Beneath the Surface

Divine whimpered, the poison driving images into her head. "N- No daddy... S- stop... Ician... P- protect me... Please..."

((Um... everyone in that clearing just fell into the huge gaping hole, down two hundred metres of air... Yeah, I could have phrased my sentence better just now. Sorry.))

---

"I... I..." Ician gasps loudly as pain rockets through his skull. His horn continues to glow even brighter, slowing them even more, but still not enough. Not yet. Not quite.

One more hope. Ician strains even more. "I... will... not... FAIL!"

The levitation disappears, all at once, and everypony is enveloped in a white light. When it fades, they are all on the ground, safe.

"Teleportation..." Quimia marvels. "How did you manage to do it, Ician?"

But Ician does not reply. He lies on the ground, unmoving, his eyes shut peacefully.

((Damn, I'm in the lead for horrible mistakes. Fixed the post.))

((Not fair! I'm supposed to be leading... I'll make one soon. Eventually. Then you'll regret everything!))

Ician lies motionless on the ground, unresponsive to Griff's greeting. His mouth is graced with a gentle smile.

"Commander!" Griff says again. He looks at everyone else around him. "We defeated some changelings on the left side of the forest. We found a tiny hole where the last one disappeared into. What shall we do?"

Quimia steps out of her covered wagon, a bottle of green liquid in hoof. She rushes over to Divine and tips the potion down her throat. She intones, "A time to give, a time to take, a time to sleep, a time to wake. A time to meet your life's great fate, a time to shoulder duty's weight." She presses Divine's chest and commands, "Rise."

She turns to Griff. "He is indisposed. I doubt we will get much out of him soon. But if I may suggest..." She points at a platform fifty metres away, with a small ring affixed to a pedestal and a changeling fitting its horn through it, aimed at the convoy. "... We are in danger."

Storm stayed slumped for a while panting. He was having trouble breathing due to his three broken ribs, he had many cuts from the last attack. He was sweating the salt from his sweat seeping into the cuts and causing them to sting more. He slumped a little further as colour started to bleed out of his vision. As the energy of his body sapped away the fire on his back faded out and he returned to something resembling sanity. "If I'm going out down here, I'll..." He broke off his speech as a series of bloody coughs racked his body. "... I'll make sure I take at least half of you with me."  He began drawing all the fire in the area to him first his barrier of fire then the fire on the surface slowly expanding his sphere of influence. He raised off  the ground slightly as the magic flowed back into him. He continued to pull all the fire into his body storing it up for one last attack.

The changeling commander looks at him and laughs weakly. "Don't... don't count on it..."

A lance of ice spears out from the platform once more, approaching Storm's position with deadly speed.

Griff sighs. "Damnit... " Griff takes out his swords and rushes at the changeling.

The changeling notices Griff, lifting its horn up to target him instead and releasing a spray of magic missiles from its horn.

Meanwhile, further in, a larger horde of changelings emerges from a large, sprawling catacomb and flies towards Griff.

A few dozen metres above the platform Griff is targeting, the platform that had shot the ice beam at Storm, who was about a hundred metres further out the others, prepares to fire another lance of ice at Storm if he managed to survive the first one somehow.

"This... can't be good." Griff says as he stops, dodging the volley of magic missiles. He started backing up. "Uhh, anyone can offer a bit of help?" He quietly says.

Quimia looks up at Griff. She looks back down, and shudders. I... cannot be privy to this abomination. I cannot. But if I refuse...

Her head spun and began to hurt. "I..."

I have no choice.

She reaches into her covered wagon. "Catch!" She throws a trio of bubbly-reddish-orange potions to Griff.

Griff manages to catch them. "What now?!" He asks, yelling.

Quimia gulps. "They are incendiary potions!"

The changeling, realising that its first onslaught failed, prepared another as its horn began to glow.

"Why thank you!" Griff yells back as he tries not to drop the potions. He then throws them at the incoming horde of changelings, while flying up to the platform, slaying the changelings from behind.

Storm drew in the magic faster as the spell built power. He'd started this move now there was no going back, no pausing or diverting to stop the ice lance. This was it. His last move. His half sane mind was almost at piece with this end.

All three potions splash onto the changeling horde, a large inferno beginning to spread as the changelings scatter to safety.

Both changelings on the platforms fall over, dead, and off the platforms to the unforgiving ground.

The ice beam hurtles towards Storm, but not before his spell was fully charged.

"Damnit, I can't count how many got burned... but I got like ten with swords now.." Griff says as he flies towards Storm.

Quimia sees the powerful lance heading towards Storm, her eyes widening. "Oh... dear." She pulls out a saddlebag bulging at the seams from her covered wagons and speeds off to Storm, staying a safe distance away from the beam.

Storm curls into a ball and closes his eyes as he begins to glow a bright reddy-orange colour, the same as his fire. He'd developed this ability a long time ago, but never used it in this way before knowing that doing so was extremely dangerous. He was near death anyway he didn't expect to survive. Just as the Ice lance touches his side, right over his ribcage his body snaps open, Storm opens his eyes and his body goes up in flames, sprouting from his mouth eyes and nose. Th flames speed away from him taking large amounts of his body's energy with them fuelling the spell and making it even more powerful.   The flames form a massive twisting ball of fire, constantly imploding on itself and building in heat, to a point where it would hurt any who got too near. The spell engulfed Storm and Theria raging like a wildfire in a bottle. When the spell ended three minutes later Storm's body dropped to the floor in a heap, not moving not even visibly breathing.

Quimia's eyes widen as she spots Storm's limp form. She races to his side and touches her hoof to his chest, feeling for a heartbeat.

---

The loud battle snaps Ician awake. He sits up with a start. "My horn hurts..."

He then notices everything around him, and his eyes widen. "No. How...?" He gets to his hooves unsteadily and stumbles towards Storm and the changeling commander, half dazed.

Why am I doing this? He questions.

You already know the answer. He answers himself.

---

Theria saw red. All reds, and oranges, and yellows. Fire was that way. It was also hot and searing, which happened to be doing a lot to her exoskeleton. But she didn't really care about that anymore.

She'd won.

The external fire dissipates, but her body is engulfed in flames. "So... that's... it, then... I... win...?" She smiles. "Hah. Hah hah. Hah!"

She rolls into a nearby pool of water formed by the melted ice, trying to put out the flames to the best of her ability, succeeding only partially. Her rolling, however, brings her face-to-face with Ician. "I... win..."

Griff lands down next to Storm and Theria and transforms into his unicorn form. "Or did you..." Griff says.

"I did..." Theria chuckles weakly. "Look at me, Ician. Look at me. You know who I am."

"No, I don't!" Ician snaps quickly. "I just met you once at the Bar. I don't know you!"

"You know." Theria says softly. "Deep down, you know. And I know that you know. I can see the tendrils of love." She chuckles again. "You love me. And you know who I am. Divine showed you the truth that day, in the Bar. But you were too scared and afraid to face it that you blinded your eyes to it. But not your soul."

"I..." Ician falters.

Theria turns to Griff. "Kill me, if you must. But let me speak to him one more time."

Griff looks at Ician. "Orders, commander?" He asks, awaiting Ician's response.

"I..." Ician hangs his head. "... Let her speak. And please... stay back."