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The Darkfire Phoenix
You want to know about the darkfire phoenix? No need to say it, that's all anypony asks of me. You know the price: something Wonderbolts-related, like a poster, but the older stuff, with the old motto "Thunder and Glory" and without Rainbow Dash's smug grin.
Not a fan? Shame. I'll tell you instead about my mentor, and what a mare she was. On a hunt, she was the ranger blazing through the forest, and I was the rookie with the gear. Best flier I ever knew, even with the heavy cloak she never took off. She was in the business for years, so she must have been covered in burns. At times I thought that there was nothing to her but those burning orange eyes.
She told me, "There are twenty-four methods to kill a phoenix, but they all do one of three things: bury it in earth, drown it in water, or burn it with a hotter fire. If you kill the bird, it will come back. But kill the fire inside, and it will turn into a stone forever." A stone worth thrice its weight in gold, I might add.
You even know what a darkfire phoenix is? Sometimes, a phoenix egg is laid that is black as obsidian. And from it hatches a dark, twisted thing with no ordinary fire inside it, but a burning hatred for anything that can be set ablaze.
Well, that happened fifteen years ago. A giant phoenix with four dark eyes appeared in the Badlands and carved its way to Equestria. It would burn itself out every morning and resurrect at nightfall, and nopony could find it. It burned the forests, the fields, and when it burned a village, the Wonderbolts were called in. It burned them too. Shortly after the phoenix disappeared, but so did the Wonderbolts. Only a couple rookies and the captain survived, and even she resigned. New Wonderbolts came to replace them, but they never even came close to flying as well.
I learned about it when we found a trail of ash the width of an alley in the forest. We followed it to the mound of ash that was the phoenix and laid our traps. Come dusk, the phoenix flickered back to life. And by Celestia, I never saw anything more terrifying. As large as a house, each feather like a black torch, and four dark, beady eyes. My mentor grabbed my shoulder and said, "It's him."
Without thinking, I triggered the dynamite buried around the clearing, sinking the bird into the ground. Then I fired an arrow into the cloud we moved and enchanted beforehand. The arrow triggered the water spell, and two tons of water fell into the hole.
It didn't work. The phoenix burst out of the ground and straight through the cloud, and when it turned and swooped right above our heads, we fired canons loaded with three dozen javelins tipped with containers of alchemical fire as hot as molten lava. I turned and, to my horror, it still flew. It wasn't hot enough.
She grabbed one of the spare fire javelins and jumped out of the trench. I tried to stop her, but she looked at me and said, "This is method number twenty-five." She spread her wings and flew into the air, just as the phoenix was turning for another swoop.
I've never seen anypony fly so fast. She shouted, "Remember me?" The phoenix flapped its wings, raining burning feathers upon her. The fireproof cloak burned away, but her yellow coat didn't blacken, and it was as if the scars I knew had to be there didn't exist, and her mane swept as if it had a fire of its own.
She cried, "Thunder and glory!" and smashed into its open maw. The explosion deafened and almost blinded me. A mountain of solid obsidian fell from the cloud of smoke into the watery hole.
The guards found me in the morning in the same place. I couldn't run in my condition, and didn't want to. The captain asked me where Spitfire was, I pointed at the dead phoenix. He asked me how we killed it. I said, "She had a hotter fire."
Your sentence ends sooner than mine, right? You should go to a Wonderbolts show, maybe they have something worth seeing. Me, I never went to see the old Wonderbolts. But I think I was fortunate enough to see their last and best show ever.
Not a fan? Shame. I'll tell you instead about my mentor, and what a mare she was. On a hunt, she was the ranger blazing through the forest, and I was the rookie with the gear. Best flier I ever knew, even with the heavy cloak she never took off. She was in the business for years, so she must have been covered in burns. At times I thought that there was nothing to her but those burning orange eyes.
She told me, "There are twenty-four methods to kill a phoenix, but they all do one of three things: bury it in earth, drown it in water, or burn it with a hotter fire. If you kill the bird, it will come back. But kill the fire inside, and it will turn into a stone forever." A stone worth thrice its weight in gold, I might add.
You even know what a darkfire phoenix is? Sometimes, a phoenix egg is laid that is black as obsidian. And from it hatches a dark, twisted thing with no ordinary fire inside it, but a burning hatred for anything that can be set ablaze.
Well, that happened fifteen years ago. A giant phoenix with four dark eyes appeared in the Badlands and carved its way to Equestria. It would burn itself out every morning and resurrect at nightfall, and nopony could find it. It burned the forests, the fields, and when it burned a village, the Wonderbolts were called in. It burned them too. Shortly after the phoenix disappeared, but so did the Wonderbolts. Only a couple rookies and the captain survived, and even she resigned. New Wonderbolts came to replace them, but they never even came close to flying as well.
I learned about it when we found a trail of ash the width of an alley in the forest. We followed it to the mound of ash that was the phoenix and laid our traps. Come dusk, the phoenix flickered back to life. And by Celestia, I never saw anything more terrifying. As large as a house, each feather like a black torch, and four dark, beady eyes. My mentor grabbed my shoulder and said, "It's him."
Without thinking, I triggered the dynamite buried around the clearing, sinking the bird into the ground. Then I fired an arrow into the cloud we moved and enchanted beforehand. The arrow triggered the water spell, and two tons of water fell into the hole.
It didn't work. The phoenix burst out of the ground and straight through the cloud, and when it turned and swooped right above our heads, we fired canons loaded with three dozen javelins tipped with containers of alchemical fire as hot as molten lava. I turned and, to my horror, it still flew. It wasn't hot enough.
She grabbed one of the spare fire javelins and jumped out of the trench. I tried to stop her, but she looked at me and said, "This is method number twenty-five." She spread her wings and flew into the air, just as the phoenix was turning for another swoop.
I've never seen anypony fly so fast. She shouted, "Remember me?" The phoenix flapped its wings, raining burning feathers upon her. The fireproof cloak burned away, but her yellow coat didn't blacken, and it was as if the scars I knew had to be there didn't exist, and her mane swept as if it had a fire of its own.
She cried, "Thunder and glory!" and smashed into its open maw. The explosion deafened and almost blinded me. A mountain of solid obsidian fell from the cloud of smoke into the watery hole.
The guards found me in the morning in the same place. I couldn't run in my condition, and didn't want to. The captain asked me where Spitfire was, I pointed at the dead phoenix. He asked me how we killed it. I said, "She had a hotter fire."
Your sentence ends sooner than mine, right? You should go to a Wonderbolts show, maybe they have something worth seeing. Me, I never went to see the old Wonderbolts. But I think I was fortunate enough to see their last and best show ever.