Note: And here we go! Part 6! YAY! Oh, and as another note, if you have not seen it already, I have attached a table of contents onto chapter 1. And, once again, I would like to state that it is doubtful that I will ever write a sequel. Most probably I will simply append whatever works following to this whole story and separate them into seasons. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

Season 2: Hearts of Darkness

Part 6: Inquisition

Dimension: My Little Pony

Planet: Equestria Earth

Specific Location: The Frozen North, Stallion Empire

Time: Twenty-two years after the death of the Paradox

The Stallion Empire is not the healthiest place on the planet. The ruler is corrupt, and the land is harsh. The icy hand of winter is always asunder on the vast land. Temperatures sometimes drop lower than the temperatures of outer space, and icy bullets of hails and snow rip through the environ. However, those environments are only native to the southern planes. The north is even more unforgiving. In the frozen hell of north, the mountains give back very little. Very few ponies are able to traverse the towering spires of rocks, ice, and frozen earth. One of those "very few" ponies is Lyric Reed.

Lyric Reed had been orphaned when he was little in the mountains. By some miracle, this dark purple unicorn with a blue mane and treble clef cutie mark had managed to keep alive, and he taught himself the ways of the mountains. For thirteen years now he had been traversing the frozen hell of the north, and he knew every nook and cranny of the frozen mountains. To survive while traversing the mountains, Lyric would make a living by lying and stealing by putting on musical shows. As his victims were distracted, he would subtly pickpocket them. It was well though-out, and it worked every time. Of course, even stealing from others did not provide enough in the harsh lands of the north, for the ponies he stole from had very little as well, but it was enough. However, even "enough" was not enough for him. Ever since he was little, he could not come to terms with stealing. He felt terrible each time he did it, but it just seemed like a way of life for him. There was nothing that could pull him out of that life, and it gave him a sense of hopelessness. He hated his life. It was just that, hopeless.

Hopelessness seemed to be the keyword in the mountains today, for a heavy snow lay upon the ground, and the bleak sky stole the wonder from the icicles as they hung from dead trees. The sky is always what truly brings wonder to a snow day. With a sparkling sun, icicles dazzled and flashed like frozen rainbows, and the ocean of snow that lay on the mountaintops looked like a cozy blanket of sparkling whiteness; however, without the sky, the icicles looked like the teeth of a predator, waiting to kill a traveler too weak to defend themselves, and the snow looked like a sea of dead, cold, nothingness.

The sky was dead today, and Lyric knew it. The land he trotted across had no luster, no wonder. It was just dead. A howling wind tore through the crags and towering rocks, and the silence was oppressive.

Lyric blew out a frozen mist of breath from between his heavy hand-woven mufflers as he mumbled to himself, "By the Emperor, this place is worse than ever. Just my luck…"

He shook his head. The next town was not yet even a day away, and he was running low on rations.

"If I don't pick up the pace, I am going to end up a frozen dinner for the mountain wolves," muttered Lyric as he tried to pick up the shuffling pace. Unfortunately, the snow lay so heavy on the ground that the white material gripped to his hoof like a murderous bog of frost and ice, threatening to slow him and drag him down.

"I… hate… snow," growled Lyric as he did his best to rise above the icy grip of the land. After a pause, he began to chuckle at the irony. He had lived in the mountains all his life, this WAS his life. If he hated the snow, he hated his life… which was a fairly accurate description all things considered.

"I've got to pick up the pace," sighed Lyric again as he tried to redouble his efforts once more. This time he managed to drag his body forward. Then he stubbed a hoof.

"Ow! Stupid… rock… who was in charge of putting it there in the first place…" muttered Lyric. He fell back onto his behind hard and began to massage the stubbed hoof. Then he glanced up to glare at the offending object that had caused him pain. However, when he saw it, he stopped massaging his hoof and stared. It was not a rock like he had first though; it was metal plating. And on the corner, there was some paint on it, like an insignia.

"Huh, that's weird," muttered Lyric. He shuffled forward and brushed away some more snow, revealing the whole of the metal plating. It was a hatch, an aircraft door. Painted on the front of said door was an airline insignia. It was Grand Pegasus Airlines. Though Lyric had lived in the mountains his whole life, he was not as isolated as the mountains themselves were, and recognized the airline insignia immediately.

"Grand Pegasus? They never fly stuff out here. Well, they've gone and crashed now. That means they're all dead, so it doesn't matter. Nothing to see here, better move on," snorted Lyric to himself. He then turned around and began to work his way around the massive pile of snow he now knew hid the wreckage of a crashed airplane. However, as he continued to trot, he began to think more and more about the airplane. It was crashed, right? If it was crashed, all passengers and pilots were either dead or gone. And, since it was crashed, he would probably be correct in assuming that it was abandoned in a hurry, thus, there might be some supplies (albeit frozen supplies) that would be left over for him to plunder.

Lyric finally slowed to a stop. A battle began to wage on in his head as he thought of the pros and cons of stopping and checking and continuing on his journey unobstructed. After a minute of thought, he gave into the former of the two options and he trotted back to the massive snow pile. After inspecting the frozen plane hatch for a moment or two, he trotted up to the colossal mountain of fallen snow and he began to dig. There was a lot of digging to be done, it seemed, for the more he dug, the more snow he found. After several minutes of continuing his work, it became apparent that this plane had been buried under the snow for a very long time. Finally, Lyric gave up and sat down. He began to breathe hard onto his frozen front hooves, and rub them together to get the circulation going again. It looked like his wager had been wrong. Now he had lost a dozen minutes, and he was hungry, cold, and exhausted… all for nothing.

Lyric was about to stream a long line of curses under his breath when he noticed something interesting: a faint blue-colored glow emanating from the tunnel he had dug in the snow pile.

Cocking his head to one side in curiosity, Lyric crawled back into the hole and began to dig once more. In less than a minute, he broke through and his right hoof struck something metallic. Thanking his lucky stars that he had not given up when he had been less than a centimeter away from his prize, Lyric began to inspect the metal plating he had discovered. The blue glow was emanating from just below the newly uncovered area of metal. Scraping away the snow, Lyric found that it was a porthole, with the glass still intact. The bluish light was glowing from some source behind that porthole. Lyric leaned in close and inspected the glass. Ice particles had forced its way into the material, and had spread frozen film all over. Basically, after an extended exposure to the icy climates, the glass had frozen solid and had turned into ice itself. Rearing back a hoof, Lyric punched the glass hard, and it gave way immediately. It shattered into shards and splashed the interior of the plane with a cascade of tiny frozen particles. Lyric wriggled into the plane and flopped into one of the cold, cracked, frostbitten airplane seats. The entire plane was about the size of two buses end on end, and though there were obvious hull breaches in many places, snow had yet to claim the whole thing. Frost crept in films everywhere, and snow layered the seats and the aisles, but it was not yet buried. The entire thing looked abandoned. Not a living soul in sight.

Regularly, Lyric would have sorely regretted not bringing his large saddle pack (which he left by the entrance of the hole) with him, for it had a flashlight, but this time the blue light illuminated everything.

Though he was now inside the airplane, the source of the blue glow was still unknown, for it was glowing strongest a couple meters down the aisle in the middle row of seats. Licking his lips almost greedily, Lyric struggled onto his cold and numb hooves and trotted up to the middle row of seats to where the light was thickest and brightest. He took a single step closer, and was surprised to feel resistance. As he put one hoof forward, a distorting effect rippled around said hoof, and he felt like he was pushing that appendage through maple syrup. However, this weird effect did nothing to deter Lyric. Shaking his head in wonder, he pushed forward some more and pressed his whole body through. As he pushed through the barrier, a tingling feeling rippled in along his body in sync with the rippling light-distorting effect. Suddenly he managed to pull his body through and he fell on his face. As he scrambled up, he realized that the temperature around him had risen thirty degrees, and it looked quite obvious that the thing he had just pushed through had been an invisible bubble shield. Still not deterred by this new development, the curious pony Lyric turned around to look at the source of blue light that was bathing his body. His mouth dropped open when he finally saw the source: it was another bubble of power.

However, inside this bubble of blue light was something else: a pony.

A Pegasus was floating in animated suspension inside the blue ball of light. Now Lyric was totally overcome with curiosity. What was a pony doing inside a light bubble, inside a shield bubble, inside a crashed airplane, inside a massive pile of snow, inside the godforsaken mountains, inside the Stallion Empire? He had no idea, but now he was determined to find out.

Lyric reached forward with a hoof and prepared to touch the light bubble, but then he withdrew. Why should he touch it? As of now, he was inside a warm shield bubble with a light source. From the looks of it, this shield had endured for many months now, and it showed no signs of waning. He could make this place his home! It was bright, cozy and isolated. After all, he did not even know if the touch of his hoof would do anything to the light-energy bubble. In fact, the touch would, in all probability, set off a defense mechanism that would end up killing him. No, it was probably best to stick to his new plan…

Lyric sat down and began to bask in the heat that the shield bubble brought. Nonetheless, as he continued to sit there, the thoughts of the pony trapped inside the bubble continue to fill his thoughts. He may be a thief, but he was not cruel or mean-spirited. When he saw a pony in mortal danger, he usually came to the rescue at any cost. Of course, this was obviously contradictory, and many a fellow thief laughed and scorned him, but he himself viewed it as his one redeeming quality. And now, he was backing down on that quality by sitting here and enjoying the heat as opposed to trying to find a way to rescue that poor pony trapped in a living limbo.

Sighing, Lyric's conscious finally prevailed and he got up. Glancing around, Lyric found an abandoned tray that was broken beside him. Picking up a long shard, Lyric then proceeded to poke the shield. Though it was so obviously made of light, he felt like he was prodding clear, blue-glowing rubber: the shard could simply not penetrate the shielding. Sighing once more, Lyric tossed the shard away and looked at his hoof. Then he looked at the bubble, then he looked at his hoof again. Biting his bottom lip hard, Lyric raised that hoof, almost mechanically, and reached forward to poke it. Even though now his mind was raging for him to pull back and retreat, he could not stop. He had to do SOMETHING to help this pony, and it seemed like poking it with his bare appendage might do the trick. He did not know HOW he knew, but that did not matter now that he was doing it as if another mind had taken control of his.

With that, he tapped the bubble. It felt tingly, and searing bolts of pleasure lanced up and shot through his body. The blue light went out, revealing a translucent hexagon-pattered energy shield. There was a pause, and then the bubble contorted and twisted… then it popped. The pony inside the bubble then flopped to the ground and draped over a couple of the middle aisle seats like a ragdoll. As the light cleared, Lyric got a chance to inspect the limp Pegasus before him. The pony's mane was a light chestnut with streaks of brilliant purple, and it was long and straggly. Additionally its coat was deep yellow. It did not move.

Gasping in horror, Lyric scrabbled forward and dragged the pony forward. He flopped the body onto the ground next to him and began to search for a pulse to see if it was dead. Though it was obvious that nothing living could ever survive for so long in the cold mountains, Lyric could not help himself. He had to try. That attempt was immediately rewarded by something mind-blowing: a pulse. Lyric blinked. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. A pulse? How could that be? Nevertheless, a pulse was there.

Lyric's mouth flopped open. This pony was alive. Who was it anyway? Lyric then checked the ponies flank. It had a cutie mark: it looked like a purple, solid-color symbol that looked like a phoenix with outspread wings. Curios. Lyric, still wishing to know more about this strange pony that had somehow defied death with a bubble of power that appeared to transcend magic, then began to roll the pony over onto its back, exposing it. Now belly-up, the pony flopped (still like a ragdoll) and lay still. Lyric glanced over the pony's body up and down and raised an eyebrow. The pony was a female and about his age. Weird.

Lyric then slowly sat on his haunches as he began to think of his options. What could he do? This pony was alive, and so that meant, if his morals meant anything to him, that he could not leave her behind. However, he also had no way to know when she would wake up. He could not leave her, but she herself could not shift on her own. Sighing, Lyric realized there was only one solution: to carry her. At first he recoiled at the idea. He couldn't. She would slow him down, deplete his rations, and provide nothing in return. She was a deadweight, and that was unacceptable. But he could also not leave her to die. The bubble that had preserved her body and kept her alive was gone, and it was his fault. She was his responsibility know, and he could not shirk that. Even thieves had honor, though only a few respected it as highly as he.

"I hate being a good guy," snarled Lyric. He rolled the female pony back onto her back once more and shimmied her onto his own back. Growling as he strained to stand under his own weight, Lyric staggered up and stomped over to the broken porthole that he had used as an entrance. He flopped her onto the seat by that porthole and began to look about. Ensuring that the female pony was secure, Lyric then began to scavenge for abandoned material. As he expected, there was a lot left behind, but so much of it was devastated by the cold or frozen solid that most of the found objects were useless. Nonetheless, he did strike the jackpot several times in the form of a stocked-up first-aid kit, and a couple of thin first-class airline blankets. That was it. Simultaneously disappointed and pleased with his findings, Lyric trotted back to the unconscious female pony and strapped the new supplies to her back. He then shoved her through the porthole. He then crawled through, and began to shove the female's backside hard as he pushed her and the supplies out of the many meter-lengths of the hole he had dug. In a couple of minutes, though, he made it through, and he toppled her out onto the snow. Unstrapping the blankets and the first-aid kit from the mare, he then added it to his saddle bag. He then tossed the bag onto his back and straightened up. Now with this mare, the journey was about to get a lot longer, maybe even three days as opposed to the original one and a half. But he could not leave her behind, that would be condemning her to death, and he was not a murderer. Never. So, with a frosty huff of resignation, Lyric shouldered the mare onto his back and began to trudge off into the distance.

With the new weight on his back, and the boggy texture of the snow all around him, Lyric was going even slower than he had before. He felt his strength drain from him, and hunger began to gnaw at his stomach, but there was nothing he could do. He could not start a fire until he reached the small frozen forest to the north, and he would now not reach there until tomorrow at that pace. If he wanted to keep this mare alive, he would have to sacrifice his evening meal. Was he really willing to do that? For some ponies in far-off lands, that might not be too bad, but he had not eaten anything since the break of dawn, and that was taking his toll.

"I've… tried so hard… to keep you alive… mare…" muttered Lyric as he grit his teeth against the strain and the cold, "Couldn't… you give me something… in return?"

Then Lyric froze. Had… had the mare moved? Lyric stood stock still in the howling wind and the biting cold as he waited on his senses to confirm his thoughts. Had she really moved? Then… the mare muttered something. It was unintelligible, but it was something anyway. Lyric's jaw dropped for the second time in the day: not only had this pony survived this crash many seasons ago and lived, but now she was waking up. She was waking up.

Dimension: Once Upon a Time

Planet: Fairy Tale Earth

Specific Location: Snow White and Charming's Castle

Time: Twelve years after the Curse, twenty-two years after the death of the Paradox

A massive castle stood like a sovereign spire of stone. It was surrounded by a lake, and a long trail led from the massive drawbridge into a forest. The sun was shining, and the sky was blue, but, nevertheless, the place had an absolutely terrifying feel about it. Why? Because it was abandoned. Not a single bug chirped, not a single bird squawked, and not a single animal howled. Pure silence reigned in the environment. Even inside the castle, the same oppressive silence reigned supreme. Not a single peasant and not a single guard was residing within the cold stone walls. Even inside the hall of feasting, where all festivals were held, it was empty. That is… until a portal opened up and a being stepped out. This being was tall, lithe, and deadly. He was bipedal, with snow white armor with a huge circular disc of dark gray covering the area of the breastplate that would be covering the stomach. His entire set of armor was dotted with blue stars, and a whole set of different forms of daggers were strapped to his arms and wrists. A long double-headed spear with serrated edges was strapped to his back, and a power energy rifle was slung along his hips. This was the Dimensional Lord Traitor Orion. Or, as he was known by every other Dimensional Lord: Orion the Traitor, scourge of the Interdimensional Empire of Sapphire.

Orion the Traitor crossed his arms and leaned his arms against a pillar in the massive abandoned castle hall. After simply standing there for a moment or two, he called up a holographic projection in front of his face and opened up a private email application. He pulled up a message and he read it over a couple of more times. Then he sighed and closed it. The message definitely told him to meet at this place. He was about to simply shrug and leave when, suddenly, another portal opened up in the hall. Another powerful being stepped out into the light. It was Pictor.

The two stood there, facing each other for a long time.

"Orion," hissed Pictor, "Why have you called me here?"

Orion leaned to one side and scratched his chin nonchalantly. Then he swaggered up to Pictor and pointed to Pictor tipsily (even though he was not drunk) and snorted, "Forgive me if I answer a question with a question, but who the hell are you?"

Pictor drew himself up and stated regally, "I am Dimensional Lord Pictor, formerly of the Interdimensional empire E.D.D. Right-hand man of the Paradox, the leader of the Enigma Empire."

"Oooooohhhh… So we're attaching titles to our names, is that it?" chuckled Orion scathingly, "Okay… my turn. I am Orion, or, as my friends called me: 'Star Bear.' Unfortunately, I killed all my friends, so no one really calls me that anymore. I am the Traitor, responsible for the destruction of the Sapphire treasure vaults, and the burning of the Kashykus stronghold dimension during the Maelstrom wars. Oh… and I almost took over the Earth Multiverse… twice."

Pictor crossed his arms belligerently as he said, "I know who YOU are. However, that still does not answer my question: why did you call me?"

"Oh, that's funny, I was still going to answer that question with yet another question by asking you why you called ME?"

"But… but you called me…"

There was a long pause. Then Orion slowly drew forth his long spear, and Pictor conjured up balls of time-space-matter-vaporizing power. The two began to eye each other, and their surroundings, with increasing distrust. Pictor was almost a second away from hurling his attacks at Orion when Orion snapped, "We shouldn't be fighting, idiot. We've been set up. Both of us."

Suddenly a loud, mocking, drawn-out, golf clap resounded from the shadows.

"Oh my god… And suddenly the light dawns. You know, for being two of the most powerful beings the Multiverses have ever seen in all of Creation, you two are pretty stupid," drawled a voice in the shrouds of darkness.

Orion hurled his spear in the direction of the voice. However, just before the spear reached the spot, it stopped in midair. Orion glanced at Pictor, who had stopped the spear. Pictor gave Orion a meaningful side-glance and then turned to the shadows, "What do you want? Why have you set us up like that?"

"Well, Pictor, I couldn't just send you two an email to ask you over for supper, so I decided to draw you here for something a little more – shall we say – tantalizing. You know… killing people and stuff."

Orion stretched out a hand, and the spear hurtled back to him. As he strapped it onto his back once more, he said, warily, "Okay… You've got us. Now you have two seconds before I kill you. I'm really good at that, you know."

"Oh, of course you are, you big baby. However, you might find killing me… a little difficult…"

At this point, Pictor drew in a sharp breath (though technically Dimensional Lords have no need to breathe). Orion glanced over at Pictor. Pictor gave the shadows a wary looked and motioned for Orion to come in closer. Orion drew a dagger inconspicuously (just in case he needed to quickly assassinate Pictor) and then took a step closer to Pictor. Pictor then opened a private telepathic link to Orion and said over that link, "I've just scanned the person in the shadows. I came up with a negative result on the search of his DNA."

"That's stupid," snapped Orion back telepathically, "There is no such thing as a negative match on the DNA. He's alive right? Oh, he might be non-corporeal. Did you try sentient energy-signature scans?"

"I did. That came up as negative. I've tried everything. Whoever is in those shadows… technically he does not exist. He has no Imagination Energy running in him."

"That's idiotic and impossible. He cannot be a sentient void. In fact, I simply think you're lying."

"Do I look like a liar?"

"Heck yeah. In fact, you have it written all over you armor. I'll do it."

"Your database software is outdated, Traitor. You lost all connection with the Imperial Upgrade systems on Kamina when you were defeated by… well, you know. But nevertheless, your database scans have even less a chance of finding anything, and my database found nothing."

"Well, I made a few adjustments to my database, so I would like to differ."

"I am running the Amethyst Database 158.7, made by Doxia. You think you can trump him?"

"Maybe."

Suddenly the voice in the shadows echoed out, "Ladies! Please! You're both very pretty. Stop arguing about the Amethyst Database. But I would like to mention that even Doxia does not know everything. Well, he knows everything except the stuff surrounding my existence, but then that is understood."

Orion sighed. This creature not only could evade scans and fool the Amethyst Database, but he could also break into the private telepathic communications between two Dimensional Lords. Something of that magnitude required incredible willpower and mental capacity on such a level that it bordered on impossible. No non-Dimensional Lord could ever do it. Was this being a Dimensional Lord?

After a moment, Orion straightened up and turned to the shadows. "Make yourself known to me… COWARD!"

The voice chuckled. "Oh, you're only saying that to bait me. Ummmmm… no. I have the advantage, and I like it that way. It's frustrating isn't it? I love that. Now, enough of these theatrics. Orion and Pictor, I have called you two here today because I need something done."

Pictor crossed his arms stubbornly and snapped, "If you will not show yourself, then you can count me out."

The voice snorted disbelievingly. Then he said, in almost a sing-song-like voice, "It involves killing. Don't you just looooooove that? Come on… be a good Pictor and blow some stuff up for me…"

Pictor began to shake in rage, and energy began to ripple out of him, distorting the time-space continuum and ripping holes in dimensional fabric. "Show… yourself…" hissed Pictor.

Orion shook his head, both frustrated by the arrogance of the mysterious voice and amused at how easily Pictor was taking the bait. However, he finally said, "Yes. As much as I think you take after my own heart, voice, I will not make a deal with someone so dishonest that they cannot even show their face."

The voice sighed in mock exasperation. "Damn. And here was I, hoping I did not have to play my spare draw-4-wildcard. Well, at least it is just a spare. I am about to show you something. When you see it, you will want to help me soooooo bad that it will not matter what I look like. Hint: I am made of matter."

With that, a box suddenly materialized in front of them and swung open. Pictor and Orion looked inside. Inside the box was a photo of the Maelstrom vial that Leviathan gave to the Paradox. Scrawled messily in ink on the bottom of the photo like a signature were the words: "I have the vial."

Orion recognized the contents of the vial in the photo immediately and straightened up. "You could be lying."

"Oh, seriously now. Run a time-scan on the photo. You will see where the camera was when it took the picture, and what it was pointing at. Temporal evidence never lies."

Orion did it, and at least that came back positive. This voice indeed had the vial in his possession.

"Well, now that I know you have that… I would be delighted to help," snorted Orion.

Pictor sighed and nodded. The one who held the vial had great powers. It was best to stay on this voice's good side… for now.

"Well?" said Pictor after there was a minute-long pause, "What do you want us to do?"

"Oh, Pictor, so full of hate," chuckled the voice, "I can see, with the lack of stuff you've really done to hurt those who you hate, how you can be so eager to jump on the bandwagon."

"Screw you," hissed Pictor, "I've done a lot. I killed Twilight and Flaming Star's daughter. I've also brought down several important planets."

"Um, let me see… Yes, you killed the Firstborn's sweet little daughter, but those planets… no. Those were just scouting planets, and Doxia was letting you take them out so that he could figure out how to stop you without blowing up another dimension," chuckled the voice.

Pictor took a deep, shaking breath and then said, "Fine. Fine. So, could we get a move-on? Since we will be doing stuff for you, what should we call you?"

"Oh, just call me… ummm… Ah! Call me Harold. I think I will be fine with that. Now, listen very carefully. Orion, you will be up first, so I want your attention riveted to the whiteboard while I explain step one…"

Note: Well? How did it go? I hope you enjoyed reading it, because I certainly enjoyed writing it!