The tearing of the canvas screamed in Rainbow’s ears as she punched through to the inside, bringing a new beam of starlight that picked out the changeling crouched low on the balloon’s skeleton, its eyes still fixed on where it had last seen her. It turned with an odd, strangled shriek that Rainbow could only think of as shocked, bringing a grin to her face.
“Gotcha.”
She slammed into it with both hooves, bearing it to the ground and dragging the back of its armored shell across the metal with her momentum. It hissed its defiance at her, disappearing in a flash of cold green fire and glaring up at her with her own face contorted in fury.
She snarled as she raised a hoof, but the changeling seized the opportunity to buck underneath her, throwing her off balance before she could strike. The hard chitin along the edge of its wings struck against her shoulder with a wet snap, and Rainbow’s vision blanked out as white-hot pain lanced through her wing with the blade strapped to it. She bit back a scream as the changeling pushed her onto her back, snapping its mess of oversized fangs into the joint of her good wing.
A shriek escaped her as it wrenched her side-to-side like a toy, scraping her back against the hard metal underneath her, and then suddenly she was falling. There was a brief moment of resistance, the rip of fabric, and Rainbow finally was suddenly aware of the howling wind in her ears.
She blinked, gritted her teeth, and focused on the alternating images of the Argo and the ocean tumbling through her sight. She was in freefall. No big deal. She was the greatest flier in Equestria, and she could pull out of a tailspin that would nauseate even a Wonderbolt without issue.
She twitched her wings and received a flash of pain as a reward. Her spin wasn’t easing out. The first tinge of worry bled through the adrenaline rushing through her veins as she struggled to look back and focus on her wings.
Rainbow’s breath hitched. The hot blood that had been surging through her turned ice cold and she let out a strangled whimper.
Her wings were ruined. One had been mangled beyond repair, splayed out stiffly, twitching in agony, and ignoring her every command. The other was completely absent, with nothing more than a trail of blood in the space where it should have been.
Far above her, stark against the backdrop of winking stars, Rainbow saw the changeling hovering in place beside the Argo, staring down at her impassively.
“No!” Rainbow reached a hoof up to the dim shadows of the clouds. Tears streamed from her eyes as she struggled to get her remaining wing under control, to do something to slow her fall. “Not like this! Please!”
The wind was deafening. It screeched in her ears like some bloodthirsty monster, a demon awaiting her beneath the waves, maw open wide, growing ever louder as she tumbled and twisted through the uncaring air until it dominated her every thought.
She just had time to catch the reflection of her own horrified face in the water before—
Rainbow shot up out of the bed with a scream, right into Applejack’s hooves.
“Whoa, nelly! It’s alright, sugar cube. I got ya. Y’alright.”
A shuddering sob wracked Rainbow’s body as she took in her surroundings. She was in the cramped shipboard clinic, her midriff wrapped in bandages and her shoulders wrapped in her friend’s warm embrace. Applejack’s soft reassurances cooed in her ears, barely audible past the drumming of her pulse.
She twisted around, ignoring the pain that flared up in her chest, and examined her wings. She fluttered each one in turn, letting out a trembling breath when her mind finally slowed down enough for her to think.
It had been a nightmare. Her wings were fine, healthy and toned and responsive and agile as ever. She was still a pegasus.
Rainbow leaned into the soft warmth of Applejack’s chest, closing her eye and listening to the other mare’s steady heart and consoling voice. She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that, struggling to hold her tears back, but she didn’t pull back until her own pulse had slowed to the same calm rhythm as Applejack’s.
“Bad dream?” Applejack looked down at her with a half-cocked smile. “Y’all gave us a mighty fright, RD.”
“S-sorry.” Rainbow looked away, wiping her cheeks with a wing.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Rainbow shook her head. She didn’t even want to think about it. Nightmares of falling had plagued her as a young filly, and it had been over a decade since she’d had one. She clenched her jaw and pushed it out of her mind, searching for something else to focus on. “Where’re the others?”
“In the cargo hold.” Applejack’s voice was soft. Respectful. “Holdin’ a service for Dusty.”
Rainbow bit her lip. She stole a glance to the ground where she’d found the unicorn’s body and found it clean of blood. She thought of the little workshop where somepony must have scrubbed away her own blood in much the same way. Who kept cleaning all the bloodstains on this ship? Couldn’t they leave just a little bit behind? Just a small patch of brown to mark the site, an altar burned into the metal to acknowledge to all who came after, a pony bled here. A pony died here.
She blinked, tearing her gaze away from the spotless floor, and frowned as she saw the little plastic tube sticking out of her hoof. She followed it up to a bag suspended from the ceiling, gorged with a thick red liquid that almost sparkled in the sunlight from the porthole.
“Y’all lost a lot of blood,” Applejack said. “Hope y’all don’t mind takin’ some of mine.”
Rainbow frowned, pulling back and looking at the cowpony more closely. She did seem a little pale in the cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Actually, I did.” Applejack looked away, her voice hardening. She took a deep breath, and Rainbow thought she could hear a slight trembling in her voice. “Couldn’t have ya leavin’ me all alone over here, ya know?”
“Oh.” Rainbow grimaced as she settled back into the bed, wincing at the soreness of her body. “Sorry.”
“S’alright. Just glad y’all’re okay.”
Both mares jumped at the sound of the door opening. They turned to watch Sea Sabre step into the little space, holding the door open behind her with a wing. She looked to each of them in turn, her expression as firm and unreadable as ever, before focusing on Applejack. “I’d like some time alone with her.”
Applejack bristled as she turned fully around and spread her stance. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sabre.”
Sabre cocked her head a fraction of an inch. Rainbow tensed, her eye darting between the two mares. She thought back to the way the older pegasus had carried herself in the wake of Dusty’s death.
At last, Sabre spoke. “At least sit down and let us talk, then. I won’t take long.”
Applejack nodded, stepping to the side with a snort and sitting against a wall. “Reckon that’s fine, but I’ll be watchin’.”
Sabre approached with slow, measured steps, and Rainbow’s pulse quickened as she noticed the corner of a black notebook tucked beneath one of her wings. She sat down, her eyes focused on the window behind Rainbow.
“You never told me that changelings could shapeshift.”
There was no accusation in her tone; it was a simple statement of fact, delivered with a thin veneer of calm detachment, and yet Rainbow couldn’t help but hear so much more underneath it. Seconds passed as she mustered the courage to respond.
Sabre gave a slight shake of her head, cutting her off. “You have nothing to apologize for. It was my mistake. My responsibility.”
The wing with the journal tucked under it twitched, and Rainbow wasn’t sure if she had imagined the slight tremble in the other mare’s voice when she spoke. She stole a glance towards Applejack, who looked back at her with wide eyes.
Rainbow turned back to Sabre with a grimace. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I could have known,” Sabre countered. “If I had asked the right questions.”
Applejack sighed. She stepped up to Sabre’s side, raised a hoof as if to place it on her shoulder, but then seemed to think better of it. “Nobody’s perfect, sugar cube. It’s okay to make mistakes.”
“Only when they’re the right mistakes,” Sabre muttered. She looked up, meeting Rainbow’s gaze. “Tell me what happened after you left Star Trails.”
Rainbow cocked her head, thrown by the sudden shift in focus. “Huh?”
“We found you bleeding out on the floor, with the relic in a bag on the counter. You did well to retrieve it. Is the changeling dead?”
“Y-yeah.” Rainbow looked away, thinking of the way it had screamed up at her as it fell. “I chased it up into the envelope after it ditched the relic. Broke its wings and threw it into the ocean.”
Sabre frowned. Her wing snapped open, cradling her open notebook before her. “You chased it after retrieving the relic? Alone?”
A vague sense of alarm lit up in the back of Rainbow’s mind. Cautiously, “That’s right.”
“Do you recall my orders to you, Rainbow Dash?”
“Find Sunfeather, retrieve the relic, and… “ Rainbow sighed as realization dawned on her. “Only then catch the intruder.”
“And don’t run off alone,” Sabre added sternly.
“Well, what was I supposed to do, huh?” Rainbow quipped. “That thing killed Dusty!”
“You think I don’t know that?”
Rainbow stiffened, suddenly aware of her foolishness. Sabre glared up at her with that same fire in her eyes, and for a moment it seemed almost as if she was seeing Dusty’s body for the first time again. This time, however, all the mare’s ire was directed straight at the prismatic pegasus before her.
“Do you think I wanted to sit in that cargo hold watching Luna?” Sabre spat. “Do you think that you were the only pony on this ship that wanted revenge?” She clenched her jaw, her lip curling up with barely restrained fury. “You barely even spoke to Dusty Tome, Rainbow Dash. Every pony on this ship wanted to get payback for what happened to him, but unlike you, every pony else displayed some discipline!”
Rainbow flinched back from the sudden heat in the commander’s voice. “Sabre—”
“What you should have done was retrieved the relic and then reported back to me, like you were ordered!” Sabre pressed on, bulling through Rainbow’s defense. “We would have regrouped, made a plan, and taken care of it together!”
“But—”
“But!” Sabre snapped. “But instead you decided to chase it down yourself, with no armor and only half a weapon, and you almost died for it!” She paused, taking a deep breath, and as she exhaled the fire began to dim, her eyes cooling like glowing hot steel quenched in water. “We could’ve had two deaths last night.”
Rainbow’s jaw hung open. She held Sabre’s gaze for a long moment, a pit of shame welling up inside her, before she finally found her voice. “I’m sorry.” She looked down, her ears drooping. “It w-won’t happen again.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Sabre growled. She shuffled her wings as she turned for the door, pushing Applejack away with the motion. “We’ll be detouring to the nearest island for repairs and resupply. Training’s suspended until further notice.” She stepped out into the hall without looking back. “Get some rest.”
She shut the door behind her, leaving Rainbow shooting a sideways, guilty glance towards Applejack. The cowpony gave a sympathetic shake of her head, but said nothing.
The muffled sound of hoofsteps receded into the distance, leaving only the steady ticking of the hull.
Twilight came out of the teleport with the crackle of magic and the swirling rush of bubbles, her hooves alighting on a slick, cracked tiled floor that had been submerged for centuries.
It didn’t take long for the water to settle, allowing her to see clearly past the lavender glow of her shield. She was standing in a wide hall, totally flooded, about wide enough for five ponies to walk abreast and at the bottom of a long flight of stairs. The walls had long since been stripped of paint, leaving behind only bare, flat stone.
A dozen ancient bodies were splayed across the floor at the end of the hall, their skeletal limbs tangled together like jumbled toys. A couple of them still wore the hard barding of guardsponies, and all were pushed up against a featureless steel vault door that blocked the hall off in its entirety. A few small scrapes marred the surface of the door, but if the shattered hooves of some of the skeletons were any indication, it had more than fulfilled its purpose.
Twilight ignored the corpses, instead sending a ping through the door. The door flickered with a pale red glow, and Twilight frowned as her ping bounced off and returned to her with no knowledge of what waited on the other side.
Magic wards. My, my. Twilight’s magic slithered towards her horn unbidden, gathering into a ball of brilliant energy. Not strong enough to keep us out, however.
Wait! Twilight set her jaw as she pulled the magic back. We can’t destroy it! What if there are ponies inside?
What if? Midnight appeared next to her with a derisive sneer. They deny us entry. It is our right.
We don’t have to destroy it! Twilight began twisting the magic into a teleport. We can brute force our way through and teleport to the other side.
And leave ourselves vulnerable to anything waiting within, yes. Midnight’s lips twisted into a snarl as it clamped down on their magic. A foalish risk!
I’d rather risk my own life than the lives of others! Twilight shot back.
And that’s where you’re wrong, little flower!
Twilight glared into her own bloodshot eyes, a pulsing ache beating at the back of her skull as she struggled to take control of her magic. Midnight snarled down at her, its dark influence wrapping around her horn like a viper, tightening with every passing second.
She wouldn’t be able to win this; neither of them would, and they both knew it. With both of their attentions fully focused on the arcane tug-of-war, all they would do is wear each other out, draining their magic reserves until they didn’t have the energy to bypass the door with either method. They’d have to go back into the city and hunt, weakened, and hope for the best.
Midnight grinned. Is that the game you wish to play, then?
Twilight grit her teeth. Her dark passenger would be more than willing to draw the conflict out as long as it meant that she didn’t win, but her own mind rebelled at the idea of so much wasted time and energy. Force wouldn’t get her anywhere.
But then when had she ever relied on force to solve her problems?
We can compromise! Twilight offered. We teleport through, but if anything threatens us on the other side—she pursed her lips, hesitating only briefly—then you can do as you wish. I won’t interfere.
Midnight cocked its head, opening its mouth to reveal the sharp points of her teeth. Even if they’re ponies?
Twilight held Midnight’s gaze as she nodded. Even if they’re ponies.
Mmm. You have yourself a deal, my sweet. Midnight stepped back, relinquishing its pull on her magic. See that you honor it.
Twilight held its gaze for only a moment before turning back to the vault and calling on her magic once more. Teleportation was a complex spell, but one she was intimately familiar with, and it would be a simple matter to focus the necessary power to get her past the vault’s defenses.
Maybe she shouldn’t. If there were ponies living in there, even innocents, then could she fault them for attacking a strange mare with fangs and bleeding eyes who just shoved past their magic defenses? Midnight certainly wouldn’t hold back, and the blame for any resulting deaths would rest squarely at Twilight’s hooves.
But she couldn’t just walk away either. Whatever was inside the vault, it could be the key to learning what had happened to Equestria.
She would just have to trust that any ponies inside wouldn’t respond to her arrival with violence. They were Equestrians like her after all, right? They wouldn’t attack a strange pony unprovoked.
And if they did, then surely she couldn’t be blamed for defending herself?
The spell was ready, hovering on the tip of her horn as a twinkling ball of lavender. She shot a sideways glance towards Midnight, who smirked back at her, and released the magic.
The purple flash and familiar crackle washed over her. The vault resisted, pushing back, but its magic was old and her reserves were deep. A flash of pain arced up her horn as she broke through the enchantments, landing with a soft grunt.
Twilight wobbled slightly, unbalanced by the sudden absence of the crushing ocean against her magic, and performed a quick scan of her surroundings. She was standing in a short, narrow hallway of tarnished steel, the walls decorated by a trio of faded posters and a single unlit lamp. A cloud of dust had been kicked up by her arrival, the disturbed motes dancing through the air around her. She glanced behind herself to see the vault door, a browned skeleton huddled up under the heavy wheel in the center.
Oh, what a shame. Midnight let out a dramatic sigh. I had really been hoping they’d still be alive.
Maybe there are still survivors. Twilight held still, ears quirking in every direction, but she was met only with a haunting silence. After days in the changeling-infested ruins of Canterlot, the cramped, quiet tunnel was enough to send a shiver down her spine.
She started down the hall, cringing at the noise of her hooves against the steel, and turned her eyes up to the posters. Her greyscale night vision made it almost impossible to make out any of the faded colors, so she lit her horn, bringing a dull life back to the images. Heroic pony silhouettes against stark red backdrops posed in front of blocky cityscapes with thick, rigid text outlined underneath. “THE STALLION IS ALWAYS FIRST,” the first said, with the second calling to “REPORT ALL SUSPECTED CHANGELINGS.”
But it was the third that gave her pause. The mare silhouetted in the center was surrounded by smaller, fanged copies of herself, each looking up to her with hungry, fanged grins. “REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE.”
A chilling leg draped itself over Twilight’s shoulder, and she turned to see Midnight beside her, looking up at the poster with its slitted eyes narrowed in disdain. Weak. These foals held onto their denial to their deaths.
What were they supposed to do? Twilight looked away, bristling as she saw Midnight watching her from her other side. Give in? Lose themselves to the whispers of dark magic?
Midnight snorted. Look around, little flower. These ponies clung to their stubborn ideals much as you do, and we see how that resistance served them. Why do you insist on making the same mistake that millions have made before you?
It’s always about survival with you, isn’t it? Twilight rolled her eyes as she turned away from the posters, facing the rigid steel door placed on the opposite wall.
Of course. What else is there, without survival?
Twilight clenched her jaw, ignoring the question as she wrapped her magic around the wheel set into the door’s face. The metal groaned as the ancient mechanism resisted her, but gave after a few seconds of applied force. A low creak filled the little space as the heavy door swung open, revealing a small room dominated by a long wooden table. Squat chairs lined either side, their cushions flattened by age, and a chandelier had fallen onto the table, scattering shards of glass across the cold steel floor.
“Hello?” Twilight coughed, her voice hoarse after days without use, and tried again as the door settled against the wall with a ponderous thud. “Is anypony here?”
Silence. Dust swirled in the door’s wake.
Stepping over the threshold, Twilight’s breath hitched as she spied the unicorn skeleton huddled up under the table, its body framed in empty bottles and its head resting on a rolled newspaper. She wrapped the paper in her magic, cast a protective spell over the ancient material, and gingerly pulled it free.
“CORRUPTION SPREADING DESPITE CONTAINMENT,” the headline read, with a subtitle underneath. “Celestia gives assurances that Canterlot refugees not infectious; urges Equestrians to open their homes.”
Beneath the headline, Twilight saw a photo of Princess Celestia looking out over a crowd of ponies in Ponyville Town Square, an exhausted Shining Armor at her side. The Canterhorn was visible in the distance behind her, though the distinctive silhouette of Canterlot had been replaced with a rounded sphere that jutted out from the mountainside like some great grey pustule. A pang of nostalgia struck her as she took in the familiar horizon, a scene she’d taken for granted during her brief, magical stay in Ponyville. She would give anything to see the sun shining on Canterlot again.
So the city was evacuated, Midnight mused, breaking Twilight from her trance. That explains the lack of bodies.
It doesn’t explain the dome. Twilight floated Shining’s logbook out of her pack, casting a quick spell to copy the photograph over onto a blank page. The small font of the newspaper was impossible to read after so long, but the image was invaluable even on its own. It looks exactly like my brother’s shield spell in shape, but he couldn’t have cast it.
Then who could?
Nopony could. Even the Princesses couldn’t cast a spell like that by their own power.
Floating Shining’s logbook beside her, Twilight turned to the rest of the room and found more doors waiting on each wall. Rather than explore each option on hoof, she sent out a few pings, sighing in relief when they worked as expected.
Although she couldn’t detect anything outside of the vault, she was able to get a decent idea of the layout and size of the place. It was like a small apartment complex, only two stories deep and big enough to hold a couple families on each level.
There was a pile of bodies on the lower level. She hated how proficient she’d become at magically identifying the dead.
With another sigh, she pushed herself into motion.
It quickly became clear to her that the vault was designed to hold ponies, though most likely on the timescale of months as opposed to centuries. She found a pair of bedrooms on the upper level, with one room occupied by a trio of small, foal-sized beds. She didn’t let her eyes linger on the little bodies that had rotted away on the ragged mattresses, instead rushing into what she took to be the parents’ room. The corpse on the floor there showed signs of mutation, its teeth curved into vicious fangs and its bones marred by bulbous growths that almost looked as if they had begun to boil underneath their hosts’ skin. It was leaned up against the steel wall head-first, the deep cracks in its skull reflected in the dented surface of the wall.
Next to the bedrooms was a wide square room with a circular table in the middle. There were no chairs here, but several maps of northern Equestria were laid out on the table surface, all stained with blood. A collection of little red tokens were arranged around the middle of the map, where Stalliongrad was centered, facing off against broken lines of blue ones.
She pressed on, reaching a set of stairs at the back of the upper level that led down to another thick steel door. The wheel, rusted in place, snapped off when she tried to spin it, forcing her to teleport into the little open space on the other side.
More doors. They were ancient, the wood sometimes cracking under the force of her magic as she dislodged them, the sound of the splintering quickly absorbed by the small spaces as dust was kicked up in her wake. She stepped into a larger bedroom, a pegasus skeleton curled up on the floor with the bloodstained remains of an old dagger clutched against its chest. The frayed remains of a rope was wrapped around its neck, a matching rope hanging from the ceiling above as it swayed gingerly in the air displaced by the opened door.
Twilight’s eyes were drawn to an easel set up just in front of the bed. A canvas was perched atop it, the painting marred by old blood trails and tears, but not so disfigured that she couldn’t make out the somber-faced pegasus mare it depicted or the bloody, slit-eyed twin snarling behind her.
A portrait? Intriguing. Midnight struck a matching pose on the bed, its lips stretched freakishly wide and its eyes glowing like violet beacons in the dark. Unfortunate we hadn’t arrived sooner, or perhaps we could have had our own likenesses captured.
Twilight ignored it, her eyes roaming across the other paintings on display. Each one was a portrait of a different pony, all of them wearing collars or shirts bearing the decorations of state. She counted twenty in total, and they took up almost every inch of the limited wall space opposite the bed.
There’s a pattern, Twilight realized. The portraits on the left were life-like and stiff, with the dull colors and plain expressions like she’d seen in dozens of museums or historical textbooks before. But as she looked further to the right they became… unhinged was the only word she could think of. The lines grew blurry and jagged, and the colors became more vibrant as they began to run together. The expressions changed from dignified smiles or frowns into neurotic grimaces and manic grins. Most disturbing of all, she began to pick out shadowy faces hidden in the details, the abstract figures of the background coalescing into slitted eyes and fanged smirks.
She captured it all, as it was happening. All of their wyrds. Twilight looked back to the skeleton on the floor. Unlike some of the other bodies she’d seen in the vault, this one lacked any sign of mutation. It didn’t even have fangs. And she never gave in.
Is that admiration I’m sensing? Midnight’s dark chuckle echoed in the back of her mind. Surely you aren’t having thoughts of following in that corpse’s hoofsteps?
She was stronger than me. Twilight bit her lip as she turned back to the door. I gave in, let you twist me.
You’re mistaking weakness for strength again, little flower. There is no victory to be found in spiteful self-destruction. Midnight stood in the doorway, beckoning with a nod of its head. We will claim victory only with the domination of all who would oppose us. Death, no matter the cause, is the definition of failure.
Twilight followed it back into the hall with her eyes furrowed in thought. She had never wanted to hurt her friends, or become a fanged meat-eater, or to haunt the dark places of the world with slitted eyes. She just wanted to fix things, to see the Princess again, to go back to being an unimportant librarian whose biggest concern was plotting out her schedule every month.
It was her friends that kept her going. She might have fantasized about ending it all and becoming just another victim to the ocean, but how could she leave them behind? How could she let Princess Celestia, all of Equestria, down? In a thousand years, nopony had ever come as close to solving the mystery of the past as she had, and as resourceful and determined as her friends were, she couldn’t leave them to continue the effort without her. If she had to give up her soul to do what needed to be done, then she would do it. Anybody else might get it wrong.
Still, she couldn’t help but envy the resolve of the dead artist behind her. When everything was falling around her and all her peers had given in to the temptation, she’d held out to the end. She had died as her own pony.
Oh, you’re disgusting. Midnight’s scoff cut through her thoughts, drawing Twilight’s attention to the doppelganger standing in front of a door deeper into the vault. Let’s get on with this. We’re getting hungry.
Twilight grimaced, ignoring the sympathetic complaints of her stomach as she pushed through the door. She blinked as a familiar scent tickled at her nostrils, musty and dry. Paper.
She had walked into a little office. A single wooden desk was flush to the wall under a map of Equestria, browned paper scattered beneath the lamp perched on its corner. More papers were strewn across the floor, some even tucked into folders, and Twilight’s pulse quickened as she spotted a pair of filing cabinets squeezed into the corner. A soft magic tingled around them, carrying the signature of an expired preservation spell.
She held her breath as she crept forwards, horn glowing as she applied the softest telekinetic grip she could to one of the old metal drawers. It squealed as she pulled it out, peered inside, and saw—
Paper. Folders and folders of organized notes, the labels just barely legible after so long. A breathy laugh escaped her as she opened the next cabinet, finding a few books tucked away inside, and then more notes in the one after that. Old newspaper clippings, reports, and photographs.
Dozens of records from before the floods, records that these ponies had deemed important enough to save.
Twilight’s whole body trembled as she cleared a space on the desk for Shining Armor’s logbook and grabbed a pencil from a small cup placed in the corner. It was dull, but it only took a wave of her horn to sharpen the point. She poured a powerful burst of energy into an orb of light and floated it up to the ceiling, filling the little record room with bright lavender. A breathy giggle escaped her as she floated the first item up to her eyes.
Oh, wonderful. Midnight’s groan barely even registered as Twilight soaked the written words in like a starving mare in an oasis. We’re not eating tonight, are we?
Rarity didn’t realize just how long she’d been working until, looking up after clearing away a chunk of brick the size of two ponies, she saw the first rays of dawn arcing across the sky.
The sunlight swept over the city accompanied by a light rain, the winter-chilled drops carried into her coat by the gusting wind. They clung to her, carrying the grime and exhaustion with them as they carved trickling paths through the ash, and the small shivers they sent through her body were like breaths of fresh air after the numbness that had built up during the night.
She blinked the bleariness from her eyes, seeing the surrounding city clearly for the first time in hours. Where once the courtyard surrounding the destroyed old fort had been filled with loose stone and rubble, now there were only a few of the largest pieces left. The groaning of the wounded, which had floated from the improvised triage house all through the night like the low chanting of some dread choir, had finally gone quiet as the last of the survivors were carted away to proper facilities and the last of the dying, beyond the help of the exhausted nurses and surgeons, finally passed on. The other volunteers had gone home shortly after sunset, transforming the once bustling disaster zone into a sleepy, almost peaceful ruin.
Piaffe had left several hours ago, assigning a pair of bluecoat stallions to guard her. One was young, reminding her almost of Pontius with the wide-eyed manner in which he watched his more veteran partner when he thought nobody was looking. The other, old and quiet, communicated almost exclusively in a series of nods and frowns. He had reminded her of Ivory at first, but Rarity hadn’t spent long contemplating the likeness. She’d been far too busy for that.
She’d conscripted the two soldiers into serving as her assistants, directing them to help her wrap the heaviest piece of rubble in the fabric of a sturdy military tent. Once the material was in place her special talent came into play, allowing her to move weights that would otherwise take a whole team of muscled laborers. A short break would be taken while she waited for the ensuing headache to fade, and then she’d direct her watchful companions toward the next obstacle.
Right about then, Rarity’s skull was pounding worse than it had during even the most hectic fall fashion seasons. She felt as if she’d spent three straight days without sleep putting together enough new lines for a whole week’s worth of shows, and still there was more to do. She sighed through clenched teeth as she climbed to her hooves.
“Countess? Ye’re still here?”
It took Rarity’s tired mind a full second to recognize the voice. She turned to see River Pie approaching with obvious concern in her eyes. “Oh, Miss Pie. A pleasure—” she slapped a hoof over her mouth just in time to cover the ferocious yawn that overtook her “—to see you again. Would you be a dear and help me—”
River’s eyes narrowed. “Countess, ye need rest.”
Rarity blinked, her mouth still hanging open. After a brief bout of concentration she gathered her thoughts for a response. “But there’s still more to do.”
“Aye, but that doesn’t mean ye need t’ do it all on yer ownsome. Look at ye! Ye’re nearly fallin’ where ye stand!” River looked between the two watching bluecoats incredulously. “And ye two ain’t stopped ‘er?”
The young one looked to the older. He cleared his throat, making way for a few hoarse words. “We have our orders.”
“River, dear, let them be.” Rarity placed a hoof on River’s shoulder, holding the fuming baronlander back. “Captain Piaffe already tried this, but there was still so much to do, and she knew it. I couldn’t just leave!”
“Well ye can leave now!” River said, gesturing behind her. “Th’ Commoner’s Guild is here t’ clean up th’ rest.”
“Commoner’s Guild?” Rarity followed River’s hoof, picking out the gaggle of ponies stepping into view. There were perhaps two dozen of them, all dressed in well-worn work clothes and organized into teams hitched up to battered metal wagons. Wood and rope were piled into the wagons, including two pairs of wide wooden wheels big enough for a pony to walk inside.
“Aye. I go t’ their meetin’s.” River straightened up proudly. “We rounded up a few dock workers t’ come help with th’ biggest blocks. Manager didn’t like it o’ course, but not much she can do when ’er whole shift up ’n vanishes, cranes ’n all!”
One of the new arrivals approached the pair, an earth stallion with a ruddy green coat and a dark mane tied into a ponytail that hung down his neck. His work vest was a plain brown, and it might have gone nicely with the wide-brimmed hat he wore if not for the frayed threads hanging off the sleeves.
He came to a stop at River’s side, looking to her with a nervous smile. She beamed back at him, nodding in Rarity’s direction.
A few seconds passed. Rarity cocked her head as the stallion stole an awkward glance towards her.
“Er, Miss Pie?” Rarity asked. “Perhaps you’d like to introduce us?”
“Aye, looks as if that duty’s fallen t’ me.” River held a hoof out towards Rarity, who dipped into a quick, tired curtsey. “Countess Rarity of Canterthusia, the Gifted mare I’ve told ye about.” She brought the hoof towards the stallion, who was smiling at the space above Rarity’s head. “Twinkle Smith, a friend of mine from the Commoner’s Guild.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith.” Rarity extended a hoof.
“The pleasure’s all mine, Countess!” He lunged forwards, pulling Rarity into a hug with alarming speed.
“O-oh!” Rarity’s two guards stiffened off to the side, but she was quick to wave them down with a hoof. She tried to pull herself free of the hug, letting out a breathy giggle as she met resistance. “Some space perhaps, darling?”
“Oh, right! Sorry!” Twinkle stepped back, leaving Rarity to wobble slightly before regaining her balance. “I was just so excited to meet you! River’s told us all about you, you know?”
Rarity shot River a curious look, causing the mare to turn away with a barely perceptible blush. “Has she now?”
“Is it all true?” Twinkle leaned in, lowering his voice as if asking after some conspiracy. “Are you really from the past? You’re here to make Equestria like it used to be, when the Princesses were still around? Before the floods?”
“Ah, well—” Rarity hesitated, put off by the reverence in the stallion’s voice “—I will certainly do my best.”
Twinkle beamed, his eyes finally flicking up to meet hers for a brief moment. He turned to River Pie, who was watching with an apologetic smile. “Do you think she’ll attend a meeting?”
Rarity waved a lazy hoof, drawing his attention back. “Right here, Mr. Smith.”
“Ye’ll have to excuse him. He’s just a little excited is all.” River dipped her muzzle into the bag at her side, pulling out a small card. “Th’ members meet here every day, but most of ’em can’t attend except on Sundays.”
Rarity accepted the card in her magic, ignoring the little gasp from Twinkle Smith, and squinted down at the tiny font. It was difficult to focus on the words in her current state, so she just slipped the card into the pockets sewn into her ruined, rolled-up dress. “Apologies, what did you say the meetings were about, dear?”
“Common good!” Twinkle announced. “The Guild Masters of Friesland have little care for anything aside from business, and so we assembled into our own guild: the Commoner’s Guild!”
River nodded. “We help when th’ crop’s poor or homes start fallin’ apart ’n th’ like.” Behind her, the dock workers had already started unloading their wagons. They moved with the casual precision of experience, assembling the cranes in stony quiet. “Though it’s difficult t’ do much more, seein’ as we can only rely on donations of time ’n bits.”
“I see,” Rarity mumbled. This ‘Commoner’s Guild’ could be useful allies in her attempts to stop the war, and Whitehorn would certainly be interested in hearing about them.
Her thoughts were interrupted by another yawn, so powerful that she actually stumbled a step to the side when she raised a hoof to cover her mouth. “Oh, goodness!”
“Go home, Countess. Please.” River put a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder to steady her, the concern returning to her eyes. “Ye’ve done more’n yer fair share. We can handle th’ rest.”
Rarity opened her mouth to protest once more, but she was interrupted by a gruff call from the dock workers. The first crane had been assembled, and a pair of ponies had already wrapped a boulder-size chunk of rubble in a sling before hooking it to the thick rope that ran up to a pulley, down the crane leg, and to a winch suspended between a pair of large wooden wheels. The ponies inside each wheel began to walk, the crane leg groaning in complaint as the huge stone was hefted into the air, and a team of ponies on the ground began guiding the load into one of the now empty wagons.
The team hitched to the wagon pulled, tugging it into motion with quiet grunts of exertion, and within moments were guiding it down the street and out of sight. One of the ponies on the crane glanced towards Rarity and offered up a brief nod before turning back to his work.
Rarity blinked, sluggish thoughts pushing past the miasma of her exhaustion.
The hours caught up to her all at once. Her hind legs gave out as her rear plopped down to the ground, and she nearly blacked out right there, the darkness encroaching on her vision for a frightening moment before she shook her head and pushed it back. She groaned, raising a hoof to her head in a vain attempt to stem the pulsing ache at the base of her horn.
“Countess!” River stepped closer, supporting Rarity’s weight. “Are ye well?”
“I’m f-fine, darling, thank you.” Rarity winced as the vibration of her own voice bounced around in her skull. “I think I… just pushed myself a bit far.”
“We should get ye back t’ yer bed,” River said. “Where’re ye stayin’, by th’ way?”
The older bluecoat cleared his throat, drawing River’s attention. “That’s none of your concern, baronlander. The Friesland Guard will see to it that the Countess finds her way safely back to her lodging.”
As he spoke, the younger soldier stepped meaningfully forwards, and River backed away without complaint.
Rarity groaned as she forced herself back to her hooves. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Pie, but I do trust these, ah, gentlecolts to see me back.” She grimaced at the ache in her legs as she turned to face the courtyard’s eastern exit. “Truly a pleasure to see you again, despite the circumstances.”
River nodded, offering up a small smile. “With luck, our next meetin’ won’t be so dire.”
“Perhaps tomorrow, at the Guild meeting!” Twinkle Smith added.
Rarity let out a breathy chuckle. “If I’m up to it, darling. Ta-ta!”
With a nod, the older soldier led the way. The younger stayed by Rarity’s side as they walked, subtly stepping closer whenever she faltered to lend support. Rarity did her best to focus on her surroundings as they went, noting the quicker pace and quieted tones of the citizens. Plumes of smoke drifted across the eastern horizon, pushing a distant concern for Fluttershy past the thick blanket of her exhaustion.
She almost didn’t notice they had arrived until the very moment she stepped over the threshold of Piaffe’s home. The Captain was seated at the table with Whitehorn, each nursing drinks with a thin book splayed out between them, while Pontius had been standing by the window.
The coltish stallion rushed up to her at once, nearly bowling her over with his arrival, eyes wide as he took in her disheveled form. “My Lady! What’s happened t’ ye?!”
“Oh, heavens.” Rarity put a hoof to his chest, pushing him back. “I’m fine, thank you, dear. Some space, please?”
He stepped back with a grimace, giving her room to step towards the stairs. She paused, turning to face Captain Piaffe and Whitehorn and receiving understanding nods from each. With a weary smile, she began her ascent.
Pontius followed her, unfortunately. “I haven’t seen ye since th’ bombing! What happened to ye? Did those soldiers do this? My Lady!”
Rarity took a deep breath as she reached the top of the stairs. No need to be upset, Rarity. He only has the best intentions. She opened the door to her room with a hoof, turning in the threshold to face Pontius before he could follow her inside.
“It’s very noble of you to be worried, darling,” she said, slowly closing the door in his face. “But I’d quite like to get some sleep right now.”
The door shut with a satisfying click. She waited, counting three heartbeats, and let out a sigh of relief when she heard him walking back downstairs.
“Rarity!”
Rarity winced as Pinkie’s shrill voice jammed into her ears. Pink hooves wrapped around her neck a moment later.
“Oh my gosh I’m so glad you’re back! I was super duper worried when Piaffe came back without you when it got dark and she said you’d stayed behind and there were these big fires over in the camps where Fluttershy’s staying but nobody would tell me anything and it was so windy outside last night I could barely sleep cause I was thinking about how you might be out there shivering cause you didn’t dress for a cold night and then it started to rain!” Pinkie sucked in a great gasp of breath.
“Pinkie!” Rarity clumsily slapped a hoof over the other mare’s mouth. “It’s wonderful to see you again, darling, and I do appreciate your concern, but I’d quite like to—” she raised her other hoof to stifle a yawn, nearly falling over in the process “—catch up on my beauty sleep.”
Pinkie blinked, pulling back and looking Rarity over with her curious blue eyes. After a few moments, she broke out into a wide smile. “Oh, Rarity, you don’t need any beauty sleep! You don’t have any bags under your eyes, and your coat hasn’t lost its usual lustre, and your mane is just as vibrant and full as always, and you definitely haven’t been slurring your words under your breath this whole time!”
“Mm, quite, yes.” Rarity’s horn glowed as she pulled the ragged remains of her outfit free and hung them limply over her dresser. Her legs went limp as she dove face-first into the bed. She didn’t bother to pull her muzzle free from the comforting fabric when she spoke. “Wake me up at noon, dear.”
If the bed did anything to muffle her voice, Pinkie didn’t seem to have any issue understanding. Rarity was just cognizant enough to hear the other mare’s giggling response before the warm abyss of sleep overtook her.
A small smile graced her lips as she snuggled into the pillows.
I’ve got it. A wide grin split Twilight’s face as she turned a slow circle, taking in the documents and notes she’d pinned to the walls all around her.
A few seconds passed as she nodded in satisfaction, and nothing answered her. She cleared her throat and stomped a hoof, prodding at Midnight with a spike of impatience. “I said, I’ve got it!”
A pair of slitted eyes appeared in Twilight’s shadow, half-lidded with boredom. Twilight clapped her hooves together in glee as she beamed at her shadow, waiting for it to ask her about her findings.
And waited.
A mouth joined the eyes, its fanged maw stretching wide in an exaggerated yawn.
Twilight’s tail flicked behind her. “Ask me what I’ve learned!”
Midnight rolled her eyes. Go on, then. I can tell you’re just dying to share.
“Fine!” Twilight snapped. “Be that way! Ugh!”
Midnight’s low chuckle echoed in Twilight’s ears as she turned to face the notes she’d carefully laid out in the blank pages of Shining Armor’s journal.
“So, we have our beginning state: the Canterlot wedding, and our end state: flooded Equestria.” She levitated her pencil as she spoke, jabbing it eraser-first at the two ends of the timeline she’d doodled. The glow of her horn brightened as she pulled a dozen faded newspapers from their stack, all from dates shortly after the wedding, and scanned the headlines. Her eyes lingered on a faded black-and-white image of Celestia giving a speech before a crowd in Ponyville. “Canterlot was evacuated in the wake of the invasion, and somehow the Princesses cast a solid stone sphere around Shiny’s shield spell.” She stuck her pencil’s eraser between her lips, chewing on it in consternation. “Which is ridiculous. A spell like that is orders of magnitude beyond any earth-shaping magic I’ve read of before.”
She’s an alicorn, is she not? Midnight asked. With the way you fawn over Celestia, is it truly so shocking that she and her sister could muster such power?
Twilight shook her head. “They’re unmatched magic users within their domains, yes, but a strong unicorn can still keep up otherwise. Stone, spheres, shaping—I can’t think of any way that a spell like that could possibly be relevant to the sun or moon. With the sheer mass involved, even a dozen archmages with relevant cutie marks would burn their magic out!”
And yet the spell was cast. Midnight sidled up to Twilight’s side, peering over her shoulder. Perhaps you missed something?
“I’ve gone over everything in this room four times, and you watched me do it!” Twilight’s nostrils flared as she moved on from the nagging question marks in her notes. “The next thing we do know for sure is that the Royal Guard set up a defensive line around the city and began making preparations for a counter-attack, but then—” she pulled the pencil free from her gnawing teeth, pointing it at a photograph of a Guard mare with red tears dripping down her cheeks “—the corruption started.”
Midnight snorted. You ruined another pencil.
Twilight blinked. Her eyes focused in on what was once the pencil’s eraser, and a dejected sigh escaped her as she saw the eviscerated wooden stump. She threw it into the pile with the others before opening a desk drawer and pulling out a replacement. Luckily, whoever had used this office before her had practiced a level of office supply preparation bordering past obsessive. She stuck the pencil into the sharpener as she continued her presentation.
“It was most prominent around Canterlot at first, so the going theory was that the changelings were the source, but nobody could find a way to stop the spread.” She pulled the freshly-sharpened pencil out, pointing at a map of Equestria heavily annotated by her notes. “Corruption-related incidents happened all around Equestria with increasing severity up to the date of the flood, which seems to have happened only—” she grimaced, looking down at her notes “—two months after my capture.”
Blaming yourself again, little flower?
Twilight shook her head with a quiet sniffle. “I should’ve been there. They needed me.”
It is not the fault of the strong that the weak should perish. Midnight’s voice was sweet in Twilight’s head, the warmth only partially concealing an underpinning of pride. Why should a manticore mourn the passing of insects?
Twilight sucked in a deep breath, gritting her teeth and willing the thick red tears back as she turned to the three names written under the timeline. “Princess Luna disappeared during a research expedition to the Everfree three weeks after the wedding. My current theory is a self-induced dream coma once she realized she’d been infected by the corruption.” Twilight’s eyes flicked to the side, meeting Midnight’s toothy smile with silent accusation.
Don’t look at me. You know I had no involvement in any of that. We belong to each other and none else, my sweet.
Twilight shivered as she turned back to her notes. “Shiny’s journal mentions every thestral in the Guard disappearing around the same time. No indicators as to why or where they may have gone. His journal also mentions Princess Cadance leading a mission to the Frozen North on Celestia’s behalf just a week later. None of the newspapers here mention her return. It’s… probable that she also fell to the corruption.”
She does strike me as the weakest of the set, Midnight mused. I expect we’ll find her body.
Twilight’s voice hitched as she slid her pencil over to a photo, a black-and-white portrait of a bruised Shining Armor she’d cut out of a newspaper. “W-we know that Shiny—” she bit her lip, hesitating over the next word “—died during an attempted rescue mission in Canterlot just a week before the flood.”
Midnight was silent as Twilight’s magic wrapped around the journal, revealing a page conspicuously empty of notes. A wallet-sized photo of Princess Celestia, a mass-produced thing pilfered from the magically preserved filing cabinet, was pinned at the top. Even with the faded colors, Twilight felt her pulse quicken at the sight.
Beneath the photo was a form, one of many she’d found in a folder detailing official correspondence between the office of the Stalliongrad Premier and the subcommittees that ran the city. It was dated to just a day before the flood, the day when all the newspapers stopped printing and ponies all around the underground vault had written their deepest fears in their private diaries.
The message was short, to the point, and it sent a shiver down Twilight’s spine every time she read it.
Princess Celestia has vanished. We are on our own.