Scalpel grinned, eyes flashing with rapture and zeal, staring down Astral with the utmost intensity, judging his sincerity with keen eyes. When he realised that what Astral spoke was undivided truth he let out another barking laugh and rose from his chair, moving past the desks and directly in front of the stallion. 

“Tr̫͉̬̤uly͎͈̞̘̼͔ ̞̰̮̹͕As͍͇̬͎͙tr̪̭̹̲͉͖al̗̰̞̦̟?͕̥ ̥̣Y̫̣̲ou̱ ̬͈̪w͔̻̙̭̘̦͓i̲̫̯ͅs̺̰h ̣͓͇͇ͅfo͕r p̫͚̞͓̳e͔̞̱̝͖̦̤ac͉e̻̪ ̖̯̻̪͙̦̞an̞̤̯̱̱͓d͈̲ ̺̘a̪͔̗̙ ̜new̗͚̬̩̞̣ ͇̩͖̻̠̣h͚̯̘ar͖̜͉͍̙̪̳m̻̭o̠̖͔̣̺n̰̞̮̩̰̹y̳̬͚̙̗̫ ͔̗͇u̼̝̗̜͓̩ṇ̮̖̞̘͚d̳̪̯̼̦͉iv̮͔͖̘͈̯ḭd͍͖̜ͅͅe͇ḓ̼͍̖̯̘ ̟̤̥̭i̘͍̥̟̠̜̫n̜̹̝̝͈̮ ͕͚͇̗̖̪̬t̲h̯̲͖i̞̹͕̖s̘̼͚̲͖ͅ ̹͔̦̻̰̯la̝̫͓̩͓̺n̯d̯͙̭?̥͈ ̖̮͈S͓̤̰̘̤̰o͚̗̥̦͉͉͎ i͎t̫̪̪̭̟̯ ͕͚̼̳̬̦̹s͎̤̟̟h͚̝a̻̻l̥̻͉̬̞̩l̫̗̖ ̞̦̹̜b͙̪̲̣̘e̫̣ do͙̺͓͎̜̗̲n̹e̤̫̤̩.̺ ̯I ͚sh̲̦̗̭a̰̲̠̱ͅl̞̠̯l̻͖̻͕͉̭̗ ̱̤̰͈̦s̞͙̗w̲̤̜e̯͖̝͎̼̪ep ̙̬̜a̠̮c̤͎͓̮͉ro̪̬s̜͓s̺̞ ̱͎̳͚͚E̬̪̤̭̪͔q̦̱̳̰u̟̫e̦̲s̹̗̳̘t͕͉̜̖̙̯r̻̜̪̞̯i̘͓̺a w͕̼͖i̖͉̮̮e̙͉̹̝̲̠ḷ̙̭d̳͓̖͇̗͉i̳̥͍n̮g ̗̰̮̼̰ͅiṉ ̱h̤͍̠̺̥̥̺o̬̘͚o͓̙̼̥̘̦ͅf̫̩͕̩̳̮ ͖̗̘̦a͎ ͍F̟̝̲̥̩ͅl̩a̮̩̻̼͕̟̰m̜̠̼̦̳͍i̫̩n͎̳͕g͕̺̻̹̩ ͔͉S͈̞̹͎͖w̳̙̭̘o̙̬͚r͚̯d͍̞̱͎̗̩̹ a̘̰̹n͈̹d̮̫͕͔̭ ̪͇̼̫̻a͉̬͚̰̭n̤͕̭̖̖̹̰ ̯͇I̟v̙̞̝̟or̫̣̥y̮͖̬ ͅD̩̝o̘̘͙͚̬v͖̹̟͖͍̗̱e,̞̭̙̰͓ ͓̬t͎͖̻̤hḛ̩͕̥͓͍ ͓̙c̺̜̝h͓̦̯̬̦̙̬o͔̯̤̹̤̳i̘̙̬͎̭͉c̺͍e͉̺̯̹ ͙̥͎o̼̰̯f̤ ̦͔̺̤͉̼͙e͎͖̩̖̞̤qu͕̪̟̬̙̣̞i̮n̪e̲̼̮͚k̰̤i̞̪͓̝nd͕͉͖̭̫͇͓ ̫͔̩͕͉̟̠s̘h̥̯͈a͓̣̟͇̝ḽͅl͕͔ ̪ḻi̠̠̩̗̱̲ͅe̠̹̙͙̗ ̗̺i͕̜̝͕͉̰n̦̙͓̮̼̱ ̟̼̰͇̞̮t͍̦͍̼̰ẖ̺͈̣̭os͖̪ͅe̪̮͕̠ ̻̪̠̞̘̰̱sy̘̭̗̯̙mb̠͍̦̳͈͍o̮̖͚l͉͎͚̗̯s̰͕̻̗ ̭͖̭̯͓̺ͅa͚n̹d͓̮ ͕͈̘̯̺̳t̙͖h̪e͙̟̬̮ ͈de̪̺̟̬c̹̙͇ͅͅi̜̮s͕̣̺̗̲͍̟i͓̜͖̼͍̫ͅo̜͉̦̝n̳̪̖̮ ̗̦̲̙̺̬͖b̻̤͉e̺̫̠̮̝t͓̞̭̲we͚͖̻e̩̺͎̝̝͚̰n ͓͇̖̝̩̙t͙̜̳̝̻̭̼h͕e̫̯̙̳̫̯͉ ̼̜̯̜t͈w̞͉̩̹o̤̮̤̟̳̮.̪͇͇̩͕͙̬ E̳̻̩q̟̞̦̻̞u͓͙̭͖͇e̯̭͉̪s̤̝t͇͉͉͈͓r̟͉͚͍̫̦i͙͓a͙̱̺͉͚͓ ̫̹sh̤a̙̩̰͕͚l̼͖̭l͚͓͚͎ n͚e͇͖v̜͔̣̯͍͎͇e̫̞͙͎̗r̳͕̩̻̞ ̱̳̱̪r͚̳̩͉͇͖ḛt̟̥͖̦ụr͙͍͇̫̳͖n̟̟͓ t̟̝̖o̰͙ ̳̥̬̦͍͈͚t͈̠̜̬̯̜h͇͚̥͍͉̲e̞̟̝̥ ̟p̬̪r̩̱͚̗̭̮e-̣̠̯͉̠̳̣w̰͕̝̦̜a͈̹r̟̮͖̮̠͍ ̙͔̮̩̣̞͓d̻̜͔̰͔̟e͈̱͓̯̻̬ͅb̞̣̬͇a̺̥̣̭̦͎se͇ṃ̫̪͍̭e͇n̠͓̦̬ts̪̖͍̬̺̙̝,̭̮̦ ͚͇̬͔̤̦n̜or̙̘ ͙͉̩͇̝̬i͓̥͓̦̣s̙͉͕͉ ̞͕̞̬̖t̙̫̦͉̻͕h̞͙̮̼͔̙a͓̳̬̫͔͖̦t̬͈̺̦͉̣̣ ̘̲̘̦d̗͇e̙̤̠̳̝͇s̘̼̮̱̣͍i̺̜̩r̩̤͎̙̘̺̟o̺͔̖̘͙͎͚u͓̤̤̠̪̹s̱̺ ̠̞͎f̱̣̞͕̩͈ͅo̯̼̜̙r̞ ͉̣t̜̬̼̲̬̟̭h̭e̺̥̤̹ ̟̣̣̺͇̥w̠o̝r̤̹ld̟̮͈͙͉ ̭pl͙͇͙̳̤̺̙a̳̣͕̟c̲e̳̳̖d̘̟̦̪̘̝ ̝̗̬͙̭̩̮t̜̖͇̪̥͇̫o̬͇͓̯̩̰ͅo͎̯ ̻̫̖mu̜̭̱͎c̼͙͉h̦̪ ͉r̩̬͕͚͉e̫̤͕͙̗li̘͎a͓̝̠n͔̪͇̫͇̠c̞͓̫e͇̬̰̥̰ ̬͉i̹̳̘n̮̣̮̫̘ ̱̣̣̭͇̪t͍͙͍̭h̺̲̺̦̗̞ͅe̦ ̞͓͙̤̺̲͙f̪͎̯̭ick̜l̲̝̹͈͇͍̬e̬̯̻͉͈̱̟ ̪̩h̙o̬͕o͈̹̳̱͇̘v̰͍̯̭͎̫e͈̫̫s̼ ͙̥͙̱̻o̠̦̘̻̱͓ͅf̞̬ͅ ̗g̰̘̻̜o̱̗̠̱d̦̖s͈̼̺͍͈̩̹,̩͍͍ ̮͕̱̯͖͕̱a͔̹ ̩̙̠̮̪̲͕n̮̦̦̳̱͇̞e̱̗w̰͉̫̜̻̖̝ ̝͉̟̙͈̠͓o̘r̦̭͉d̳̭̹e̬r̼̘̖ ̻̹̘̣s͚͇ha̦̣͚͙l̫͍l̤̼̝͕͙ ̟ạ̣̻r̤̜̫̖̖̞i͓͚͍s͎̪͉̠̫͓̫e̬,͍ ͚a͕͔͇̺n̻͕͙͍̫̩ o̗̯r͔̺͙̘͚ͅd̮e̘̩͓̲r͚̭̰͈ ̩̳o̗̝͈͉͍̺f̱̫̙̯̪̞ ̦̖͔̲̘͖th͕̗̻̯e g̮̠̝̞̣̪r̳̖͉͇̬͙̙e̹͇̼̫a͎̹ͅṱ̦͙̳es͎̝͎͔̘̮̙t̼ ̱̲̦̻̦m̼̺̹̟͖͇̘i̻͖̗̗̳n̮d̜̞̖̩̩̮̩s̟,̺ ̦͉̞̳̘͍̗aṋ̞̼d̬̠͚̖ ̺̙̹̤u̼̫̱̘͖͈̫n̝d̹e͎̘̪̱͖r͓̪̣̠͓̥ ̥̺͎i͍̭̠͎̟͙t̳ ͚̟̣e̝̣̮q̝̼̱̳̥̖̞ui̠̬̰͉n͍̦ek̪͓̭̟̬͓ͅi͈̪̼̮n̦͕̗̹͕d̠͉͎͎̫̦̩ ̙͔̫͓̭̰s̫̱̜̥̲h̥͚͈̤a͎͈̹͙̪l̺͓̩̣͇l̻̤͔̱ ͅe̞͍͓̬̩̙̭nt̬̫̣e͈̤͚̭̮r͎̯͔̫̤̞ ͚̫̮̠a̦̥̭͕͈̩ ͍̤̯͍n̳͓͕̬̮̠e̬͈̞̜w̤̗̮̥̼̮ͅ ̻̮a̰͉̝̺ge̤̱̝̘̙̭ ̖̞̰͍̮̲̳o͕̤̯̱̮̳f̖̥ ̱͈͕̰͎̞͚e͓̻͎ld̗̤̻̜͙͔̹r̝̩i̭͙͍͕t̝̤͍̲̗̪͇c̣̘͓̝h g̟͚̲l͔o̻̪̘͖r̺̯̠̤̗̣͖y ̩̼u͚̥̼̘̩̲̖ṉ̣̳̟̝s̮̯̤̣͇̱̫e͖͚̤͔̺̺e͔̯n̟͉̳̺ ͓̥͙s̯̜͎̬͍i͚̲̹̤̦̤͎n͇͎̪͍͍̪c͙̗̩e̩͓͉̼͚̗̜ ̫̲͔͕ͅt̫̖̮͎ḥe͔̯̦̲ ͎̣͖͓͕̲d͉̟a͕̪̠̩ͅͅw̙̟̖n̳̣̤̜̹ ̜̱ọ͔̫̗̬̬f̟͙̜͖ ͈̹͇̞͖ti̼m̠͍̩͎̼͉e̙̭̞!̺̟̼
̳̭̮̻
̣̳̤̖͕T̥͚̥̱̦h̯̟̙͇̦̝i̥͇̫͈͈s̘̯̖̱̱ is̠̹̠̩ͅ ͙̻ṭh̳e̫̟̗͎ ̞̹̺̠t̘̯r̦͎̥̯̭ͅͅu͚͍t̹͙̮̜h ̻o͚̲f ̩̟̪͎͚th̘̙ḙ̣̦͚̬̗̯ ̦̱̳̞̤ͅm̭a̘̺̱̤͎c͈̯̺h̺͕̦̯̳i̯̘̣͕̪͍̪ne̞̭͚,̠̣̞̹̝̝ ̻̖̙͓͉t̲̜h̞̲̪is̥ ̩̭i̼͖͍̬s̫̙̲̗̖̣̞ ̬̝͉͔̯̜͔t͙̦̝̼̮he͇̳ ̯̫̣͓̲̦p͍̻̣͉̗͎̬r̙̰o͖̗̥̺̲͎m̗͓͖̱i̺͚s̹͕̳͔͕̝e̝͚̘̦̪ ̖̥̠̜̗̮o̬f̩̪̖̯̱ ̠͔͍͚̬̤t̳̫̩̟̯h͕ͅe͍̙̞͎̩ ̮͙͖͓t͖͍̬̪͇w͍o͓͕̥f̳̻͍̩͖̱̼o͎̬͍̦̠̲̠l̟̻d̪͚͕͓ ̭̳̤̮̠m̙̼͓̘̳ͅin͓̝d̤̻̮͓͉̟ͅ,̼̗͈̗̫̩̥ ̝̜̗͖͙s̲͚͕̳͔̳͔o̼ ̻ṯ͈͉̳ͅh͈̹̰a̦̪̞̙͙̲t̗̜̯͓͙̘ͅ ̜̺͇̠̖f͖̲̖̤̺r͔̣͎͔͚ọ̞̹̱͉͕͚m͓̥͈̖̙ ̣̤̝̠ț̠͉h͔͖͉̱e̙̘̘̳͎̗ ͈̺͕͈͈ͅͅd̬a̪̤̹͔͎̰r͙̟̖̳͕̘̣kn̥̙̤̱e͚̜̣s͓̟̱̙s̞̞.̥̜͚.̲̭͍ͅ.̯a̗͔̖ ̦͖͈̗͍M̭̰̜̯̼̦e̹̖̺͔̻̲̙c̩̳͚̬h̫͕̳a̱̫̺ͅn̺͈̟̝̱ͅi͉̜c̭̭̼̩̻͈a̳̙̼̦l ͎͚̠̥̼̭̙P͇̬̬a͔͉̞͇̟͖͉r̩̩̳̦̖̯̙a̻̰̬̲d̦̞͉̳͇ͅi͎̰s̳̞̬̣̲͍̞e̪̜ ̹̲̜w͇̼̙i̝̰l̪̲͙l̯̣̙̜̬ ̝b̺̗̤͔̥͉l̙̘͈o̺̬o̦̜̠̠̜͇̩m̻̮̜̥!̟̬̬"̫̤͖͕

The light began to fade from his eyes and slowly his body lost its lustre and otherworldly qualities, Scalpel staggered somewhat, his frame sagging, but the enthusiasm and rapture never left his eyes.

“I promise you this Astral… for it has always been my goal, in the dawn of the second age ponykind shall taste the fruits of knowledge and immortality, and they shall in a flash of brass and lightning know the truth of gods, and the mysteries of time.”

His eyes darkened somewhat, his smile falling, and he stared at Astral with something more akin to a friend rather that the restrained hostility he had held before, an emotion not frequent to his expression. 

Compassion.

“You have gifted me a tool to alter the entire world Astral, and yet you tell me your body is failing and that you may not live to see the glories which I shall spread, and the peace I shall bring… this troubles me…”

He began pacing back and forth, stopping at intervals to consider possibilities, before turning and casting a spell to alter his view of into the realm of magic. Before him Astral was filled with light in the inner core of his being, pure and perfect as the light of magic unconstrained, but the body was maligned, failing, troubled with a cancer which could not be exercised by magic or science, only through death would he be cleared of this affliction…

Suddenly an idea hit him and he almost laughed in glee, restraining his excitement to a singular question.

“The form you have is weakening Astral, failing and corrupted beyond any means of healing, but the Spirit is strong and powerful, untouched by the malignancies of the flesh and the failings of life. You have sacrificed much to give me this artifice of heaven, and it is only rightful that I should return upon you a favour.”

His eyes widened and he smiled once more, slightly mad but hopeful all the same for the possibility of saving his old friends life. “I could give you a new form Astral, not as you see before you in these vessels! No! no! a form free and beautiful of the corruptions of biology, a form wonderful and powerful, untouched by time, or disease, or corruption by any means. A form which shall be akin to that of the new divinity, the new god, flesh of metal, magic and infinite complexity! Flesh resilient and pure beyond that of anything seen upon this earth! Free to do as you will until you shall no longer will for anything, free of the trappings of mortality and the debasements of biology. This shall be my gift to you Astral… you need only accept, but do not hold restrained disagreement within your heart, for the spirit of that unwilling to return rarely returns perfect, or sane… but if you accept entirely, you shall know the glories of my Heavenly Paradise in full and undivided. ”

The power returned to his eyes once more, and the semi-circle of Drones around them slowly began bowing in reverence before the now floating Scalpel as raw power began to arch around him, purple lightning surrounding him like the Corona of some strange otherworldly star. 

W̠̣̬̜̝ͅẖ̱̩a̗̻̟̱͎͙͈t̯̣̺͚͔̠ͅ ͕͍̗͈͕̱̻s̪̘̩̣aͅy̯ ̗y͓o̤͈̳̹̱u̦̖͍ ̺͙̠̰̹͍ͅA̭̼̦st̜r͕̰̲a̲̦͖ḷ̟̱ͅ?͈̪̗ ̭͇̲̼̩Sh̦̭̩a͈͇͕͚͚̰̝l̲̲͓̞͓l͚͔̮̱̜ ̦̠̬I̤̳̣ ̪̲̙͇̟̪̮g̻̪͖̭̜i̝f̟̠̲̮̫̦t̰̲̩ ̪̭͍y̝̲̙͉̹̲o͙̺̳̭̹̫̯ṳ͚͎̫̫ ̱͉w͈̪͚i͎̥̼͚̹͎t̳̪̺h̠̬̮̰̬ ̦̤a̮̥͈̝̻ fle̻̲̠͈̦s̳̤̫̬̩h͓͍ ̼͚p̮a̲̯̦r̹͍̦̦t̘l͓y͖̰̻ ̻̖th̪̹̤͉a̟̣͔̞͖t͉̟̦͙̙̭ͅ ̟̪͕̗͇o̫̭̜f̳̳̭̲̟̯ͅ ̟ț̪̭ͅͅh̺̰e ͚̜̣̰̪͙d̗̮͓̙̩̤ͅi̤͈vi͖̬̼̩̱͉n͖̦̞̜̗e̦̳?̮͈̹̭̳̰ ̮͎̗ͅo͎̲̬̙r̪̞̫͇̮̝̳ ̤̻̗͚̞s̬̺̻̯h͎̻̗̥̟a͚̲͎͓͓͕̲ll̦̱ y̳o̼̤u͈̱̦̞͇͈ ͙̝̩͖m̹ai̖̟̺͙̘͎n̻̱̬̰̙ͅt͚̼̫͚a̹̳̯i̜̙̳̦̺n̤̼ ̦̠̺͓̣t͈̮̼̪̫ḫe ̪͍̯̖͓̙̠tr͓̳̟̰͕̦͈a͕p̝͉̪̭̤̞̜p̗̟̯̲͙̣i̻̬n̤͈gͅs̤̬ ̺o͚̠̭̼̩f̱̙̙͖ ̝̩̗m̹̩̥̪͎o͕̳̩̫͓͖͇r͉̻͈̗͎t̤̥̱̼͕̭ͅạl̬i̜̲t̥̘y̩͓͇?̫̦̬̘