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.