and he asked of her what gifts she had to give. He began to tell her his story, that he was born of ignoble cast, that he had fought all his life to reach where he was today, but the Goddess was uninterested in such tales.

Veliuona had no use for the paladin's past. But she had every use for him in the future.

The Legend of Sol, Titan, and Morgan: Suppression Of Tyranny

Sol thought that they would be able to meet the Wyrms near Central Equestria. But one of the Wyrms, it seemed, was more eager to meet with them than she had expected, and retraced its own path of destruction to intercept the army emerging from the mountain cliffs.

Titan was the first to feel the Wyrm's approach, and he was barely able to shout a warning before the creature attacked, without warning or hesitation. The terrible beast plowed its way into the front of their army, smashing both the living and the dead scattering like toys as it forced their marching column back into the chasm they had just begun to emerge from. But there was no meaningful strategy, no thought-out tactics in its attack: it was only by cruel coincidence that this laughing, murderous Wyrm had caught them at the last possible moment in time it could most effectively ambush them.

The creature tore forwards through their ranks, and soldiers panicked even as Sol roared orders; the living dead of Veliuona, however, were quick to move into position at only a single whistle from their goddess, forging forwards against the brutal strength of the Wyrm, refusing to relent even beneath its hellish breath and its fearsome claws and jaws.

But as Sol withdrew her forces and moved forwards with her siblings, the monster began to chant its terrible Black Verses, and not even their loyalty to their cursed mistress could stop Veliuona's hordes from breaking and bolting in fear and terror. But now, with their protective helms upon their heads and their wills focused against their foe, Sol was able to lead an attack directly against the mocking creature, using magic and stone to strike with ferocity into its throat and silence its miserable melody.

While the Tyrant Wyrm was far from slain, even as its head was almost severed from its shoulders, the Black Verses were halted, and the creature itself became almost confused for a moment, as if it could not comprehend that its terrible singing had been stopped. A second later, it began to rage... but Titan's strength and Morgan's magic propelled another great stone into the beast, smashing it with such force that its heavy breast was cracked like an egg to reveal its strange and pulsating core, and the Tyrant Wyrm gave a strangled sound that was furious around the shale buried through its throat... and not afraid, no, but as if the creature had realized that it had underestimated its foes.

Veliuona and her dark magicians dealt the fatal blow, before Sol could summon up her magic: although the creature was of black scale, with its hideous, heart-eye revealed, their dark magic was able to pierce the core of the beast, burning away its very spirit as it destroyed the heart of the monster. The Tyrant Wyrm howled, vomiting one last burst of hate from its jaws before it collapsed beneath the weight of its own, already-rotting corpse.

So went the first battle: rough and fast and unexpected, with errors and foolishness on both sides, neither prepared for the bloodshed that came. The skirmish was nothing but five minutes of hell and fatal errors, that forced both darkness and light to fight side-by-unwilling-side against a creature of the deepest abyss. And it was nothing more than a taste of what was yet to come.