//------------------------------// // Fifty-Four // Story: The Moon Also Rises // by Nicroburst //------------------------------// I was lost well before we reached out goal. The Pool—wide, glittering in the moonlight. I watched with baited breath, hiding some distance away, my vision sharpened with magic, as he dived into those waters, disappeared beneath its surface. I waited until my sun rose, to expose all. He was gone. Fifty-Four APPLELOOSA WAS FAR REMOVED from how she remembered it. She’d taken several Royal Visits here, as part of her tours of Equestria in the months following her release. Back then, it had been ramshackle and country—a hastily put-together, poorly-planned example of national spirit. Perfectly functional, but a far cry from the architecture and city planning she’d seen elsewhere. Now, though? As she descended from the sky, she could see ponies and buffalo alike moving through ordered streets—buildings set up facing north, in rows, for some reason. There was what appeared to be a half-attended camp located on the eastern fringe, arrayed loosely, but apart from that, the town appeared . . . tighter. More solid. “Ho, Princess. Greetings, and welcome to Appleloosa,” a stallion called to her, from the centre of what appeared to be a rapidly-growing crowd of every soul here. “And our blessings upon you,” came another, unfamiliar voice—the buffalo beside him? She favoured them with a smile, and inclined her head. “I apologise in advance, but I cannot wait on custom. I need to speak with your leaders, immediately.” That sent a ripple through the crowd. She held back a wince, instead settling into the most neutral position she could. “That’s be us,” the stallion said. “Name’s Bill, and this ‘ere’s Achak.” “Privately.” She could see the buffalo’s hackles rise at that. Something she didn’t know about? Luna filed the reaction away for later reference—it paled before what was happening right now. Bill pursed his lips. “We like to hold to transparency here, Princess. I’ll likely be reporting on anything you say, anyways.” A politician? “Nonetheless.” She stepped forward, enveloped them in shadow. Nopony—or buffalo—would be able to hear through that spell, much less physically enter. She could already feel a few inquisitive hooves, but they only made it a few inches before the fog solidified underneath their touch. “Listen-” ah, yes, now she had their attention. “- there’s a Storm coming.” Bill closed his eyes. Achak stiffened, then shot her a disgusted look. “Look, ah, Princess, we know about the Storms. We’ve had one or two here already, see. The town’s done pretty well so far, I reckon, an’ . . .” glancing at Achak, “the less said ‘bout it, the better. Point is, we’re ready.” They were prepared? Was that the purpose of their odd restructuring, then? Turning the town . . . north-wards. Houses built with overhangs, slanted roofs to redirect force. Walls thicker on one side, much too thin from behind? Oh, stars. “I saw,” Luna managed, dryly, after a few moments. “This one comes from the south.” Bill paled. “We need to evacuate, now. This isn’t something you can resist. It won’t blow over, or quiet down, or pass. It will keep coming, batter you into the ground, and then proceed.” “But-” he started, weakly, only for Luna’s glare to pummel whatever he had to say into the ground. It was the buffalo who impressed her more. “Yes, Princess.” she said, voice hard, crisp, conjuring the image of a salute even in the absence of the gesture. She glared at Luna, some unspoken hostility remaining, but, Luna understood, it would not interfere with this. Her respect for this one rose again. “I’ll forgive you for not having evacuation plans ready to go, given the circumstances. I will be buying you as much time as I can, but you are the first and only sizable community in the nearby latitudes. Celestia is handling more wide-spread preparation and relocation northwards across Equestria, and Cadence is preparing the Crystal Empire for eventual refugee populations.” Luna paused a beat. “It’s my job to get all of you out of here and assess the threat. To that end, we need to brainstorm. How are you getting your people out?” Again, Achak was quickest off the mark. “My buffalo are built to run, Princess. We’ve roamed the desert for untold generations. It is not a stretch for the herd to move northwards.” Luna nodded briskly. “Go. Do it. Try not to cause too much panic, and take as much supply as you can, without it slowing you down overmuch.” Achak was pushing into the fog before she was halfway through, and Luna had to raise her voice toward the end to ensure Achak heard her. She grinned, a little. So nice, to work with competent people. “And you?” “Well, the train is scheduled for this afternoon. Even with the delay, it’ll be faster than running.” “How many will it take?” “Less than half the town,” he said, voice steadying as he came to a decision. “Okay. Okay, got it. We’ll send everyone now, following the tracks. We’re not as hardy as the buffalo, we can’t just blithely cross the desert at any sort of speed. I’ll have volunteers stay behind—stallions, our strongest and fastest. We’ll load the cars with supplies, and the infirm, and have everyone else follow the tracks.” “I concur. Get to Ponyville. I’ll suspect Dodge City will take the same tack—I’ll have them leave a few cars open for any stragglers.” “Okay,” he said, breathing audibly. “Alright.” “Go,” Luna said. “Go now.” He fled, but Luna lingered in the darkness for a moment longer, allowing them the chance to corral their charges before she inadvertently recaptured their interest. That, and she found the void comforting, in a strange way. None of her obligations vanished, the yoke of expectation hung from her neck as stringently as ever. But in here, she felt as if time had stopped, as if she could take that much-needed breath, and allow her thoughts to unfurl. The threat, so nebulous at the time. She’d used it as a bargaining chip, another argument in her arsenal. That . . . spoke of a callousness, in her character. A willingness to overlook or otherwise fail to comprehend what she was doing. Luna noted that, passed over it. Not immediately relevant. She’d felt the Veil part, too. That spell was orders of magnitude greater than anything she could wield—greater than anything she had felt before. For all its flaws, it had been a shield, a bulwark against the encroaching darkness. Now exposed, she wondered: if such power was required merely to guard, what could they do now to defend themselves? She sent a quick prayer to her sister, to Cadence and Twilight, and everyone else. She hadn’t remembered everything the Veil had taken from her, but here and there she’d been getting intuitions she couldn’t quite place. One such came to her now: her genius did not lie in hypotheticals, old legends and theoretical spell-craft. She was the leader, the tactician, the vanguard. With a stray thought, the fog collapsed inwards on her, reforming itself into her age-old armour. She could still feel the power contained within it, eager to transform her into the mythical beast. Luna was stronger than Celestia, yes, but Nightmare Moon had bested her sister with almost contemptuous ease—and she’d done it while piercing the Veil. It was a mad strength, born of desperation and loss, and it would require Luna to mirror those emotions, were she to plunge directly into that well once more. She didn’t want to. By the end, she might need to. *** Twilight caught Rainbow before the rainbow coruscation could so much as begin to fade. Lavender magic, sparkling in the early evening light, carried Rainbow, with Rarity strangely serene upon her back, to the ground in moments. She could feel the breath whistling through Rainbow’s slightly ajar mouth, felt Rarity shift around a bit, loosen her death grip on Rainbow’s limp body. In retrospect, she should have known they couldn’t have returned before the Veil fell, lest they fall subject to it in the same manner as Luna. Was that . . .? She shook her head no. “Twilight! Ah, I . . . well, we really didn’t think this through, did we?” “No,” Twilight said, laughing. “I guess not. Rainbow passed out the other way too?” “And half,” Rarity murmured. Twilight ran her hooves through Rainbow’s mane, felt her coarse hair contrast with the velvet fuzz covering her neck. She inhaled, deeply, dew and petrichor, sweat and, her nose wrinkling, a touch of morning breath. She supposed they might not have had toothpaste, a thousand or so years ago. She nuzzled deeper into the crook of Rainbow’s neck, pausing there as she felt little lines of tension, unacknowledged but always present, melt away. A moment later, their situation caught up to her, and she backed away. “What about home?” Rarity asked, pressing forward. Twilight could see her own eagerness reflected in her friend’s eyes—the desire to finally end this waiting, but so much stronger. She saw Rarity furrow her brow momentarily, and close her eyes; “It’s only been a few weeks,” Rarity said, sagging, then caught herself. “At least Rainbow won’t be out for weeks, this time.” Weeks? This time? “Home is . . . actually, I don’t know,” Twilight said. Still longer, still more. “There’s been . . . well, a lot has happened.” “The Veil’s down,” Rarity said, with a sharp nod. She paused, took a moment to collect herself. “Good. We don’t have much time.” Twilight swallowed. “Rarity,” she said, “I think you’d better show me what happened.” “Mm,” Rarity said. “Hold on, actually. One thing first.” She reached into a saddlebag, drawing forth four large red apples, practically bursting at the skin with juice. Levitating them down, Rarity broke one into chunks, magic holding all the liquid in—to the point that Twilight couldn’t even catch a hint of its scent—and dribbled it over Rainbow’s lips. Rainbow, for her part, seemed to yawn, mouth reaching after the fruit. In moments, Rarity had her gently working away at it, Twilight waiting with some consternation. Rarity caught her look. “Just- Twilight, it’s been a long time. Don’t freak out, okay?” Twilight cocked her head to the side, mind making the connections all at once. She took another look at her friend, noted the differences, slight, subtle, but there now that she was looking—a few more lines of crow’s feet around the eyes, coat a touch thinner, mane less lustrous. Rarity would never have allowed such changes normally. “How long?” she asked. Rarity bit her lip. “Two years.” Years? Twilight opened her mouth, and couldn’t think of anything to say. “Hey, now, it’s okay. It’s alright. We’re back home now, okay? We haven’t changed.” “o-Okay. Okay. Show me.” Their eyes met, and Twilight saw. She saw the Storm, Typhus’ fury spreading over the landscape. Saw Luna’s desperate attempts at delaying him, fully embracing the power of the moon, all the defenders lined up, fighting, dying. Saw Celestia’s return, and their pyrrhic victory. She saw the town, Rainbow awakening, and the slow process of healing. Saw Celestia invade their minds, and take. Saw Discord, and his throngs of corrupted. Saw their flight, and the castle, instantly recognisable, no real trace of the Everfree surrounding it. Saw long days and hard work, the slow development of their abilities to match the prowess of the age. Too much to process at once. She fell backwards, hitting the ground with a thump as she breathed. “So different,” she said, eyes boring through Rarity to stare at the sky behind her. “It’s the same.” “Twilight?” “I wasn’t sure, you know? Could never have been sure, I suppose. The nature of the beast. But she was right. I was right. Not in vain, never in vain. He . . . He-” she sniffled, eyes dropping to the dirt. “Twilight, what in Equestria are you talking about?” “Hmm, oh!” Broken from her reverie, Twilight started back up. “Here. While you’ve been gone,” and she imparted the memories of their trials, from Trixie’s tutelage to her discussions with Luna, with Celestia, Cadence’s rage and their eventual arrival in the Crystal Empire. Their decision. The fallout.” Rarity’s turn to pause. She turned away, looking ill, sucking in great lungfuls of air before forcefully exhaling. “I see. A-and Ponyville?” Twilight blinked, before compassion overtook her. “Not too bad, I don’t think. Sweetie’s smart. I’m sure she’s perfectly fine.” “I- I- no, no, you must.” Rarity mumbled, before sinking back into her Sight. Twilight had barely caught the transition before; where once Rarity had required hours of meditation, it now seemed to take just seconds. Idly, she wondered how Rainbow might have grown into her own power—Rarity’s experience of it was bereft of the more physical understanding Twilight had come to know through her partner. “Thank the stars, she’s fine,” Rarity said, sagging back down. “Applejack and Fluttershy are there. O-or, were. I can’t . . . can’t See much farther forward.” Twilight frowned. “What’s that?” “I don’t know,” Rarity said, frowning. “I’m hardly all-seeing. But when I can’t . . .” “It’s never good,” Twilight finished, nodding. “Celestia and Luna have Equestria mostly in hoof, I think, at least when it comes to the big picture. You have something else planned.” Rarity smiled a tight, worn smile. “Quite.” Twilight had seen Rarity’s mind. “You want to find the Well.” “Twilight, the Well was the only way to do anything more than slow Typhus down, last time. We don’t have a choice. We need to find it.” “Rainbow’s out . . . the fruit. You had the Wardens enchant it.” As if prophesied, Rainbow, finishing the second fruit, was mumbling, now, under her breath, muscles stretching and shifting. Twilight could now remember how like death she’d seemed, comatose and unresponsive, for weeks after their journey to the past. The difference was startling. “Still . . . they told you it took Celestia how long to find it? Days? Weeks?” “Typhus isn’t going to wait, either. We need to go now. Twilight, you need to understand, to feel in your bones, how badly we need the Well. The full might of a nation, thousands of Coromancers, an unleashed Luna . . . all of it were helpless as foals before Him. We don’t have time to run around Equestria putting out fires like the old days.” “And your sister? Ponyville?” Rarity grimaced. “We can make sure she’s safe. Move her and her friends to Canterlot, even. But I’m not taking her into the Crystal Mountains, and I’m not delaying more than an hour or so.” Twilight felt . . . torn. Not in resolve, or even intent; not conflicted or warring. She’d always operated with goals, with set paths, and some amount of planning. Tunnel vision, taken at times to extreme lengths. It was a failing she’d often had to acknowledge. So she closed her eyes, took several deep breaths, sat down. Slowly, forcing herself to take the time, she counted out ten long seconds. She felt, bit by bit, the tension between expectation and reality—between what she had expected to find, what she’d hoped for, and the necessity staring her down—dissolve. “You’re absolutely right,” she said, opening her eyes. “We’ll leave Rainbow here, just for a few minutes. She’ll be up in, what, a half-hour?” “Hard to say,” Rarity said. “A Jump like that . . . Rainbow’s the only one to even attempt it, even among the old Chasers. The stuff of legends. Remedies like those apples are poor substitutes for real rest, especially after something so draining. The equivalent of using coffee to stay up for three, four, five days in a row.” Twilight shook her head. “We need her, in the Mountains. No question about that.” Rarity frowned. “Even Celestia walked, in the end.” “But she flew first,” Twilight said. “Nopony’s ever charted that far north before.” She shook her head. “Nopony’s even tried. I can’t believe how insane that sounds, now.” “Alright,” Rarity said. “Enough delaying.” “Have you found her?” A flutter of the eyelids. “The school. Do you know it?” “I know it,” Twilight said, enveloping them both in lavender. Her eyes lingered on Rainbow, until the spell completed, and they vanished, carried outward by the light. They burst out into a courtyard, the magic quickly fading into the concrete around them. Drab, lifeless, dimly lit by the sun gracing the horizon and the flickering orange of fire, somewhere beyond the walls. This Ponyville was a different place. There was almost a flavour to it, a texture that hung on the air. What had once been a quaint, lively village, bustling and peaceful, charming, backward, slow to change and slow to grow, was now modernised. Still lively, still colourful, but efficient, fast, in a way that could only be felt. Like a fever, an energy had gripped the town, spoken in seductive whispers of the wonders of change and hadn’t mentioned the often-accompanying growing pains . . . “Rarity?” “Hush, and wait for them,” Rarity said. “They’ll be just a moment.” Sure enough, in a minute Twilight could hear quiet voices from the other side of the wall. She retreated, with Rarity, and waited as what seemed to be Scootaloo eventually staggered over the top of the wall, landing on the other side with some small grace, and unlocked the gates. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle promptly followed her in, and they locked the gates behind them. Rarity rushed forward three beats later, apparently unable to restrain herself any longer, letting out a painfully quiet squeal. “Sweetie!” She closed her sister in a hug, squeezing her tightly. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” “R-Rarity?” Sweetie Belle cried. “Wha- Rarity!” Fiercely, she threw her own arms out, clinging to Rarity. “You’re back!” “Yes, yes, yes,” Rarity said, nuzzling. “I’m perfectly fine, as you can see.” “You have to tell me everything!” Twilight winced at their volume. She wasn’t entirely sure why they had been keeping quiet before, but now that the atmosphere had been established, it seemed a shame to ruin it. She was well aware of the phenomenon of social whispering. She actually thought it was kinda fun. And there was probably a reason the girls had been whispering before . . . breaking . . . into the school. Huh. “Scootaloo, Applebloom,” she greeted them. “Tell me you weren’t just breaking into the school.” Scootaloo made an exasperated sound. “Nuh-uh,” Applebloom said, shaking her head. “Applejack let us in. Boosted Scoots over the wall and all.” Twilight lifted an eyebrow. “Go on.” “We were hiding, mostly,” Scootaloo said. “Surely you’ve seen them? The whole town’s gone crazy, Twilight. What’s going on?” “It’s . . . complicated.” Twilight laid a hoof on the young pegasus’ shoulder. “And it’s going to take some time to settle down. So, Rarity and I came to take you three to safety.” “That bad, huh?” Applebloom said. “Can’t tell us anything else?” She sounded, if anything, tired. A familiar, well-worn phrase. “I . . .” And Twilight felt her words catch in her throat. She’d been all fire, explaining herself to Trixie—by extension to Luna, to Celestia. Certain, not of her conclusions, but of herself. Ideas and words came easily, flowed, an almost stream of consciousness state of position and rebuttal. Was that so esoteric, that she stumbled now? Confronted not with the decision, but with explaining its aftermath. Some element of shame, guilt caught her in its immediacy. “Twilight?” Easier to push it away, deal with the explanations and accusations later, surrounded not by this violence, but by its antithesis; Typhus, a storm come to destroy. She couldn’t hide. They’d see right through her, they’d already insinuated as much. And, worse, she recognised the impulse, saw the implied disconnect. Saw how easily it could dissolve her. “It’s not easy to explain,” Twilight began. “But we, collectively, with Princess Celestia, and Princess Luna, and Princess Cadence and a few others, chose this. We had reasons, of course, good ones. But it isn’t random, or malicious, or unknown. It’s deliberate.” Scootaloo jumped in first, with the obvious; “Why?” Twilight stared at her helplessly. “We thought it was the right thing to do.” Applebloom made a sound, then shook herself. “Later,” she said, loudly, catching Scootaloo’s eyes. “Where are we going, Twilight?” “Canterlot,” Twilight said. “And we really shouldn’t delay. Come on, let’s get Rarity and Sweetie Belle.” The two were still talking, heads bowed and held close, rapid words flying back and forth. Twilight interrupted by tapping Rarity on the shoulder, and, not giving them time to protest, covered them all in lavender magic. She set them down in the basement of her building in Canterlot, the place at once familiar and alien, the wood and stone seeming to groan at their sudden appearance, shattering its solemn silence. She set the three girls up with access to the kitchen and bedrooms, let Rarity wish her sister a good night and issue a stern warning to stay inside. Then, barely allowing herself to slow down again, caught Rarity in her magic once more, and returned to Rainbow. The apples were all gone, now, and Rainbow was stirring. Twilight leaned forward, nuzzled her once again, luxuriating in her scent. “She’s awake,” Rarity said. “Good. We can go—she’ll recover over the next half-four, or well enough, anyway.” It was still a bit of a surprise to her—she wouldn’t have said that particular feature to be one of Rainbow’s strengths, nor would it be described, presently, as particularly pleasant. Perspiration, dirt, and the indescribable ozone that was wrapped up in her fur and feathers . . . “Twi,” Rainbow murmured, reciprocating. “Missed you . . .” “Missed you more,” Twilight said, half-smiling. “How are you feeling?” “M’ good. C’mere, okay . . . I-I want-” “Hmm?” “Wanna feel you again.” Twilight glanced at Rarity, whose blush was blooming like the rising sun. She smirked. “N-no,” Rainbow said. “Up here.” And she lifted her head to meet Twilight’s gaze. The connection, well-worn like a beaten path through scrubland, formed easily, quickly, and in an instant Twilight was swept away on a wave of memory. She noticed an odd trace, an unfamiliar lingering magic, and understood—this was Celestia. Outrage. How could she tread here, trespass on this union. Rationale. Of course she had. She hadn’t known—couldn’t have known. There was nothing special about it, to her. Denial. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to justify this sense of betrayal. It was just . . . Acceptance. She stopped paying attention to the differences, and started paying attention to Rainbow. There you are. Welcome home. *** “Manehattan seems to be the most stable right now, Princess,” Lily said. She was to Celestia’s right, decorative petals running through her mane in disarray. Celestia remembered it as it was a week ago, marbled and leafy, lifelike, a vine growing through her. An odd thing to recall, now. “I suspect they were less surprised—that is, that the aftereffects didn’t drive them too far from the norm.” Limelight snorted. “You would say that.” Celestia opened her mouth, paused a fraction to get the timing right. “Tell me we have word from Cloudsdale.” “Ah, yes, they’ve instated martial law. I’m told it was very formal, and more than a bit gung-ho. There were more pegasi signing themselves into the local Guard—a temporary civilian peacekeeping force—than there were actually disturbing the peace.” Limelight, pegasus though she was, was smiling with this. She’d stayed behind, though the rest of her family had returned to the city in the clouds. She must have been worried. “It hasn’t been good news everywhere, though,” Lily said, narrowing her eyes. “Fillydelphia and Baltimare are in curfew after riots broke out—mostly looting, but the hospitals are barely keeping up with the injured, and there have been numbers of fatalities. Los Pegasus reports a marked increase in gang violence and most of the casinos have, at this point, been robbed. Incidentally, the structure of organised crime there actually seems to have been a stabilising influence on the region. We haven’t heard from Vanhoover, as of yet.” Celestia sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Alright. Keep on that, Lily, and good work. We’ll be needing all hooves on deck for weeks, I suspect.” A tired laugh. “Limelight, I want you to focus on public outreach. Canterlot must be a bastion for Equestria—an example and a safe harbour. But neither can we allow our citizens to feel unsafe in their own homes.” “Mixed messaging,” Limelight said. “I can handle it, Princess.” Celestia inclined her head to Limelight. “Dismissed,” she said, and waited for her to leave the room before turning to Lily. “I’m also going to need to speak with law enforcement here in the city. We’ll be extending the Palace Guard to bolster their ranks, and be conducting patrols through the more populated areas, as well as the business districts. I want the Palace Grounds open to the dispossessed, and a number of clerks made available to begin cataloguing and taking census. Got that?” “Yes, Princess.” “Send Lancer in on your way out.” “Princess,” Lily said, dipping her head before hurrying out of the room. Celestia took the brief moment to bow her head and close her eyes. It was all falling apart, everything she’d worked so hard to build. Except—could she even claim that anymore? The Veil . . . she was no exception to its influence. And even if she had been, what then? Was Equestria just some collective hallucination? A period of respite? Did she have any hoof in its creation? She supposed it said a lot, about her, and the situation writ large, that her mind was caught on this question, on her pride, when so much more demanded her attention. A startled yelp drew her gaze, Lancer stumbling as a younger stallion galloped past him. She frowned, beginning to rise from her chair. “Princess!” he said—far too loudly, his voice carrying through the still open door to the attendants waiting outside. “The garden! Discord’s gone!” Shit. Celestia called on a trickle of magic, teleporting herself to the gardens in an instant. She’d come here often, centuries ago—and again, after the first time he’d escaped. Now, staring at the flakes of stone surrounding the pedestal she’d kept him on, she wondered if that had been a sign. The first signal of a growing sickness, a weakness in Equestria’s heart. He could not hide from her. She reached for the Sun, and the Sun answered, its dying rays conveying information everywhere they touched. She saw magic. It was everywhere, had always been everywhere, but never had it been used like this. The whole world seemed afire, a kaleidoscope of intensity, spells of all colours, all variations hurtling about seemingly at random. She could see the star-craft of unicorns, a lost art, untouched for centuries, being explored once more. She could see pegasi loosing waterspouts in the middle of cities, tearing buildings apart with their wind. She could see earthen magic, seeking deep underground, looking for the channels, the leylines, and the deposits that lay along them. No, focus, focus. None of that, for all its chaos, was chaotic. Discord could not hide from her, not here. There was nothing like him in Equestria save that one wilderness, the Everfree, and—got you. He was in Ponyville. With a thought, so was she. “-ou will not!” Celestia emerged in the twilight. Around her, Ponyville was lit as if with candles, small fires carrying their incandescent hues just above the skyline. The streets crackled with power, the charged air humming. Her descent disrupted the flux of it, the back-and-forth struggle, and Applejack and Fluttershy staggered, their focus broken. Across the street, standing with his twisted spine thrust forward—a rooster crowing—standing in front of Twilight’s library, Discord smirked. “Why, Celestia, so kind to grace us with your presence.” “Hush, hush,” she said, stepping over to the Bearers. “Easy, now. Let it go slowly, and close your eyes. I’m here, now. I won’t let anything happen.” “Big promises from an inept old fool,” Discord snarled at her. “And to think I hadn’t even noticed, last time! I must congratulate you, dear, such a fine piece of work.” “Are you alright?” She reached down, helped Fluttershy to the ground, tsked as her hoof found scrapes, the more tender flesh eliciting a groan, even, on her wing, singed feathers and blackened fur. Applejack was already asleep, her face sunk deep in pallor. Celestia felt her throat catch, felt the furnace in her chest, familiar and ancient, catch light. She stood, sent sunlight down her limbs to gird the street. Gold blazed through the cobblestones, already blasted from their seats, ran around the Bearers where they lay. Motes of light coalesced in the air, flickering, as she turned away, turned towards Discord. “Aww. And we were having so much fun!” “You will not force the Elements from them so easily,” Celestia spat. “Nor, I think, will you find this newfound freedom much to your liking.” “What, are you going to pretend you can just throw it all away?” Discord stepped forward, hooves hitting the ground with a weight behind them, a belied intensity long hidden. She remembered . . . something, perhaps, maybe. Or were those memories lies too? She hesitated, the brief scent of chocolate hitting her nose. Discord sprang forward, his eyes already swirling vortices of colour. He crashed forward, wings beating erratically, claws scratching at the ground. His mouth bared, single fang gleaming with saliva. But Celestia stood firm. Golden light caught her, buffered her. Her horn sparked, and time seemed to slow, Discord’s lunge altered in an instant from a shrieking rush to a creeping advance. She sniffed, took her time moving forward, feeling the sunlight play across her coat. She met his eyes. And the world fell away.