The Baltimare Incident

by Powerdrainer

Epilogue. Aftermath

Time had stopped. The world's colors faded to dull gray. And everything Sweet Apple thought she knew, no longer made sense, as she stared into the unblinking, glassed over, lifeless eyes of herself.

She had stopped screaming a while ago, her throat raw, yet she couldn't look away from her own corpse.

"H- h- how…" she numbly mumbled.

She heard shouting, far away and a sudden jolt passing through the medical tent she was in, finally snapped her out of her morbid trance, as several humans rushed to her husband.

A new shock slammed into her when one of them ran straight through her without hindrance and she leaped back in fright, only to pass through another human standing on the side, before falling onto her back.

"This cain't be happ'ning! THIS CAIN'T BE HAPP'NING!" she shouted in distress, flailing around, in a mad scramble to get back on her hooves.

"WE'RE LOSING HIM!" a shout of alarm cut through her fear stricken mind and it was then, she remembered why she was here, and her eyes shrunk down to pinpricks, as she realized the humans were all fighting for Apple Gleam's life.

"This… this is impossible."

She didn't know if it was her who said that, or if it was either one of the pegasi slowly stepping besides her, nor did it matter, as the glaring truth was exactly as was seen, what they were witnessing was indeed absolutely impossible.

"I am afraid not."

None of them replied, at a loss for words while watching the team of humans doing all they could while also trying to figure out what is going on for themselves.

"Though I understand why you would think it is. Death always has an impact, on both the living and, the departed. But most of the time it can be seen coming, by with it then provides some understanding to those passed after it happened. The way it happened for you, however… You don't yet fully realize the situation you are in right now, because it all happened so suddenly."

None of them reacted, too transfixed on the horrific absurdity of it all. Even more so when some human rushed through all three of them and all three reacted in a similar fashion Sweet Apple did the first time it happened to her.

This time, however, as the three ponies lay upside down on the floor, they finally noticed the individual standing behind them. A pony wearing a cloak blacker than black, which turned into an equally black mist the closer to the ground it got; hiding his hooves in billowing obscurity, much like the hood did for his face; its shadow hiding everything, save the two points of intense red light, which stared intently at Apple Gleam. Even then, it did nothing to hide the pale white, somewhat curved horn sticking out from underneath, nor did they miss the pair of bone wings folded up by his sides. And then there was also a scythe held in his grasp. Held with a bone hoof.

"His time is running out," the monster spoke with a somewhat meek voice.

He then looked down at the three ponies on the ground before them and then, a sudden beam of light coming from one of the humans holding a lamp for the medics chased away the shadow obscuring the being's face for a flash of a second.

A white, bleached, grinning skull stared back at the three unfortunate, terrified souls.

With unexplainable flickering lights, three screams rose up in the air, only heard by the four of them.

They screamed.

With flailing limbs they tried to move away from this monster, another ghost out to hurt them in ways they didn't even want to think about. The horror of the situation only made worse when in their mad scramble, continuously pulling each other back down again, the skeletal ghost slowly moved closer, slowly shaking his head.

He let go of his scythe, holding it upright in a pale white glow coming from his horn, and he reached out with his now free hoof towards the closest of the three; Scoot Blaze.

"SCOOTS, NO!" Sky Rider shouted as his struggle to pull himself up intensified to save his wife.

Seeing the entity move closer still, Scoot Blaze clenched her eyes shut and pulling back into herself as far as she could, expecting the worst to happen, while the fervent struggle of both Sky Rider and Sweet Apple continued in full.

"STAY AWAY FROM HER YOU MONSTER!" Sky Rider bellowed, finally managing to get his hooves underneath him and leaped at the ghost threatening his wife; slamming into it with all his weight, then crashed onto the ground amidst a pile of bones.

"Oh, Thanasia," the ghost said meekly after his skull bounced, then rolled away before coming to a stop several body lengths away, lying upside down underneath the table which held Sweet Apple's body.

Screaming in fear, Sky Rider scurried away from the pile of bones as they began to glow and twitch, slowly rising up as they began to reassemble.

"Please don't be afraid," the skull said. "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise."

The fact it was a skull that said it, and a beheaded skull at that, only served to escalate the panic and fear, which taken hold over the ponies. Escalating matters further was the skull's body, which had now fully rebuilt itself with accompanying cracks and pops; the cloak it wore reforming around it from the shadows, which rose up like a thick fog to cover his skeletal frame, revealing the true, ominous nature of their situation…

… Which was shattered almost immediately when the still beheaded skeleton began fumbling around with a fore hoof patting the ground in search of its head.

"No, to your left. Yes, that way. Yes. No, stop, go back," the skull called out to his body, unable to stop a sigh escaping when his body went the wrong way, fell down a slope and broke apart once more.

Sweet Apple, Sky Rider and Scoot Blaze could only watch events transpire in stunned shock and confusion as the skeleton started to rebuild itself again.

"I do so dislike it when this happens," the skull groaned, then his red dot like eyes shifted to the three ponies now staring back at him.

With a pale flash of his horn, the skull rolled himself over.

"Eh… I'm sorry for scaring you like that. This doesn't usually happen," he told them. "Right… uuhmm, right. My name is Mort, also known as the Grimm Galloper, or the Pale Pony. Now, before anything else you need to know this: You are dead. Worse, you don't realize this and are stuck in between states of being, because of this, and I am here to guide your souls to the afterlife…. as soon as I get back on my body that is," for a second the red dots glowing in his sockets vanished, almost as if he blinked. "Of course you must be confused with what is going on, especially considering the already dire circumstances you find yourself in, so if you have any questions about… well—" his eyes flashed up to the dead body lying above him, "—I'll do my best to answer them."

All three ponies stared at the skull with wide eyes, pupils shrunken to pinpricks and stuck in a state of being either perpetually frozen or hyperventilating.

With an uncoordinated stumble, Mort's body zig zagged its way back to its head, missing several times in which Mort had to call out directions to steer it back on track, before it finally found its target and picked up the skull with a hoof; reconnecting the skull to the spine with a satisfying pop.

"Well, that was unpleasant. Let's not do that again," Mort said as he experimentally twisted his head left and right. Satisfied everything was back where it was supposed to be, he turned back to the three ponies exhibiting clear signs of rigor mortis and sighed out in defeat, while pulling up his hood to mask his skull, while his scythe came to him in the pale white glow of his magic.

"So… questions?"

At first neither of them seemed to be able to formulate any form of response, but just as Mort was about to clarify the situation some more, Sweet Apple hesitantly raised a trembling hoof.

"Wh-h… What?"

With a small nod, Mort sat down; lying down his scythe besides him as he looked the three ponies in their eyes.

"There was an explosion, a clash of power, which collapsed the hotel you and others were hiding in. A collapse, which your husband somehow survived, but at a cost," Mort began, turning to look at the horribly injured stallion still being operated on.

"Gleam," Sweet Apple gasped, reminded she wasn't the only one in terrible danger right now.

"I'm sorry to say this, but he will be with you soon," Mort said heavy hearted, then continued his explanation. "He survived the collapse, but the three of you didn't. Worse still, it happened so fast, so unexpectedly, I was not able to get to you in time, and your souls ended up split from your mortal shell, lost and confused. It's also why your wing is no longer broken," he aimed at Scoot Blaze, who instinctively flexed the mentioned wing. "Your body, broken wing and all, is still buried underneath the debris of the hotel. The same for you," he looked at Sky Rider. "While your husband managed to dig out your body," he told Sweet Apple. "And that is where I come in, as my task is to guide the souls of those departed to the afterlife and to help them understand what befell them, you, in times when answers are difficult to come by. And these are truly difficult times," he finished with a sigh and a sad shake of the head, looking down at the ground.

Looking back up Mort believed to have answered the most important parts of what had happened to the three ponies so far. Though he did expect them to have several more questions with it all laid out in the open. What he didn't expect, but probably should have, were the looks of disgust and boiling anger, as the three ponies seemed to shake with barely contained rage.

"WHAT KIND OF IDIOTIC FOALS DO YA THINK WE ARE, GHOST!?" Sweet Apple yelled.

"Oh, thanasia," Mort squeaked as he shrunk down into himself, unable to tear his gaze away from the three rejecting souls' burning eyes.

"Wha-... what is going on…? Wait, Sweet?" all four turned to the stallion standing off to the side, confusion plastered on his face, while behind him several humans backed away from the table on which the same stallion lay unmoving, shaking their heads.

"SWEET!" Apple Gleam cried out, rushing over to embrace his wife, while she and the two pegasi looked at him, his body, then back at Mort; fear and growing realization clearly showing in their eyes.

With a sluggish pace, the sun started to rise many hours too late. A small sign of hope to those surviving the horrors brought down upon the once bustling city, while also kicking up a fresh storm of panic and worry among the still blissfully unaware citizens of the other cities who started their day not knowing what terrible fate had befallen their fellow ponies, griffons, donkeys, friends, family, or loved ones, while rumors already ran rampant about what caused princess Celestia to be so late with changing night to day.

It would be a true nightmare in the literal form once the news reached out, but right now, sinking back down to her haunches with a saddened sigh, Celestia could not focus on such matters, as all around her, humans and a sparse number of royal guards were working without pause to weed out any ghost still running rampant, find any and all survivors in hiding, and recover those for whom help came far too late.

She herself helped too, naturally. Exhausted as she might be, her very instincts screamed at her to keep going, until she knew for certain that all were safe. And so, still wearing her battle damaged armor, she used her incredible magic to assist a group of human soldiers to clear the rubble of what used to be a hotel; moving several pieces of concrete, wood and destroyed furniture at once, while making sure the sudden shift of material wouldn't cause another collapse.

It was a difficult task, as with each room's worth of debris they cleared, more and more bodies were found. A stab went through Celestia's heart with each unfortunate soul they carried off, yet she steeled herself and continued working, not allowing the tears stinging her eyes to escape this time.

A shout of warning came from within the collapsed structure and Celestia paused her magic, leaving numerous chunks floating in mid air, already knowing what this meant as she waited. It felt more like the lifetime she had already lived through all over again, but in reality took only the better part of fifteen minutes, as eventually, four humans slowly stepped out and away from the search area, two stretchers carried in between them as they carefully moved the bodies of two pegasi they had uncovered; one of them, a mare, with a bandaged and splinted wing.

Unbeknownst to any of them, those same ponies also watched in shock and horror as their bodies were carried away.

The tear which had first brought the ghosts to this city was open once again; the intervals between it opening and closing still an unknown, making it difficult to reliably cross when it opened, and quite a mad scramble when it did lest it closed on any unfortunate individual while passing through.  

Still, the combined efforts of the military and the Guys in White did ensure that a significant force managed to cross before the tear closed. And now, following a schedule unknown to any, once more a rift in the layers of reality joined their world with Equestria, allowing a more specialized force to move in as several choppers flew through, sent out to scan and guard the city from all possible angles, and making sure no ghost still present would escape the city unnoticed. It was an unknown how many, if any had already done so. Though it would stand to reason that at least a portion of the invading ghosts would venture out instead of haunting the easy prey they found in this unprotected city.

And so, with the loud whine of their engines and telltale sound of their rotors slicing through the air, a great number of them rose up to begin their task, while preparing the anti ghost weapons installed in place of the more conventional weapons systems.

Down on the ground, in a hastily built command center, several high ranking officers and Guys in White coordinated their hunt, while a new group of soldiers moved through to bolster the numbers already present and replace those who were injured in the line of duty.

Several of them, either with rudimentary bandages to cover up wounds such as spectral burns, deep cuts, or broken bones, already awaited their chance to move back through and receive medical attention, when three more individuals joined them: White One and the two former Gals in White, whose actions severely stained their outfit, both literally and figuratively. Only White One still wore the shades synonymous to their outfit, while the two women refused to look up, instead glaring at the ground with misplaced anger.

"White Actual, White One and Stained White Three, and Four. Standing ready and await further instructions?" White One reported in, fingers pressed to his earpiece.

Standing almost completely still, the light of the rising sun reflecting off his glasses, he listened to his commanding officer, while watching the last of the reinforcement pass through the tear.

"Understood," he confirmed, hand dropping down. "Soldiers," he addressed the injured men and women. "All of you have been scanned and cleared for passage?" He asked in drill sergeant style.

"Sir, yes Sir," they all replied as one.

"Good," he said. "Move out," he instructed, keeping a close eye on the group as they walked through the tear on their own, or were carried out by others, when unable to do so.

Once the last had passed, he turned back to the two women still glaring at the ground, pulling a scanner from his jacket and scanning the two a final time.

Satisfied, he nodded as the scan showed they were clean.

"Okay ladies, time to head back," he instructed, stepping closer to the tear and motioning for them to follow; stopping an arm's length shy of the rippling tear and looking back at the two to make sure they were following.

One by one the two women stepped through under White One's watchful gaze, not looking up, even after they had once again set foot on Earth.

Sighing out his displeasure, White One shook his head as he, too, stepped through while putting back his scanner; no one noticing the tuft of multi colored fur that flashed out from his jacket, which he quickly shoved back in, nor the green glow of his eyes hidden behind his shades.

"This can't be real," Sweet Apple said, repeating herself over and over again, as she stared at her lifeless body.

Standing beside her, Apple Gleam did the same to his own body once Mort had explained the situation to him... after he had calmed down from his panic attack upon seeing Mort and, again upon noticing his own body.

And now, once the human guards had begun to search the former hotel and the numerous bodies within were recovered. It didn't take long for Scoot Blaze and Sky Rider to find themselves in the exact same situation, as they watched in horror, as their mortal coils, bruised and beaten, were brought in and laid down, in an ever growing line of white sheet covered corpses.

Adding to the surreality of the situation, others who had perished sat beside them, crying, screaming in denial, or lying on the ground in a fetal position, while oblivious humans moved through their intangible forms with stretchers in hand.

A throat being cleared drew the attention of some, but not all of the ponies and those who did, all flinched back upon seeing Mort.

"I know this is all a lot to take in," Mort began. "Believe me, this is not how these things are supposed to happen. But the explosion that caused all of this, also took everypony by surprise. Myself included. Even then, the way your souls were left to wander, or worse, still trapped in your mortal form is unforgivable and I deeply apologize for that," he lowered his head in shame and took notice of the hushed silence that had fallen over the room, despite the sound of boots pounding on the ground, and debris being moved, coming from all around them. Looking back up, he saw that now all ponies looked at them, most of them with tears running down their faces. All of them shellshocked.

"Wh-... What happens now, to us?" a young stallion asked suddenly, his voice cracking.

Despite a lack of lungs, Mort exhaled a deep sigh before answering. "As of now, you're all within a state between life and death. Purgatory, as it is often called. As for what happens to you. It all depends on you. You can choose to move on, leave behind this plane of existence and go to the Elysium Fields. Or you can choose to remain, but not as a living being of flesh and blood."

"And what does that even mean?" Sweet Apple demanded to know.

"Sometimes a soul is unable to find peace because of certain matters left unfinished, or find themselves unable to move on because of other personal reasons which makes them choose to remain, becoming an entity of spectral nature. Disconnected from the mortal realm, but part of it all the same," Mort answered with some hesitancy, recent experience having taught him what to expect.

"You mean ghosts," Sweet Apple stated, not asked as she shot a burning glare at the animated skeleton.

Again, a sigh escaped Mort as he nodded. "That is what these beings are called, yes."

A riot of yelling, screaming, shouting and even louder crying rose up in an instant as the ponies openly rebelled to this very possibility and Mort flinched back from the sudden assault to his non existent ears, while waiting for them to calm down enough for him to explain.

"YOU EXPECT US TO BECOME LIKE THOSE THINGS!?" a mare shouted her disgust, all of the ponies sharing her sentiment.

"Of course not," Mort answered simply. "Why would you become anything other than who you are?" he asked in turn, and everypony fell silent, confused. "Who you are won't change, just what you are. And even then, any changes to your physical self will be limited to the choice you make."

"THEN WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE GHOSTS WHO ATTACKED US!?" The same mare cried out.

The red dots in Mort's skull faded, then returned as he blinked, slightly tilting his head. "You have prisons," he stated simply. "Houses of holding to keep those who broke your laws and possibly even hurt one, or more while doing so."

"And?" Scoot Blaze scoffed.

"Does that mean every pony present is a criminal who should be locked up in there?" Mort asked in general, slowly looking at them all.

"Of course not," Scoot Blaze rebuked, offended.

"So only the select few who would do harm to others," said Mort, to which Scoot Blaze gave a slow nod, confusion clearly noticeable on her and the others. "Ghosts are a lot more like you than you think. Physical differences aside, they can do either good, or bad. Just like any of you. The difference is that they," he gestured a hoof around, indicating the city as a whole, "are those who are considered to be the worst and their prison isn't always able to hold them I'm afraid," he informed them, while keeping his thoughts about said prison, and its warden to himself.

Shaking his head clear of such thoughts, he continued. "If you were to choose to remain, you will remain true to the being you are now. Your soul can't change. What your new physical form will be may vary, depending on the choices you make after."

"You mean… We can stay, here, with our loved ones?" Sweet Apple asked, hope brimming in her eyes while Mort, Death itself, once again felt that horrible feeling of dying himself, when asked that question again.

Again a sigh escaped from him before he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but no. There are rules in place. Rules that even I can't break. And one of these rules is that no ghosts are allowed to exist here. The fact that such a large number has found its way here is not something that will go unnoticed and forces, more powerful than you can imagine, will respond to this," his mind returned to his unexpected meeting with one of them, posing as an unassuming baby alligator and protecting those three mares.

"But then where would we go, if not moving on?" A young mare asked, who Sweet Apple realized as the one they found impaled on several beams of rebar.

"The Ghost Zone," Mort answered, struggling to find the words for a more proper explanation but failing after a moment. "It's a place not easily described. But once there, you will be able to get to know the new you, and traverse to various places within the mortal realm."

"But not home?" the mare asked, to which Mort shook his head. "Then what's the point?"

"That is for you to find out," he told her, though without much conviction, already seeing the tell tale signs of a choice made among most of them.

Crossing her arms with a huff, the mare glowered at Mort as she made up her mind.

"Well, I won't have it. I refuse to become a ghost, no matter what you say." To her great surprise, as well as all others save one, she slowly began to levitate up, a white glow surrounding her body.

"Then go in peace," Mort said calmly as he looked up at the fading form, his scythe held up and its blade aglow.

In seconds it was over and the young mare was gone.

"What. What happened to her?" A stallion who stood next to her asked, terrified.

"She chose to move on," Mort explained.

"But she didn't say so!" The same stallion countered.

"You don't have to. You merely have to accept that, which brings peace to your soul. And for her, it was moving on," said Mort, looking at those still there.

"But how could we possibly make such a choice?" Apple Gleam asked, devastated.

Mort shook his head.

"I don't know."

Pinkie Pie, her sister Maud, their grandmother and Gummy, had been brought to a nearby park, joining numerous other survivors as human medics tended to those injured.

Other humans, armed with weapons none of them had ever seen before, guarded the perimeter. The relatively open space giving them a clear field of view, while the few trees, benches and decorative rocks provided ample cover, should the need arise.

Several of those humans moved around, sweeping the area continuously with scanners to catch any invisible ghost trying to get the drop on them and relaying all findings to the rest of the human guards.

Pinkie, Maud and Granny Pie, fortunately having been spared any physical injury, found themselves sitting underneath the shade of a chestnut tree; Maud looking off into the distance, her eyes unfocused, while Pinkie held Gummy in a hug, tightly pressed to her chest.

Their grandmother, sitting in between the two, looked at her granddaughters with concern. Especially Maud. While Pinkie had been afraid and rightfully so, she also seemed to have gone through this ordeal better than she could have hoped. Maybe the small alligator played a role in this, she didn't know, but how these events would affect her youngest granddaughter only time would tell.

Maud on the other hoof had changed. While not the most expressive of ponies, there had always been a spark in her eyes. A spark of joy, adventure. A spark which drove her to seek out more in life than her parent's rock farm could provide. A spark which, to Granny Pie's great fear, was gone, as Maud continued to stare off into the distance without any hint of emotion on the blank mask her face had become.

Pulling both Maud and Pinkie closer to her, startling both, she held them close in a loving hug.

"It's going to be okay, children. It's going to be okay."

"I know it is," Pinkie quipped, looking at her grandmother with bright blue eyes. "Gummy said so himself.”

Chuckling lightly, Granny Pie nuzzled Pinkie on the top of the head, glad for her youthful imagination to help her through this ordeal.

Shouting came from someplace behind them and a ripple of panic moved through the improvised camp, as humans started to communicate through their strange devices at an increasing pace, while rushing to strategic defensive positions.

Then the explosions started and screams rose up higher, drowning out anything else, other than the horrific sounds of the humans weapons firing and the now all too familiar sound of spectral discharge.

Panic stricken, all survivors began to flee in fear induced survival instinct; moving without thought, or plan and trampling over everything, and everypony, or human, in their need to escape.

Pinkie Pie, Maud and Granny Pie, caught in the middle of it all, were forcefully separated in the mass of bodies, and only through an act of Celestia blessed fortune, was Granny Pie able to push her way through and reach Maud, who herself looked wildly around with wide, fearful eyes for her younger sibling.

A green flash filled their vision, followed seconds later by a tremendous blast which knocked everypony flat to the ground, while also destroying the chestnut tree they sat under and blasting up large amounts of dirt, and even some of the larger rocks scattered around the park.

A scream cut through, rising over all other deafening sounds and, both Maud and Granny Pie watched in horror, as they finally saw Pinkie, lying on the ground in a crumpled heap, shivering, covering her head with her hooves while fearfully looking up at the ghost responsible.

It was a monster in every sense of the word. Somewhat reptilian, with filthy brown scales for a hide, though torn in various places and leaking glowing green blood. Easily three times the size of a pony and with a pair of wicked, glowing a diabolical red eyes, while his three fingered clawed hand held up a glowing orb of toxic green might, ready to unleash its destructive desires all around it. And its eyes were locked on the frightful filly who had screamed, seemingly uncaring of the glare shot at it by the small alligator sitting in her mane, as it threw one of the glowing orbs in its claws at Pinkie.

The world slowed to a crawl as Maud's eyes shot open, watching the sphere of death descend upon Pinkie and all forms of coherent thought stopped, as in that exact moment, she knew what she had to do.

Looking up, she spotted one of the more sizable rocks still in the air, already pulled back by gravity and she sped off in a blur almost impossible to see.

Running for the destroyed stump of the chestnut, all that remained of the once proud tree, she spun around and kicked it with the full strength of her earth pony boosted hind legs and sisterly love. The stump all but exploded out of the ground, flying as if shot from a cannon as it intersected the ghost's attack, catching the blast before it could harm Pinkie.

Not slowing down, Maud leaped for the stump, kicking off of it with the same strength she had demonstrated a second prior, destroying the stump into splinters which clattered to the ground without causing any further harm while she flew up to the boulder she had set her eyes on.

Surprised, eyes wide, the ghost watched as the gray pony missile flew past it, slamming with all four hooves onto the plummeting rock, spinning it around until she stood on top while her strangely blank, yet burning gaze promised it a world of pain.

With a strength she herself didn't know she possessed, Maud hammered into the boulder with her hooves, breaking the rock into smaller pieces which launched at the ghost with terrifying speed, striking into its undead flesh before it even had a chance to react and turn intangible.

Hammered by the sudden, unrelenting assault, its body bruising and breaking from the shockwave inducing impacts the ghost fell to the ground underneath a growing layer of fragmenting stone until it was buried in a second grave.

Landing on the ground with a solid 'THUD', Maud glared at the pile of rock, not even breathing heavy as several humans hesitantly approached, eyeing her with the same trepidation they did the now buried ghost.

A shift in the rocks drew everyone's attention and a bloody claw burst out from underneath; the ghost pulling its way out from its prison with a feral scream, promising a slow and agonizing death to the one who dared to offend it like that.

A spiraling beam of bright blue washed over the unholy entity and with another screech of defiance it was pulled into a cylindrical container held in the hand of a white dressed, black skinned human who slapped a cap on top of it the moment the ghost vanished inside.

"White Two here, threat subdued and captured. Scan the area for more hostile activity and commence with damage control," the man said, fingers pressed to an ear.

Almost immediately, the other humans sprung into action to do as they were told.

Maud, however, didn't pay this any attention as she rushed over to Pinkie, holding her in a tight hug.

"Are you alright, Pinkie?" she asked, the concern in her voice, the most emotion she had been able to show since this nightmare started.

"I.. I am, sis," Pinkie sniffled, looking up at her older sister with wide, watery eyes. "Thank you," she mumbled as she snuggled into the fluff of Maud's chest, then giggled quietly. "Did you see the look on that ghost's face when you went all zoom, kick, jump, ghaaa, crash, pow, blam on him? Where did you even learn to do that?"

“I would like to know as well," Granny Pie stepped closer, looking at Maud with large, disbelieving eyes.

Maud, giving the faintest of smiles, nuzzled Pinkie on the top of her head.

"Don't you remember, Pinkie? I promised I would do anything to see you smile."

The bright smile Pinkie gave her in answer made her feel everything was going to be alright, when something fell out of her mane and onto the ground beside them. Looking down, they saw a small piece of the rock, which she had used to fight the ghost, still wobbling slightly.

Gingerly picking it up, Maud looked at it with, once more, blank eyes.

"Boulder," she said simply, refusing to put the small rock down from there on out.

Off in the distance, White Two, fingers once more pressed to his ear, was discussing something over the radio, while watching Maud intently.

"Yes Sir. A valuable asset indeed."

It had been nearly a full day since the events that brought such destruction to a once prosperous city, took the lives of so many and injured even more. The amount of injured was counted in such large numbers, that they had to be distributed among the various cities and villages hospitals.

One of them, Spitfire, now lay in a coma in Fillydelphia medical, her injuries severe to such an extent, that she had to be teleported, in order to receive the care she needed, before it was too late.

Soarin, while injured himself in the line of duty, miraculously walked away with relatively minor injuries. Though he would be wearing bandages and applying healing ointments on his numerous burns for some time to come, nor would he be able to use his wings for at least a month, as they recovered from the muscle tearing strain he forced himself through during his escape while carrying Spitfire. None of that mattered to him as he watched the mare and the state she was in.

Lying on her back, barely any fur could be seen, as her body was completely covered with a solid cast; her hind legs held up in a natural angle and supported by ropes attached to a suspending rack over her bed. Her front legs, positioned to her sides and lying on the mattress in an as comfortable position as possible, while her wings, clipped of all her feathers and completely immobile, extended out on both sides. Her tail, also, didn't escaped unscathed as numerous bones were found to be fractured as well, leaving barely any of her fiery orange and yellow skirt to slip through the cast. The same also held true for her mane, as bandages were tightly wrapped around most of her head, leaving only a hole for her right eye and muzzle while a tube fed into her mouth, to assist her with her breathing; a steady beeping coming from the heart monitor, beside the other machine, which pumped the life sustaining oxygen.

How long Soarin stood there he didn't know, but eventually, he noticed he wasn't the only one present.

"How's she doing?" Fleetfoot asked, she herself showing clear signs of injury, with her right hind leg in a cast and kept off the ground being the most prominent.

"Fleetfoot, how did you-"

She cut him off by pressing a hoof to his mouth, before quickly setting it down to regain her balance.

"Same way you got here, I'm afraid," she said ruefully. "Haven't heard much from most of the others," she looked down to the floor, her unkempt mane falling before her eyes. "Lightning Streak is here too, though. They're still operating on him. Most likely he will never fly again," she told him, shaking her head with a sigh. "Then I heard you and Spitfire were here, and hoped that maybe you got out better than we did," she fell silent as she looked at the nearly mummified body of Spitfire.

"It… It's too soon to tell," Soarin belatedly answered her question. "She took a hard hit. A very hard hit…. after what happened to Captain Blaze, she…" his voice got stuck, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head to remove the images he didn't want to remember.

"Is… Is it true. Is the Captain…?"

Soarin's pained stare was all the answer she needed and she slumped to the ground, lacking the strength to cry out as she put pressure on her broken leg.

"What are we going to do now?" she asked, looking up with teary eyes.

Sitting down himself, Soarin could only look at the broken form of Spitfire, unable to find an answer, as the gentle beeping of the heart monitor filled the otherwise silent room.

The search and rescue was now fully underway, as many sought through the damaged and destroyed buildings for any survivors, or victims of the attack. Yet the trauma of what had transpired had cut deep and the mere hours, which had passed, were nowhere near enough to start healing the wounds inflicted upon all affected, both physical and mental. Even then, with the aid of the humans, the first effort towards recovery had already begun. Though it would be a very, very long time before the wounds would become scars and even longer before they would fade.

Even so, the first step towards recovery was accepting that it happened; as well as accepting the failures, which enabled it to happen in the first place. And now, as princess Celestia oversaw the rescue effort, she could not ignore the seeming ease with which these humans dealt with such a threat.

True, they also struggled. But compared to how they faced this adversary, it was obvious to her how she failed in properly preparing her ponies, as well as the other species living within the borders of her kingdom.

Of course none could have expected a tear to open in the middle of the city, but they knew tears were opening up all across the world, Earth and Equestria alike. So, just how unexpected was it really?

No, looking back on it all, she knew she failed to realize the true potential of the ghosts' threat, as well as the unpredictable nature of these tears, which have proven they could open up anywhere, anytime, opening them up to a threat they were ill suited to defend against.

"Mister White," she addressed the white suited, white haired elderly man with a neatly trimmed mustache standing next to her, while following the flight path of a distant helicopter, as it patrolled the city.

"Princess Celestia," the man replied, his voice sharp and in contrast to his apparent age, as he turned to the royal mare.

For a moment, Celestia studied the man before her; the commanding officer of the white suited group of humans, realizing that unlike those under him, he did not wear any shades. She also saw his left eye was blinded from a bisecting scar running from his eyebrow to his cheek, yet still showing a vigor one would expect of one half his age.

Looking back out at the city and the destruction now clearly visible in the full light of day, it was obvious it would be many years before the city would return to its former splendor, assuming it ever would.

Sighing, she returned her gaze back to the human in white.

"I would like to thank you, as well as every human involved, for all the help you've given us. I can't begin to imagine what might have happened if you hadn't shown up when you did."

"Of course, ma'am," Mister White replied, he too taking a moment to observe the destruction. "We know all too well what those unholy abominations are capable of. And, while the relationship between our two worlds is still young, we can't just stand by knowing that others are in danger of these ghosts."

"Indeed," she replied. "Yet all that has transpired has revealed to me a critical flaw in our defences. We don't have any," she looked towards the now closed tear, a shimmering point in the air. "A tear opened without any warning, catching us unprepared. A worrying thing on its own, as history has shown the problems this can bring to the inhabitants of both our worlds. But worse still, when it opened, it also allowed a mass of ghosts through, to which none of my ponies knew how to fight, resulting in the devastation all around us."

"I see your problem. I also see the question still unasked," he replied analytically.

"We can't stop these tears from forming. None of us know how this Phantom created the first tear in the first place. But, with your help, at least we can be prepared."

"What is it that you suggest?"

"Train my ponies, teach them how to fight these ghosts. Give them the knowledge to prevent a disaster such as this from ever happening again."

Mister White stood silent, his face an unreadable mask as he watched a distant group of humans and ponies working together, searching through the remainders of a destroyed store.

"There is much to gain from a mutually beneficial partnership. The knowledge we have, the knowledge you have and everything in between. But you know, just as well as I do, that merely training your ponies to fight ghosts, will not prevent this from happening again, should ghosts find their way back here again. You will need our weapons and defensive technology just as much."

"I am afraid so, yes," Celestia confirmed. "But I can ensure you will be equally compensated. As you said, a mutually beneficial partnership."

"I scratch your back, you scratch mine."

"What?"

"Just a saying. Do know that I am not at liberty to promise you anything, but I assure you your request will be brought to those who can."

"That is all I can ask."

For a moment, both stood in silence, watching.

"I don't envy you," Mister White said suddenly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Carrying such a burden," he clarified. "I know the weight of command, what it is to send out others into combat, knowing they could come back injured, half dead, or not at all. Yet we do it, because that is what's expected from us. But where I command a relatively small group of highly trained professionals… for the most part, you do so with an entire country and for far longer than I have lived. A terrible curse of power to have. Yet it pales in comparison to having such power and being completely helpless, despite it. Especially when it’s civilians, that are paying the price. Fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles, sons and daughters… I hate to say I am no stranger to this and worse, that I have never found a proper way to inform those left behind. And now, with so many missing and dead… I do not envy you, Princess Celestia. Not at all."

Nothing made any sense anymore.

Upon meeting Mort and learning of the fate that befell them, with the subsequent choice that they had to make; Scoot Blaze and Sky Rider knew that they just couldn't leave like that, yet Mort was quite insistent, when he told them that it was impossible for them to remain here, the world they called home.

Naturally they, as well as most others who were with them, revolted against this notion; unwilling to make a choice, one way, or the other, which meant they would leave everything they loved and cared about behind.

At least, most others did think so. Some, as they witnessed, made the choice to move on, like the young mare before them. Their reasons for doing so unknown to them, nor did it matter. What did matter were the lives they unwillingly lost and those connected to it.

At least Mort informed them that, while a choice had to be made, it didn't have to be made immediately and that they had some time to go, and say their goodbyes. Which to him was often a thing those passed had to do to find the peace they needed to make the choice laid out to them. Though he was also quite insistent not to take too long, as those who refused to choose would meet a fate he was unwilling to explain any further than worse than death.

"Choice has always been the problem," they heard him murmur to himself.

Nothing of that sentence helped them put their minds at ease.

Still, at least one thing he told them sparked a sense of longing among those still present and all went their separate ways, with Scoot Blaze and Sky Rider taking flight back to Ponyville; not noticing Sweet Apple and Apple Gleam following the same path back, running as fast as they could. Unfortunately, even as they were now, the flight back to Ponyville took a long time. But without stopping for rest, not willing to rest, they arrived some hours after sunrise the next day, four days after they had left.

Now though, standing before the closed door of Bellflower's guest house, both ponies were unable to move; frozen on the spot as their fears and nervousness were locked in conflict with their desire to see and hold their daughter.

With a faint squeak coming from the front door's hinge, the door swung open and a royal messenger stepped out; his helmet removed, and held against his chest, as he said a respectful goodbye towards the distraught mare following him out.

Bellflower, having just received the worst news anypony could possibly receive, nodded numbly, simply going through the motions as she closed the door.

Shaken out of their stupor, Scoot Blaze and Sky Rider looked at one another, then moved for the door; looking at the closed portal with hesitation, before Sky reached for the knob. To their shock and further cementing their fate, his hoof phased cleanly through the metal.

Leaping back in fright, looking at his limb as if it was diseased, he slowly set his hoof back down, gulping loudly.

"So…. what now?" he asked, at a loss.

"Can we… I don't know…. just walk through… maybe?"

A cry came from inside; the voice all too familiar to them and they stormed the door without thinking; phasing through the solid object without hindrance and running in towards Bellflower's personal living room, where they found Bellflower, broken down, while trying her hardest not to show it and their daughter. Scootaloo cried, loudly; the full extent of what had happened to her parents lost on her, but the knowledge that her mommy and daddy wouldn't come back for her, was heartbreaking.

The sight of their daughter in tears hurt Scoot Blaze and Sky Rider deeply and they rushed for her without a thought, other than to comfort her. Yet try as they did, their efforts were wasted as their attempts to pull her into a loving, comforting embrace failed each and every time, as they phased through her, the same way they did the door.

Unable to keep herself from breaking down any longer, Bellflower pulled the distraught filly into a tight embrace, the both of them crying over the horrible loss they've suffered.

"It's alright. It's alright," Bellflower said again and again, gently rubbing the filly's back, "I promise I will take care of you. I promise," she told Scootaloo, hoping that her parents would approve of her decision, unaware that both ponies looked at them with tears running down their faces.

Unable to stand the sight of her daughter and friend any longer, and unable to do anything to help them, Scoot Blaze ran away, eyes clenched shut; Sky Rider following closely behind, not noticing as a filly, looking surprisingly similar to their daughter, spied inside through one of the windows.

Standing before the age worn door of their home, Sweet Apple and Apple Gleam could already tell something was wrong.

Running into and subsequently, phasing through a royal messenger leaving the orchard as they rushed in, and the tomb like silence that now hung over the orchard; no sounds of apples being bucked, the squeaky wheels of the cart full of produce being pulled, or the laughter of their children as they played, all confirmed to them their worst fears.

It was real.

They were dead.

Before they had the faint hope that maybe, maybe this was all some horrid illusion a ghost put them through. But they knew their farm and they knew their family, and this, this spoke directly to their hearts.

Swallowing loudly, Apple Gleam held out a hoof for his wife to hold, which she accepted immediately; giving him a squeeze as they walked to, then through the door together.

Immediately they became aware of one thing above all others. The silence inside was much, much worse than it had been outside, as they found their children and Apple Gleam's mother seated in the living room, cheeks wet from tears spilled and still flowing, but no sound escaping them as they stared out at nothing, with Apple Bloom being the only exception as she lay curled up besides her sister, holding onto her tail, asleep.

"Mom," Apple Gleam stepped closer, yet his presence was completely missed by the elderly mare. "Macintosh, Applejack, Apple Bloom," he tried, turning to his children. They too did not show any sign of having seen, or heard him.

"Please say something," Sweet Apple pleaded, trying to grab Applejack's hoof in her own, and failing completely. "Please."

No answer came, no matter how much she tried. To their children, their family they were gone, unseen and unheard, unable to interact in any shape, or form.

Setting down her trembling hoof, she sought comfort by the one pony she could still hold, crying into Apple Gleam's neck while he did the same with her; together with their family, yet separated all the same.

For a long time they held each other, letting their tears flow, until no tear was left to be shed and all they could feel, was a hollow void within.

Sniffing and wiping her nose with a fetlock, Sweet Apple looked at her children. Choking back another sob, before stepping closer and giving them a nuzzle as best she could, planting a kiss on their cheeks and on top of Apple Bloom's quietly slumbering head.

Apple Gleam followed her lead, realizing deep down they had made a choice. A choice they did not truly wanted, but a choice all the same.

"Mom," he turned to the mare who had raised him, giving her a kiss on the cheek as best he could. "Please look after them. Sweet and Ah, we," he paused to take several calming breaths, "we've got to go now. I'll bring your love ta dad," he showed a small sad smile. "... Things'll get better. We're Apples. Nothing keeps us down fer long, right?"

Stepping away, he rejoined his wife's side, both of them looking at their family with saddened, but love filled eyes, then turned around, seeing Mort seated a respectful distance away, waiting for them to leave.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"No," Sweet Apple shook her head. "But they've ta move on… just like we must do, too."

Nodding in understanding, Mort rose up to all fours, his scythe at the ready.

With a glow surrounding them, Sweet Apple and Apple Gleam rose up, never letting go of each other's hoof.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what has happened. Now, go in peace," Mort said, his scythe held high and both ponies vanished in a flash of light.

Running through town, passing through everything and everypony on their path, Scoot Blaze, and Sky Rider tried to put as much distance between them, and the heartbreak that awaited them back at Bellflower's.

Only after they had left Ponyville proper and found themselves standing at the edge of Whitetail Woods, did they stop; collapsing to the ground in an undignified heap, at a loss for what to do while their tears wouldn't stop coming.

"How," Scoot Blaze sobbed. "How could we run away like that? Why couldn't we just hold our daughter?"

Sky Rider, his body shaking from anger over the unfairness of it all, stomped a hoof on the ground.

"There has to be something, someway for us to stay."

"Maybe there is."

Both ponies gasped and leaped away from the tall, hovering figure emerging out of nowhere, pressing closer together as the ghost approached, while they slowly retreaded backwards.

"What would you do if I told you there might be a way for you to still be a part of your loved ones' lives?" the ghost asked and Scoot Blaze, and Sky Rider stopped in their tracks, while looking up at the adult human ghost, who had a broad chest, and a ticking clock imbedded in it, wearing a light purple suit which narrowed down towards his waist, where a black belt looped around with a gold pocket watch on a chain attached to it. The being had no legs, but an etherially moving, intangible tail. Gray gloves covered his hands, extending almost to his elbows, with three watches showing a different time on each wrist and a dark purple cape, which billowed behind him, and extended into a hood, leaving only his face visible, while he held a strange staff with a stopwatch attached to the tip.

"Wh- what?" Sky Rider gasped, looking up at the ghost.

From behind the ghost, stepping out of the shadows of the forest, Mort approached, eyes downcast.

"Eh… hi," he said meekly, looking at the two scared ponies, not liking any of this.

"Mort?" Scoot Blaze said, confused.

"So, uhm, yeah. You remember those rules I told you about?" he asked awkwardly, shuffling on the spot as both pegasi nodded once. "It turns out there might be a way to circumvent the rules due to some exceptional circumstances. Not something that has happened before to my knowledge," he trailed off, looking off to the side, deep in thought.

The strange ghost cleared his throat, snapping Mort out of his stupor.

"Right, yes, uhmm. Clockwork, an old friend of mine," he introduced the ghost hovering next to him, who gave a curt half bow to the two increasingly confused ponies. "Eh, you also remember those forces more powerful than you can imagine would get involved that I mentioned?" again both ponies gave a single nod. "Well, Clockwork is something of an extension of these forces and may have a solution for you."

"Not the best way to put it," Clockwork spoke up, "but close enough," he then suddenly morphed into an aged man, a long beard reaching down and both ponies shrieked out, leaping back.

"Most unfortunate timing," Clockwork observed as he stroked his beard, "but not something that could be avoided either way. Please, do not fear. My sudden transformation is merely the fact of an age old curse inflicted upon me, and has no effect on the both of you. It's just something that happens to me from time to time."

"W-w-w-what are you!?" Scoot Blaze stammered, pointing a trembling hoof at Clockwork.

"Someone who can offer you a third choice… Or to be precise, an extension to one of the two choices given to you.

Slowly putting her hoof down, Scoot Blaze tried to force the lump stuck in her throat down.

"What… what do you mean?"

"Certain events have been put into motion, the recent tragedy you got caught up, is the latest in this chain, but most certainly not the last. And, while what has happened can't simply be undone, what follows might be influenced into a more favorable outcome. Which is where you come in."

"And what does that even mean?" Sky Rider asked suspiciously.

"I'm afraid I am unable to answer that at this time."

"Then why would we even bother listening to you!?" Sky Rider shot back.

"Because I am in a position where I can help you to become a part in your daughter's life once more," Clockwork repeated and both ponies gasped out.

"We… are listening," Sky Rider said with some trepidation.

"I require your help, the both of you. But for you to do so, you will have to remain and not move on."

"But Mort said we wouldn't be able to stay here!" Scoot Blaze replied heatedly.

"And he was telling the truth," Clockwork calmly interjected.

"Then how would we be able to stay with our daughter?" Scoot Blaze shot back.

"Because some rules can be bent. Some can be broken. And sometimes, sometimes the rules need to be wiped out," he said with a shocking hardness to his voice.

Reaching out with his staff at a point behind him, a swirling green portal opened in the air.

"But I do promise you this: Help me and I will make sure you will be reunited with all who you hold dear. But I won't lie to you either. Should you choose to remain and help, a difficult time will await the two of you. As ghosts, you must master the skills you will acquire. This will take time. Time where you will be gone from the lives of those who stay behind and where you will learn things you wouldn't have even thought possible," he looked both ponies in the eyes, one after the other to instill the seriousness of their next course of action. "Knowing this, you must now choose. Do you trust me and the promise I made? Or do you refuse to believe the word of a ghost? Choose to help, follow me through the portal and I will reveal all I can to you, and the role you will come to play in the events still to come. Choose not to, remain here and Mort will see to it you will move on in peace."

With nothing else to say, Clockwork flew backwards through the portal he opened, never breaking eye contact until he was gone, leaving Scoot Blaze, Sky Rider and Mort alone at the edge of the forest.

Stunned into silence, both ponies could only stare at the swirling green portal before them, with barely blinking eyes; standing frozen and silent for the better part of five minutes, until Mort cleared his throat.

"So, ehhh," he made a vague hoof gesture. "I know this is rather sudden and not what you were expecting. Nor did I, for that matter, but Clockwork is one of the more trustworthy ghosts. Though he can be vexing at times as a result of the, eh, role he plays in the greater scheme of things, if he says he can get you back to your daughter, he means it."

Slowly, Sky Rider and Scoot Blaze broke their staring contest with the portal, looking at Mort, then each other, clearly conflicted.

Then, closing her eyes, Scoot Blaze took a step forwards. "For Scootaloo," she said, eyes snapping open with burning conviction.

"For my little Mayfly," Sky Rider joined her, taking hold of her hoof and together they stepped through the portal.

It closed immediately after they vanished.

Now alone, Mort sat down, head held low and shaking it slowly, a saddened sigh escaping him.  

"Oh, Thanasia. What has Destiny planned for this world?"

With a nervous sigh, Soarin used a hoof to comb back his mane out of his face, the unkempt mess already longer than regulation would allow.

Seated in a small, but high room, the furniture too large and all, ill fit for him, he tried to keep himself occupied, and not thinking about that, by sifting through the many old looking magazines laying on a table before him; the images on the cover and inside as he leafed through one of them alien and confusing.

Warm light reflected off the glossy pages, coming from the decorative lamps hanging on the ceiling, as he stopped and read one of the articles at random.

A full faced blush overtook him seconds later, and he threw the feminine hygiene article back on the pile, instead focusing his attention on the tall plant standing in the corner of the room.

Time ticked by, and eventually he returned to fidgeting in his seat, unsure of what to do, or if he even wanted to be here. But just as he made up his mind to leave, a door opened and a tall, slender, red haired human woman stepped out; looking at him with a kind smile and approached.

"Mister Soarin?" she asked, to which he numbly nodded. "My name is Jasmine Fenton and I'll be your psychiatrist. Please, follow me and we'll get you the help you need."

Slowly, Soarin slid off his seat, standing only a head taller than the table and magazines, he looked up at Jasmine. "How?"

Still smiling that warm smile, she beckoned him to enter her office. "That is what we will find out, together" and the door closed behind the two.

Unblinkingly they watched, pulling the threads of Destiny to see those connected to it and the consequences which flowed from their choices selected.

Images passed by in a blur, the lives of countless individuals, their paths in life changed, steered off course, damaged.

"We are in agreement, yes?" a soundless male voice asked, pulling up the images of six young fillies marked for greatness still to come.

"Much has changed, there can be no denying that. But this course of action you're suggesting can't be done. It goes against all our rules," an equally mute woman replied.

"Yet it is not impossible, much as he has proven," a second male countered and another image rose up; that of a young pink pony, the same as shown in the first image, with the mentioned being nestled in her hair, posing as a baby alligator of all things.

"Which will not go unpunished," Another woman objected.

"You have seen what will happen should we not interfere directly," the first male calmly replied. "Either we break our rules, steer events back on track, through direct intervention where needed, or everything will fall apart."

"Everything will fall apart regardless of what we do, or not do," an irate male soundlessly cut in, bringing up yet another image for them to study.

"Indeed it does, and yet it doesn't" the first male countered matter of factly. "We can't change what's to come. But we can change how it will end. You know just as well as the rest of us, Destiny works its plans over many years and generations," and he pulled up the image of a young child who had a doll signed by the ghost he idolized. Then the child became an adult, and was subsequently killed by Necronomicon, who acted by the directions given by the human he just killed, all so he would set upon the path which led him through pain and suffering, leading him to become the Embodiment of Time so that one day he would be in the position to save the life of the ghost boy he idolised as a child and set the circling chain of events in motion once again.

"But if we do nothing, the generation where it all comes together will not be there when needed."

Then the images shifted to this white haired boy and moved forwards through time until it ended in the same vision where everything falls apart.

"So my brothers, sisters, I ask of you. Are our rules worth the damnation of everything we've observed for so long, or will you help steer Destiny back on track?"

"One could make the argument that us breaking the rules is part of Destiny as well," a mute woman playfully purred.

"Ridiculous!" the irate male snapped. "We exist outside of Destiny, it does not affect us?"

"Not as we are, true. But if we go there, just like Gummy has done," the mirth in her voiceless voice was unmistakable. "Destiny would guide us just as it would the mortals. And as such, one could reason that, if we are going to become a part of Destiny, aren't we already?"

The irate male glowered at the images, not replying.

The first male, Gummy, looked at those gathered with him, repeating his first question.

"So, we are in agreement?"

One by one, those present nodded their agreement, the irate one being the last and most hesitant.

"I do not like this," he complained.

Moving closer to the images, he pulled another image from Destiny, glaring at the pony presented.

"And what about him?" he asked.

"He will be the most important of all," Gummy replied, and all watched the white maned, black furred pony sitting on a hill outside the destroyed city; staring at the destruction with remorseful eyes.

"Child, we must go. We don't have much more time left before he finds us," a glowing medallion around his neck pulsed in tune with the voice that came from it.

"I know," the stallion replied, voice flat and bereft of emotions, never taking his eyes off the destruction he knew he was partially responsible for.

"None of this is your fault. You know this."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it isn't."

"Feels like it though."

A sad sigh came from the medallion.

"Child, you had no choice. Neither of us did. Had you not done what you did, he would have, but on a much greater scale."

"Ponies died."

"And more will live."

"But what kind of lives will they have?"

Silence.

"Ray, sometimes there are no good choices. Only bad ones, and worse."

"There had to be another way, something we missed?"

"Maybe there was, but we did not have the time to find one."

"But what if we did? What if we tried just a bit harder!?" the stallion snapped, finally tearing his gaze away from the still smoking city.

"It's because of choice," the medallion sighed. "Choice has always been the problem," and with a desolate howl from the wind, the two vanished from the world in a flash of green.