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.