• Published 31st Mar 2012
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This Platinum Crown - Capn_Chryssalid



Only one mare can claim the Platinum Crown of Canterlot.

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Chapter Fifty Eight : Endless Twilight

Author's Note:

Had a great time at Bronycon as always, though there's never enough time to do all you want to do. Good fun being in writing panels again. Hm. Should probably make a blog post about it, maybe.

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(58)

Endless Twilight

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Marestricht

Antimony spoke little on the long train ride from Ponyville to Prance. For her part, Twilight Sparkle spent most of the time reading. The Baroness had her own private car with luxurious amenities and there was ample room for two. The ride had taken most of the day but neither mare had needed to leave the car. Serving ponies had come by to offer four cooked meals: the first was a light breakfast of minced apples dipped in sugar and mixed with oats and nuts, followed by a brunch with freshly-made muffins, scrambled eggs, fruit pastries, and pancakes.

Commenting on the food, Antimony had simply said that she had also purchased sufficient space on the train for another private car with a chef and a kitchen (and guards, apparently). Nonetheless, if they had to travel, then it should be in comfort and luxury as was their due as daughters of the Terre Rare and ‘true-born’ descendants of Arsenic.

“It may also be your last meal,” she had added, in between dainty bites of a cherry-stuffed quiche. “You should enjoy it.”

Lunch came in the form of pommes dauphine with a light riesling wine, a platter of local Ponyville vegetables and a small dish of melted cheese raclette. Twilight ate, spoke a little with her host, and resumed reading.

It was actually somewhat of a comfort that Antimony did not try and force conversation. This was not to say they did not talk at all – they did, about magic, about Arsenic, about their plans for the invasion, about their extended family and even once about Antimony’s brother Alpha Brass, that conversation being a one-sided warning on the part of the Baroness not to trust him and a staunch refusal to explain why she felt the way she did about him. What Antimony did not do was take the silence in the cabin as an invitation.

Twilight loved her friends; she truly did, but on long train rides (and even short ones, since Pinkie thought the express to Canterlot took “forever times two”) they tended to fill up the time with idle chatter. Rarity could hardly go a half hour without saying something, anything, to anyone (half the time it was gossip). Pinkie Pie talked to herself when no one was up for it. Applejack tended to spend an inordinate amount of time looking out the window and keeping a running commentary on what she saw. Rainbow Dash slept, and snored, and when she wasn’t doing either of those, she flittered around endlessly, uncomfortable in the confinements of a chair or cabin. Only Fluttershy appreciated comfortable silence like Twilight did.

It was a relief then, on this long trip, when Twilight found she and Antimony had some things in common. They were both quiet ponies most of the time. Twilight spent her time researching and reading and preparing herself, Antimony occupied herself with reading, doing paperwork, or meditating on magic. Altogether, it made for a very pleasant train ride. In fact, as it neared an end, Twilight considered it one of the most pleasant rides she had ever taken though a lot of that was just due to traveling in style.

“It will be late when we arrive at Marestricht,” Antimony said as they ate dinner: a small cassoulet in an earthenware dish and a hearty ratatouille niçoise served on top of fresh baked bread. “Too late for you to see Lady Arsenic,” she explained. “You should be fresh and well-rested; I shall take you to her on the morning.”

“You said before that you had tried to learn the secret, too?” Twilight asked, pouring herself a little more of the sweet tasting moscato wine. “But you never gave any details.”

Antimony nodded slightly, watching her counterpart with half-lidded eyes.

“My grandmother, Bismuth II Brand-en-burg was the last pony to be honored with frequent contact with Lady Arsenic, Our Founder,” she explained, pausing to take a small spoon-full of the thick cassoulet up to her lips. “Shortly after my father reached maturity, Lady Arsenic retired… which is to say, we were all told she had died. The Princess herself attended the funeral, I am told.”

“Arsenic was a member of the royal family and a student of Celestia, just like I am,” Twilight recalled.

“Lady Arsenic unified Germaney and brought it into the Equestrian fold,” Antimony added, and this was the feat that normally won Arsenic in the history books. Celestia had many students over many centuries, after all. Not all were known for their great deeds in service to Equestria.

“It makes sense Celestia would attend her funeral,” Twilight concluded. “But why fake your death at all?”

“Arsenic was ancient, even when she died.” Antimony sighed and dabbed her lips with a cotton napkin. “Suspiciously so. Nopony save the Princesses can live for more than two centuries, not even an alicorn. As for her reasons beyond that, you’ll have to ask her yourself.”

Twilight lowered her eyes and for a while the two ate in silence.

“As for myself,” Antimony continued, at her own pace, and on her own time. “I was only initiated and introduced to her when I became the family successor, following my duel with my sisters. Having proven that I was most worthy, I was taken to a chamber within Marestricht’s Chapel-Bastion. Lady Arsenic does not leave that chamber. It is where I will take you tomorrow.”

“But that doesn’t explain…”

Antimony’s eyes narrowed slightly; clearly this was not her favorite topic of discussion.

“Our family Founder examined me for purity… to make sure I was fit to bear the family name,” she went on with some reluctance. “She then blessed me with some of her knowledge. I mastered most of it without too much difficulty. My magical reserves are not great,” Antimony chafed at the admission – though she had said as much long ago, when she’d first come to Ponyville. “This was my largest flaw according to the Founder. I persevered, nonetheless, but because I did not inherit her raw power as Chalice did, she said I would be unable to execute five alliteration spells. Four alliterations already tax me to my utmost.”

“So it was just a matter of power?” Twilight asked and felt a little surge of pride. Her own skill in magic was top-marks, head-of-her-class, but it was paired with a deep well of raw power that could only come from good luck and good breeding.

“Raw power is one necessity,” Antimony admitted with a sniff, “but there are ways to get around that… to cheat. Try as I might, I could not truly grasp the secret Arsenic revealed to me. You will understand when you see her, provided she sees you as worthy.”



Twilight’s descent from Arsenic was clear, but not something she had considered important before. Her father, Crescent Moon, the “Night Light” of Canterlot from his time as a royal guard, was the son and only child of Lady Black Light, a senior judge and private secretary to the sovereign. Black Light was in turn the daughter of Lady Kamacite, who was herself the daughter of Arsenic, the second middle child of three who survived to adulthood. Arsenic had married twice, first to “Prince” Noble Oath and then to “Prince” Starsworn; Kamacite and Neptunium (the youngest) were from the Starsworn descent, Bismuth (and thus Antimony) came from the Noble Oath branch. They shared exactly one great-great-grandmother.

“You are a trueborn daughter of Kamacite,” Antimony replied with a shrug. “She will recognize you as a descendant or strike you down for your impudence. There is no way to tell which until you stand before her.”

The train entered Marestricht Station at night, with the sun already set. A carriage was waiting for them, and before long, Twilight collapsed into a bed at her suite in the castle. It was only a guest room, but Marestricht was the flagship fortress of the Terre Rare. Her four-poster bed had the finest sheets and pillows, a wardrobe stocked with clothes she would never wear, fresh flowers in vases and a private bathroom, shower, and grooming chamber. The staff were friendly, courteous, and welcoming, but the fortress itself was less so.

Marestricht was built up against the side of, and partly extending into, the river that cut through the town by the same name. Built to look over a critical waterway and crossroads in a region of Equestria that had seen more than its fair share of trouble, it was a very practical design and little like the decorative castles of Canterlot. Marestricht was circled by a deep moat with slanted sides with walls that extended up on top of an already raised bulwark of earth. Vaguely star-shaped, it was not a tall castle in most places, except in the innermost keep, where a great bastion loomed over the sunken grounds. Somewhere below her hooves, Twilight knew, was the chapel Antimony had mentioned and the lair where she would meet her distant ancestor.

Halfway to dawn, Twilight woke. A part of her had expected ghosts or fitful dreams, maybe some sort of magical emanations or foreshadowing of what was to come. Instead it was just the chill from a window, brought in by an unexpected breeze over the river. Closing the window and burying herself back in the pillows, she slept well, but missed Spike. The little dragon would’ve come, too, and she’d have probably let him sleep with her on the huge bed, but Antimony had been adamant about not taking him.

‘No dragons,’ she had said, firmly, even shooting a glare at Spike when he asked. ‘Absolutely not. I forbid it.’

Twilight hugged a particularly soft pillow to her chest as she drifted off to sleep. ‘Sorry, Spike.’

Though, once again, Antimony had not explained why. It was one of her more annoying habits, but Twilight suspected this was a special sort of situation. How often did you get to meet somepony who, by all rights, should have died of old age a century ago? Only Celestia, and Celestia was Celestia. The exception to the rule. Of course, then Luna had come along… but how many exceptions could there be? Unless… Arsenic… had somehow become like Luna and Celestia. But that was impossible.

Impossible.

Morning came, and with it breakfast. Antimony was waiting for her on the patio of a voluminous study within the bastion and the two mares shared another light breakfast. On the balcony, the light of a beautiful morning bathed them in a refreshing glow, and Twilight could see across the verdant Prench countryside. Everything was green and alive, the river full of little boats and at least one great ship passing through. Rich orchards dotted the hills with lines of color.

“This is a lovely country,” Twilight felt she had to say or at least share her thoughts. “I’ve never been out here before; there’s so much of Equestria I’ve never seen… except in a book,” she bashfully admitted.

“Kamacite was born in Marestricht,” Antimony said, simply, sipping at a cup of tea. “You have roots here; your blood is from here.” She smiled, very faintly, but honestly. “You will always be welcome here, Twilight Sparkle.”

She then slid a small box across the table, placing it next to a comfit bowl of mixed nuts in caramel. Twilight eyed the box for a moment. It was black lacquer with silver inlay and the picture of a bull and a dragon on the cover. The bull had pierced the dragon’s side with one horn, mortally wounding it – though, the dragon seemed poised to rip the bull open with her claws. All along the edges were more vine-like patterns, and within them, arcane script in the form of worded warding.

“Go ahead and open it,” Antimony said, encouraging. “You will need what is inside.”

Twilight brought the box closer, undid the four brass latches, two on the front and one on each side without a hinge, and opened it. Within was a plain looking set of glasses.

“Glasses?” she asked, and picked the lenses up. They were tinted dark, like old fashioned sunglasses. Holding them up to her eyes, she could see how they made the world look dark and blurred. Why would anypony wear these? Were they really a gift?

“The glasses are for your protection,” Antimony explained, putting down her cup of tea with a faint chime of porcelain on porcelain. “Listen to me carefully, Twilight Sparkle, and remember what I tell you. When you meet our ancestor, you must wear those glasses and keep them on; you must never, never, look Lady Arsenic in the eye. You must not see her face. Do you understand?”

“Keep the glasses on; don’t look her in the eye; don’t look at her face,” Twilight recited, not that she understood why. “But why?”

“You think of our ancestor as a pony, like you or… me,” Antimony replied, and looked off into the countryside. Her perpetually half-lidded eyes narrowed. “She is not. She has become… something else. If you look on her directly and without protection, then you will die.”

“I still don’t understand!” Twilight objected, but Antimony did not explain any more than to repeat her warning. She then drilled Twilight on the appropriate behavior and the other dangers of the upcoming meeting. The studious young unicorn soon lost her appetite.

Before long, it was time.

Dismissing the servants and attendants, Antimony led Twilight down into the heart of the Marestricht Bastion. Through a chamber of painted glass and bright light, past a set of double doors, a wide flight of stairs welcomed them down into the chapel beneath the chapel. The ambiance of the castle changed in a heartbeat, the warm and welcoming Marestricht above giving way to the dungeon-like gloom of the Marestricht below.

It was not just the sudden darkness, either. The stairway down was flanked by carvings of one-eyed bulls and dragons in bas-relief. Even the ceiling was carved, the light from magical orbs – basic enchantments placed on crystal balls – reflecting off of wings and horns and teeth. There were ponies amid the monsters, too: unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies, but they weren’t fleeing from the monsters.

They were hunting them.

At last, the two mares came to a room, a simple waiting room. Twilight watched, entranced, as Antimony shed her clothes and trotted under a grill. Pulling a rope, a torrent of water poured down from above, soaking the noblemare through her coat. Her mane, so often done up in an elaborate style, came apart and fell over her shoulders and neck. Only once she was completely soaked did Antimony release the rope, closing the grill and staunching the flow of water.

“Do I need to do that, too?” Twilight asked, and Antimony shook her head.

“No,” she said, simply. “Follow me.”

Wood and iron doors opened wide, revealing a second chamber, a much larger one, the true Chapel Below the Bastion. Within it, at the very center of it, was a pool of… of some liquid that definitely wasn’t water. Twilight wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Her nose crinkled, smelling sulfur and ash.

The “water” of the pool was a deep red, the color of blood, the pool itself ringed with plain but finely cut stonework. Behind it was another statue, greater than the ones before but covering a similar theme: a bull, a gorgon Twilight realized, locked in combat with a dragon. Just like before, in the box Antimony had given her, the bull here had managed to gore the dragon in her soft underbelly, one terrible horn buried deep into her belly. The dragon, meanwhile, had her tail wrapped around the bull’s neck, her claws ready to strike, and there was already a bloody tear along the gorgon’s side. The hollows of their eyes, dark when the doors first opened, slowly began to glow with a greenish light.

The blood-red water within the pool trickled slowly from the two monsters’ wounds.

To the left and right were rows of seats, like at an amphitheater, and statues of ponies. One of them Twilight recognized as Cruciger, the current head of the Terre Rare family. Wrought in granite, his stern visage was not that of his younger self. He was one eyed, scarred, and just as massive and imposing as Twilight remembered from their duel.

Next to Cruciger was another mare, one Twilight didn’t recognize, and then another. Next to that one was a face she remembered from her textbooks. It was Kamacite. Twilight’s own great grandmother. The long-dead mare was seated, just like she would be on one of the nearby seats overlooking the pool, but in stone and three times her natural height. The statues, Twilight realized, were all the children of Arsenic and the descendants of Bismuth, her eldest daughter.

“What is this place?” Twilight asked, backing up a few steps.

“This is where our Founder sleeps,” Antimony explained, trotting past Twilight and up to the lip of the pool. Raising her head and horn high, the unicorn noblemare began to cast. Pale violet light circled her horn, growing ephemeral as it spread throughout the chapel.

“Thirteen cracks on a black bell. Born under a wandering star. Forsaken right. Thirteen metals. One state. Resolute. Unbending. Unyielding. Unforgiving. Arsenic!

Antimony’s legs tensed as the incantation brought forth the full power of the spell.

“A crying babe. Flightless wings. Iron Words and an Iron Will. Speak and be heard; Hear and be Struck Down. Lick the wounds of the broken mare. Art!”

“Majestic lights pierce dark shadows. Carry with you the burden of ten generations. Revere the weight that crippled you. Exemplary. Unflinching. August!”

‘Three incantations!’

Twilight watched, narrowing her eyes as a blast of magical force pulsed out of the older unicorn. She’d never heard Antimony chant a spell, or even just use the spoken alliteration before. It was reckless for a unicorn with a small magic pool. Chanted spells used the full power of the magic, and if you lacked enough, it took the power it needed from elsewhere.

‘But she’s still chanting! Four?’ Four was her absolute maximum. ‘What is she doing?’

“Memories. Carved in stones, cut into hearts, burned into minds, seared into souls. Ritual and Rite! Captured Chaos. Shadowed King. Blinding Light. Four chains stretched over a corpse…”

Antimony’s magic exploded, and the pool surged up like a tidal wave.

Awakening!

Twilight shielded her face as the torrent of water turned into a twisting serpent. It circled once over the pool, searching for something, before striking with a serpent’s speed. Antimony made no effort to dodge it. One moment, she was standing before the pool – the next, the strange red water engulfed her and dragged down. The Prench noblemare vanished under the water without a sound, and just like that, the magic dissipated and everything still…

“Celestia…!” Twilight gasped, her breath caught in her throat. Had the spell backfired? Had Antimony made some mistake in the incantation?

No.

Twilight saw it then: a bubble, rising up from the center of the red pool. A voice in the back of her mind cried out a warning, and she quickly ducked down and pulled out the pair of glasses Antimony had given her. Slipping them on, the already dim and artificial light of the chapel became even less helpful. Still, she could see the bubble in the pool begin to grow and take form. Something was rising up out of the water.

Was it Antimony?

For a moment, it did look like her.

The figure had a pony’s body, long legs and an aristocratic mare’s snout. It might have been mistaken for Antimony herself… until things grew out of its sides, things that quickly spread out and shook clean. Things that were wings!

Wings?’ Twilight squinted, to try and see more through the blurry glasses.

The wings stretched, so wide they could’ve covered the diameter of the pool itself. Yet that was not even the strangest thing: where a normal mare would have had a mane, this mare had what almost looked like a bed of angry snakes. Two curved protrusions flanked the left and right of her horn, like lesser horns, like bull’s horns pointing backwards. Her wild, serpentine mane snapped and twisted in random directions, every lock of it swirling and coiling in its own direction.

Even though the haze of the glasses, Twilight could see two bright, blazing pinpricks appear on the strange mare’s face. Eyes. By the Princess, Twilight realized, they were this mare’s eyes!

Twilight quickly looked down, focused on her front hooves.

It took every ounce of her willpower to keep her own eyes averted, to keep looking down at the floor. Her ears burned and she heard a soft ‘clop-clop’ as somepony left the pool and trotted up across the stone. Twilight willed herself to stay in place. To keep looking down. To not run. Something inside told her that if she ran now, if she cowered, if she showed any sort of weakness… it wouldn’t just be the end of her quest to learn the secret to five alliteration.

“That smell.”

It was a mare’s voice, like Antimony’s, but with a distorted and deeper version tacked on top. Like one voice shouting over a whisper.

“One of Kamacite’s foals,” the voice said, and Twilight felt somepony’s breath on her neck. “Twilight… Sparkle…”

“You know who I am?” Twilight asked, but kept her eyes downcast.

The clop-clop of hooves hinted that the other mare was walking away.

“This body hides few secrets from me,” the voice answered.

“This body… you mean…” It was obvious, really, but Twilight felt she had to hear it. This magic! What kind of magic was this? She’d never heard of anything like it!

“It is the duty of the successor of the Rare Earths to be my vessel, from time to time, so that I might live again.”

The plainness with which this mare spoke chilled Twilight to the bone. Duty? Was this why the Terre Rare had such strange rites to determine their family head? If they needed to incant the full four-alliterations, well, then it made sense that you’d need a powerful unicorn! And a willing one! Twilight’s mind reeled with the revelation. It was all starting to make sense…!

With a soft ‘clop-clop’ Twilight could feel the presence in front of her again.

“Arsenic,” she whispered, and very nearly looked up at the shadowed mare.

“My child,” Arsenic replied and Twilight shivered involuntarily. This was her great-great grandmother? Or was it just a shade? Just some ghost of memory conjured up by the pool, and Celestia, what was in that foul pool to begin with?

“You have marvelous power,” Arsenic went on to say, complementary. “But the greater the power, the more difficult it is to tame.”

By the Princess, this mare – this thing – was terrifying! But Twilight Sparkle had come this far for a reason. She would not turn back now, not be intimidated, not give up. Countless lives could depend on her learning the secret that only Arsenic could or would share.

“Five alliterations!” Twilight said, raising her eyes, but only enough to be defiant. Not enough to be suicidal. Through the fog of the glasses, she could just make out the horned silhouette of the Iron Duchess. “Teach me!”

She lowered her eyes again.

“Please!”

For a long, heavy few seconds, Arsenic said nothing. Then: “Kamacite came close, once… long ago, when she was young and bold and foalish. I see much of her in you. Every generation after me has failed this lesson, and one after another, I gave up on them. I suffer this ineptitude in Bismuth’s line, for they excel in other pursuits, but I caution you not to disappoint me. Twilight Sparkle.”

Arsenic snorted, and the hairs of Twilight’s neck stood on end.

“I am not kind like Celestia,” Arsenic warned.

“Be as cruel as you have to be,” Twilight answered, closing her eyes and steeling herself for what came next. “I need to learn this! I won’t leave without it! I can’t!”

. . .

Standing at the pinnacle of the Hanging Gardens, Twilight opened her eyes. The first few rays of sunlight were breaking over the horizon and dashing against the growing aggregate of her star field. She narrowed her focus, ordered her thoughts, and channeled her magic. It generally went without saying that the horn was the key to all unicorn spellcraft, but overeager unicorns could burn their horns or damage them through forcing too much magic out all in a rush. Like a magical muscle, it needed to be trained and the natural circulatory pathways harnessed and strengthened. The alternative was like too much pressure behind a poorly constructed dam.

Twilight exhaled, slowly, and felt the physical and mental press of her star field expanding over her forehead. Her mane whipped against her back, but she focused past it. The sharp smell of ozone stung her nose, but she focused past it. Concentration was everything here. Compared to four-allits, a full five alliterations required roughly four times the magic to initiate, equivalent to more than two hundred and fifty basic spells all at once. Exactly when she passed that threshold of latent, malleable, castable mana would be up to experience and intuition.

‘Now,’ she thought, feeling the moment with crystal clarity, like a flicked switch in the back of her brain. ‘There! That’s it!’

All she had to do now was pull off the incantation. Antimony had been right before, too. This was where it got tricky. Just conjuring up the raw magic wasn’t that difficult, not in the grand scheme of things. It was what you did with it and how you survived weaving that last, impossible alliteration.

Looking out over Canterlot, Twilight could see more and more of the city she had spent most of her life in stretch out before her. The sight of it was terrible. The changeling invasion had destroyed so much. She could see the Royal Palace; part of it was charred by fire, the royal gardens and the area near where the wedding had been held were still smoldering. Across the city dozens of great towers had been collapsed, crushing buildings and even entire neighborhoods. Even the Royal Observatory and the College of Magic, the institutional heartbeat of Canterlot, had been ravaged, their great halls of learning laid bare to growing fires, the lives of students and wizards cut short. The loss to Equestria, even if it ended right this instant, would be incalculable.

The upper tier where the nobles had their homes was still being bitterly fought over, which meant that it was also the most heavily damaged by shell and shot, by missile and magic. The central tiers of shops and pavilions, stately boulevards and canals, bridges over the river Serenity that led to the falls, all were smashed and damaged or obscured by choking clouds of black smoke. Closer to the lower wards, she could see the Sky Harbor was dotted by wrecked airships and what looked like the corpse of a colossal Tatzlwurm. This was her city, transformed, destroyed, raped by the changelings, stricken to the very foundations and left to die.

No more.

It ended now.

“Laughing tree and groaning oak. Wild flowers bloom in an untended field. Color. Majesty. Laughter. Smile in the darkness! Risqué!”

The first incantation solidified the spell, drawing on the wellspring and the prepared magic in the star field. Twilight felt it settle firmly around her horn like the loop of a ring.

“Teasing breeze. Swelling updraft. Rising tide. Forceful current. Words spoken cannot be taken back. Fall upon all your victims without distinction! Rampant!”

The second alliteration was heavier than the first, just enough to notice. A second ring of blazing white magic locked in place about Twilight’s lavender horn. Right before her eyes, she could see the dimming field of magic. Had she calculated right? Did she have enough?

Even if she didn’t, it was too late to stop now, anyway.

Setting her hooves in place, she spoke the third alliteration. “Enmity and Justice! Falling star! Twisted knife! Nail this curse upon a thousand walls! Gold. Silver. Brass. Bronze. Return but never Reject. Retaliatory!”

Like a vice, the third alliteration settled down on top of the previous two. Twilight felt the pressure increase on her neck and legs. Her star field was getting dense, and heavy, immensely heavy. But it would pass in a moment. Just a moment. Overhead, the broadcasting and amplification tower atop the Gardens crackled with electric anticipation, the metal reacting to the growing cloud of diffuse magic below.

“Sign of the broken horseshoe. Infant. Grace. Empty. Road. Sign of the broken horn. Bend. Twist. Open. Gate. Sign of the broken wing. Ice. Fire. Breath. Blood! Role!”

The fourth alliteration hit like a truck, far worse than the other three. Twilight lurched forward, nearly falling flat on her face. Teeth clenched, she forced her neck level. The four alliterations were like a burning crown now, covering her horn and sending out licks of white magic that seared her ears and her mane. If it was a crown, it was a damned heavy one. Why hadn’t it lightened up yet? Was something wrong? Or was this normal?

‘Of course, it wouldn’t be like when I cast four alliterations,’ a little voice in the back of her mind noted with dry amusement. The brief lapse in concentration nearly ripped the previous four alliterations free, but Twilight threw her hooves up, physically catching hold of the rings and holding them in place.

‘You’re losing focus,’ the voice chided, and the ring bucked again. Pain shot through Twilight’s front legs. Her hooves were burning.

‘You can’t do it, can you?’ the same voice laughed. ‘You’re going to mess up somehow, just like you always do!’

Crushed by the weight of her own magic, the hair around her hooves catching light, Twilight closed her eyes against the pain. In her mind’s eye, she remembered all the spells she had botched. Celestia had always kindly smiled and assured her she would “get it next time” but every single time, she had run back to her study, read, read and re-read everything to find out where she had gone wrong. Every time she had felt humiliated and ashamed. Somehow, Celestia always being so patient and understanding... just made it harder to bear.

“You’re a genius, Twilie.” Shining Armor tousled her mane affectionately. “The best ever!”

“My daughter, the Princess’ Apprentice?” Her father was looking away, but there was no mistaking his expression for anything but pride. “I always knew she was special.”

“Magic runs in the family, Twilight!” Her mother grinned and kissed her on the horn. “I know you’ll do us proud.”

“Superb work, Miss Sparkle!” “A-plus, I’d expect nothing less from the Princess’ own apprentice.” “You’re such a bookworm, Twilight!” “Look at her, she thinks she’s too good to spent time with us?” A sea of faces raced through her mind, a chorus of praise, honest, sarcastic, hopeful, spiteful. “She is the Princess’ apprentice. She’s special.” “Special?” “You’re not better than me!” “I bet she’ll snap and run off, just like the last one.” “Teacher’s Pet!” “Teacher’s Pet!” Teacher’s PET!”

“The want-it need-it spell!” Twilight heard her own voice amid the crackle and rush of magic. “Works every time!”

‘Not that!’

“I’ve got it! I’ll cast a spell to make them stop eating all the food!”

‘More unintended consequences? That does seem to be a running theme for us, doesn’t it?’

‘No!’ Twilight cried out, banishing the thoughts, the doubts. ‘I know if I screw this up, it’ll be ten times worse than the want-it need-it spell. I know there might be unintended consequences. Guess what? I’m going to do it anyway!’

‘Because you can?’ The smirking voice in her head asked, mockingly.

‘Because...’ Twilight set her forehooves to the ground and tensed her body for the final incantation. The final push. ‘...I’m the only one who can!’

Twilight opened her eyes a crack, and they were pure white.

“Skull and Key, Horn and Hoof. Twist in the Wind, Capture Power!” Twilight said the words without thinking, without memorizing. “Sever. Stitch. Open. Mend!”

Even as she bent the magic to her will, Twilight felt distant, like a spectator to her own body. This was the Secret to the Fifth Alliteration: there was no natural fifth alliteration. All four alliteration spells had an incantation that could be memorized, written down, committed to memory. The fifth alliteration broke all that down. Every mare, everypony, had a different fifth alliteration, unique to how they executed and interpreted the spell. There was just too much magic involved, it couldn’t be tailored to another’s words or spellcraft. It had to fit and it had to be perfect, the first time and every time.

“Endless night! Endless day!” Twilight saw her own body begin to float, the great glittering star field she had conjured crushing down into a fifth and final ring to the crown around her horn. “Endless Twilight!” Her body’s eyes flashed and the world vanished in light. “REVERSAL!

. . .

“I see,” Luna said, simply.

“What in Tartarus?” Applejack cried, shielding her eyes.

“My eyes!” Dash groaned, cyan hooves and both wings crossed protectively over her face.

“Oh dear,” Rarity muttered, pulling a parasol out of nowhere to shield herself behind.

. . .

Alpha Brass laughed, inhaling deeply and welcoming the wave of light and magic as it pulsed through the walls and ceiling above. He spread his legs wide and welcomed it, embraced it, gladly. He had never doubted Twilight Sparkle. He had never doubted that she could pull it off. In a word, it was:

“Spectacular.”

“Indeed,” Eunomie agreed, looking up but closing her eyes as it washed over her.

. . .

“Do you feel that?” Celestia paused and turned around, towards the floating palace in the sky. A great wave of energy had just erupted from it, exploding outwards in all directions like a shockwave. “Could it be… Twilight?”

On her back, Shining Armor murmured something unintelligible.

“Twilight?” “Twilight!” Blueblood and Cadance asked in tandem, the later wounded but still able to move. On Blueblood’s back, Chrysalis was still bound, her horn sealed by Lyra’s celestial lyre and her body wrapped in fiery chains. She growled angrily, her mouth muzzled.

“What about Twilight?” Lyra asked them. She raised a hoof up to her eyes and winced as the light passed through them. “Wait, you mean Twilight Sparkle?

. . .

In an airship over the city, Princess Exuvia frowned as she looked out her cabin window. Not far from the changeling princess, Suri Polomare had leapt under a pile of clothes to hide. Exuvia simply waited, curious and captivated by the ever-expanding mega-spell. In seconds, the wave of magic hit the ship’s shields… and passed through them. It then passed through wood and iron and steel, unhindered, ever expanding.

“What is this?” Exuvia grimaced, her equestrian features crackling and turning into violent static. It stung. It burned! What was this? She’d trained her ability to partially mimic ponies, being the first changeling to “invent” her own persona and appearance by sampling the best of others. Her expertise had grown to the point where she could maintain partial transforms even in her sleep.

How could a spell disrupt that? What was happening?

Exuvia lifted a hoof to her mane. Her white coat was utterly scrambled, revealing the black chitin that was her true color. Her beautiful and unique mane, green with neon highlights, a design she had made from scratch, was in the same state. It was scrambled, and despite concentrating on reassembling the illusion, it wasn’t coming back. Seeing hints of her natural green membrane-mane elicited a deep scowl.

“This,” she realized, turning away from the window, “is not good.”

. . .

“What is that?” Instar glared up at the Matterhorn mountains. There was some sort of bright light.

Was it an explosion?

Some sort of new weapon?

Was it a… spell?

“Princess!” a changeling drone fluttered out of the sky. She pointed across the field, towards the distant hills and forests that surrounded Ponyville. “We have made contact with enemy skirmishers! The army of the Terre Rare is here!”

Up on another hill, the redoubt of the Blueblood Manor still survived – though much of it had been reduced to rubble. The damned White Company and the population of the town had survived and repulsed yet another early morning assault. How was this possible?

“Prepare for battle!” Instar yelled, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Nodding her head, she signaled the standard-bearer to give the sign to march. All across the fields outside Ponyville, squares of changelings formed up in the Equestrian style. Flights of combat changelings took to the skies in practiced formations. Cannons took up positions and began making rangefinding calculations.

“This is it!” Instar’s wings flexed, snapping out proudly. “Time to earn your lovemeal, you maggots of war!”

. . .

That… is one… huge… spell.”

Soarin, as usual, displayed a remarkable gift for understatement.

“That is one Celestia-damned huge spell,” Spitfire agreed and turned to those behind her, waiting in the cloud cover. “Hunker down, Wonderbolts! Prepare for incoming magic!”

They were behind and above the changeling swarm occupying Ponyville, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Behind the Wonderbolts, the Cloudsdale Fifth and Sixth Cavalry, the “Flying Hussars,” were gathered at varying distances away. It was up to the Wonderbolts and their newly promoted Captain to decide when and how to strike. As one, the word rippled through the troops and flyers. Pegasi buried their bodies in protective clouds and waited.

“Spitfire,” Soarin said, chin up as they waited for the burst of magic to reach them.

“Soarin?” Spitfire asked, looking at him. What was he up to?

“If this magic disintegrates us, or turns us into chickens, or melts us into puddles of ink, or turns our insides out, or sends us careening into the upper atmosphere, or anything like that... I just want to say…” He turned to her and smiled, a goofy, confident, and to her annoyance, rather attractive smile.

“What?” she asked, leaning towards him slightly. “What did you want to say?”

He beamed. “Your pumpkin pie always did have too much cinnamon.”

“You idiot!” Spitfire grabbed him by the mane. “We’ve been friends for ten years and those are your last words to me?!”

“No, my last words are ‘I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!’ And ‘hey, ow, my mane!’”

“You…!”

Midway into shaking the life out of her old friend and partner the wave of magic bowled into them. The two Wonderbolts turned towards it just in time to get hit and braced themselves, fully expecting to be knocked backwards… except the wave passed right through them without any physical force. Spitfire felt her skin tingle under her coat, but didn’t think much of it at first.

Heart beating hard in her chest, she turned to check on her subordinates and fellow Wonderbolts. There were a dozen wonderbolts in uniform hanging to the lips of clouds and poking their heads up to look around. The wave was already gone, moving off to more distant lands and skies.

Spitfire tilted her head to the side in confusion. She counted a dozen wonderbolts, looking around, as confounded as she was. Their colors were all right, but there was something really wrong about them. Misty Fly was just the next cloud over, easily recognizable with her cream-yellow wings and two-toned blue mane, but her shape was all wrong. It was almost like she was… but, no, no, that couldn’t be right.

“Dude, I’m a chick.”

Spitfire whirled around and came eye to eye with another mare where her former best friend had once sat. Said ‘chick’ was busy curiously feeling her costume with her hooves. With a deep blue mane and powder blue coat, everything about this strange mare screamed “Soarin” but… but that was just crazy.

“Oh, wow! Check out these lashes!” the mystery mare started to flick her eyelashes with her hoof. “Oh! And I’ve got cute little bangs behind my ears!” She then proceeded to poke and prod her mane. “And what’s this? A curly cue bang right in the front? Hot. Totally hot.” She looked down at herself and started to trot in a circle, like a dog chasing her tail. “Woah, look at that flank! I am smoking hot!”

“You’re a mare,” Spitfire realized, and her hooves flew up to her mouth at the sound of her voice. It was so deep! Was that her?

“Was that me?” she asked, and her hooves brought something else to attention. She had a patch of thick hair on her chin. It felt so scruffy! What the hell was going on? A terrified look downstairs confirmed that her uniform still fit, albeit snugly, over her new equipment.

“I’m a stallion,” she again stated the obvious. Soarin, meanwhile, still seemed to be chasing his flank. Spitfire just sat there, slowly shaking her head in denial. On clouds scattered across the sky, hundreds of pegasi were confused, shocked, some absolutely terrified and some incredulously amused, but all were trying to adapt to their new bodies.

What in the name of harmony was going on?

. . .

“You make the most beautiful Princess, nephew.”

“I know.”

“Can I touch your hair, Blue?”

“No.”

“I’d hit that.”

“Thank you, Miss Heartstrings. I appreciate your candor.”

Blueblood was now a Blue Belle. Lifting a dainty hoof and inadvertently striking a pose in the process, he took a second to pat down his midsection. He felt so thin. It was like two-thirds of his body had just up and vanished. Truly this was magic of the most perverted sort. Probably one of Risqué’s spells. She always had been a legendary perv.

“I feel like I’m about to blow away in a strong breeze,” he grumbled. “How did Fleur survive this long?” He pointed to Cadance. “Or you, for that matter?” The difference between Lady Fleur and the Princess of Love couldn’t be more than a few pounds. “Isn’t this strange?”

“Oh, I do feel quite strange,” Cadance assured him, sitting down on her rump. Her pink-heavy color scheme did not look quite right on a stallion the size and shape of Shining Armor or himself. Reaching up to her still gently curled mane, she seemed to be wrestling with the fact that it was so short while still being so feminine. “Quite strange…”

“I shall be henceforth known as Guy-ra,” Lyra proudly declared, standing on her hind legs and crossing her forelegs. She turned her head just so to flip her short mane in the breeze. A hoof with ample shaggy fetlocks then reached up to stroke her chin. “Actually, no. Call me ‘Harper,’ Mister Harper.”

“I’m male again,” Celestia stated, taking the transformation with regal grace and poise. Though it also helped this had happened less than twenty four hours ago. She looked the exact same then as she did now – though, thankfully, nopony seemed to be drooling at her.

“There can be no doubt,” she continued, casting an eye at the similarly transformed but still unresponsive Shining Armor. “This is Twilight’s spellwork, and by the looks of it, that spell must have had an effective radius of tens of kilometers. Even a fourth alliteration would’ve stopped at the city limits, but it just kept going and going…”

“What are you saying, auntie?” Blueblood asked, and groaned at the sound of his new voice. “I mean, ‘uncle.’”

“Twilight Sparkle may just have cast a five alliteration spell,” she answered, considering the possibility. Her mouth moved as she quietly repeated the word ‘uncle’ to herself and grimaced.

“Nopony in the modern era can use five alliterations,” Blueblood reminded her. A quick look over at Chrysalis brought something else to his attention. “And, would you look at that? Our changeling Queen doesn’t seem to have taken well to Miss Sparkle’s magic.”

Chrysalis was still wrapped up, still securely restrained by Lyra’s celestial empowered magic, but her usual guise – that of Princess Cadance – was fraying violently. It was like pieces of it were trying to rip away from her body. Eventually the changeling Queen cursed into her gag and the entire disguise dropped, leaving her in her natural changeling form.

“I guess it doesn’t… OHHH!” Lyra gasped, clopping her front hooves together as she put an arcane two and two together. “Of course! Changeling spells must have a gender component! If you layer another gender spell on top, make it stick, it’ll scramble their magic!”

She huffed, her cheeks puffing up into a pout.

“It figures Twilight would come up with something like that,” Lyra grumbled. “She always was a gigantic brain stuck in a little pony’s body.”

“More than that, I fear,” Celestia said, softly. She turned to the other alicorn present. “Cadance. You remember when you ascended?”

Cadance nodded, and stood back up. “How could I forget?”

“Do you remember where you went?” Celestia asked.

“It was some sort of… void.” Cadance had some trouble describing it. “I could see distant shapes and there were stars everywhere. And then you appeared and told me I was going to become an alicorn.”

“That was the Empyrean Vault you saw,” Celestia explained, and her stallion-frown was surprisingly imposing and stern. “If Twilight ascended in casting that spell... and she very well may have; the five alliteration version of Risqué’s Number Sixty Three was never actually cast before. It was only a theory. But if she did, then I should have felt it.”

“So she didn’t ascend,” Blueblood reasoned.

“Makes sense,” Cadance agreed. “Still, though… Twilight…”

“You don’t understand,” Celestia interrupted with a very masculine sigh. “The other possibility is that she did ascend and I simply couldn’t feel it. Breaking the Platinum Crown… it did sever my connection to the sun and stars. Am I cut off from the Vault as well?”

Blueblood, Lyra and Cadance all exchanged looks. If Celestia was hoping for an answer from them, she was left disappointed. The four turned their eyes skyward. The fireworks and the light had died down, but the dawn was still fast approaching, for once moving at its own lazy pace. It wouldn’t be long before the changelings moved out again in force.

Celestia shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do here and now. Let us go, and quickly!”

. . .

Rainbow Dash slowly dropped down in front of Rarity, hogging the mirror she had summoned up. Leaning in close, the chromatic ex-mare waggled her eyebrows and smiled at her reflection. She seemed tickled pink, figuratively speaking.

“I look like my dad,” she said, finally, flexing her wings. “Luckily for me, my dad always was popular with the mares. Looking good, Rainbow Blitz, you sexy stallion, you!”

“Rainbow,” Rarity said, gently pushing the well-built pegasus out of the way, “you do realize you just admitted to finding your father attractive.”

“What! No! I didn’t! Gross!” Dash zipped off, protesting loudly. “Gross! Gross! No way!”

“This is absurd,” Rarity stated, staring at her reflection. Oh, she made for a dashing stallion to be sure, with an elegant coiffure and chiseled but delicate features… but it wasn’t her! It wasn’t her at all.

“This is crazy,” Dash declared, landing amid their party with a huff. “What do you think, Applejack?”

“Eyup.”

“Not even funny.”

“It was ah little funny.”

Applejack had grown to almost twice her normal size but didn’t seem upset or worried by any of it. She seemed more concerned with checking out what other ponies looked like and raising a bemused eyebrow at the confusion and chaos in the nearby nobles’ camp. Ponies were in a frenzy, many woken up by their sudden transformation.

“Changeling!” a pony called out. “Alarm! Changeling! Get it!”

“There goes another one,” Luna observed, descending from above on great midnight blue wings. As a stallion, she cut an imposing figure, one even a little terrifying, given her preference for appearing out of or within a swirl of shadows. Her transformation had blessed her with powerful-looking hooves and a muscular barrel chest. Both her mane and tail were the same, peppered with diminished but still visible star-stuff, but narrow and lean.

“This spell has uncovered half a dozen changelings across the Sky Harbor,” she said with a grim flash of her teeth. “From what we have seen, all changelings are affected, their disguises forcefully neutralized. Even the shape-shifters from the other hives are suffering the ill effects. They can no longer hide among us, and their fighting prowess is diminished! Our time to strike is now, when they are most vulnerable!”

“So that’s why Twilight did this?” Dash asked, looking up at the Princess-turned-Prince.

“It was always part of our plan,” Rarity answered for her. “Still, the scale of it… I don’t have words.”

“We do!” Luna shouted, her Royal Canterlot Voice at full blast. “Gird thyselves for battle, my subjects! My nobles! My Friends! This new dawn brings with it the eve of our Victory! We need only reach out and take it!

. . .

“She’s gone,” Chalice said, meaning specifically ‘Twilight Sparkle is gone.’ Like everypony and everything else, she had been transformed, but her male-version was only marginally removed from her normal female self. She-as-he was still petite with her mane still done up in a braided bun. Most of her body was further concealed by a cloak to protect her against the cold wind.

“Yes, she is,” Alpha Brass agreed with his little sister, a pleased grin in place on her face. His transformation had been slimming, but not so much he looked like a fashion model. His legs were long and dainty, his neck as well, and though he had not said as much while everypony else was aping over their new forms, he thought he looked quite a bit like Antimony.

He pointed to the ground beneath the broadcasting antenna. “Look.”

Chalice saw it already: a great white star, burned into the surface of the ground. Scuffing it with her hoof, she realized it wasn’t just etched in - she could feel the texture - some residual magic had permanently warped and stained the concrete. The likeness of Twilight’s cutie mark was remarkable. There could be no mistaking it.

“This is just like back then,” Brass said, unfolding an old, faded newspaper clipping.

The wind kicked up, blowing the golden-coated mare’s mane back, threatening to rip the paper out of Brass’ hooves. Chalice already knew what he was checking. She had seen the picture. It was more than a decade old, a one-off local paper’s report on a mysterious disappearance. A local pegasus filly had vanished after helping the town with a troublesome rogue unicorn.

In the background of the picture was another mark, burned into the ground: a crystal-gem in the shape of a heart with gold filigree. Three days later, Celestia herself had announced to the world that she had discovered a new alicorn, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Very few bothered to connect the dots that connected the missing filly, her case officially ‘solved,’ and the new Princess. None who knew her from back then seemed interested in talking about it. Cadance herself spoke little of it, even to her closest friends.

“Twilight Sparkle has ascended,” Brass wagered, letting go of the newspaper clipping and letting the biting wind carry it off. “Assuming that is the case, she is likely in the court of the Empyrean Vault even as we speak. ...Chalice.”

“Understood, brother.” Chalice lowered her violet eyes. Pale magic began to bubble out of her horn, tainted a moment later by growing pools of starry black. She knew what he wanted her to do. “I will find her.”

“Guide her back to us, Chalice,” Brass ordered, turning to walk back towards the stair well. “Cadance told me that Celestia greeted her when she ascended. Twilight will be alone. See to it that she does not fall prey to the dangers there.”

The small mare turned stallion nodded. “I will bring her back to you, brother.”

“To us, Chalice, to us,” Brass stressed, beginning to descend. “I know you’ll do your best.”

In moments, he was gone.

Alone and mere hooves from where Twilight had just disappeared, Chalice reached deep down and into the well of her magic. There, carved into her heart, was the key. With a metaphysical jolt, she turned it and connected to her partner.

By herself, she was worth little, good for little, thus much had been proven in spectacular fashion in her duel with her sisters. Her poor bodyguard, Virga, had paid the ultimate price for it. So yes, alone, she was weak. But the key, once turned, corrected all her failings. It made her reliable. Father had said that she was unsuited to rule, but Brother said she was the strongest of all his sisters. All she needed was a way to harness and channel that power. All she needed was someone to hold her reins. As always, Brother was right.

‘Sagittarius. I need you.’

Chalice,’ a voice rumbled in her mind, seeped into her soul. ‘Have you come to offer me your flesh?

Blackness invaded her left eye, pushing out the white of the sclera, leaving her pupil to stand out against a field of onyx.

Yes.

Then tell me what you wish done.

. . .

“Risqué’s spell,” Euporie said, looking down at her hooves. Becoming a stallion had caused her to grow half a size. She was tall and well built, muscular, but with the same untamed blue mane. Now she had wild blue fetlocks to match. It was neat, but this was hardly her first time gender-swapping.

The scale of the spell, though?

“Alright, color me impressed! I admit it!” Euporie stamped a hoof in respectful applause. “Now! Time for me to play my part!”

She chuckled darkly and trotted past the shivering golden changeling from before. One of her guards had the creature pinned down, an extra precaution on top of the chains, but with a badly broken jaw Euporie doubted it would be causing much mischief. Besides, just as promised, Twilight’s spell was wreaking havoc on its ability to shapeshift. Likewise, she spared the ponies she had rescued before only a passing glance, just enough to be sure they had all transformed. Euporie Mosaic was not a cautious pony, but there was no harm in keeping a sample population around to make sure things were working as advertised.

“Lady Mosaic!” one of the former captives called out to her.

“What’s going on?” another cried. “My Lady!” “Lady, please, my foals are terrified!” “Shouldn’t we find a place to hide?” “Yes, hide! Good idea!” “Lady!”

“Stay back,” one of her guards growled, and the worried ponies continued to mill around. Euporie scoffed at their helplessness. It was truly pitiful. But that was why she was here.

“Don’t worry, everypony!” she answered the wretched mewling with a great, beaming smile. “Don’t worry! In a few minutes all that bad stuff you’re afraid of will seem as distant as the stars themselves! Trust me!”

Glad to hear something from her, they began to chatter amongst themselves over what she meant. Most seemed to think that she meant that the changelings were all going to leave or that the Princess would come and save them. A few called out to her in thanks. Euporie could almost feel their fear and panic begin to recede, just with a few encouraging words... but words meant little and she had no doubt that the moment a changeling flew overhead they would go back to screaming and panicking.

It was in their nature, and all creatures were slaves to their nature.

“Is it ready?” she asked, and a pair of unicorn mages in crimson robes bowed their heads at her approach.

“It is ready,” the one on the left replied.

“Thirty more seconds perhaps,” the second amended.

“Thirty more seconds isn’t so bad,” Euporie jumped in before they could argue such a minor point. “It looks good. Just like when we used it on Appleoosa. And the anticipation is giving me a nice little tingle.”

Reaching out, she ran a hoof along the surface of the iron edifice. Held within the carefully constructed iron framework was a purple crystal pedestal, all one solid block. The iron twisted and grew around it like tendrils of ivy. It wasn’t quite as fine as the legends said the Crystal Ponies of old could make, but Euporie thought it an elegant synthesis of the ancient and the modern.

Atop the pedestal... floated a crystal prism the color of clearest, flawless glass.

This was The Device. The first functional ‘crystal heart’ in a thousand years. The second one, the Triptych, was larger and even more powerful but this one was still beautiful. Still exceptional. Everypony in Canterlot and the surrounding lands would be within its power... and the Device’s Power was Euporie’s Power!

“I can feel it...!” Her hooves lustfully traced up the framework to hover over the slowly spinning prism. “That’s it, you want it, too, don’t you? Alright. Let’s do it, baby. Let’s do it... one more time.”

Her horn lit up with a dim, ethereal glow, and The Device began to assume the same color. There was no lightshow, like with Twilight Sparkle’s mega-spell. There didn’t need to be. Euporie could see the same glow spread, infectious, contagious, irresistible. She could see it in the eyes of her guards, and in seconds, she could see the glow in the eyes of the feeble ponies she had rescued.

She could see it in how their bodies tensed, their smiles turned into scowls. She could see it in their clenched hooves, their eagerly flapping wings, their horns with magic barely restrained. She could see it in how they looked around at each other, challenging, but just shy of fighting, directing that pent up frustration... that bottled up fear... that repressed rage... all at one convenient target.

Twenty pairs of eyes turned to the wounded changeling in the grass.

And, as promised, their fear and hesitation was long gone.

“My Lady?” the guard holding down the changeling inquired, her eyes glowing a dim red behind her pupils. “Is it time?”

Not bothering to look back, Euporie nodded, and the guard cut the changeling loose and tossed it over to the crowd of former captives. Not long ago, those same captives had cowered as the changelings of the Yellow Hive singled them out like trophies. Now they surrounded the wounded changeling like a pack of slavering wolves.

“You’ll pay for what you did to my wife!” One of the stallions gave in first. A burly earth pony, he jumped at the changeling, batting it with a powerful hoof, his strength even greater than normal.

“You monsters hurt my foal!” An angry mother was next. Her child had a bandage over her side where one of the yellows had ‘marked’ her with a scratch from a feline paw. The filly cheered as her mother hit the changeling next, kicking it with her back legs.

“You’ll pay for this!” another yelled. “That’s right!” “You’ll pay!” “You’ll all pay!”

The changeling was dead before the third pony had his turn and this only seemed to frustrate the angry mob. They didn’t want to kick around a corpse. They wanted their city back. They wanted their homes back. They wanted their lives back.

All they needed was a little push to go get it.

“Incredible,” one of the robed unicorns remaining next to the device commented. Her eyes were glowing, too. “I’d say we’re at two hundred and fifteen percent output compared to the Appleoosa experiment!”

“Two hundred and twenty,” the other unicorn argued.

“You there! Bring out the spears!” one of the guards commanded, cracking open a wooden crate of armor. “Give them whatever they want!”

“Aye!” another guard ripped open a crate, hurling steel-tipped lances onto the grass. “Take back your city, everypony!”

“Take back the city!” “Take back the city!” The crowd cried, scrambling to arm themselves. In the heat of the moment, their eyes aglow, a new chant began to emerge. “Death to the changelings!” “Death to the changelings! “Death to the changelings!”

“Yes.” A wild-eyed earth pony clenched a spear between her teeth.

“Death to the changelings!”

“Yes!” A mother and daughter pulled a pair of wing-blades out of a crate.

“Death to the changelings!”

“YES!” A grim-faced unicorn forced a magic blast out of her horn, warming up for the fight to come.

“Death to the changelings!”

YES!” Euporie started to laugh, reckless and triumphant. “That’s the feeling! That’s the stuff!” She spun around, now utterly enveloped by her magic, bathed in the glow of the prototype crystal heart. “Do you feel that fire in your veins? That’s me! Do you hear that whisper in your ear? That’s me! Do you feel those strings holding you up? That’s me! Come on, everypony!”

Standing in front of the heart, she exulted in the power, in the rush. There was nothing like it!

Let’s get this party started!

- - -

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