Sol had no name for what they were facing, for the evils they were dealing with. It had all the shape and size of a dragon wyrm, but no wyrm had ever been so terrible as this. It had the powers of death and poison, and yet it lived, and drew strength from the corrupted earth. It spoke in a voice that had destroyed the minds of those around it, and yet it itself had stayed whole; but how could such a beast wield all these tools of destruction, and yet itself live?
How could anything be so terrible, so evil, and yet act like it had some sinister, ultimate purpose?
Sol did her best to focus on one thing: that this awful creature had forced her and her siblings to retreat. That this beast had made a mockery of her: it had ruined her plans and her army, it had made her look weak and foolish and arrogant. And with that in mind, and her rage focused, Sol poured all her efforts into discovering how they could deal with this living calamity... especially since the rumors they had heard had not spoken of just one such black terror, but several.
Sol first gathered all those who had survived, and from their number, she culled: she removed not the weak, but those who were strong, and faithful, and obedient. Instead, she looked for the weakest, the cowardly, the most infirm: those who should have died first on the battlefield, and yet for some reason, had not.
All of them, of course, had fled once they saw the foe they were faced with. But then again, not only the weak had fled from the beast, the strong had as well. But in particular, one stallion caught her eye: he was elderly, and he was wounded, but his wounds were purely physical ones. He was stoic and disappointed in himself she saw... but he lacked the trembles, and the lingering fear and anxiety and emotional scarring that many of the others had possessed.
He was deaf, she realized. He had literally not been able to hear these poisonous words. Poisonous words that still echoed in Sol's mind, poisonous words that she knew were still eating away at the spirit and psyche of every soldier around her...
But the solution was simple: if the words could not be heard, they could not hurt. She wondered if the creature, the Tyrant Wyrm, as she had learned it was entitled, was deaf itself, or somehow otherwise protected itself from its own dark language, its... Black Verses.
Still, she had found a way to fight it. And even if Morgan and Titan were both concerned about daring the monster's wrath again so soon, Sol was hellbent on fighting the beast. She didn't care about the innocent lives it had taken, or that it was a threat to Equestria: what she cared about was that it had wounded her pride, more than her body, and she was willing to do anything to prove that she was superior even to this beast.
To prove again that they had not called her the Dragon Slayer for nothing.
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