> Faultlines
>  by FawkesThePhoney
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Wake Up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Hey, hey, breathe. Hey—look at me. Breathe. In, out, just like that. There. There you go. In. Out. In. Out. Take it easy.” 
“By Celestia….”
“I know. It’s crazy. Keep it together, though. I’ve been there. It gets better, promise.”
“I… I thought this was all some kind of trick… but…”
“Yeah, we all thought that at some point. Heh, I thought Lyra was full of crap the first time she came up to me. And yet, here we are.”
“It’s real…”
“All of it. Welcome back, Caramel.” 
“Thanks, I guess—argh!”
“Hey, take it easy, take it easy. Come on now. Ugh, where’s Redheart when you need her? I’m not cut out for this.”
“It hurts…”
“It’s going to. It’s memory. Memory hurts. Ponies don’t realize how much it hurts; you’d be surprised what some of us have gone through. Lightning Dust has it really bad. Some of the stuff she’s seen…”
“Yeesh. “
“She gets nightmares about it. Nothing important, I’m told. Just shades, you know? Echoes. But sometimes when we’re training she’ll get a look on her face that gives me the shivers.”
“I can imagine.”
“Yeah. She’s out for blood. A bunch of us are.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t feel it?”
“What?”
“In your gut. Stirring. You’re awake now. You know what this world is like, Caramel. And now you know what it could be. Doesn’t that make your stomach churn?”
“…yeah. It does.”
“Exactly.”
“B-but I still don’t know what’s going on! How many of us are there? What are we trying to do? Are the bearers with us?”
“Calm down. You’re fine. Waking up can be quite the adjustment. You’ve already seen pretty much everyone we have. There are a few others that are out on missions, but they should be back within the week. As for the bearers? Great question. No one knows where they are.”
“None of them?”
“None of them. And it’s not for lack of trying. Blueblood’s using what influence he has to track them down. It’s only a matter of time.”
“And then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what happens when we find them?”
“….Then we can finally get started.”
	
> 1. The Six-Pointed Star
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 	
“Good day students,” the pony at the front of the class said. “I trust everyone’s off day was pleasant.” There were nods and affirmations throughout the hall. “Good, good. Now, today we will begin our fourth and final segment of the semester: Theories of Cestel.”
She pushed her lecture desk out of the way and rolled an overhead projector to the middle of the room. The lighter sparked as she lit the view flame. “Now,” she said, closing the blinds so that only the light from the projector lit the wall. “Who can tell me what, exactly, Cestel is?”
A lavender unicorn raised her hoof. “Yes? Eden?”
“Cestel is a large light producing body that hovers above the planet, ma'am. We do not know much else.”
“That’s correct, Eden. We do, in fact, know a great deal about Cestel, but what we do know is dwarfed by what we don’t. Different breeds will call it different things. ‘The Sun' is most commonly preferred in stronger academic discourse, but I will accept names including Lumen, Telu, and Vox. ‘Cestel’ is the most common term used here in the Twin Cities region, however.” She placed a slide onto the projector. It flashed a diagram on the screen of Cestel floating in relation to the earth. “Cestel is ‘anchored’ – although we are unsure of the exact means – to a spot approximately four thousand miles north of here, called the subsolar region. It, and the corresponding antisolar region on the opposite side of the planet, are considered the most inhospitable places on earth.”
A lavender unicorn raised her hoof.
“Yes?” the professor said, “Eden?”
“What is the subsolar region like?”
”Well, Eden, that is a difficult question to answer, since the process of getting there is almost as dangerous as the region itself. First, you would need to travel to Prospolis, no mean feat on its own, considering the lack of viable routes. From there, you would have to venture into the scablands proper, and get around whatever is causing them to flee into our lands. There, our records become sketchy at best, but we know that the scablands become progressively warmer as Cestel rises in the sky above you. And then you reach Tempest.
“Tempest is the great guardian of the subsolar region. A monstrous storm, over one thousand miles in radius, covering the entire top of the world. Tempest swirls around the subsolar region, but once a certain latitude is reached, the air becomes too hot for water to remain liquid, and it is boiled away. The world you would reach if you braved Tempest is a desert, of sorts. The dirt, all organic life and water, blasted away. Cestel high in the sky, watching you as every fragment of your being was boiled away. And there… well, who knows? The subsolar region has never been seen.” 
There was a moment of silence as the students digested her words. A lavender unicorn raised her hoof.
“Just a minute, Eden,” the professor said. “The subsolar region is a bit outside of our jurisdiction. This class involves theories of Cestel, of which there are very few. We will begin with the ancient Ponecians, who worshipped Cestel as a goddess. From there, we will talk about medieval theories of light and the gradual Sagittarian shift to lunar worship. Then, at the dawn of the scientific revolution, we will understand the concept of ‘anchoring’ and will cover several current models, from Cranial’s ‘Pool-Ball’ concept to the more eccentric ‘grounded orbit’ theory—“
There was a tapping on the door. The unicorn trailed off, turning. Outside, a Carmargue unicorn with a fiery red and orange mane was looking at her, tapping on the glass impatiently. “Excuse me, class,” the unicorn said, turning towards the door. “Yes? Come in.”
“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am,” the unicorn said, her face flushed. “I’m with the dean’s office. I need to talk to one of your students. It’s about her grades.”
“Is that so?” the professor asked. Somewhere in the lecture hall, a unicorn began to squirm. “What student?”
“Evenstar Boral, ma’am.”
The squirming intensified. The professor looked back to the room, where a lavender unicorn was doing her best to look inconspicuous. “Ah, Eden? This pony would like to speak with you.”
The unicorn jumped. “I’m sure she would,” the pony, Eden, ground out. “I’ll only be a moment.” She walked as quickly as she could to the door, ignoring the stares of her classmates. She left the room and glared at the unicorn, who was doing her best not to crack up. “For the love of Cestel, Sage! What are you doing?”
“Oh man,” Sage said, grinning at her frustrated friend like a loon. “You should have seen the look on your teacher’s face. ‘The Dean needs you.’ That was priceless!”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“I’ll get there when I get there,” Sage said, waving a hoof in the air. “But that’s not important. Guess what I’ve got!”
“Some kind of anti-authority disorder?”
“No. Well, maybe. But no.” Sage said. She reached into her bag and pulled out two tickets. “Tickets to the exhibit on the pre-Marks!”
Eden stared at the tickets. “You’re joking,” she said.
“Hay no I’m not!” Sage said. Eden snatched the tickets from her.
“These are real,” she said, examining them from every angle, “oh my gosh, how did you get them?”
“I know a guy who knows a guy,” Sage said, waving a hoof.
“Actually, though.”
“My uncle works as a custodian at the center where they’re having it. He was able to get me tickets. And since you’re such a big fan…”
“Oh man oh man oh man,” Eden said. “This is so great! I can’t wait until… wait, was that all you wanted to tell me?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Ugh.” Eden ran a hoof over her face. “Get to class, Sage. We’ll talk later. Drinks?”
“Sure thing. Tap’s place?”
“You know it.” 
“Good stuff.” Sage reached out a hoof and bumped it with Eden’s. She walked down the hall, swishing her tail as she went. 
Eden stood there a moment watching her friend until she went out of sight. She knew that she should go back in as soon as possible. She knew that there was probably going to be a test on the material being covered inside right now. She knew all of this, and she didn’t care.
“The pre-Marks!” she whisper-shouted, clapping her front hooves together. “Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!”
After a few minutes, she had composed herself enough to return to the classroom. Even then, however, as the professor droned on about solar calendars and god empresses of legend, Eden couldn’t bring herself to concentrate. She kept her eyes on the clock, watching as the hour ticked away. When the bell finally rung, she grabbed her bags and dashed out the door. She walked out of the building, standing on the top of the landing, cold wind washing over her.
Eden had lived in Hub City her entire life, and yet sometimes the sky still took her breath away. The explosion of colors, reds and purples and oranges, all lanced across the sky towards the spot where Cestel hid, just beneath the horizon. It was a sight that many a poet and artist had tried to capture, and yet something about its majesty eluded them all. 
Of course, there were some ponies, such as her friend Sage, who seemed to brush it off completely.
“Quit looking at the sky,” Sage’s voice said, snapping Eden out of her reverie. She turned to see her friend walk up. “You’ve seen it a thousand times.” Sage’s hat was askew on her head, and Eden resisted the urge to straighten it.
“Well,” she said, “excuse me for communing with the sublime beauty of the cosmos.”
“You aren’t taking any modernist classes this semester,” Sage said, “so don’t pull that sort of language on me.”
“Ah, yes, of course. The philistine in red.” 
Sage rolled her eyes. “Let’s go,” she said. “We’re going to hit the bar at rush hour as it is.”
"I hear you," Eden said, holding the door open. The par walked out of the Astronomy building and out onto the main quad. Here, the students of the Celestial university were doing their best to lounge after classes, cold weather notwithstanding. Eden didn’t mind, however. She always thought that the spires looked better with snow on them.
She saw a few of their friends through the window of the café and waved. “Looks like Aries has returned from Ridgeback.”
“Hmm?” Sage said, glancing to where Eden was looking. A purple Sagittarian was inside, sipping a cup of something hot and reading a magazine. “Ah yes,” she said. “Reinstalled in his niche in the café, I see.”
“I wonder if the altitude gave him as much trouble as he thought it would,” Eden said.
“Well, it certainly hasn’t hurt his form.”
“…really?”
“What? I’m just saying. The stallion’s a hunk. You know it’s true.”
“Whatever.”
They crossed the quad and began walking down the steps in the front of the university. The Celestial was on a hill in the middle of the city. The upside was that it gave gorgeous views and was quite defensible; in fact some of the oldest buildings had once served as part of a fort. The downside….
“These steps never seem to get easier,” Sage muttered, her breath making fog in the chill air.
“Well, if you went to the gym with me once in a while…”
“Don’t lecture me. You know I don’t trust those things. Damn cud-chewing stallions dropping weights left and right.”
“You’ve just got to hit it when they’re not there; say third rotation or so.”
“But that’s when I’m asleep!”
“Only because your sleep schedule is shot.”
Halfway down the hill, they stopped and turned down a smaller side street. The as they left the main road, the houses became smaller and more cramped, and loomed over the road with ominous intent. After a small walk, they came into a small square. There, on the other side of the square, a sign hung above a brightly lit tavern. Eden could see that it was not cramped yet, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Looks like we beat the rush,” she said.
“Good thing, too,” Sage said. “You were so slow I thought Tap would close before we even got here.”
“Whatever.” Eden pushed the door open. Inside, a scrappy looking earth pony was polishing a glass. He looked up as they walked in.
"Ladies," he said, inclining his head. "What can I do you for?"
"Couple of Ivy Stock Ales, Tap," Sage said. Tap nodded and turned to the back. Eden cast her eyes about the bar. It never failed to impress her just how much seating Tap had managed to squeeze into the place. It was scarcely larger than her apartment, yet sported a full bar, three tables, and even a couple of booths. Most of the tables were filled. 
Tap slid two drinks down the bar. Eden took a sip, enjoying the bite of the fizz. She put the drink down. 
"So," Sage said. 
"So," Eden said.
"Yeah," Sage said. "How were your classes?"
"Not too bad," Eden said. "Started on Cestel in my Mechanics of the Sky class, pretty interesting. Spectrometry was also pretty good. We talked about the aurora. You?”
"Couple of shits tried to get wise to me in Systems of Power and Markets." She snorted. "They're done. Otherwise it wasn't a big day."
"'Get wise,' eh?" Eden grinned. "How so?”
“Didn’t like some red pony making better grades than them.”
Eden’s smile melted off her face. “Aww, hay, Sage. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m used to it by now. They aren’t even original. ‘You sure your red brain can take all of that learning? You’re lucky the Celestial feels bad for ponies like you. Get out of here while you’re ahead, let us blues take care of the intellect.’ As if they were even blue. You Sagittarians are all purple anyway.”
“Not true!” Eden said, sticking a lip out in a mock pout. “Some of us are indigo, or even violet. I have a cousin who’s on the periwinkle side of things as well.”
Sage fixed her a look. Eden's grin faded. "I'm sorry," she said. "Just trying to cheer you up."
"Yeah, well thanks." Sage scowled into her beer. "It's nothing. Ponies like that are always looking elsewhere to justify their inferiority."
They drank their beers in silence. Eden spied an approaching stallion, scarcely old enough to drink, from the look of him. He was eyeing Sage and looking away, doing a little dance in the middle of the floor. She knew what he was considering doing, and she sent out a silent plea for him to reconsider. No such luck. The stallion, gathering what nerves he had, walked up to the bar and sat down, right next to Sage. 
Sage glanced to the side and a predatory grin slid across her features. Eden suddenly felt like finishing her beer in a single gulp, and taking another.	
"I'll take a beer, please," the stallion said, casting a furtive glance at Sage. Eden watched him with pity. 
"Domestic?" Tap said, eyeing the newcomer with a twinkle in his eye. The colt nodded. Tap walked down to where the tap was and filled a mug. As he walked back, he whispered to Eden, "tell your friend that if she drives another of my paying customers away, I'm going to have to start charging her his drinks."
"He'll be fine," Eden said, taking a sip of her own beer, “It’s a… learning opportunity.” 
"Mmm." Tap moved away.
The colt cleared his throat. Sage whipped her head around to face him. "Can I help you?" she said, her voice sickly sweet. 
The colt jumped. "Um, yes," he said, casting his eyes about, "how's it going."
"Oh, you know," Sage said, waving a hoof about, "just trying to relax with my friend here after a long day at school, where my professor tore apart my thesis on how red ponies are still being used as disposable labor by the Hub City government in spite of so-called reforms, and all the while my mother isn't speaking to me again and thinks I'm some sort of harlot, and I’m having some seriously horrible nightmares that are keeping me from sleeping and making me spoil for a fight; and now some colt is trying to hit on me, and he’s picked the worst possible time, because the last thing I even want to think about right now is some crummy Sagittarian pickup line. You?"
"I, ah, um..." the stallion sputtered, looking left and right for help in vain. Tap gave a low chuckle.
"You're in for it now, kid," he said. 
"Well, um... do you... um... well..."
"Beat it," Sage said. The colt bounced off the chair as if repelled. Eden sighed and shook her head. 
"You could stand to be a little nicer, you know," she said.
"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Sage said, taking a dainty sip of her beer. 
"I hope you've got the cash to pay for that, Sage," Tap said as he eyed the abandoned beer. 
Sage sighed. "Here," she said, tossing a few coins onto the table. "Might as well enjoy my spoils." She slid the beer over to her and took a sip. "He doesn’t know a thing about beer. Yeesh."
Eden looked at her drink. “Were you serious about the nightmares?”
“Hmm? Oh.” Sage groaned and took another drink of the beer. “I mean, yeah, sort of.”
“How long have they been going on?”
“I don’t know. A cycle or so. It’s not a big deal.”
Eden shuffled in her seat. Sage looked at the table. 
“I heard you screaming in your sleep the other night,” Eden said.
“You heard…” Sage groaned. “Jeez, I’m sorry, Eden. Wake me up next time.”
“I tried.”
There was silence after that. Sage drank the last of her beer. “Tap, hit me again,” she said. Another drink slid down the table towards her. “Look, I’m really sorry, Eden. I don’t want to interfere with your sleep.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Eden said. “I’m worried about you. Is there something going on I don’t know about?”
“No, okay? It’s just some bad dreams.”
“What are they about?”
“I… I can’t remember,” Sage said, shuffling. “Come on, Eden, let’s talk about something else.”
Eden fixed her with a stare, but didn’t press the issue. “How’s your thesis coming along?”
From the look Sage gave her, Eden guessed that was the last thing she wanted to talk about. “What?” Eden said.
"Didn't you just hear? My advisor tore it up."
"But why?"
Sage shrugged. "It happens. I'm going to need to provide more data. He told me that since I'm red, ponies are going to be looking at this a lot harder than they otherwise would, and calling out the government is never easy at the best of times. Still, though..."
"Sounds like he's looking out for you, though."
"He's trying," Sage said, "but it's complicated. I know he's grilling me harder than he would a Sagittarian, and I know it's for the best, but... sometimes it's just a bit much."
Eden was silent. Sage shifted in her seat. “Let’s talk about something else. This stuff is depressing.”
“No kidding,” Eden said. Behind, she heard the door open and glanced behind her, wondering if it was one of the other regulars. 
A unicorn had entered the bar, a mint colored Dartmoor with a white stripe in her mane. She was holding the door open for two friends, laughing. Eden frowned. Something about her…
"Sage."
"Hmm?" Sage lifted her head from the drink and glanced to where Eden was looking. 
"That mare that just walked in. The Dartmoor. Does she look familiar to you?"
"Hmm," Sage said, squinting her eyes. The unicorn and her friends walked to a booth and sat down. "Nope. Afraid I don't know any of them. Why? Do you?"
"I… think so?" Eden said. "She looks really familiar but I can't place her."
"You have a class with her?”
"No way. Dartmoors are way too rare; I’ve only met like five of them at the school."
"A TA, perhaps?"
"No, don't think so. Maybe she's— oh shoot!" The mint mare in question had looked up and caught Eden's eye. For a moment, the smile on her face seemed frozen, then slowly turned to one of utter shock.
"Head down," Eden hissed. "She sees us!"
"So? She probably thinks you're checking her out."
"What? No! I'm not — ugh, why does it always have to be about pickup with you?"
"Well, maybe if you got yourself a date sometime, I wouldn't be so pushy."
"You're one to talk. The last stallion you were with, Brad, was it? That couldn't have lasted even a cycle."
"It's not my fault I have terrible taste."
"Oh, would you just—"
"Excuse me?" a new voice said. 
Eden whirled around. The mint unicorn was standing right next to her, a strange mix of wariness and incredulity on her face.
"Um, yes? Can I help you?"
The moment she opened her mouth, the unicorn grinned. "It is you," she said.
"Oh, you know her?" Sage said. "Good. It's been driving her nuts."
"I'm sorry," Eden said. "But I can't place you. Have we met?"
"If you're back," the unicorn said, "it means all of you must be back. I didn't believe, almost, but…" she gave a sort of helpless laugh. "Here you are!"
"Yes," Sage said. "Here she is. Are you going to say something real or just keep yammering to yourself?"
For the first time, the unicorn seemed to notice Sage. Eden watched as her expression went back to shock, then to the coldest hate Eden had ever seen. She actually scooted away from the unicorn as best she could.
"What are you doing here?" the unicorn whispered.
"Oh, you know," Sage said, with the faux casual tone that she used when she was mad but trying not to show it. "Just enjoying a drink after class with my best friend. How about you?"
The unicorn looked from Eden back to Sage, her expression of hate changing to a growing horror. "Here," she said quickly, turning her attention back to Eden. "Take this. It's not the best representation, but I didn't exactly expect you would be here."
"Who are you?" Eden said, backing up from the offered piece of paper. "What the hell is going on?"
"My name is Lyra," the unicorn said. "It's not safe to talk about this anymore here." Her eyes flicked back to Sage. "Just take the piece of paper and… and I'll see you later, okay?"
"Um…"
"Thank you," Lyra said, backing up again. "Read the paper. It's all on the paper. I'll explain everything later… Twilight."
"What did you call me?"
But Lyra had already left, walking to the door. The two friends she had come with looked at Eden then back at her friend, who had already left. They got up and followed.
“Well, that was fun,” Sage said. “Tap, you didn’t tell us the racists came in on Mondays.”
“Lyra has always been a model customer,” Tap said, frowning. “If she does that again I won’t be able to welcome her back.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Show ‘em, Tap,” Sage said. “What did she give you anyway, Eden?”
Eden barely acknowledged the question, her eyes on the napkin. On one side was the address for a coffee shop not too far from where they were, with directions and a time to meet. On the other side was a star. Eden blinked at it. It was a six pointed star, purple, darker than her coat, with five smaller stars floating around it. And something about it was calling to her. She felt that something very large and very heavy was flying just inches above her horn, but she could barely sense it. On the bottom of the napkin were two words.
“’Twilight Sparkle?’” Sage read over her shoulder. “What the hay does that mean?”
“I have no idea,” Eden said, slowly putting the napkin into her jacket. 
“Hmm,” Sage said. “Sounds like she’s trying to get you into a Ponzi scheme or something. I’d be careful if I were you.”
“I mean, I’m not going to meet her, Sage,” Eden said. “Not after what she said to you.”
“Well, don’t not go on my account,” Sage said. “She just seems creepy, if you ask me. Also, crazy.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Eden said. 
“Yeah, I’ll bet you would.” Their drinks clanged together and the conversation shifted to warmer places. By the time Eden and Sage returned to campus, both the symbol and the unicorn were far from her mind.
The dorm where the two of them lived was tucked away in a corner of the campus, far from the rowdy main drag. It had the curious tendency to slip past one’s vision without being noticed, perched as it was between the buildings on either side. Eden pushed the key into the lock and opened the door, Sage leaning heavily on her.
“Whoof,” Sage said, slamming down on the couch and grinning at Eden. “I could swear that those Ivy Stock ales are upping the alcohol content. I’m feeling the burn, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t drink five of them, you’d feel just fine,” Eden said, putting her coat on the rack by the door. 
The apartment was well maintained; small notes taped to cabinets and drawers indicating where everything was supposed to go. This was not for the hypothetical visitor’s aid, but rather for Sage; who Eden suspected moved things around just to amuse herself. She opened the cabinet and fixed her eyes on a bowl that had been placed in a spot clearly marked Plates. Her eye twitched.
She closed the door with more force than was necessary and turned instead to the pantry. There, she removed a bundle of carrots and walked back into the living room, enjoying the sweet flavor. Sage looked up from the couch.
“Carrot,” she grunted.
Eden tossed her one. Soon, both ponies munched in silence.
“I can’t believe you got tickets to the pre-Mark exhibit,” Eden said at last.
“Well, us Carmargues have connections, you know. How else did I get a scholarship?”
“Certainly not with your brilliant intellect.”
“You know us Carmargue are too slow to study at the Celestial otherwise!” Sage said. Eden swallowed her carrot and reached for another one. Apparently the day’s confrontation had stung deeper than Sage had let on.
“Just don’t let them get to you,” she said. 
“Easy for you to say,” Sage replied. “You get to be smart, and no one suspects you of anything. Usually.”
“Usually. But the world is full of assholes, as we both know full well. If you spend all your time getting mad at each and every one of them, well…” Eden shrugged. “It’s more effort than they deserve.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time I’m insulted.”
“Look, Sage,” Eden said. “I don’t know what you’re going through. But you are the smartest mare I know, and I don’t say that lightly. Keep your thesis up, keep leaving your classmates in the dust, and they’ll all see too, eventually.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t much care about their opinions, anyway,” Sage said. “But thanks.”
Eden offered her a small smile.
“Now I need to get off to bed,” Sage said. “All work and no sleep makes Sage a dull mare. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Eden said. “I’ll try and get some shuteye myself.” Sage nodded and left the room. Eden stayed on the couch for a little longer, eating the carrots and looking out the window at the red-streaked sky outside. The image that Lyra had drawn her came back to her mind. She fished around in her pocket and pulled out the napkin.
The star was still there, as was the nagging feeling that she was missing something. Eden held it up next to the window, covering the light with the napkin and then removing it.
“Stars and moons and suns,” she murmured. She stayed like that, frozen in place, before abruptly dropping the napkin and going to bed.

That night, she had a dream.
She was standing at the very top of a very high tower atop a mountain so high that she could see for miles and miles and miles. Above her, the sun shone high, but did not feel threatening or bright. It felt… nice. Below, in the city around the tower, ponies bustled from place to place, carrying carts, buying food, and chatting to one another. They were of all colors and races, and covered the city as a giant multicolored tapestry. 
Then the shadows on the ground began to grow. Darker at first, then outwards, stretching from pony to pony, over the fruit of the stalls and the streets. Where the shadows touched, food rotted, buildings crumbled, and the stones cracked and grew grey. 
Above the sun seemed to grow brighter; the air became warm, and the shadows were chased back into the nooks. Then, after a moment, they returned, resolute, creeping into the sunlight, banishing it. The ponies grew angry, they glared at each other and muttered, but the sun shone still brighter and for a moment the shadows faltered.
Eden could feel the heat now; her brow beaded with sweat. Below, the ponies could feel it too, but as they argued the shadows grew again, until they filled the streets and began to creep up the side of the tower. The sun shone brighter and brighter until the air simmered and Eden felt that she had never been so hot in her life. The shadows slowed, but continued, and now Eden could hear something else, whispering, the sounds of words but no actual words to say.
The sun grew brighter and brighter until, with a great roar, the town below erupted in flames. They grew higher, and now the heat came at Eden from above and below, and past the city, the forests burned and the plains burned and the very rocks themselves cracked and shook. The smoke from the town rose up and blocked the sun, and the shadows, now free, grew up and into the tower, the whispering breaking into laughter, thick and cloying as oil. Eden backed up from the window just as they plunged in, filling the room, dripping over paintings and furniture and books. It sensed her, she felt a presence turn towards her. With a final roar of triumph, the shadows pounced.

TWILIGHT!

A piercing scream made Eden shoot up in her bed. She looked wildly around, her blackout curtains dimming the room to utter darkness. She felt her heart beat in her chest. 
The scream came again, and Eden realized it was Sage. She bounded out of bed and into the hall, throwing Sage’s door open so that it slammed against the wall. “Sage!” she shouted. “Sage! It’s a dream! Wake up!”
But the other mare was beyond help. Tears ran down her face as she thrashed in her bed. “Nooooo,” she whimpered, “nooooo, it’s not true! I won’t do it! I won’t! Get out of my head!”
Eden ran to her and tried to shake her awake, but only got a hoof to the face for her trouble. Thinking fast, she ran out of the room and into the bathroom, where she filled a cup of water. She ran back into the room. “Sorry about this, Sage…” she whispered, and threw the water onto the thrashing mare. 
Sage sat bolt upright in bed and fixed Eden with the most chilling glare she had ever seen. It was not annoyance, or even anger. It was hate, cold, aching hate that flowed from her eyes in waves. In that moment, Eden felt that Sage wanted her dead.
She took a step back. “S-sage?”
Sage blinked, and the look faded, replaced by one of mounting horror. “Eden,” she said, drawing a great, shuddering breath. “What—what’s going on?” She shifted in the bed and the water squelched beneath her. “Ugh, why am I all wet? Oh no. I didn’t… I didn’t…”
“Relax,” Eden said. “I just had to pour water on you to wake up. You didn’t pee yourself or anything.”
“Oh man, really?”
“Yup. And I’m not even sorry about it.”
“Oh yeah?” Sage looked at Eden, and a sly grin crept across her face. “Then I’m not sorry about this!” She leapt up, taking her pillow and slamming the soggy article in Eden’s face. Eden went down with a surprised whomp, the water in the pillow soaking her face and mane in an instant.
“Ah, dammit, Sage! Now I’m going to have to dry off too.”
“Serves you right,” Sage said. “Pouring water on a sleeping mare like that.”
“Well, I guess you’re just fine then, if you can go right back to this snark.”
Sage’s smile faltered for a moment, then returned in force. “Get out of here, brainiac,” she said. “Dry off and get yourself some rest.”
“Sure thing. You gonna be okay?”
Sage rolled her eyes. “Yes, mom,” she said. “I’m fine, see? Just a dream, like you said.”
“Okay, then,” Eden said, getting off the bed. She walked to the door. “If there was something really wrong, you’d tell me, right Sage?”
“Hmm? Of course, Eden. You’re my best friend. Why would I keep secrets from you?”
“Well, okay then. You know my door’s always open.”
“Yeesh, I get it Eden. Go take a shower before the smell gets to your head.”
“Right. Bye,” Eden said, leaving. She went to close the door.
“Just, um, Eden? Do you mind keeping the door open? You know, because, um…”
“Yeah, sure,” Eden said, leaving the door open. She walked off to the bathroom to grab a towel. As she was drying off, an image of the six-pointed star flashed into her mind once again. She thought of Lyra and the strange elation on her face when they talked. Somewhere in her brain a connection struggled to be made, but it was not successful and Eden was soon asleep again.
	
> 2. No Rest for the Weary
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A thousand miles away, in a great city that stood on the top of a mountain, in a dingy tavern that clung to the edges of the slums like a barnacle on a ship, a very drunk stallion decided to pick a fight. 
“You looking at me?” he slurred trying to force his body into a fighting pose. The shadowy figure that had so encroached on his personal space did not respond. “I said,” the stallion said, “are you looking at me? Because it sure looks like you’re looking at me.”
“Go home, Rag,” the bartender said.
“Stay out of this, Turm,” Rag slurred. “This is between me and, and… what did you say your name was?”
The figure did not respond.
“I think you’ve spent a bit too much time here, Rag,” the bartender said, “because you’re talking to a coat stand.”
“Eh?” Rag surveyed his opponent again and realized that Turmeric was, in fact, correct. “Ah! My apologies, old friend! I was just leaving as well. Good day to you!” He turned and walked towards the exit, humming the Ridgeback anthem as he went. At the door, he bumped into another patron just entering the door. For a moment, Rag looked like he was going to pick a fight, but then he hugged the figure and stumbled out. Turmeric watched him go and shook his head.
“If I had even the slightest conscience…” he muttered. 
“We both know that’s a foregone conclusion,” the figure said, coming to stand by the bar. “Causten Turmeric, sticking his neck out? I’ll be dead before that happens.” She took of her hood and grinned at him.
She was a stout mare, her yellow-green coat brushed and wiry, flecks of hair sticking up and forming a halo around her ruby eyes. But it was her mane was what drew the most attention. It was dyed grey in four tones, light to dark. Turmeric looked at the newcomer with an expression of shock, a slow grin creeping over his face. “By Elu,” he said, “I haven’t seen you in years, Axel.”
“Yeah, well,” Axel said, “I’ve come up in the world from a shack like this.”
Turmeric grunted. “I’m sure helping the Loosies move goods is quite the step up.”
“It is, actually. But that’s not why I’ve come back.”
“If you’re looking for her, save yourself the trouble.”
“She’s not here, then?”
“Oh, she’s here alright. But she’s not…here, if you know what I mean.”
“She’ll come around. Spec never could resist an adventure.”
“Hey, now,” Turmeric said. “Don’t you break my star customer. If she never comes back, you’ll have cost me quite a penny.”
“Don’t worry, Turm,” Axel said, her eyes flicking to the chromatic mane in the corner, “when I’m through with her, she’ll have more money than you can shake a mug at.”

“What do you have, Umbra?” 
The dark Astral scowled at Spec and laid her cards out on the table. Spec whistled. “Ah, so close, too! Anyone up for another round?”
The other three ponies at the table glared at her. 
“No?” She said, reaching out a hoof to take the pile of sovereigns in the middle of the table. “Then it’s been nice playing with you. Turm! Let’s get some more drinks over here!” Her hoof was stopped as the largest pony at the table pushed it out of the way.
“You’re done here, Spectrum,” he said.
“Dang, Locke, what’s gotten into you?” Spec said, sliding her hoof back to the other side of the table. 
“You’ve been cheating,” Locke said. 
“What? Me? I’m insulted. How could you—“
Umbra pushed Spec, who slid off the table. A flurry of cards fell from various pockets in her jacket. The other three ponies’ expressions darkened.
“Ah, yes, well… would you look at that! I forgot to take these cards out from the other game that I was playing. Definitely didn’t cheat on this one, though.” Underneath her jacket, her wings shifted, locking into the metal blades that were hidden beneath. “That was really clumsy of me.”
“We want our money back,” the third pony, Cyclone, said. 
“Well that’s going to be a problem, seeing as I won it fair and square.” Spec’s wings flexed beneath her coat. The other ponies advanced—
“I’ll take it from here, ladies, stallions,” a new voice said. Spec turned and felt her stomach drop out from shock. A very familiar pony was standing there, older, greyer, but her expression no less fierce.
“Axel!” she sputtered.
“Give them their money, Spec.”
“But—“
“Just do it.”
Spec sighed. “You ponies are lucky I’m feeling generous,” she said, reaching into her jacket and tossing the money on the table. “Next time I won’t be so nice.” 
“All of it, Spectrum.”
“You’re not my mom.” But Spec pulled out a second bag and dropped it on the table. Locke picked the bags up and weighed them. Apparently satisfied, he, Umbra and Cyclone left the table, dropping a couple sovereigns on Turm’s counter as they walked out of the bar. Spec relaxed her wings.
“Never thought I’d see you like this,” Axel said after a few minutes.
Spec’s smile dropped off her face. “Well,” she said. “Not all of us have cushy connections in the upper rim. And who says I don’t like it? These ponies are so easy to trick!”
“The Spectrum I know was honest. Rough around the edges, sure, but honest all the same.”
“I haven’t seen you in seven years, Axel. You have no idea what I’ve been doing.”
“No, but I can guess.”
“Just cut to the chase. What do you want from me?”
“I need in a caravan."
“No.”
“Now hold on, you haven’t even heard the best part.”
“The answer’s no, Axel. And it’s going to stay no. I don’t lead caravans. That was what my dad did. I was only along for the ride. Look elsewhere if you want something like that. In fact, I suspect whoever’s hired you is pretty pissed to have you come down Cliffside and muck around in a shady bar for a mare no one’s heard about.”
“No, in fact. They trust me. And if I say Spectrum Tempest is the best mare for the job, she is.”
Spec rolled her eyes. “The answer is still no.”
“We can pay you. A lot.”
“You think I need money?”
“I think you need something," Axel said. She gestured around the bar. "This isn’t like you at all.”
“Don’t pretend to know me, Axel. You never did, and you never will.”
“But I know enough about you to know that this isn’t what you want in life. This?” She gestured around the dirty bar. “This is pathetic. You were made for so much more than this.”
"Well, I'm glad you think so, Axel. That makes one of us."	
Axel was quiet for a while. She cast her eyes around the old bar, trying to come up with something to say. The place was largely as she remembered it: the old gas lamps on the walls, the sagging ceiling, the sense of age and the smell of rust that permeated the air. She looked at the large, circular table currently occupied by a group of ponies playing cards. An old memory of the crew sprang into her mind: Cesar, his shaggy front drenched in beer, Lex and Capricorn arm wrestling, and Blitz Tempest surveying it all, a proud smile on his face as he watched his team. Axel shook her head.
"I know what you're thinking," she said. "And no. This is not about your father."
"Well, great," Spec said. "It's about the other thing we share in common. Oh wait, there isn't one. My dad's dead, Axel, and whatever you're trying to get out of me went with him. So cut the shit."
"Blitz Tempest was the best of us," Axel said. "But you're better, at least skillwise. You're a prodigy, for Elu's sake. And Blitz or no Blitz, I want that skill on my team."
Spec looked away, scowling. She didn’t need this. Didn’t need her father’s old lieutenant coming back for her. Didn’t need her help.
"You think you know me just because you knew him," she said. "You're wrong."
"This is all beside the point," Axel said. “Big things are coming. Very big things. And I am offering you the chance to be at the center of them.”
Spec fixed her with a long, low glare. “What sort of big things?” she said.
Axel leaned cupping the side of her mouth with a hoof. “Prospolis big,” she said.
Spec blinked, her surly attitude evaporating. “Prospolis?” she hissed. “Are you kidding me? You want—I’ve never been out of the twilight lands! Not, you know, that that means anything.”
“No, of course not,” Axel said. “I’ve been to Prospolis three times in my life, Spectrum. And each time the city changed me completely. The crystals, the broken spires… it’s like nothing else on earth. And I know Blitz would have wanted you to see it.”
“So this is a charity run.”
“No, dammit.” Axel sighed. “Look. I just need	an enforcer. I know you’ve still got the blades. In fact, I’d wager they’re on your back now.” Spec shifted, and a wicked grin lit up Axel’s face. “As I thought. Here’s the deal. The road from Ridgeback to Prospolis is dangerous, more dangerous than it has been any time since either of us has been alive. We need your skill. You won’t have to lead, you won’t even have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to. Just cut things that try to hurt us.”
Spec still didn’t talk, so Axel kept going. “I know you miss it,” she said. “The wild. The country. The trees and the fresh air that doesn’t smell like dung and the streams. I know you miss watching the sun rise.” 
Spec’s ear flicked. She looked out over the room for a long time. At last she raised a hoof. “Hey Turm,” she called out, “can I get a couple of Honeybrew Meads?”
A small grin found its way to Axel's mouth. "Atta girl."
Turmeric brought the glasses over and set them down. They were amber orange, the bubbles sparkling in the dim light. “This isn’t about you,” Spec said.
“Never."
“This isn’t about my father.”
“Of course not.”
“This is about me. And what I want to do.”
Axel raised her glass. “To be honest, Spectrum, you could have done it for your great Aunt Fanny, and I’d still toast.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Spec said, raising her own glass. “No rest for the weary, eh?”
“Or for the wicked.”
The mugs clanged together and they drank.



“Spec, hey, Spectrum. Wake up.”
No. 
“Get your ass up, Spec. I need to clean the table.”
No, she thought again, but this time her mouth moved with sound.
“Goddammit.”
There was a shove, and suddenly Spec’s world was turned on its end. She let out a cry and crashed to the ground, hooves moving frantically as she tried to right herself. This sudden locomotion had an adverse effect on her stomach, and for a moment Spec thought she would be sick. 
“Ah, hell. What happened last night?”
Turmeric chuckled at his wayward patron. “You don’t remember? You took a job,” he said, rubbing a cloth on the table. Spec wondered if he had bothered to actually clean the rag before he used it; the thing was mottled. Then what he said had hit her.
“A job? You don’t—oh, shit. Axel was here, wasn’t she?” Spec brought her hooves to her face. “Dammit, Turm. Don’t let me do that next time.”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just the bartender. Besides, you’ve been patronizing my bar quite enough lately.”
Spec narrowed her eyes. “Careful if you want me to again.”
“Oh, come off it,” Turm said. Spec growled. He knew that there would be no other bar on the cliff that she would go to. “Besides,” he said, “you’d better get going. You’re supposed to meet with your new employer in an hour.”
For a moment, Spec considered panicking again, but instead the news brought her a strange calm. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Okay,” she said, “where?”
“Upper rim.”
Spec’s eyes flew open. “What? Turm goddammit, why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Well, you looked so comfortable there…”
But Spec was already running for the door. Turm watched her go, a slight smile on his face. “Go get ‘em,” he said.
Spec ran through the streets of the crowded lower cliff district. The side of the mountain meant that it was always in shadow, and she stumbled over and around other ponies, grateful that she wasn’t carrying anything valuable. 
She pushed her way onto the main street, where ponies pulled carts of wool and hay over cobblestones, their breath fogging in the cold air. Here, the buildings opened and she could see Ridgeback in all its glory. The buildings rose up and up, spiraling around the mountain. On the dark side, the city sparkled with a million orange torches, so that it looked like the whole mountain was burning from within. 
Spec ran down the street, cursing everyone she could: Axel, for her new job, Turm, for his failure to wake her up, herself, for getting too drunk and not being in as good a shape as she should have been. She bounded over and under carts and raced up the mountain, her eyes on the marble buildings near the top, sparkling in Cestel’s light. 
Axel was pacing in front of the building when Spec reached it, her face slick with sweat and her mane in tatters. She tried not to collapse, keeping her head down as Axel fixed her with a look.
“And here I was thinking you were going to be late.”
“Never… late…just…warmed…up.”
“You’re going to be a mess in there.”
“They’ll…likeit…shows…I’ve….got….better…things…todo.”
“Well, you might not actually be wrong on that one. But come on. They don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“After…you.”
Spec took a few more deep breaths and followed Axel up to the front door. Axel grabbed the knocker and rapped three times. Then she stood back next to the still gasping Spec. “Maybe you’re not cut out for this after all,” she said.
“Screw you…had to run all the…. Way from the bar in… half hour.”
Axel raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she said, “that is pretty impressive.”
“You bet.”
“But try and keep yourself together a little bit. He’s very big on… presentation.”
Just as she said this, the door swung wide to reveal a rather snooty looking Andalusian unicorn with a pencil moustache. “Yes?” he said.
“Axel Cartwright and Spectrum Tempest, here to see the Lord Sterling.”
The Andalusian looked the two of them over, his nostrils flaring at the sound of Spec’s name. “I see,” he said, sucking on the word like it pained him. “And do you have an appointment?”
“Yes,” Axel said, “we’re here about transportation.”
There was another long pause. Spec decided she didn’t like him, especially after the looks the butler was giving her. His eyes fixed on her mane and his nostrils flared again. She was just about to give him a piece of her mind when he spoke again.
“Very well,” he said, “if you could wait in the guest room, this way, I will see if Lord Sterling is ready to receive you.” He opened the door wider, and Spec and Axel walked in. As Spec walked past, there was a lough cough from the butler. Spec looked back to see that Axel was very pointedly wiping her hooves on the mat, fixing her with a stare.
“Oh,” Spec said, trying not to blush. “Right.” She walked back and wiped her feet down. Apparently satisfied, the butler led them to a large, expensive looking room and told them to sit and wait. The moment he was out of the door, Spec stretched back on her chair.
“Dang, Axel,” she said. “You didn’t tell me your new employers were Andalusian. I can’t decide if I want to revel in all this money or if I want to leave and go straight back to Turm’s bar.”
“Hmm,” Axel said. Spec noticed that she was sitting very straight. “Listen, Spec,” she said. “These people aren’t like us. Alabaster Sterling, his customs are… different than what you would be used to. He doesn’t take offense to much, but just keep your manners present.”
“Yeesh, Axel,” Spec said, waving a hoof. “You’re the one that brought me here, remember? Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this.”
As if in answer to her statement, a stallion stepped into the room, crossing the doorway from the foyer into the waiting room. The first thing that Spec noticed was that his right ear was clipped, a wedge of flesh removed from the middle, splitting it into two peaks. His coat was smooth and white as snow, and as it caught the light it seemed to gleam with a multitude of colors.
At the sight of him, Axel scrambled to her hooves. “Lord Sterling,” she said, dipping her head in what was almost a bow. “It is good to see you. I have brought the guide.”
Sterling fixed Spec with a white eyed gaze. She had the feeling of being examined by something that wondered if she would give it indigestion. “Is that so? She looks rather… bedraggled.”
“Hey,” Spec said, examining a hoof, “We don’t all have cushy pads to crash at.”
“I suppose…” Sterling said, narrowing his eyes.
“This is Spectrum Tempest,” Axel said. “We worked together during my caravan days.”
“Indeed?” Sterling said. “That is no small commendation. I seem to remember you speaking of this Tempest in the past, Cartwright?”
Axel coughed. “That was her father, Blitz.”
“I see. Well, it is apparent to me that she shares her father’s blood. You were not exaggerating about the mane. It is most impressive. Tell me, Spectrum, from where do you come by so many colors? Perhaps it is dyed?”
Spec bristled. “No way. I was born like this.”
“Most impressive. We Andalusians put a great deal of stock in blood, Spectrum. Perhaps not in the way you understand it in the twilight lands, with your colors and your breeds, but the net result is the same. And it is clear to me that you have inherited your father’s prowess. But I must ask: where has the daughter of such a great caravaneer been since her father’s death?”
Spec narrowed her eyes. “That’s none of your business,” she said. Axel winced.
A thin smile streaked across Sterling’s face. “Indeed it is not,” he said. “But as it is, you will be entrusted to the two things that are the most precious to me in all the world, and before I agree to such a thing, I would know why you would turn your back on your family name.”
“I didn’t turn my back—“ Spec started, but Axel cut her off.
“After her father’s untimely demise, Spectrum decided that she needed time to collect herself, and to understand why she was in caravanning at all. I am delighted that she has decided to take on her father’s mantle. Blitz was among the best pathfinders on record.”
Alabaster regarded Spec. “Well, it is good to see one of the Astrals understands the ties of blood. But I am not sure if that is enough. I require—”
“Father? You requested my presence?”
Spec turned – and stared. A mare had walked into the room. She was clearly related to Sterling; she shared the same off-white coat and their manes were styled in similar fashion. But while Alabaster’s was a velvet maroon, the new mare’s was a deep violet, shining in the sunlight and twisted into a host of elaborate curls. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds in the light, and she moved with the grace of an actress.
And Spec felt that she had seen the mare before.
“Ah, Ambrosia,” Sterling said. “I am glad you could come. These are the ponies I am hiring to take you and Ivory to Prospolis.” 
“Indeed?” Ambrosia said, fixing the ponies with an interested gaze. When her eyes found Spec’s something flickered within, but her face did not change.
Axel stepped forward. “I am Axel Cartwright, ma’am, and this is my associate, Spectrum Tempest.”
“Good to meet you,” Ambrosia said, dipping into a slight bow. “I am Ambrosia Sterling. You will be taking myself and my sister to Prospolis.”
“Should we choose to hire you,” Sterling said.
“I believe they will do, father,” Ambrosia said. 
Sterling started, the first true emotion that Spec had seen from him. “I do not wish to override you, daughter, but this is a very delicate matter. The road to Prospolis is quite treacherous.”
“Treacherous?” Axel said, snorting. “It’s a nightmare. Ever since the refugees started streaming down from above the horizon it’s been chaos. The area that Prospolis directly controls is shrinking by the quarter turn, and there are a whole lot of ponies that would like to get in on that action. We’ll see raiders, bandits, desperate refugees… I’ve even heard talk of a warlord on the rise. And all of them are going to want to take a bite out of a Ridgeback caravan. You might as well cut them a slice of cake for their trouble. In fact,” she said, scratching her chin, “the more I think about this, the more it sounds like a harebrained scheme if I’ve ever heard one. I might not even want to take this job.”
“The pay is excellent.”
“And also useless if you aren’t alive to use it,” Spec said. “Axel, you remember that bounty hunter, Pike, who thought he could get Cesar?”
Axel snorted, playing her part. “Yup. Turns out some bounties pull out only the desperate or the cocky. The experienced don’t want anything to do with them.”
“It’s like that,” Spec said. “What does your caravan look like? We can bring in… oh, three more ponies on our side.”
“We will have a fully armed caravan.” Sterling said.
“And you will have two dead kids,” Spec said. “We can’t fly Ridgeback colors in the midlands if we want to get through. A few guards is a must, but we can provide them.”
“I will not entrust my daughters to a band entirely of your choosing.”
“Please, father,” Ambrosia said, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “These two seem to know what they are doing.”
“Perhaps a compromise?” Axel said. “We bring two ponies, and you provide two of your finest guards. That gives us a band of eight ponies, large but manageable. Any higher and we tempt fate too much.”
Sterling frowned. “I do not like it,” he said.
“Father, Ivy and I can take care of ourselves,” Ambrosia said. “We are not helpless fillies. And any one of our guards will be quite the match for some bandit rabble.”
Spec snorted but the father and daughter ignored them. Sterling placed a hoof on his daughter’s head. “If this is the path you wish to take, Ambrosia, then I am not the one who will stop you. I merely hope that you understand what you are risking, on top of what this trip will require of you and your sister already.”
“Do not worry about me,” Ambrosia said. She dipped her head to her father and stepped forward. “When can you be ready?” she asked the pair.
“We can be ready in a quarter turn,” Axel said.
Ambrosia shook her head. “Too late,” she said. “We must be long gone by then. A sixteenth at the earliest.”
“A sixteenth? That’s like…” Spec whistled and shook her head. “Fine,” she said. “We can work with that. Axel, I hope you’ve got some ponies in mind.”
“Of course,” Axel said.
“Very well,” Ambrosia said. Then we shall meet at the stables in a sixteenth.”
“We doing this?” Spec said, looking past Ambrosia and to her father. Sterling cleared his throat. 
“This is my daughter’s mission,” he said. “And if she trusts you two, then I will provide my blessing.”
“Good,” Axel said. “Well then, miss Ambrosia, Sterling, we will see you both soon.”
“Indeed,” Sterling said, calling for the butler. Axel and Spec walked out of the house, the butler rather pointedly slamming the door behind them. 
“Well,” Spec said. “You’ve sure gotten us into a hell of a pickle, you know that?”
“Rest easy, Spec,” Axel said. “I’ve got some of the old gang on tap, and we’ll have plenty of time to brief them. “I just hope you’re up for it.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Spec said. She found herself grinning from ear to ear; the familiar feeling of adventure welled up in her chest. “It’ll be good to see some more old faces.”


“Turm!” Cesar called, flagging the Carmague bartender over, “bring us another round, won’t you?”
Turm smirked from the bar. “Just a sec, Cesar.”
Cesar clapped a hoof on the table. “You’ve been slacking, Turm,” he said. “I seem to recall you rushing over whenever Blitz gave the go ahead.”
“Well, maybe you fellas just don’t have Blitz’ charisma.”
“I don’t buy it,” Capricon said in his thick Hub City accent. “Cartwright here has done the impossible.” He gaze flicked to Spec, who was nursing a beer and trying not to admit how much fun she was having. “I never thought I would see you again, Spectrum.”
“And I hoped I’d never see you again, Cap.”
Capricorn snorted, flashing her a grin before his gaze turned to the drinks Turm had brought. 
Cesar and Capricorn were almost as Spec remembered them. Almost. Seven  years older, seven  years wiser, and a few extra grey hairs around their muzzles. Cesar was well into middle age now, but had kept himself in shape and had easily picked Spec up into a bear hug when she greeted him. His green coat was no worse for wear, and he had chopped his blonde mane down almost to the scalp. Capricon had grown as well; the Sagittarian had filled out from when Blitz had first found him in the military. His mane was long, no longer cut short in the Hub City military style. They were the two members of Blitz’s old team that Axel had kept in contact with the most; Abel had settled down with a family and Marlowe had vanished a few years after Blitz’s death. Axel thought he had been killed by raiders, or that some bad deal had finally caught up with him. 
But it was not in the nature of caravaneers to dwell on the past, and a few drinks to the names of their fallen comrades had brought the group up to speed once again. Now they sat, only a few hours before they were too meet the Andalusians, in Turm’s bar once again. 
“Honeybrew mead,” Cesar said, lifting the glass. “You know, I’ve never been able to find this outside of Ridgeback territory.”
“We’ve got the perfect angle. It’s too dark or too light anywhere else,” Axel said.
“I saw some in the annexed regions,” Capricorn said. “Back in my military days.”
“Makes sense,” Cesar said. “That’s Ridgeback land, always has been, should still be.”
“Well, you go and take it after this, hmm?”
“Well, I’d like to see you try and stop me.”
“Is that a threat?”
The two of them grinned and clapped hooves. Axel rolled her eyes at Spec. 
“I can’t believe these were the two you kept up with,” Spec said.
“Yeah, well. They know their stuff.” Axel took a drink. “Or they did. Probably got rusty on me. Had to make sure they’ve still got it.”
Cesar snorted. “I know you just wanted me for my looks, Axel.”
“Believe me, if that’s what I wanted I would have kept on looking.” Axel grinned at Spec. “Let’s hope those Loosies picked out a couple of studs as their guards, eh?”
Capricorn rolled his eyes. “Why would you need them? You’ve got me!” he flashed the pair a dazzling smile, and Spec thought about her younger years, all the… inappropriate thoughts she’d had about Capricorn. She took a drink to hide her blush.
“Cut it out, Cap,” Cesar said. “You’re going to give the lady a nosebleed.”
Spec shoved Cesar and made to throw her drink at Capricorn, who laughed and ducked. Axel took another drink. 
“We should get going after this,” she said. “The walk down the mountain isn’t exactly short.”
“We’ll be fine,” Spec said, eying the full glass of mead in front of her. “It’s not like they can leave without us.”
“No,” Axel said, “but that Alabaster could try something. I don’t like the look of him.”
“His daughter won’t let him,” Spec said.
Axel frowned. “Ambrosia? The pampered mare?”
“Yeah,” Spec said. “I think she’s on the level.”
“But you don’t know her at all,” Axel said. Spec shrugged.
“I’m good at reading people,” she said.
“Since when?”
“Since I had to start cheating at cards,” Spec said. Axel snorted.
Cesar and Capricorn were watching the exchange with interest. “Am I to assume that Ambrosia is the name of our new cargo?”
“One half of it,” Axel said. “Her sister Ivory is coming as well.”
“And they’re Andalusians?” Cesar frowned. “This doesn’t seem right to me.”
“Tell me about it,” Capricorn said. “Andalusians are filthy rich. Well, most of them anyway. If this Alabaster wanted his daughters to get to Prospolis, there are faster and better ways than hiring a caravan.”
“Are you doubting our skills, Capricorn?” Axel said, mock disapproval in her voice.
Capricorn was not fazed. “I’m doubting our ability to be faster than an airship, mostly.”
“Some ponies don’t like airships,” Cesar pointed out. “Too high.”
“Yeah, but we’re from Ridgeback,” Spec said. “How can you not like heights?”
“I don’t like heights,” Axel said. 
“Yeah, well your people are plains ponies,” Capricorn said. “You shouldn't have come to Ridgeback if you didn’t like heights.”
“The Ahkal-Teke,” Axel said, “have been living in the mountains here long before Ridgeback was even an idea in your ancestor’s blue brains. Besides, it’s possible that the Sterlings don’t want it to be so public. It’s hard to be discreet when you’re flying a giant balloon through the sky.”
“Fair point,” Cesar said, chewing the inside of his lip, “but something about this seems… off.”
“Well, we’ll outnumber them,” Spec said. “Or, the guards, at least. If this is some kind of scam, they’re going to have to try a lot harder to pull the wool over our eyes.”
Axel glanced towards the door. “We should get going,” she said. “Turm! Get us the tab, eh?”
“Right, Axel,” Turm said. “Thirty sovereigns.”
“Yeesh, Turm. Were we drinking gold over here?”
“Honeybrew mead isn’t cheap. You each bought four.”
Axel rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s a drop in the bucket compared to what we’re about to make.” She fished out her drawstring and handed over the necessary gold. Spec stood, stretching her wings. Finally.

The Sterlings were waiting for them when they arrived. Ambrosia and Ivory were dressed in what Spec guessed was supposed to be travel ware: tan jackets over a collared shirt and khaki slacks. Ambrosia wore a pair of racing goggles around her neck. She was whispering to her father, who was wearing the same getup as before. The white fur gleamed in the twilight at the base of the mountain. Beside them, standing so still that they could only be guards, were two other Andalusian ponies, a stallion and a mare, their coats as white as the snow on the mountain. The stallion's mane alternated between light and dark blue, accenting his handsome face. He would have been quite intimidating save for a small, goofy smile that broke the tension. The mare was much stricter. Her mane was clipped short, streaks of dark cyan cutting through the base deep purple. She stared straight ahead, so still she could have been bolted into place.
At the sight of the caravan ponies, Alabaster twitched his ear, rising up from beside his daughter and greeting them with a small bow. 
“Welcome, Spectrum, Axel,” he said. “I am pleased to see that you are on time.”
“Of course, Sterling,” Axel said. “Is everything ready for departure?”
“Quite. The wagon has been prepared to your specifications,” Alabaster said.
“And our payment?”
“Here.” Alabaster clicked his mouth, and the pony with the blue mane stepped forward, reaching into his saddlebags to remove a large satchel. “This is the down payment,” Alabaster said. “One thousand sovereigns. The rest is to be paid upon your return.”
“Thank you,” Axel said. “Cesar, can you give us a count?”
Cesar stepped forward and took the satchel from the guard. He opened it and began rifling through the contents, pausing occasionally to weigh the satchel in his hoof. “It’s all here,” he said. 
“Good,” Axel said. “Now, let’s get to it. I assume these are your guards?”
“Quite,” Alabaster said, beckoning to the second guard to join the first. “Allow me to introduce Jade and Noble.” He gestured to the mare and stallion respectively. “They are two of our finest guards, and I feel quite confident in their combat and stealth capabilities.”
“Hmm,” Axel said. “Capricorn? You know defense. How do these ponies look?”
Capricorn made a show of squinting at the guards, who still made no sound. “They seem to be in excellent shape, boss,” he said. “But as for their combat capabilities, well, we’ll have to see on the field.”
“I can assure you that they are exceptionally well trained,” Alabaster said. “All Andalusian guards are taught unarmed combat as well as staff and horseshoe fighting. They are loyal without bounds and will fight to the death to save my daughters.”
“I’m sure,” Axel said, still not sounding entirely convinced. Spec knew better, though: Axel was quite impressed at the physique that she saw here. And if the training rumors of the Andalusians were true, then these two could prove to be quite valuable.
“In any case,” Alabaster said, “I have fulfilled my part of the bargain.” His eyes flicked to the mountain behind them. “I must be leaving now. There are very important matters to attend to, and I must ensure that everything is prepared for when my daughters reach Prospolis.”
At the name of the city, Ivory shut her eyes. Against her better judgment, Spec felt herself feeling sorry for the filly. She was younger than either she or Axel had speculated, old enough for the trip but just barely. Ambrosia seemed to recognize that her sister was tearing up; she placed a hoof on the filly’s head and stroked her hair. Ivy jerked at the contact, then allowed herself to ease into it. Spec frowned at the sight.
Alabaster, seemingly unaware of the emotions his daughters were going through, dipped his head at the ponies and turned to leave.
“Hey wait!” Spec said. Alabaster paused. “You aren’t going to say goodbye to your daughters? Who knows when you’ll see them again?”
“My daughters are strong, Miss Tempest. They will be able to take care of each other. And there is nothing I can say to them that has not already been said. Unlike you, we Andalusians do not believe in redundant words.” With that, he left the stable. The ponies inside were silent as they listened to the sound of his carriage roll away.
“That’s white ponies for you,” Capricorn whispered to Spec. She snickered.
“Well,” Axel said, “What an asshole. But anyway, let’s put that guy behind us. Newcomers and oldcomers alike, welcome to the caravan. I am Axel Cartwright, and I am the leader here. With me are Spectrum Tempest, my second in command—“ Capricorn hid a snort that Axel ignored, “Capricorn Aster, and Cesar. We’re in charge of getting you to Prospolis in a manner that is both fast and safe. However, seeing as both of those together are impossible, I’ll settle for fast.” She flicked her eyes towards the guards, who had not moved since their employer left. “You guys statues or something? You got a voice?”
“If you please, Miss Tempest,” the mare said, “we are guards. Our job is not to speak.”
“Well, it’s going to be your job now, what was it, Jade?” she said. “I don’t like quiet caravans, unless we’re trying to sneak, but we won’t be doing that often and all the rest of the time I like noise. The wilderness gets pretty lonely, and we’re going to need all the voices we can to keep this caravan moving. Got it?”
Noble's smile became a smirk. “Come on, Jade,” he said. “Lighten up a bit.”
Jade shot him a look so sharp it seemed to burn right through his grin and fledgling good mood and shut him up again. “Noble Shield,” she said, “may I remind you of your duties and the reasons you were chosen for this mission? We do not associate with our… guides.” She spit the last word out.
Noble rolled his eyes. “We’re responsible for keeping the Mistresses safe and secure,” he said. “We can do that better if we talk.”
Jade sniffed. “Looking at this lot, I doubt it.”
“Oh boy,” Capricorn muttered. Spec rolled her eyes.
“And how about you two?” Axel said, turning to Ambrosia and Ivory. “Are you two going to give me any trouble?”
“Axel, was it?” Ambrosia said, stepping forward and adopting a winning smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Amber. This is my sister, Ivy. Thank you for accepting this job.”
“That’s more like it,” Axel said, giving the pair a nod of approval. “Good to know you kids have your heads on straight. Let’s keep it civil, and we can have a fast, easy trip.”
Amber smiled, and Spec felt a twinge of recognition once again. “Believe me,” Amber said, “I would like nothing more.”
> 3. The Student's Journal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Honey, come in here!” Leo Boral shouted, his nose buried in the newspaper. “Looks like the Camies are stirring up trouble again. There's talk of a strike in the steel plant.”
“I’m sure it’s not so bad,” Verga said, coming into the room, a hot casserole in her hoof. 
“Not so bad, eh? They're going to want more money again,” Leo said. “Just so long as they don't get the other ones riled up. If there another bus strike and I'm late for work...” he trailed off, grumbling into his newspaper.
“Let me see…” Verga said, placing the casserole down and bending over her husband’s shoulder to read the paper. “There, you see? It's not even that big. And maybe this will get the factory owners to hire some Sagittarians instead, give them jobs. I've heard the market's hard out there for the working class. Eden, would you like some casserole?”
Eden stirred from her funk. “Yeah, mom, that’d be great. Thanks.”
“Oh it’s no problem, dear.” Verga said. “We get to see you so little these days; and goodness knows you could stand to put some meat on your bones!”
“I cook,” Eden said, taking the proffered plate of casserole. “Sometimes.”
“Honey I’ve seen what you and Sage call a kitchen, and it’s not cut out for cooking.” Verga sniffed. “Maybe some noodles.”
Eden elected not to discuss her and Sage’s recent attempts to make noodles. 
Verga cast a sharp look at her husband. “Leo, the food is at the table. The least you can do is put that thing down and eat it while it’s hot!”
Leo grumbled and folded the paper. “Casserole,” he said, taking a plate and piling it up. “Broccoli casserole. My favorite.”
“Hush. Are you a stallion or a colt? Eat your vegetables.”
“Even stallions like cake now and then.”
“You know your doctor wouldn’t allow it.”
“Well, what does he know?”
“A lot more than you, I’d say.”
“Bah!” Leo said, picking at the broccoli. “He’s been treating too many sissies, if you ask me. ‘Sagittarian sensitivity to gluten,’ indeed. Maybe the upper crust thinks themselves too delicate for their own good, but us businessponies have got stomachs like the Camargue.”
“Hush, dear,” Verga said. “You’ll insult some of Eden’s friends.”
“Nonsense, Verga,” Leo said. “She know's I'm just joking. Besides, her friend would probably agree with me. She's a smart one.”
“Her name is Sage, Dad.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Leo said. “Can’t say a Camargue’s company is any worse than some ritzy college folk, and at least she’d be authentic. Say what you will about the Camies, at least they’re honest.”
“Dad....” Eden said sharply, looking up from her food to glare at her father.
“Alright, alright,” Leo said, holding up his hooves. “I know how you get about these things. Don’t want a fight.”
Eden rolled her eyes and returned to her food. The family ate in silence for a while. Eden recalled with dark amusement her early attempts to get Sage to meet her parents. Thank the heavens those plans had never come to fruition."
“So,” Verga said, searching around for a topic to choose, “how are your classes these days?”
“Interesting,” Eden said. “My class on celestial objects has started to cover Cestel, which is something I’ve been waiting for now for a while.”
“Ah, foo on Cestel,” Leo said. “Elu is Hub City’s lady, and always will be. She gives us our calendar, our songs, and is far more interesting to watch than Cestel ever will be.”
“Don’t trample on Eden’s interests, dear.”
“No, mom. It’s okay.”	
“And your thesis?” Leo grunted around a mouth of food. “You still trying to make pegasi fly?”
Eden rolled her eyes. “It’s not an impossible theory, Dad. There is simply no way that Cestel has always been as bright as she is now. The evidence is all wonky; there’s too much archaeological material in the scadlands for it to always have been as inhospitable as it is now, and with the discovery of the pre-Marks, it's all but certain. Now, there are a great deal of details to work out, but a dimmer Cestel is the only way to explain an advanced pony civilization up there.”
“I still don’t—“
“Now I know what you’re thinking: where’s the catch? Unfortunately, there are a few. The biggest detriment to the theory is that Cestel has showed no evidence of dimming since we’ve been able to keep records, in marked contrast to Elu, which is slowing down.”
“Elu—“
“Slowing down so much, in fact, that it’s beginning to play with our historical records. The Ponecians ruled less time than we used to think, because their lunar calendar is based on a cycle only about seventy five percent as long as ours. Of course, the only reason we know this is because we have detected it slowing down as well; in fact the slowing down process is such that we’ve been able to date certain events by comparing their calendar to ours.”
“That’s my girl,” Leo said. “I don’t understand half of what you just said, but I’m proud just the same. And besides, what do I know? I'm just a manager.”
“And you do a good job of it, dear,” Verga said.
“Damn right I do,” Leo said. “But I don’t know anything about this academic stuff, Eden. Just so long as you’re happy.”
“Of course, Dad,” Eden said. 
“Hmm. Pass the butter, will you?”

Sometime later, Eden found herself standing in her old room. Whether from nostalgia or laziness, her parents had neglected to change it much from when she was a child, and she smiled at the little desk and star patterned blankets. 
"Oh, Eden?" her mother called from downstairs, "since you're in there, how about taking that box down from the closet and looking through it? It's got some of your old toys in it, and I'd like to get rid of what you don't want anymore."
"Sure thing, Mom," she called back, walking over to the closet and pulling down a large cardboard box. She dropped it on her bed, where at once it exhaled a large cloud of dust, burning her eyes and bringing a sneeze just to the tip of her nose. She opened the box, revealing a faded collection of toys and games.
The first was a set of old coloring books. When she had been a child, Eden had decided that the specified colors did not properly capture the essence of the animals, and had embarked on a project calculated to bring about a revolution in art culture. Flipping through the books, she was pleased to see that the resultant creations still hurt her eyes. She put them to the side.
Under them was a tattered old stuffed pony. Eden smiled at it. "Smarty Pants," she said, setting the frayed toy on her bed. Until she was eight, Smarty Pants had been her closest companion. He was her most faithful student, trusted friend, and greatest defender. "I'm taking you home with me," she said, before turning back to the box. 
Underneath Smarty Pants was another book, bound in cloth, its cover faded and torn. Eden paused, frowning. She did not remember this particular item. She removed it, waving away a fresh puff of dust. Bearing all the marks of rough use, the book had seen better days. On the front, drawn in what looked to be crayon, was a six-pointed star, five smaller stars surrounding it
Eden blinked at the symbol. She had seen it before, somewhere, but now for the life of her could not remember where. There was a pull to it, an innate feeling of, of something. As if she were passing a home she had forgotten she lived in.
"What is this...?" she murmured, opening to the first page. Scrawled in messy crayon were the words:
This book is the property of Twilight Sparkle
It was her hoofwriting. Eden felt the feeling again, stronger. She began hoofing through the pages. Most of them were pictures with captions, a few journal entries scattered about. "What in the name of Cestel..."
"How's it coming in here, champ?" her mother said, entering the room.
"What's that? Oh, it's coming along, Mom," Eden said, not looking up from the book. "Say, do you know where this came from?"
Verga looked at the book and laughed. I'm surprised you don't remember. It was all you talked about for months."
"What?"
"Twilight Sparkle." Verga shook her head and laughed. "You must have been about five. One morning you came down for breakfast with construction paper star and declared yourself the personal student of a princess."
Now that she was talking about it, Even did remember something of that sort. A hazy memory of her cavorting around the house with Smarty Pants in two returned to her. 
"You came up with all these adventures for you and you imaginary court to go on. You would fight dragons and heal manticores and go to parties. You even went as far as to write letters to your imaginary mentor. I still have them, I think." She shrugged.  "Then the summer ended and you went back to school and that was the last we heard of it. I remember asking you what happened to Twilight, and you said she had gone away again, and that was that."
Eden looked back to the book, turning the pages. Most of them were filled with pictures, some captioned with details of the adventures. Her eyes fell on one depicting a white unicorn surrounded by dogs. Rarity defeats the diamond dogs, read the caption. She squinted at it…
"You mind if I take it home with me, Mom?"
"Sure honey. Oh, and look, it's Smarty Pants!" Verga said, seizing the stuffed animal and squeezing him. "Hmm, looks like he could use a bath, and a few stitches."
"I'm taking him home too."
"Of course, honey. I'll be downstairs if you need anything else, okay?"
"Yeah, Mom."

Later, Eden sat alone in her and Sage's apartment, staring at the journal she held in her lap. She ran a hoof over the cover, trying to remember writing it. Dim memories of her paper crown and scepter floated through her head, and if she concentrated she could almost remember scribbling in this journal with a crayon… but she didn't know if that was an actual memory or just a memory of a memory. She reached back into her coat and pulled out the napkin Lyra had given her the day before.  Holding it up to the journal, she compared the symbol on the napkin with the symbol on the book. There was no doubt; although both of them were imperfect, they were drawings of the same symbol.
She opened the book and read the first page again. "Twilight Sparkle…" she murmured. 
Eden jumped as she heard a scrabbling at the door and a muffled curse. The door opened, and a rather bedraggled Sage walked in, shaking the rain off of her coat. 
"You're back early," Eden said.
Sage’s look was all she needed.
Eden winced. “That bad, huh?”
Sage waved an airy hoof. “No biggie. Just another chump who thought Camargue fur was ‘extra soft,’ if you catch my drift.”
“Asshole.” 
“Yup. How were the folks?”
Eden shrugged. "Same as ever. Getting older, worried about nothing, trying to hook me up with every stallion they meet." She paused. “Racist.”
“Yeah, well. What do you expect?”
Eden shrugged.
"Guess both of our dinners weren't so good. But hey!" Sage took her jacket off and fished around in the pocket, pulling out the tickets. “Pre-Mark exhibit in a quarter!”
“Yup,” Eden said. “It’ll be really good to see if I can cross reference anything there for my thesis.”
Sage frowned, no doubt curious at Eden’s lack of reaction. Her eyes found the journal. “What’s that?”
“Hmm?” Eden said, now flipping through the pages again. “Oh, just something I found at my parents’ house. Apparently I had quite the overactive imagination when I was younger.” She reached the page she’d seen earlier, staring at the white unicorn. On the page after, there were five other ponies that had arrived on the scene, and the first one, Rarity, was lecturing the others. I don’t need to be saved, thank you very much! These darlings are quite nice, once you get to know them! A rather orange pony hissed to the others, I don’t know about y’all, but I reckon Rarity ain't the one we need to be saving! Eden smiled.
“Let me see,” Sage said, reaching out and taking the book from Eden. She flipped through some of the pages. “Wha—‘Fluttershy conquers her fear of flying?’ Sounds like the plot to a fillies’ show, and not a good one at that.” She turned the page to reveal a sketch of a large white alicorn. Deep within Sage's eyes something stirred, and she shut the book with a snap, tossing it back to Eden. “That’s real cute, Eden.”
Eden stuck out her tongue. “You bet,” she said. “I wouldn't have looked at it twice, but…. You remember that weird unicorn yesterday?"
"I'm trying to forget her."
"Yeah, me too. But look at that symbol she drew, and then look at the cover of my book."
Sage squinted at them both. "They're both stars, if that's what you mean."
"No!" Eden said, nearly shouting. "They're almost exactly the same! I've never seen this symbol in my life before, and suddenly it's everywhere. What can it mean?"
"I think it means you need some sleep," Sage said. "You're seeing connections where there are none."
"But—"
"But nothing. What are you talking about, Eden? That some rando you met yesterday and a journal you haven't touched since you were five are related? You realize what that sounds like?"
Eden blinked. "I guess you're right," she said. "But still, it seems like kind of a weird coincidence, doesn't it?"
"Not really. You ever hear of the Baader-Meinhoof Phenomenon? Whenever a pony first learns about something new, they start to see it everywhere. Happens all the time."
"Hmm. I suppose you're right," Eden said, turning back to the book. "It's just a weird feeling I got, like it was calling to me or something. Doesn't that sound strange?"
Sage stared at her. “Well,” she said, standing abruptly. “You know what’s calling to me? My bed. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get some shut eye.” There was a tenseness in her voice that Eden recognized; the nightmares had not gone away.
“Alright, Sage,” Eden said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Right, mom.” But Sage did leave the doorway slightly open. Eden looked at it for a moment, then sighed and went to her own room. There, she opened the book again and turned to the page Sage had stopped at. It was a picture of a large white alicorn, her mane flowing in some invisible breeze. Underneath, in Eden’s child scrawl, read the words “Princess Celestia.” Eden ran a hoof over the picture.
Alicorns, of course, were common in pony myths. In fact, they were one of what Sage would call “universal constants,” pieces of myth and fable that existed in nearly every culture that Hub City historians and archaeologists could determine. There were several white ones as well, but Eden couldn’t remember any of them with the name “Celestia.” It almost sounded like…
“The sun,” she murmured, tracing the mark on the alicorn’s flank. “Ruler of the sun…”
She yawned. Probably time to head to bed herself. Sage was going to bed earlier since the nightmares had started, but the fatigue of the day was getting to Eden, and she had a whole stack of papers to grade tomorrow. Leaving the journal where it was, she trotted over to the blackout curtains and rolled them closed. Before they shut completely, Eden took a moment to look out over Hub City. The ever-red light of Cestel shone across the buildings, and she squinted at the horizon where the tiniest bit of red could be seen. Hub City was well below the horizon, ponies could see well enough and lights kept the streets bright, but the sky itself was dark, only a faint tinge of purple to lighten it. She thought of her dream last night and wondered what it would feel like to have Cestel high in the sky.
Closing the curtains completely, she blew out the candle next to her bed and closed her eyes.


Eden sat bolt upright, something, a deep feeling of wrongness, clutching at her chest. Sage. She threw the covers off and ran out of the room, throwing caution to the winds as she grabbed the bucket by Sage’s door. Again, it was filled with water and again, she threw it on the thrashing form of her friend. But the thrashing was so bad that for a moment Eden didn’t think it would work.
Then Sage shot straight up, arched her back, and opened her mouth in a silent scream. Eden wanted to move, wanted to rush up to comfort her friend, but she was frozen, watching the pony writhe in pure pain. Then, just when Eden thought she could stand it no longer, Sage fell back into bed, coughing.
"I…" she mumbled, stumbling over the words. "I…"
"Sage, what? I'm here, what is it?"
"I think I'm going to be sick."
Eden's eyes widened and she had just enough time to dodge out of the way before Sage bolted out of bed and to the nearby trashcan, where she soon had vomited up the remains of the meal she'd had some hours before. At a loss, Eden could only rub her back and try to be as soothing as possible. She felt quite out of her element.
After what seemed like hours but what perhaps only a few minutes, Sage's retching stopped. She smacked her lips a few times, then spit into the trashcan. She turned, looking at Eden. "Ugh," she said. "Not my idea of a good time. I think I'm going to stay away from oats for a while."
"You think?"
"Yeah. Thanks for the help, I guess. I've got it from here."
"But--"
"I said I've got it, Eden."
Eden shrank back. "Fine," she said, "but we're talking about this tomorrow morning."
"Whatever."
Eden went back to bed, listening to Sage brush her teeth in the other room.

The next morning she cornered her at the coffee table, bearing a mug of ginger tea as a peace offering. "Sage, listen, you need to see a doctor."
“Sage, you’re not fine. You need help, and none of the books I’ve read on emotional support have prepared me for such a role.”
Sage rolled her eyes. “That’s your solution to everything. Books.”
“Well, not this time. You need to see a doctor.”
“I do not!”
“What do you call this, then?” Eden said, gesturing to the empty bedroom. “When’s the last time you got a full session of sleep?” Sage didn’t say anything, so Eden continued. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“Or maybe you just don’t want to be woken up anymore?”
“I don’t—what?” Eden said. “Are you kidding me? I don’t care at all about—how can you say that?”
Sage held her gaze for a moment, then blinked and looked down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was out of line.”
“Forget it,” Eden said. “But you’re not helping your case, Sage. It’s okay to get help, you know?”
“And then what?” Sage hissed. “I’m a red pony. A Camargue. Half the Celestial doesn’t even think my angry, emotion-ruled brain can keep up with the classes I’m taking. I can’t go to a shrink; I might lose my scholarship!”
“It won’t be like that.”
“Will it?” Sage hissed. “What would you know, blue? You’ve been raised here since birth. You blues can do anything you set your mind to. Me? I’ve had to fight for myself all the way from the midlands. I don’t have time for head problems.”
Eden frowned. “I don’t know what it’s like to be a Camargue, Sage, but you’ve got friends here. I won’t let them just take you away, or something. You aren’t making sense.”
“Yeah, well wouldn’t that just be perfect,” Sage said. “The Camargue needs help from her little Sagittarian friends. I don’t need your help, Eden. It’s appreciated, but no.”
“What the hell’s gotten into you, Sage?” Eden said. “I’m worried about you. Nothing else. Sorry your little pride is so stuck that you can’t accept help.”
“Forget it,” Sage muttered. “I didn’t think you’d understand.” She got up from the table and walked into the bathroom. A moment later Eden could hear the sound of the shower starting. She sighed. 
It wasn’t accurate to say that this attitude was not like Sage. It was accurate to say that Eden hadn’t seen this side of her in a long time. When she had first met Sage in her second year of the Celestial, the Camargue had been angry at everyone and everything. Polite, to be sure, but with a simmering sort of anger, and the fact that she was one of the few red ponies in the university (and the only Carmargue) kept most ponies away.
Not Eden, though. She could see that, behind the anger, Sage was a remarkably intelligent pony. Over time, Sage had realized that Eden wasn’t there to make fun of her or to gawk at a red pony playing science, and the two had become friends, so much so that Eden sometimes forgot just how lonely Sage was here. And now she was having nightmares....
She shrugged. There was no talking to Sage when the other mare got like this. She poured cereal into a thermos and left the building. She could study in the library.	

A few hours later, and very little studying had been done. Eden sat in the library café, her books forgotten beside her. In front of her was the journal. Eden knew she should put the thing to the side and work, but something about it was bothering her, a buzzing in her brain that wouldn’t let her leave it alone.
She hoofed through the pages. So far, there was very little in the way of actual writing about what happened. The majority of the pages were drawings, and the little written blurbs were scrawled impatiently, as if the writer couldn’t wait to get the story out and over with. She stopped at one in particular.

Dear Princess Celestia,
Fluttershy made a great breakthrough today. The Cloudsale weather ponies had chosen Ponyville to collect their water, and Rainbow Dash needed everypony she could if they were to beat the record. Fluttershy, however, has a crippling fear of public performance, and for a while it seemed like she wouldn’t be able to overcome her fears and fly in front of ponies. However, when—

“Hey.”
Eden slammed the book shut and whipped her eyes up to find Sage by her table. She looked better, but Eden could still see the stress and fatigue around her eyes. Sage had neglected to apply dye to her face this morning, something Eden could not remember having seen before. “Hey,” she said.
“You mind if I sit down?”
“Please do.” Eden picked up some of the books so that Sage could sit down. “Sorry about the mess.”
“It’s fine, Eden,” Sage said with a small smile. “What are you looking at?”
“Just the journal,” Eden said. She put a hoof on it, flipping the pages again. “You ever think much about the Mark?”
“That’s generally your area.”
“I know not everyone thinks it’s as neat as I do, but… ten thousand years ago ponykind has this great civilization, whose complexity is something we're barely scratching the surface of. Then the pre-Marks are gone and there's nothing but hunter-gatherers for millenia, until the Ponecians show up. And there’s evidence of some great catastrophe, floods, droughts, the earth shaking…”
“Those are just myths.”
“But the histories they’re based on are not. Something happened back then, something big, and sometimes I wonder if we’re still living with the results of that.”
Sage blinked at her. “Eden, you know all this,” she said. “It’s what your paper is supposed to be on. You’re not having second thoughts about it, are you?”
“No no, it’s just…” she rubbed her face, sinking down further in her chair.  “Do you ever get the feeling you’re missing something? Like… like something really big is moving over your head at a really fast speed, and you can feel a little bit of the wind but that’s all?”
“Eden, what are you talking about?”
“I don’t knoooow!” she moaned, drawing the last word out. “I can’t explain it. Just a hunch.”
“Hmm,” Sage said. “Well, I don’t really know what that means.”
“Yeah, I know. Whatever. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Sage said, and it sounded like she meant it. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for this morning. I was a little… out of sorts, I guess.”
“Forget it,” Eden said. “You were under a lot of stress. I don’t know what you’re dreaming about, but it isn’t good, whatever it is.”
Sage was silent for a long time after that. “Well,” she said, “I’m taking your advice. I contacted a shrink. Our first meeting is in an eighth.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Eden said. 
“Just… don’t let it get around too much, okay?”
“Of course not. It’s okay to feel pain, you know.”
“I know, I know,” she said, “but there’s always something like this that happens. I’ve got a lot of ponies watching me. If it looks like I’m stumbling too much, they’ll be all over me.”
"I'll keep your secret, Sage. Don't worry."
"Thanks, Eden." Sage offered her a small smile. "I've got to get back to work. I'll see you back at the apartment, okay?"
"Sure thing," Eden said. Sage nodded and left the room. Eden waited until she was sure Sage had gone, then turned back to the journal. She finished the reading about this 'Fluttershy,' and examined the drawings beneath. 
"What are you doing, Eden…" she murmured, turning the pages. "What are you doing…."
She paused, hoof halfway in the process of turning the page. There, at the bottom, in the background of the sketch, was a pony. Mint green, sitting in an odd way on a park bench. Eden felt her stomach turn over. "Just a coincidence," she muttered. She scanned the text on the page for clues, if any, to the mystery unicorn's identity, but none were to be found.  Eden tapped her hoof on the table, glancing at the clock. She pulled out the napkin, by now quite worse for wear, and looked at the time. Then she looked at the clock again.
"Ah, dammit."


At exactly six hours after the secondary period began, Eden pushed the door to the coffee ship open, checking on the card that it was indeed the same location. It was, and she felt, for the umpteenth time since beginning her walk, that this was a terrible idea. The interior of the shop was dark, dirty, and nearly empty. She walked up to the bar, casting an eye around for any sign of Lyra. 
"Hello," she told the barista. "I would like a small cup of coffee, please."
"Right away," the pony said. "Five caps."
She paid the required amount and sat down at a nearby table. Still no sign of Lyra or anyone else she had been with. She pulled out the napkin once again and checked the location. The time was right. The date was right. She humphed. "Late."
Luckily, she had come prepared. Pulling out an old copy of  Archaeology Monthly, she returned to an earlier article she had been reading about a new dig site deep in the scablands. Unfortunately, activities in the area had been disrupted because of some migration crisis. There were even murmurs of warlords destroying the ancient ruins. Eden snorted. If there was one thing she deplored more than talk of magic and illogical thinking, it was violence. Petty warlords and those who put their quest for power above the noble pursuit of knowledge were, in her opinion among the worst that ponykind had to offer. Why, if it were her up there in the scablands, she'd—
The door opened and Lyra walked in, followed by a rather seedy looking blue pony with a pair of too-small glasses perched upon his face. . He was frowning at her and speaking in a thin whine. "Highly unlikely, Lyra. To say that you found the Twilight Sparkle while drinking at a bar, nonetheless? I cannot believe you talked me into this."
"Relax, Tweed," Lyra said. "I know Twilight. I'm sure it was her. In fact, there she is now!" she pointed at Eden, who was doing her best to remain inconspicuous.
The unicorn's eyes widened at the sight, and he rushed past Lyra and over to Eden. "Incredible! Near hundred percent fidelity, certainly got a few extra passes, boy they didn't skimp on her either. Would conjecture it would be the same with the other elements as well. I wonder-"
"Excuse me," Eden said, pushing the stallion away from her, "but who are you?"
"Of course, still asleep. Apologies, apologies, Miss Twilight, er, what is your name?"
"Evenstar Bor-"
"Incredible! Evenstar, even star, evening star, and what is a sparkle at twilight, I wonder? Incredible fidelity, just incredible."
"Alright, Tweed, let her breathe, yeesh," Lyra said, pulling the overeager Tweed away from Even. "I'm sorry, Evenstar, he can get a little excited at times."
"You don't say?"
"Eh. I see you've already eaten. Can I get you anything else?"
"No I'm fine, thanks."
"Sure thing. Tweed, when you go get your coffee, get me a latte and a roll, will you?"
"Right, Lyra. Excuse me, girls, I'll be right back." He walked over to the counter, muttering about redefining algorithms and proximity functions.
"I'm sorry about him," Lyra said, settling into the chair opposite Eden. "He can get a bit excited at times. He's a real good guy, though, once you get to know him."
"I'm sure," Eden said, shifting in her seat. Now that the meeting was in session, she found that she wasn't at all sure why she had decided to do this. Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Lyra offered her a warm smile. 
"I'm really glad you came. Some of the others didn't believe me, well, you saw Tweed."
"What's his deal, anyway?" 
"Academic at Sanguine University, on the east side. When we found him, he was trying to study the nature of electricity. Apparently he'd given himself quite a few shocks before we were able to get to him."
"'Get to him?'"
"Well, he's with us, now."
"You aren't at all doing a good job of explaining yourself, Lyra," Even said. "Who are you? Who are the 'others?' Why am I here?"
"I'm glad you asked," Tweed said, returning to the table with a pair of cups. He handed one to Lyra and sat down. "I'd try to explain it, but I've been told that I'm not very good with explanations. Too technical."
"Yeah," Lyra said. "She was asking me, anyway. Listen, Evenstar—"
"Eden."
"What?"
"Call me Eden. It's… sort of a nickname."
"Oh, okay." Lyra blinked once before continuing.  "So, well, I don't really know how to explain this; it never gets easier, and with you, well... Alright look," She fixed Evenstar with a stare. "Does the name 'Twilight Sparkle' mean anything to you?"
Eden felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. "How do you know that name?" she whispered.
"Wait," Lyra said, "hold up. You know that name? From where?"
"Have never seen one hundred percent fidelity before," Tweed was muttering, examining Eden like a scientist with a particularly interesting specimen. "Possible residual memory leak? Perhaps a single name will wake her up! Possibilities endless!"
"Tweed," Lyra said, "stop talking. Eden, where do you know that name?"
"Are you stalking me?" Eden said.
Lyra blanched. "What are you talking about?"
"I said, are you stalking me? The star, the name… you're trying to play some sort of weird demented joke on me, aren’t you?" Eden glared at the two, who stared at her, thunderstruck. “Well, I’ve got your number now, and I’ll be reporting this to the police as soon as I get home!”
"Oh dear," Tweed murmured. "Possible name has significance only to her. Disturbed personal memories. Quite unfortunate."
"No— Eden, we haven't been spying on you, I swear!" Lyra said, an edge of panic in her voice. "There is a reason we know that name, but before we go one step further I need to know where you got it from."
Eden looked at her for a long second, weighing her options.
"Please," Lyra said.
A pause. Then Eden reached into her bag and removed the journal, setting it on the table with a slap. "This is mine, but I suspect you know that already."
Lyra had eyes only for the cover. "By Celestia, Tweed. Look! It's her star!"
“That’s right,” Eden said. “It’s my star, and I haven’t used it since I was a filly. So, my question to you, whoever you are, is this: why are you stalking me?”
“Ho boy,” Lyra said, sitting back in her chair and scratching her head. “This is… quite a bit to take in. I’m sorry, Eden. We didn’t expect you to have such a strong association with your cutie mark right off the bat. It’s usually a good way to ease ponies into this.”
“Ease ponies into what?” 
“Your past life.”
Eden blinked, then burst out laughing. “Okay, now I know that you’re pulling my leg.”
Lyra didn’t seem perturbed with this assessment. “I’m sure you think we’re crazy,” she said, “but hear us out. This symbol, the six-pointed star? It’s yours. It was, and is, a marker of who you are.”
“What, like a birth sign or something?”
“Sort of.” Lyra sighed. “This is so frustrating, Tweed! I never know how to get the words right.”
“Quite true, unfortunately,” Tweed said. “Usually ponies are more receptive. Suspect some aspect of Evenstar’s nature, aka Twilight’s nature… hmm. Will need to run tests later.”
“No one’s running tests on me,” Eden growled. “I want you people to start making sense, or I’m going to walk out that door and straight to the police station and give them your names and descriptions as stalkers and scam artists.”
“Okay, look,” Lyra said. “Let’s try this.” She fished around for a pendant around her neck and held it up to Eden. It was an artistic depiction of a lyre. Eden looked at it without comprehension. 
“What am I supposed to be seeing here?”
“This is my cutie mark. It’s a lyre—“
“Like your name?”
“…yes, sort of. But it represents my affinity for music, stringed instruments in particular.”
"So like a personal symbol? Is this a Dartmoor thing?"
"What? No no, um...." She sighed, turning her eyes away from the incredulous look on Eden’s face. “Look, there isn’t really any way to do this other than to just say it. Your name is Evenstar, but once, long ago, before any of us were born, you were Twilight Sparkle, one of the greatest magic users in history and personal student to the ruler of the world, Princess Celestia.”
Eden raised an eyebrow.
“Furthermore, something happened. We’re not sure what, exactly; that’s what Tweed and his team are still trying to figure out. But something happened, and many, many ponies were killed, and finally Celestia and her sister Luna disappeared.”
Eden’s eyebrow rose higher.
“Since that time, no one has been able to move the sun. The land of Equestria, where the sun is frozen over, burned to nothing, while the other side of the world froze into great glaciers. The seas dried up, and ponykind was able to make civilizations in the old seabeds, in the twilight area between the darkness and the light. We’ve been here ever since.
“I come from that time as well. In the past, my name was Lyra Heartstrings, but I was born in this world as a mare named Abbey, here in Hub City nearly twenty years ago. My memories began to return to me in time, and I was found by others. We have a small community now, but we are growing, waiting for the time when the reason for our return is revealed to us.”
At this point, Eden’s eyebrow threatened to rise right off of her head.
“And I think that time is now, and that mare is you. You were the best of us, Twilight. And you can be again. And together, when your memories are restored, we can set the world right and save Equestria!” Lyra finished, her face flushed, looking at Eden in excitement.
“You’re crazy,” Eden said. “Absolutely, completely, unsalavgeably out of your minds. I’ve never seen anything like it. Hay, my mother is a psychologist and I doubt she’s seen this level of delusion. You should be committed.”
“Eden—“
“And I’m out,” Eden said. “If you ever try to contact me again, I’m calling the police. I feel sorry for you now and I’m pretty sure that your delusions are harmless, or I’d call the police now. Goodbye.”
She stood up and began walking to the door. Lyra stood as well. “Wait,” she said, “Twilight—“
“And if you ever call me Twilight Sparkle again, I’ll—“ Eden sputtered around for something to say, “well, it won’t end well for you!”
“Oh dear,” Tweed muttered, “oh dear oh dear oh dear.”
“Tw—er, Eden, please,” Lyra said, putting a hoof on her shoulder.
“Get off me, Lyra, or should I say Abbey,” Eden said, her voice ice cold. Lyra removed the hoof as if stung. Eden turned and walked out the door. She had scarcely gotten more than a few steps before Lyra burst out the door. 
“Just remember this, Eden!” she called. “Don’t trust that pony you were with at the bar! She’s dangerous!”
“Shut up!” Eden shouted back. “Just shut up! You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t get to pick my friends! Stop talking!” she stormed away, leaving a wordless Lyra standing at the door.
Eden fumed all the way home, muttering to herself about crazy ponies and stalking and enormous wastes of time. By the time she got back to the apartment complex, she was so worked up that she had to stop by the front door and compose herself before entering. She’d already decided not to tell Sage, who would just laugh at her naiveté and question why on earth Eden had decided to meet with them.
“Why did I meet with them,” she muttered, fumbling with the key at the door. “Bunch of crazy ponies, magic and princesses and sorcery and junk.”
She swung the door open, still muttering to herself. “I’d like to give them a piece of my mind, sign them up for lessons with mom, that would show them—“
A cold breeze blew through the house, blowing papers off of the table and causing the door to swing around like a ransacked tomb. Eden froze. Sage never opened a window. Never. A low, foreboding feeling began in her gut. “Sage?” she called, moving through the house. “Sage? Where are you?”
She came to the door of Sage’s room, slightly ajar. “Sage?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sage? You’re freaking me out!” She pushed the door open and the feeling of dread exploded into panic. 
The window had been shattered, pieces of glass stuck in the carpet. She could see hoofprints moving around the room. Sage’s desk and her cabinet had been opened, the contents strewn about the room with abandon. And there, lying prone on the floor and not moving, was Eden’s roommate. 
“Sage!” Eden shouted, rushing into the room without care for the glass on the floor. “Sage! Can you hear me? Wake up!”
Sage did not stir, and a trickle of blood dripped down from a gash above her face.
	  
	
> 4. Out from Ridgeback
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Once the caravan had gotten down the mountain, the road from Ridgeback was easier to walk, if less well maintained. Here, the light from Cestel was even fainter than it was on the mountain; the world was dark and somber.
Around them, thick conifer trees grew tall enough to block out the stars, and the company walked in silence though the snowy landscape. They were mostly silent, and Spec kept herself occupied by scouting ahead of the group, keeping an eye out for anything that might cause them trouble. She doubted that they would find bandits or thieves so close to Ridgeback, but it was always best to make sure.
When she had been a filly, Spec’s father had told her stories of the evergreens that surrounded Ridgeback. Ponies would get lost in them and go mad, or worse. Goblins and spirits inhabited them, waiting for just the right moment to snap up a pony and use them for a snack. Spec was too old for such tales now, but they whispered at the corner of her mind just the same, and she found herself prepping her blades more often than she would like.
They met no other travelers on the road; Axel said it was because of the time of the month; Elu was not in the sky to provide extra light, and most journeymares would wait until she was there to show the way. Privately, Spec thought it might also have to do with the new airships that were becoming popular. In any case, the absolute silence around them transferred itself to their own interactions, and any conversation that tried to start quickly died.
After many hours of walking, Axel called the first stop. “We’ll break here,” she said, motioning to a clearing somewhat off the road. “I’ve used it before.”
“Great!” Spec said, dropping her back by the root of a tree. “It’s about time we had some rest. She sat down under the tree, where the needles had blocked most of the snow, and stretched her arms back. The branches above her blocked out most of the sky, but within the tree she could see a whole tiny world. She wondered if little creatures had lived in the tree their whole lives—
“Get out from there, Spectrum,” Axel said. “You need to help set up camp.”
Spec made a face. “Roger boss,” she said, pulling herself out from under the tree. “What do you need me to do?”
“Cesar is getting wood and Capricorn is prepping the fire pit. Set up our tent.”
“On it.”
Spec returned to their bags, pulling out a large canvas tarp. Spying two worthy looking trees, she strung a line between them and set the tarp up, pounding stakes into the frozen ground to keep it taught. When it was finished, she used her wings to brush out as much snow as she could, and set up the team’s array of blankets and bedrolls to cover the floor. The finished product could easily house the four ponies in Axel’s group, and the small space kept as much body heat in as possible. Spec wiped her brow.
“I can’t wait until its warm enough to sleep outside,” she muttered.
She turned to see what the rest of the camp was doing and stopped, staring at the monstrosity that the Andalusians were erecting. It appeared to be a tent, but it was like no tent that Spec had ever seen. The cloth was dyed a faint purple, and little gilded florals and flourishes climbed up the sides. It was enormous, towering over Jade and Noble, who were hammering the last few posts into place. On the side, next to a small fire, Amber and her sister sat on what appeared to be a fold-up couch, watching the proceedings.
“There you go, dears!” Amber said as Noble and Jade finished with the last post. “Wonderful work! Not let’s get these accessories inside and we can call it a night.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jade said. The two guards walked back to where the bags were set in the snow, and moved them inside. Amber and her sister followed next, stepping daintily through the snow before vanishing into the tent.
Cesar walked back out of the woods, carrying an assortment of sticks. He dropped them next to Capricorn, who nodded a grunt of thanks, and came up to sit beside Spec.
“Looks like they’ve got a whole other camp,” he said.
“Yeah,” Spec said. “I don’t like it. Why don’t they just make camp with us?”
“They’re allowed to do that if they wish,” Cesar said. “I don’t know what sort of stories your father used to tell you, but the few times I’ve moved Andalusians they’ve always made separate camp. It’s just their way.”
“I bet Axel loves it.”
“She won’t say anything unless she thinks there’s an actual threat along the way. She’ll probably pull them in at that point, but for now we’re so close to Ridgeback that nothing will happen. Probably.”
“Probably.”
There was the sound of hissing tinder and a whoop. Spec turned to see a small flame rise up from the middle of the fire pit. Capricorn leaned in and began to blow on it, providing smaller sticks when necessary, and soon it was large enough to handle proper firewood. He put a few logs on it and sat back with satisfaction.
“There, my friends,” he said. “Let no one tell you that a city boy can’t make a fire.”
“No one’s calling you a city boy, Cap,” Axel said, walking up and sitting next to the fire.
“Military boy, if anything,” Cesar said.
Axel brought her pack around and began distributing food; dried alfalfa and carrots, with a piece of bread for each pony. It was modest fare but filling, and they munched in silence for a while.
“Hey Capricorn,” Spec said, “you got that string thing on your pack?”
“You mean my lute? Of course.”
“How about playing us a song, then?”
Capricorn was silent for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. “If you can stand my dulcet tones, I would oblige you,” he said at last.
“Capricorn’s been making his coin as a bard,” Cesar said. “I found him the other day trying to woo some lass with his ‘foreign accent and exotic looks.’”
“Which I have both!”
“You aren’t that exotic,” Axel said. “Astrals and Sagittarians are like cousins. Maybe if you were an Andalusian or a Camargue…”
“I said exotic, not alien!” Capricorn said, pulling his lute out of his bag and checking the tuning. “Astral mares love Sagittarians because they’re different, but not too different. It’s all relative. Hmm, a bit out of tune. Hold on…” He fiddled with the knobs at the top of the instrument, his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth in concentration. “Right… right… got it. Here goes:
“The mountain hath turn the dice
And upends their avarice
For told is twixt the hills and clicks
And fight the never ending vice
and tho behold our memory
we dance as though we cannot see
forever I live and never I give
fighting towards the eldest tree”
“Capricorn, what the hell are you singing?”
“I don’t know. It’s a warm-up. Improv singing and the like. The goal is to make the words rhyme, it doesn’t matter much what they are actually saying.”
“Well play something that actually makes sense. I’m not paying you for warm-ups.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
this is a tale as old as time itself
about a mare who left the earthly shelf
she spotted a whale
and went for a sail
braving the oceans for fame and wealth
of the many adventures that she braved
only a few have graced the annals’ page
and of these few
I think it true
the sailor’s birthday speaks best of the age
it was in the summer of here and there
before sea monsters slept in wat’ry dens
a great host was called
and the sailor was hauled
to a party that had been thrown for her
all of the sailors did show up to cheer
the cook, the mate, the brigadier
but all hell broke loose
when they drank too much juice
and realized the captain failed to appear
the sailors ran to the top of the deck
concerned for their leader; they had to check
then the chief gave a groan
when he saw they had blown
far off the course of their planned trek
“i'm afraid it’s far worse than that, old chap”
his friend said as he gave his back a clap
“we’ve wandered too far
and don’t know where we are
and now we’ve crossed off the edge of the map”
The music stopped and the company sat in silence. Capricorn fiddled with his instrument, looking pleased with himself.
“That’s it?” Spec said after she could contain herself no longer. “What happened next?”
“I don’t know,” Capricorn said. “There aren’t any more verses.”
“That’s the end of the poem? That can’t be the end.”
Capricorn shrugged. “Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t write it. It’s just something that was taught to me a long time ago. I’ve never even seen the sea.”
“Yeah, well if you’re a bard, write a new ending!”
Capricorn shrugged. “There are a few other endings, but I don’t like them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they end.”
“Capricorn,” Axel said, “stop philosophizing. You’re going to give Spec a headache.”
“Hey!”
Capricorn raised his hooves. “I like it to end like that. Maybe the sailors just died at sea. Maybe they’re still out there, floating endlessly towards a shore that might not even be there anymore.”
“Maybe you should get some better songs to play,” Spec said.
“We should all get some sleep,” Axel said. “That’s an order. Capricorn, find songs with endings.”
“Right, boss. I know how it is. All art must bend to the patron.”
“That’s right, and I’m patronizing you right now. Get in the tent.”
“That’s not how you’re supposed to use that word.” Capricorn stowed his lyre in his bags and stood up, dusting the snow from his coat.
“Who’s the native speaker here, you or me? I’ll use those words how I damn well please. Get in the tent.”
Spec stood, stretching her hooves and shaking herself to remove the snow. She glanced over towards the other campsite. There appeared to be no movement. She supposed they had already gone to sleep. However, just before she ducked in the tent, the wind blew the campfire in just the right way that she could see Amber, sitting outside in the snow, gazing off into the forest. For some reason this gave Spec the creeps, and she got in the tent and tried to push it from her mind.
In her dreams, she was flying over a green pasture that seemed to have no end. Above her, the sun shone bright, warming the backs of her wings and sending her into a pleasant updraft. Her mane whipped around her head and she let out a wild laugh, daring the elements to test her….
After the crew had slept for eight hours, they were back on the road again. Axel had determined that they were to ride on Ridgeback time, eight hours of rest and twelve hours of activity in a cycle. The Andalusians were most comfortable with that schedule, and since Axel’s crew was fine with a number of different day-lengths, they shifted to whatever made the client most comfortable. Capricorn grumbled some about the “superiority of the three shift system” employed by Hub City, but Axel would not be swayed.
By the end of the second day, Spec was bored stiff. She had forgotten how dull and monotonous caravanning could be. Axel was no help; the pony had matured to become even more professional and less laconic than before, a feat Spec would not have said was possible. Cesar, while friendly enough, never really had much to say, and the Andalusians were a total enigma.
That left Capricorn.
“So Cap,” she said one day, dropping into step next to him. “How’s life been treating you since your caravan days with my dad?”
“Life has been a cruel mistress, as it always is,” Capricorn said. “She does not care for my woes, and the finer, more delicate aspects of my sensibilities are not nourished in her harsh ground.”
“You certainly got better at speaking Ridgetongue,” she said.
“For sooth,” he replied, winking at her. “It turns out that the denizens of Ridgeback taverns respond much better to my songs and stories if they can understand what I’m saying.”
“Who would’ve thought?”
“I know, right? In any case, the life paid the bills.”
“Did you ever try Hub City taverns? Seems like you’d fit in there much better.”
He shook his head. “Hub City doesn’t like taverns,” he said. “The economic machine that we Sagittarians have created doesn’t have a lot of room for vice. Plus it’s just so far. I can’t afford an airship, and crossing the salt flats alone is suicide. I tried for a while to join other caravans, see if I could keep the dream alive. Axel offered me a spot once herself, but…” He shrugged. “It just didn’t feel the same.”
“So why did you get back into this one?”
Capricorn looked away. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Just… felt like it was time to get back on the road.”
Spec didn’t really have anything to say about that, since it was the same sort of feeling that got her off Ridgeback as well. They walked in silence for a while, until Axel called a halt.
In front of them, about one hundred feet away and down a narrow bank, a large river was flowing. It was partially covered in ice, with little ice banks and rocks covered in snow popping up like miniature islands. The Andalusians stopped and stared at it.
“This,” Axel said, “is the Whinnypeake River. It’s the edge of Ridgeback territory. We’ll be in the wilderness proper after this.”
“So soon?” Amber said. “I did not know that Ridgeback had so little land.”
“Hey, we’ve got plenty of land,” Spec said. “It’s just not in this direction. We’ve got the whole mountain range that Ridgeback sits on, for one. All the peaks.”
“Yes, yes, of course. It’s just… surprising.”
“Cesar, you’re up first,” Axel said. “Spec and Capricorn follow. Let’s do this easy, team, single file.”
“What about the ladies?” one of the guards asked. It took Spec a minute to remember his name. Noble.
“What about them?”
“You can’t expect them to walk in that,” Jade said. Axel raised an eyebrow.
“Why not?” she said. “There are plenty more rivers like it where this one comes from.”
Amber was looking at the river with no small amount of nervousness. “It’s alright, dears,” she said to the guards. “We knew that there would have to be some roughing it on this trip, after all. I suppose we all will have to make our sacrifices.”
“Right,” Spec muttered.
The crew crossed the river as Axel instructed, one at a time, in single file. Cesar, the most surefooted of them, went first, followed by Capricorn and Spec, who was able to use her wings to help balance. Following them went Noble, then Amber, her sister riding on her back. Jade and Axel came last.
“That was not so bad,” Amber said. “I had feared the cold would be dreadful.” Her sister said nothing, jumping off Amber’s back and returning to her place under her legs. Spec frowned at the little filly; she’d barely said a word since they left Ridgeback.
“We should get going,” Axel said. “I’d like to put some distance between us and the river. All sorts of things come here for water, and most of them I’d rather not meet.” She glanced at a tree by the bank, where something had torn nearly all of the bark off. It littered the ground around the tree, partially covered with snow.
“Looks like Axel is afraid of a little warg,” Capricorn said.
“Cool it, Capricorn,” Axel said. “I’m afraid of big wargs, and there are plenty around here. We need to keep moving.”
They walked back into the forest again, winding through the dark evergreens. By the time Axel called a stop again, the river was far behind them. Spec dropped her pack with a thump on the hard ground, brushing some snow away and rummaging around for the tent.
“Hold up on the tent,” Axel said. “I’ll take care of it. Help Cesar gather wood for a fire.”
“Roger that, captain.” Spec got up and walked into the woods where she had seen Cesar leave. Here, the evergreens were even more close together than on the path, and they blocked out nearly all light from above. If it weren’t for her trail in the snow behind her, Spec would have feared getting lost.
“Cesar?” she called, her words feeling almost comically small in the darkness. “Cesar? I’m here to help gather wood.”
There was no reply. Spec decided that the best thing to do would be to gather wood herself. She could still have a large amount to bring back, even if she didn’t gather it with Cesar. She began to pick up sticks from the ground, wiping the snow off of them as best she could to keep it from melting down into her back. As she worked, a tune came to her, a memory of a song her father had sung on the trail a long time ago. She hummed it, picking up sticks and putting them on her back.
A snap of a tree branch nearby made her freeze. She flicked her ears, turning a fraction in the direction the sound had come from. Slowly, she placed the bundle of sticks back down on the ground again.
Another snap, slightly closer this time. Spec moved now, slowly, turning towards the noise and bending down into a crouch. Under her jacket, she fitted her wings into the slots on her blades, feeling them snap into place. She bit down on a string by her neck, unclasping her jacket. There were more snaps now, and she could hear the snow crunch beneath something big. With speed that would leave most other ponies in the dust, Spec bounded out from between the trees, crashing through brush and landing on something warm and soft. As she did so, she spread her wings, her jacket coming undone as she pulled the blades into the proper position. She brought them around, so that the tips of the wings were pointed towards her target beneath her, which twitched.
Then two very powerful hooves kicked her in the stomach, and she flew off, using her wings to right herself. She stabbed the right blade into the ground and twirled around it, skidding to a stop, her blades in defensive position. Her opponent had attacked her, which meant that she was going to come again for another strike, and Spec had to be ready. She looked up, blinking the snow out of her eyes, and glared at her opponent.
Then she stopped, staring. Her opponent likewise stopped, the blade that had appeared in her hoof sliding back up her sleeve.
“What the hay are you doing out here?” Spec asked.
“I could ask you the same question,” Amber said.
“I’m out here getting firewood,” Spec said, “You aren’t supposed to leave the campsite. So, again, what are you doing out here?”
Amber brushed off her outfit. “Just looking around,” she said, examining one hoof. “I fear you might have chipped the finish on my hoof.”
“Looking around?” Spec said blinking. She couldn’t believe it. “Why the hay are you looking around? You shouldn’t be going anywhere without an escort.”
“And why is that? It seems from our previous altercation that I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“Doubtful,” Spec said. “We’re getting you back to the campsite. I still don’t know why you wandered off in the first place, but if you get killed on my watch, Axel probably won’t pay me.”
Amber stuck out her lip. “But I’ve only just slipped away! Ivy has drifted to sleep, and those guards outside the front, while they offer lovely company, are a bit too stoic for my tastes.”
“Are you saying you snuck away?”
“I’m saying it can get a little drab back there.” Her large eyes were wide and pleading, but Spec caught a hint of steel deep within them. “And I don’t intend to go on this whole trip coddled like some filly.”
“Well, then,” Spec said, “you’ll have to take that up with Axel, or your guards. Don’t look at me.”
“How about I just accompany you on your little firewood trip?” Amber said. “That’s all.”
“Well…” Spec thought about it, then shook her head. “No way. I’ll get in enough trouble as it is. If you get scratched or something we’re all going to be feeling it.”
“What part of not wanting to be ‘coddled like some filly,’ did you not understand?”
Spec stared at her for a long time. Amber held her gaze without blinking.
“Well, alright,” Spec said at last. “But you’ll have to carry wood also. I’m not just having you tag along and not do anything. Also, have you seen Cesar?”
“You mean the large green stallion that is with your group? I’m afraid I have not.”
“Hmm,” Spec said. “Whatever. He’ll turn back up. He always does. Here, I left my sticks back over there.” Amber followed her as she walked back through the brush. She retrieved her jacket and tucked her wings back under it, detaching the blades and making sure the jacket secured everything. Amber watched this display with interest.
“You are quite good with those things, aren’t you?” she said.
“You kidding?” Spec said. “I’m the best there is.”
“Well, I’m not sure if I can agree with that. The Andalusian wingbladers are quite impressive, and I haven’t really seen you in action just yet…”
Spec looked at her, eyebrow cocked. Then, with a flourish, she spun around tugging the string again to let the jacket fall. Her wings came out, and with expert precision she sliced into a nearby tree, moving so fast her wings were a blur. In seconds she had carved her own name.
Pieces of wood fell to the ground. Spec tucked her wings back under her. “There’s more where that came from too,” she said.
“Hmm, I will admit you seem to know your way around them, but that does not a good fighter make. Perhaps you should spar with Jade some time; I’m sure she would welcome the practice.”
“I’m sure. Grab that branch, by the way. We can break it down back at camp.”
Amber picked it up, breaking it in two and roughly balancing them on her back. “This is more difficult than I would have thought,” she said.
“You’ll get the hang of it. It’s just balancing.”
“Indeed, I just thought—“
Amber was interrupted as a howl sounded out through the forest. Spec’s blood ran cold. She tensed, dropping the wood. Amber looked at her with surprised, and she had just enough time to open her mouth to scream a warning before something enormous crashed through the clearing, throwing them to the side like they weighed nothing. Spec crashed into the side of a tree, the world briefly going white as her head exploded in pain. She pulled herself to her feet, blinking hard to restore her vision.
In the middle of the clearing stood a massive white warg. It stood thrice her size, enormous front paws making it look like a cross between a bear and a wolf. Its back was to Spec, roaring over the prone body of Amber. Spec didn’t stop to think.
“Hey!” she shouted, “get away from her!”
The warg didn’t even glance over his shoulder, and Spec realized it was going in for the kill strike. She tore across the clearing, leaping into the air, her blades at the ready. She landed on the warg’s back, sinking the blades in as deep as she could.
The warg let out a roar and jerked, shaking like a dog to dislodge her. She slipped, coming within inches of its mouth. She leaped out of the way, but one of the warg’s claws was too long, nicking Spec in the side and throwing her momentum off. She crashed to the ground, hot pain lancing up her leg. It was not deep, though, and she dove to the side, missing the warg’s swipe by inches.
It was facing her now, its cold eyes alive with rage. Blood spattered its muzzle and shoulders, although she wasn’t sure how much of it was Cesar’s and how much was its own. She stood, her wounded leg burning, and bared her teeth at the warg.
“You want a piece of me? Come and get it.”
The warg roared and charged, but Spec was too fast. Diving to one side, she missed the claws by inches, driving her right wing into its arm. The momentum picked her up and spun her, her wing burning as it strained in its socket. Spec used the momentum to her advantage, however, holding out her other wing to stabilize her path and swinging around to put herself between Amber and the warg. She glanced behind her and blinked; Amber had vanished.  
In any case, she had more pressing matters.
The back of the warg was slick with blood, but Spec knew better than to think herself the victor. Wounds like that would only enrage a creature of this size, and her blades were simply not strong enough to inflict mortal wounds anywhere but the head and neck. The warg whipped around, and Spec was reminded of just how difficult a challenge that would be.
It began charging again, and Spec readied her blades for another feint. This time, however, the warg was ready for her, opening its claws earlier, too wide for her to block. Its massive paw caught her in the side, and she felt her flank sear with pain as the claws pushed through her skin. The impact sent her flying. She tried to maneuver with her blades but it was no use; she crashed full on into a tree. There was a cracking noise, and she fell to the ground, dazed.
She tried to get up, to ready her blades, to do anything, but her head wouldn’t stop throbbing and she couldn’t see far past her nose. Her side was on fire with pain; she could feel the warm blood running down her side. The warg knew she was down, it took its time walking over. She turned around and pointed the blades at the attacker, but in her state it would do no use. The warg sniffed at her, cocking its head. It raised its hand for the fatal strike.
There was a shout, and suddenly the warg roared, wheeling around again. Spec caught a flash of steel buried in its shoulder, shaped like a diamond. Across the clearing, her mane in a mess and her clothes torn, was Amber. She was holding another steel piece in her mouth, glaring at the beast. Taking the blade and fitting into a specialized slot on her glove, she turned her eyes to Spec.
“Are you all right, darling?”
“I’m managing,” Spec ground out. “Just… um, distract it for a sec, while I get my bearings.”
“Of course,” Amber said. She dove forward, pulling herself into a sort of half cartwheel. Spec saw the flash of steel transfer itself to a spot on her boot and shoot forward, as if shot from a bow, straight into the face of the warg.
The warg reared back, pawing at the wound on its face. The star had struck it on the bridge of its nose, sinking into the skin. It charged at Amber, blood now covering its face, trying to get a lock on her position.
Amber had vanished back into the woods. The warg charged at where she had gone, but it could not find her; it twisted around, roaring at the woods around them. Spec managed to stand, although her back hind leg was not strong enough to put weight on.
“Looks like your toys are fighting back, eh?” she said, trying to draw the warg’s attention again. “Maybe you should just give up, go home. We’re not some casual meal.”
The warg turned back to him with a roar, but Spec was ready. She caught the telltale glimpse of steel out of the corner of her eye. Amber had gotten back into position. Half blinded by blood and rage, the warg charged at Spec again. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to duck fast enough to block it, but that was okay. She had backup.
A third star hissed through the air, burying itself deep in the fatty flesh at the warg’s neck. The warg jerked to the side, throwing its momentum off, running just a little too close to Spec’s right blade. With a yell, Spec jumped, right into the waiting claws. The warg wasn’t prepared, and so it missed its strike, bringing Spec in close. She drove both of her wingblades right into its neck, cutting through skin and muscle.
The warg tried to roar, but it came out as a rasp. Spec detached the blades from her wings, pushing off with her left hind leg. The detachment was sloppy, but she was tired. The warg swiped at where she had been, but came up with nothing but air.
Spec crashed into the snow, skidding for a few feet before stopping. She blinked the sweat and blood from her eyes and readied herself to move again.
She didn’t have to worry.
The warg stood on its hind legs, pawing at the two blades that stuck out like needles in its throat. It gurgled, tried to right itself, to attack Spec again. But instead it fell to the side, crashing into the ground in a great cloud of snow. Spec grinned.
“That’s right,” she rasped. “Don’t mess with Spectrum Tempest.”
There was a scuffle of hooves, and then Amber was at her side. “Your injuries—“ she began, but Spec cut her off. Limping over to the form of the beast, she grasped her blades in her teeth and pulled them out with a squelch. Ignoring the blood, she fit them back onto her wings and gave them a stretch.
"Yeah," she said. "They're going to need a wash."
Amber looked at her. She looked back. A smile cracked her face. 
Then they were both laughing, Spec hunched over, pounding at the ground, Amber higher and more dainty, but full of mirth. Spec’s ribs hurt but she didn’t care. Something about the scene, about fighting alongside this pony, felt so right. 
“Don’t think you’ll be able to pull a stunt like this again,” she said, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. “I doubt Jade and that stallion are going to let you out of their sight again.”
“Oh, I do what I want, darling,” Amber said. “After all, they work for me, not the other way around. Come. I’m sure the others will be wondering where we’ve gone.”

“You did what?” 
Spec leaned back, grimacing, at Axel’s expression. Her boss was beyond furious; the tendons in her neck strained as she clenched her teeth. 
“Hey,” she said, raising a hoof to calm the angered mare, “it was dangerous, but okay, see? We’re both back in one piece, and Amber’s unharmed.”
“You look like hell though,” Capricorn said from his place by the fire.
“Thanks, Cap.”
“No problem.”
“That is not the issue,” Axel said. “You found out that she’d snuck away from camp and you didn’t bring her back at once?”
Spec shrugged. “I’m not her babysitter. I felt that the mission you gave me was more important.”
“The—“ Axel broke off and composed herself. “No matter how vital your ‘mission’ to gather firewood was, you should have come back at once.”
Spec glanced over to the other side of camp, where Jade was similarly chewing into Amber, who looked bored. She caught her eye. Spec winked.
“Look, Axel, I’m sorry,” she said, turning back towards her boss. “I should have come back, alright? Is that what you wanted me to say?”
“What I want you to say is that you won’t do it again,” Axel said.
“Won’t get firewood again? Sounds great. Cap can take over.”
“Nah, I’m good,” Capricorn said.
“To hell with the firewood,” Axel said. “I want you to promise me you won’t put our charges –the ponies who, need I remind you, are paying us for this trip—in danger again, at least not on purpose. Got it?”
“Sure thing boss,” Spec said, saluting. “Playing it safe from now on.”
Axel narrowed her eyes at her. Spec tried to look innocent. 
“It’s probably the best you can do,” Cesar said from his place by the fire. 
“Quit doing my job.”
“I thought I was second in command,” Cesar said.
“I thought I was second in command,” Spec said.
“Neither of you are going to be second in command if you don’t shut up,” Axel said. She closed her eyes again. “Spec, just don’t do it again, okay?”
“Roger that.”
“One of us has to be second in command,” Cesar said, “because there isn’t anyone else.”
“What about me?” Capricorn said.
“You don’t count.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Both of you, shut up,” Axel said. Her eyes turned towards Spec’s injuries. “You need that bound?”
“Uh, yeah, actually.”
“I’ll get the first-aid kid,” Capricorn said, standing walking into the tent.
“Uh, Axel,” Spec said, “I don’t know if Capricorn is the best choice….”
Axel grinned at her like a snake. “Well, I didn’t say you were going to get off scot-free, now did I?”
Spec sighed. “No,” she said, “I guess you didn’t.”
	
	
	
	
> 5. The Exhibit
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Sage, if you don’t get your butt out here right now, I’m going to leave without you.”
“Alright, alright, don’t tie your horn in a knot.” Sage trotted out of her room, an expression of mild annoyance on her face. “Here I am, see? No need to freak out.” 
Eden’s eyes flicked up to the large hat on her head. “That’s a new one,” she said.
Sage made a face. “My aunt got it for me a long time ago.”
“About forty years, from the look of it.”
“Whatever. It’s better than the alternative.”
Eden thought about the tight bandage wrapped around her friend’s head. “I suppose…” she said. It had been two days since the attack, and they were still none the wiser as to what had happened. Sage couldn’t remember a thing. “I still say you should see a doctor.”
“And have another encounter like with the police? Fat chance.”
Eden winced. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounded….”
“He thought I was making it up! And when I insisted it was true, he implied that I was too damn red to be having this conversation, said maybe a more credible witness should be talking to me instead.”
“Well, yes, he’s an asshole, but you’ve got a medical condition! With the nightmares—“
“They’ve got nothing to do with this.”
“But—“
“But nothing. Don’t we need to get moving?”
Eden’s pulse jumped. “Right,” she said. “We’re going to miss the four thirty car at this rate.” She jumped towards the door, but paused. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.” 
“Get out of what?” Sage said, trotting to the door. Eden stifled a groan.
The pair left their dorm and began the long walk down the Celestial’s hill. The cobblestones clattered beneath their feet. Above them, the sky was a rare cloudless one, and Eden felt the light warm her fur. She kept herself to a brisk trot, Sage huffing behind her.
“You’re worrying too much,” Sage said. “It’s just the cable car. They come all the time.”
“Yeah, well it’s still unwise to be late.”
“Late to what? There’s no meeting.”
“Late to my schedule, that’s what.” Eden resisted the urge to pull her agenda out of her bag and wave it in Sage’s face. “I’ve marked off a scarce four hours to this exhibit, and I don’t want to waste a second of it.”
“Heaven forbid.”
“Exactly.”	
They left the grounds of the Celestial and began walking down the hill, passing the side street that led to Tap’s bar. The elevation of the Celestial meant that cable car tracks had never been built up to it; the technology simply wasn’t strong enough to force the cars uphill. In the main city, however, there were no such problems.
Eden’s eyes lit up as she saw the waiting cable car. “There it is! We didn’t miss it, thank Cestel.”
“Thank Cestel indeed.”
“Hush.”
They pushed through the crowd and jumped on the cable car, just as the conductor was about to close the door. The car lurched forward once again, trundling along the path down the street. The conductor blew the horn every few seconds, making sure ponies outside knew the car was coming.
They didn’t talk much for the twenty minutes it took for the cable car to navigate around the city. Eden occupied herself with looking out the window and imagining the artifacts that were on display at the exhibit. What sort of stories could they tell, if they could talk? 
The car pulled to a stop at the museum district and the pair hopped off. They were on the edge of the city, near the eastern wall. In more dangerous times, what was now the Museum of Ancient Ponies had been a barracks for one of the guard patrols. Though no longer used for that purpose, the warlike architecture and harsh lines remained. Two large pony statues stood on either side, and a red banner red across the top, proclaiming:

	
Shadows of the Past
The Legend of the Pre-Marks


“Yes!” Eden said, jumping up and clapping her hooves together. “This is it! Oh, Sage, thank you so much for getting these tickets!”
“Don’t mention it,” Sage said, “just pretend like we don’t know each other when we’re inside and we’ll call it even.”
Eden cut off her display. “Har har,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with a little celebration.”
“I never said otherwise.”  
They walked into the building and were greeted by a red security guard, who eyed the pair with practiced nonchalance. Sage walked up to him and passed him the tickets, saying something in the Camargue language that Eden didn’t understand. The stallion’s eyes flicked to Eden, and a light blush colored his cheeks. “Very good, ma’am,” he said, tearing the tickets in two and passing them back. “Right this way, down the hall and to the left. You’ll spot it easily; they’ve reserved a whole wing for it.”
“Really?” Eden said. “They must have added to it since the last time it came into town!”
“Yes, ma’am,” the guard said. “I’ve heard them saying they’ve got a new shipment of artifacts from the scablands. Quite a lot of new material.”
“Oh, this is going to be great! Come on, Sage!” Eden said, pulling her friend along the hall. Sage gave a startled yelp, jabbering out something else in Camargue as Eden whisked her away. The guard broke into a smile and shouted something back, pointing at his head. Sage stuck her tongue out at him.
Eden dragged her friend along until they got to the opening of the wing. Shadows of the Past adorned the top of the entrance, and inside ponies were meandering about between exhibits. Eden squealed. “Come on!”
She pulled Sage into the main room, where a large plaque was hung on the wall below a sketch of a rolling grassland. Eden read the words: "The Scablands, eight thousand years ago. What is now a scorching desert was, before the Mark, a fertile grassland. Here, the first ponies developed tools, agriculture, and cities. Today, little remains of their culture, but what does provides a fascinating and tantalizing glimpse into the lives of the first civilization. These are the pre-Marks."
Sage raised an eyebrow. “How mysterious.”
“Right? Who would have thought?”
Below the plaque was a map that showed the different rooms of the exhibit, as well as a recommended path to take, presenting a chronological order of everything they knew. 
"Come on," Eden said, leading Sage into the first room, marked Humble Beginnings. Inside, an array of tools and stone objects were arranged, with little blurbs indicating how they were possibly used and what they were for. Eden walked past the stone shovels and the rotting wooden pieces, reading everything she could on the ancient civilization.
"Sage, check this out," she said. "It says here that this plow is nearly two thousand years older than the Ponecian agricultural revolution! That means that the pre-Marks were able to farm long before the first post-Mark civilization. They must have invented it as well."
"You think the Ponecians got it from them?”
"Unlikely. After the Mark, there isn't really any civilization to note for over fifteen hundred years. By all evidence it sent ponies right back to hunter-gatherer days. We used to think that there wasn't anything before the Mark, until we started finding stuff in the areas around Prospolis."
"Interesting," Sage said, looking over the tools. "Did you ever think about being an archaeologist?"
"Yeah," Eden said, "but it's too much hoof work for me. I'm more satisfied just studying what I can around here."
"You think you can learn everything you need to know from musty old books?"
"Of course not. You need a lab as well, but we have plenty of those in Hub City. Besides, the spot of legendary archaeologist is already taken. Look:" She pointed to a plaque beside the door. It was a picture of a rather sour looking unicorn, her red and purple mane crudely pulled back in a bun. "That's Io. She's the one that first put together the idea that the pre-Marks were a united civilization, instead of a few hunter-gather settlements. 
"Huh. She looks sort of like you."
"That's just the hairstyle. She's about our age, though, if you can believe it. Total prodigy. Come on." 
She led the way into the next room, marked Jewelry.  Inside, a number of glass cases propped up ancient necklaces and earrings. Eden swept her eyes past rings and bracelets. Most were gold, still bright after millennia of wear. The copper and steel pieces looked much worse. Most of them had clasps where precious gems had once sat. Sage eyed them with a look of suspicion. “They sure were fond of large, ostentatious jewels, weren’t they?”
“Indeed. But what appears garish to us now was, I’m sure, the pinnacle of fashion of the day. Imagine these ponies strutting about on the streets, flashing their jewels for all the world to see… here, look!” She pointed to a ponnequin that stood in the corner. A few pieces of the jewelry, either restorations or replications, hung from the pony’s neck and ears. Eden trotted up to it. “Very nice,” she said, “but I’m with you as far as the jewels are concerned.”
“Well, there’s no accounting for taste.”
“Hmm.” Eden swept her eyes to the next ponnequin. It was wearing silver hoofguards and a pair of earrings shaped like six-pointed stars. Eden frowned.
“Now, that kinda looks like….”
She closed her eyes hard.  “Coincidence,” she muttered. “That’s all it is. A coincidence. Six-pointed stars are a common symbol; they’re not unique to me, after all.”
“What was that?” Sage said, trotting up beside her.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about those earrings,” Eden said, pointing to the articles in question. “They might be the worst of the lot!”
Sage looked at them, then back to Eden. Her eyes narrowed. “Yes…” she said.  “Very garish. That star pattern in particular.”
“R-right, ha ha!” Eden said. “Let’s keep going.” She trotted towards the door, ignoring Sage’s pointed look. A moment later her friend followed.
“I hope you’re not still thinking about that star thing,” Sage said as they walked back into the main room.
“What? Never!” Eden said. “In fact, I’d completely forgotten about the strange, mysterious symbol that keeps popping up in my life until you mentioned it right now!” She smiled at Sage. “Weird, and yet not weird at all, huh?”
“Look, Eden,” Sage said, stopping and fixing her friend with a look, “you need to stop thinking about this so much. It’s not a big deal, really. Stars show up all the time in cultures, signs, logos… they’re all around us. This isn’t anything weird or different, trust me.”
“But the journal—“
“Eden, listen to me. I know you well enough to know that you’re veering dangerously close to an obsessive episode, and I really don’t want the living room full of little newspaper clippings and string, okay?”
“That was one time.”
“One time too many. Come on, let’s just check out the exhibit. There’s still a lot left to see.”
“Whatever.” But Eden turned and led the way out of the room. “Just so you know, I’m not about to freak out or any—quick, hide!”
“Wha—“ But Sage was cut off as Eden pulled her behind a nearby pillar. “What’s going—“ Eden shushed her with a hoof but Sage batted it away. “Stop, dammit; what’s going on?”
Eden jerked her head to the side, where a pair of ponies were walking. One of them was a pony she’d never seen before, a blue mare with a yellow mane. She looked around the room as if it bored her. She was leading a brown pony along as he fiddled with his notes and muttered to himself. “No no, can’t be right. Data incorrect, inconsistent with current memory count. Certain of use of regalia?”
It was Tweed. He looked exactly as he had the last time Eden had seen him, fretting away as she had stormed out of the café. Eden shrank back. Had he followed her? No; there was no way. Was there? Sage prodded her.
“What’s going on?”
“Those ponies,” Eden said, pointing. “They’re with Lyra.”
“The mare from the bar?” For a moment, an expression of anger flashed across Sage’s face. “How do you know?”
Eden watched as the pair walked into another room. “Kind of a long story,” she said. “I’ll explain later.”
“You’ll explain—wait, you didn’t take her up on that meeting, did you?”
Eden didn’t turn around. Sage smacked her face. “Of course you did; what am I saying?”
“I said I’ll explain later. Now come on.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, obviously I’m going to…” Eden trailed off. What were they going to do? It wasn’t like Tweed and his friend were bothering them. “…do nothing, I guess.”
“No you’re not,” Sage said, fatigue in her voice. “We’re going to pretend like we didn’t see them, but that’s going to bug you too much and you’ll try to slip away from me to eavesdrop on them, but you’re really bad at deception and you’ll just annoy me and probably make them uncomfortable at the same time, since there’s no way you’ll eavesdrop on them without them finding out. So how about instead of you earning the enmity of at least three different ponies, we cut out the middleman and you go talk to them?”
Eden smacked her lips. “Ooh, you are in form today.”
“I try. Now go on.”
“You’re not coming?”
“I think I’m going to sit this one out, if you don’t mind. They weren’t exactly happy to see me last time.”
“Oh.” Eden blushed. “Right. I’ll see you in a few.”
“Eden?” Eden paused. Sage shuffled her hooves. “Just don’t… nevermind.”
There was something in her face that Eden couldn’t quite read. She filed it away for a later conversation. “Don’t worry, Sage,” she said, “It’ll only be a minute.”
“I’ll be around.”
But Eden was already walking into the room that she had seen Tweed enter. It displayed a number of domestic objects, silverware, plates, broken pieces of furniture. The vast majority were marked with a stylized symbol for the sun. Eden’s eyes lingered on it for a moment before she saw Tweed. He and the other pony were standing in front of an ancient table, the same sun symbol marked across the top. As Eden stepped forward, their conversation came into focus.
“….this is the cutie mark of Celestia?” Tweed was saying.
“That’s right,” the other pony said. “Most of this furniture is royalist, from Vanhoover. There was an old house of the nobility there, and its ruins are right on the edge of the horizon.”
“Constant marker of power,” Tweed said. “Indicates propaganda, displays of adoration, respect. Absolute monarch?”
“Not since hundreds of years before we were born. She had veto power, though.”
“Hmm. Possible PR campaign. Celestia too powerful to not rule. Projected image of benevolence, Machiavellian power beneath.”
The other pony laughed. “You still don’t remember very much, do you?”
“Negative.”
Eden cleared her throat. Neither pony turned around. Tweed tapped his chin. “Uncertain, Lightning. Understand concept of benevolent diety, but pony history would suggest absolute power to lead to tyranny.”
“Maybe if one of us had it. But Celestia is different.”
“Excuse me,” Eden said. The blue pony, Lightning, glanced towards her, the expression on her face morphing from annoyance to shock in an instant. “Yes,” eden said, “thank you, but I have to ask—“
“T-twilight!” the pony whispered.
“Twilight?” Tweed said, turning around. His face took on a look of horror. “Oh dear.”
“My name’s not Twilight, thanks, but—“
“It’s you,” Lightning whispered. “When Lyra told me, I thought she was kidding, but no… you’re back.” She sniffed, and Eden noted with horror that her eyes were tearing up. “I can’t believe it.”
“Oh dear,” Tweed said, adjusting his bowtie and notes, looking anywhere but Eden. “Oh dear oh dear oh dear.”
“Tweed,” Eden said, “what are you doing here?”
“Could ask you the same,” Tweed said.
Eden blinked. “I’ve always had a fascination with the pre-Marks.” Her gaze shifted to Lightning, who seemed to be frozen in shock. “I’ve wanted to see this exhibit for months. Your turn.”
“Trying to regain memories,” Tweed said. “Numerous Equestrian artifacts. Hoping to find triggering materials.”
Lightning took a deep breath, shuddering as she did. She closed her eyes and composed herself. “Twilight, I’m sorry,” she said. “I lost control of myself for a moment. You shouldn’t have had to see that. It’s good to have you back.”
“You’re just as nutty as the rest of them,” Eden said.
“Bad idea, Lightning,” Tweed said. “Poor performance when tried by Lyra. At least Sunset isn’t with her.”
“If you’re referring to my friend, she’s in the other room,” Eden said, her ire rising. “In fact, come to think of it, I don’t know why I came over here at all. You people have been nothing but crazy jerks since we met. I’m sorry I bothered. Goodbye.”
“Wait!” Lightning said, the words jumping out of her throat as if she couldn’t stop them. Eden paused, and turned around. 
“Yes?”
“I… I’m sorry,” Lightning said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You just look very much like someone we would all like to see again. What is your name?”
“Evenstar,” Eden said.  
Lightning’s eyes jumped at the name, but she didn’t say anything. “Evenstar,” she said, “my name is Lightning Dust, and this is Time Turner, who prefers to be known as Tweed.”
“We’ve met.”
“We’re here to see if Tweed’s memories can be returned.”
“Because of the reincarnation.”
“Yes….” Lightning’s eyes flicked towards Tweed. “Most of my memories have returned, all but the last few years of my life. Tweed, on the other hand, only has fragments.”
“You’re saying that the pre-Mark civilization and whatever you claim to be a part of are one and the same?”
“Yes. The proper term was Equestria. It stretched across the subsolar region. And it was beautiful.”
“It would have been a fascinating place to see, yes. But it’s gone. Completely gone. And you are not making any sense.”
“Just… how about if I show you around? You don’t have to believe in any of this stuff, promise, but it would help me get some peace of mind. There’s some really interesting things to be seen in here, if you know what to look for.”
“What do you want from me, Lightning?” Eden said. “I don’t believe in any of this stuff, I’ve already said so.”
“I know, I know, but… just humor me?”
“I don’t even know you.”
“But you’re curious. I know you are. It’s a totally minimal risk on your part, after all. What are you afraid of?” A small smile touched her face. “That you’ll see something you might believe?”
“Hardly,” Eden snorted. “But… I suppose I’m not doing anything else.”
“Yes!” Lightning said, pumping a hoof. “You won’t regret this, Tw—Evenstar! I promise!”
“Yeah, well I already am, so if we could get this going, then—“
“Eden? Are you still in here?” Sage said, walking into the room.
The effect on Lightning was immediate. All the color drained from her face, which morphed in rapid succession from terror to hopelessness to confusion to rage. She took a step back, teeth bared. “You,” she hissed.
Eden blinked. “Not this again.”
Sage’s jaw set. “Oh, hi Eden,” she said, walking up to her friend and very deliberately ignoring the others. “It’s good to see you here, friend. We’re such good friends, too.”
“That’s right, Sage,” Eden said, turning away from the other two ponies. She could see the glint of fire in Sage’s eye. “I sure am enjoying this exhibit. Thanks for doing me the favor of getting these tickets. You’re a real friend.”
“It can’t be,” Lightning whispered. “Lyra didn’t say—“
“Would you have?” Tweed said, cutting her off.
The expression of rage returned to Lightning’s face. “Cut the crap, Shimmer!” she shouted, stepping forward. Sage rolled her eyes and turned towards her. “What are you planning with Twilight? Answer me, you beast!”
“Oh dear,” Tweed said. 
What little humor that had been in Sage’s face vanished. “Don’t you ever,” she hissed, “call me a beast. You don’t know a thing about me, and if it weren’t for the fact that I’d probably get arrested, I’d kick your ass right now.”
“You wouldn’t dare, Shimmer,” Lightning hissed, a grim satisfaction on her face. “It would break your cover. Can’t have Twilight figuring your plans out too soon, now, eh?”
“You’re crazy,” Sage said. “Absolutely insane.”
“The only insane one here is you!”
A few ponies looked their way. Tweed laid a hoof on Lightning’s shoulder. “That’s enough,” he said. “Lightning, control yourself. Not an area friendly to us.”
Lightning glanced at him, then back at Eden who was watching the exchange with wide eyes. She licked her lips. “Fine. Eden, if you want to learn more, come back sometime when that thing isn’t with you.”
“You—“ Sage made to pounce, but Eden held her back. “Don’t, Sage. It’s not worth it.”
“Easy for you to say, princess,” Sage muttered. 
Lightning’s eyes flashed. “Come on, Tweed,” she said. “We’re leaving.” With a flick of her tail, she turned towards the door. Tweed hurried after her, casting his eyes back at the two ponies who stood frozen in the middle of the floor. 
“Apologies, apologies,” he muttered. “She is temperamental. Nothing personal. We will meet again.”
“Unlikely,” Eden said.
“Much is happening. More than we understand. No choice in the matter; we will meet again. I will be returning here soon. If you want to know more, find me.” With a final bow, he scurried out of the room behind Lightning. 
“Well,” Eden said, taking a step back, “that was a disaster. I’m sorry, Sage. Those ponies are the worst sort.”
“They aren’t fit to lick my hooves,” Sage muttered.
“What’s that?”
Her friend shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Come on, Eden. Let’s see the rest of the exhibit. I worked hard to get these tickets.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Okay fine I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to have a good time now that we’re here.”
“Right behind you,” Eden said, trotting after her friend. “There’s still a fair amount of stuff to see. There’s the room of sculptures, reconstructions of dwelling types, writing samples….”
She chattered on, unaware that a shadow had crossed over her friend’s eyes. Sage walked behind her, her ears flicking periodically as if to swat away an errant fly. 


A few hours later, the two ponies were sitting on the cable car, silent as they watched the crowd part around them. Eden had done her best to keep a cheerful mood for the rest of the exhibit, and had almost succeeded, but there was a mood that had fallen over them since Lightning and Tweed had left, a mood that slunk in between gaps in the conversation, settling down around them and muffling their mood to the point of dreariness. Every few minutes Eden would look over at her friend and try to say something, but Sage was looking out the window, giving no indication that she wanted conversation at all. 
The cable car rolled to a stop at the downtown exit. Sage’s ears flicked around. The doors opened and ponies got on and off. Sage stood up and walked towards the front of the car. Eden started.
“Where are you going?”
“Just out,” Sage said. 
“Well hold on, let me get my stuff.”
“No, it’s okay… get home. I know you’ve got some work to do.”
“What?”
But Sage had already left the cable car, walking down the street filled with ponies, threading her way through the crowd with practiced ease. For a moment, Eden almost followed, but then the doors closed and the car began to stutter along once again. She sat back down and watched as her friend disappeared into the crowd. She was silent as the car rode the rest of the way to her stop, then she got off and began the long walk up the hill.
Back at their apartment, Eden made a beeline for the old journal. She flipped through the pages, searching for one drawing in particular. “Lightning Dust… Lightning… where are you… gotcha.”
Staring out at her was a crude drawing of a pony that looked remarkably like the one at the museum. Her gold mane was blowing in an imaginary breeze, and she stared out of the page with a look of arrogance.
This is Lightning Dust, said the journal in Eden’s messy scrawl. She’s in the Wonderbolts, like Rainbow Dash, but she’s much meaner. Lightning Dust doesn’t care about anything other than winning, and that’s not awesome at all. When she and Rainbow got in a fight, Lightning was kicked out of the Wonderbolts. Rainbow was happy at the time, but later she felt bad.
“Wonderbolts, eh?” Eden muttered. “I’ve heard that before.” She flipped through the pages until she found one with three pegasi in flight, wearing matching jumpsuits. “The Wonderbolts,” she read. 
	Rainbow wants to be a Wonderbolt one day. They’re the fastest, most agile pegasi in Equestria, but none of them are as good as Rainbow. She’s going to become the leader of the Wonderbolts one day, I know it!
The pegasi in the middle was a familiar blue one, her rainbow mane flying about her face. A multicolored contrail led out from behind her; the trails left by the other flyers were only one color. 
“So if this Rainbow is the more important one, where is she?” Eden said. “Looks like Twilight didn’t like this Lightning character much at all.” She felt better for the way she’d treated Lightning in the museum. “Well, she had been a jerk, talking to Sage like that.” She paused, licked her lips. “I wonder….”
She began flipping through the pages again, searching for any sign of the familiar red unicorn. Her eyes skipped past pictures of sea monsters, farmers, and castles, but nowhere could she find anyone resembling her friend. She flipped through the whole book then went back to the beginning, scanning the text for anything that might provide clues to her whereabouts.
She came to the last page in the journal and something caught her eye. It was a picture of a dark blue alicorn sitting on a throne, her face pointed towards the ground. Below, Eden had written a small paragraph.
Dear Diary, 
Princess Luna has taken over from Princess Celestia for a little while, while Princess Celestia takes care of some business up north. I don’t really understand what’s going on, but apparently a student she had before me, somepony named Sunset Shimmer, has resurfaced after vanishing almost ten years ago. Celestia didn’t really say what had happened to Sunset or where she had gone, but whatever is going on, it’s really important. I’ve decided to stay with Princess Luna here at the castle for a few days while she gets everything sorted out. Some of the nobles, particularly that lout Blueblood, have begun to stir up a fuss. 
There the page, and the journal, ended. Eden turned it over and scanned the back, but could find nothing illuminating. She gritted her teeth. “Sunset Shimmer….” There were no pictures of the mare, but Eden’s mind flashed back to Lightning Dust’s fury. 
“This is ridiculous,” Eden murmured, flipping through the pages. “This is crazy. Sage is really bothered by this, and she’s right… just put the book down, Eden. Just put the book down.”
Yet she kept looking through the journal, even as the clear sky was again covered and thick, cold raindrops began to fall.

	Ashes. She tasted ashes and blood. Soot filled her nose, clogging her throat, making her gasp and spit. Her tongue felt alien in her mouth. She tried to stand up, to get her bearings, but her leg shot out a jolt of pain and she fell back with a cry.
Around her, the room burned. Wooden planks fell from the ceiling as the great stone pillars cracked and crumbled. She looked left and right, blinking tears away from her eyes, searching for something… anything.
A figure in the smoke, walking towards her. She opened her mouth to cry out but a powerful magic clamped around her body, freezing her to the ground. She could only watch in mounting terror as the figure walked closer. It came out of the smoke, its red coat stained with soot and ash, its eyes wild and full of hate. She tried to move, to cry for help, to scream, but she could do nothing as the other figure bore down on her.
WAKE UP!

Eden’s eyes shot open with a gasp. Something was on her, attacking her. She yelled and kicked out with her legs, catching something soft and furred. There was a grunt, and the attacker fell back on the ground. Eden leapt to her feet, eyes wild and searching, trying to find the source of the fire and smoke.
“Eden, Eden! Calm down, it’s me!”
“S—Sage?” Eden sputtered. Her friend looked up at her from the floor, massaging a spot on her chest where Eden’s hooves had hit. 
“Wow, girl,” Sage said. “You didn’t tell me you were practicing your kicks.”
“Oh my gosh, Sage, I’m so sorry,” Eden said, kneeling down next to her. “Are you okay? Oh, man, I—“
“Hey hey, it’s cool. Just remind me not to sneak up on you while you’re sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” Eden helped Sage to her feet and looked back at the couch. She could see the journal laying partially open next to where she had been sitting. 
“You fell asleep on the couch again,” Sage said. “I don’t know why you do that. The bed’s right in the other room.”
Eden picked up the journal and set it on the end table. Sage cast the journal a suspicious look and sat down on the couch. 
“What time is it?” Eden said.
“Well past our bedtimes,” Sage said. She gestured to the dining table, where a greasy paper bag was sitting. “There are some fries in there, if you want them.”
Eden realized she was ravenous. “Thanks,” she said, getting off of te couch and grabbing the bag. The fries were cold but expertly seasoned. “This is great, thanks!”
“Don’t mention it.”
The two of them sat in silence for a while as Eden chewed. Sage looked like she wanted to say something, but every time she opened her mouth she closed it again.
The clock on the wall struck three. Eden blinked. 
“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the time.”
“Nope.”
“Where… where did you go, if you don’t mind me asking.”
Sage sighed. “Just to an old dive. I hadn’t been for a while. Not since I started college here.”
“Oh.” Eden reached for another fry. “Did you like it?”
“Yeah, it was good to see some old faces. Get some decent food for a change.”
“See this, folks, not even Ashen Sage herself can stand her cooking.”
“You’re real clever, Eden.”
“I try.”
The two of them shared a laugh and for a moment a smile touched Sage’s face again. She looked at the ground and snorted.
“Listen, Eden…”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For standing with me back at the museum.”
“What? Of course. Those ponies were way out of line; anyone would have done the same.”
“Yeah, well I know it seems obvious now, but there was a weird moment when it felt like… I don’t know, exactly.”
Eden bit her lip. She knew what Sage was saying. For a second, she had almost thought that Lightning Dust was on to something. She shook her head.
“No,” she said. “I know it can sound like that sometimes, but you’re fine. Those ponies are crazy, and you’re right about me. I need to keep my distance from this stuff for a while. It’s interesting, but not worth going down whatever rabbit hole they’ve found themselves in.”
“Hah, yeah,” Sage said. “I know what you mean. Just out of curiosity, though, I’m not in your journal, am I? Not that I believe any of that stuff. In fact, let me amend the question. There isn’t a pony in there that looks like me, enough so that your fevered brain might draw weird connections that don’t actually exist, is there?”
Eden thought about Sunset Shimmer. “Nope,” she said. “There’s one for that pony at the museum, Lightning Dust, but you remain conspicuously absent.”
“Oh, well.” Sage sank down in her chair. A wave of anxiety seemed to fall away from her. “I don’t know if I should be relieved or offended.”
“Offended, I think,” Eden said. “Seems you didn’t even matter enough for six-year-old me to consider writing you in.”
“She’d probably never seen a red pony in her life.”
“Well, now that you mention it….”
Sage laughed. “Get out of here, blue,” she said, standing up and stretching. “We both need to get some sleep tonight, and I don’t know about you but I’m beat. Crazy ponies with weird vendettas will do that to you.”
“I know it,” Eden said. “Get yourself some sleep. I’ll see you later.”
“You’re not going to bed?”
“Not yet,” Eden said. “I’ve got some work I’d like to catch up on first.”
“Well, alright then, but try to sleep. You know that caffeine doesn’t work on you anymore.”
“Who needs caffeine when you have willpower?”
“Who needs willpower when you have deadlines?”
“Now you’re speaking my language. I’ll see you later.”
“Night.” Sage walked into her room and closed the door. Eden’s smile faded. She turned back towards the journal. She picked it up, looking at the symbol on the front. There was no doubt; it was the same symbol as the one at the museum. 
She made to set the book down but stopped, eyes glancing back at the door to Sage’s room. She wouldn’t need to know… and a little more digging might just prove that this was all some sort of weird coincidence. 
She walked into her bedroom, carrying the journal. “Tomorrow,” she told it, placing it in her bedside cabinet, “you and I are going to do a little more digging. Just a little. And Sage doesn’t need to know.”
Something pricked at her conscience, but she pushed it to the side and shut the lights off. It was quite a while before she could actually fall asleep.
	
	
	 
	
> 6. Creation Myths
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Spec stood her ground, shoulders hunched, wings outstretched. She could feel the cool metal of the blades through the thin fur on her wings. Sweat dripped down her face. Across from her, Noble was in similar condition. He crouched, his horseshoes slick with mud and sweat. They faced each other, neither moving.
Spec ran through the upcoming fight with instincts honed since she was a filly. Noble was using brass horseshoes with attached shin guards. That meant he needed to come in close. He was taller than her and her wingspan wasn’t the longest, but with the extra length provided by her blades she could keep him at bay. If he got in close, she might go down, but he’d have to be fast to get past her wings.
Spec grinned. No one was faster than her.
Noble shifted his weight, a slight tell, but it was enough. She dodged to the side just as he came towards her, raising a wing to deflect his first punch. It turned out to be a feint, however, and she barely got her other wing around in time to deflect his uppercut. He skidded back but used his momentum to launch into a flurry of strikes aimed at her center: left right left right back right left.... She dodged them all, using her wings to guide their momentum around her, but noted a pattern. He was too slow; that meant something else was coming.
She preempted whatever he had planned by launching into an attack of her own, digging her right blade into the ground and using it as a springboard to deliver a roundhouse kick to his jaw. He dodged it easily enough, but she wasn’t finished. Stabbing the earth with her other blade, she swung her body around, lifting the right blade out and swinging it around over his head. He jerked to the side but she blocked him with her body. There was nowhere to go.
But Noble was not finished yet. Ducking low, he swung his foot around to her planted blade, kicking it to the side and making Spec wobble and almost fall. She instinctively lowered herself to compensate, but when she did Noble was ready. He exploded up and out, driving her off the ground and into the air, where he sent a volley of punches aimed at the base of her wing. He was under her guard now, and she had difficulty parrying. One of his hits got through and her wing went numb, slumping by her side.
Spec disengaged hurriedly, aiming to regroup and wait for sensation to return in her wing, but Noble was still too fast. He dodged left and right, against her attacks, focusing on her left side. She had to keep herself turned to block him, but it was only a matter of time before he got lucky and ended the fight. She needed to act.
Spec deflected another hit and changed her tactics, rolling with the hit around and back. It was a risky maneuver; her back was briefly exposed. But Noble’s momentum was thrown off and he didn’t capitalize, and a moment later she was behind him. He tried to turn but Spec moved with lightning speed, finishing her roll with a double kick to his sternum. The air whooshed from his lungs, and she moved with lightning speed, laying the blade of her good wing on his neck.
“Match,” she gasped out. Noble nodded and she dropped the blade, breathing heavily. Her fur was drenched in sweat. “I gotta say, Noble, you almost had me that time.”
“Almost,” he said, breathing heavily. “Those blades, I swear…” he trailed off, chuckling. “I didn’t realize you could stab them like that. I was taught that wingblading was all about slashing.”
“That’s what makes our filly here special,” Capricorn said. Spec blinked; she hadn’t noticed him arrive. “Pegasi wings are supposed to be too frail to withstand stabling attacks, but Spec is an unusual case. When she blocked that one strike head on?” He shook his head. “That’s a one-in-a-million level of skill.” 
“To the dismay of the warg, I’m sure,” Noble said, removing his horseshoes.
Spec couldn’t shake a smirk. She’d showed Noble the body of the beast after it had happened, before they set off again. 
“This is it,” Spec said, gesturing to the body of the warg on the ground. It was right where she and Amber had left it, the blood frozen, a faint dusting of snow settled over its features.
Noble gave a slow nod. “I’m impressed,” he said. “That’s quite the beast. I knew the Lady was trained, but I wouldn’t have expected this.”
“Is that an insult?”
“No, no, it’s a complement,” Noble said. “You’ve got skill.”
“That’s right,” Spec said, puffing out her chest. “I’m the best wingblader there is!”
“You should spar with us sometime, then,” Noble said.
“Huh?”
“Jade and I. Could keep all our skills sharp.”
Spec frowned. “I’ll think about it.”
And sparred they had, nearly every time they’d stopped. She was getting used to his fighting style, the slow, powerful attacks accentuated by moments where he moved faster than she would have thought possible. So far, she’d won them all, but he was learning her style too. 
“Come on,” Capricorn said, “let’s get back to camp.”
“Shame Jade won’t spar too,” Noble said.
“I’d beat her just the same,” Spec said, falling in line with the other two. “She’s just afraid she’ll lose.”
“Jade isn’t afraid of much,” Noble said, “so you’ll forgive me if I doubt that’s her reasoning.”
“Hey,” Spec said, “I just call them as I see them.”
They walked down the trail off of the hill and towards where the camp had been built, following the line of smoke up into the sky. The company had left the snowy forests behind a few days before, and they now walked through rocky tiaga, the fields dense with boulders and grey lichen. The air was crisp and cold, but she no longer had to cover her face just to move around.
They’d built their camp on top of a copse that overlooked the gradual sloping down of the continental shelf. In the distance, Axel said, on a clear day, they would be able to see their destination, but Fort Tain was still a week’s travel away. And that week she said, was the most dangerous of them all.
Axel was waiting for them when they returned to camp, looking out over the scene, eyes squinted. 
“Hey boss,” Capricorn said, “I brought the runaways.”
“Don’t stray so far from camp again,” Axel said as Spec walked up next to her. “This area isn’t as safe.”
“I’m not reassured,” Spec said. “Noble and I can handle ourselves.”
“I’m sure,” Axel said. “But highwaymen are not wargs; they’re much smarter.”
“You think someone’s going to try to rob us?”
“I’m almost certain of it,” Axel said. “This route connects Fort Tain with a number of smaller towns and hamlets, and if anyone wants to go to the big market, they’re going to have to go past one of these roads. That means robbers.”
“So what?” Spec said. “We’re a fully armed caravan. They’re not about to jump us.”
“You’d be surprised at their skill,” Axel said. “Besides, great skill differences can be overcome with surprise. We’ll need to be careful. They’ll set a trap for us, if I had to guess.”
“Have you told the Andalusians?”
“Of course. Amber assured me that they have the utmost confidence in our abilities. Plus her guards aren’t exactly untrained. We’ll be fine, so long as we keep our heads on our shoulders.”
Spec saluted. “That’s never been a problem for me boss.”
“I’m sure,” Axel said. “Come on, let’s get some food.”
The pair returned to the campfire, where Cesar was stirring a pot. He looked up as they approached. “Got some mountain stew tonight,” he said, lifting up the spoon. Spec saw chunks of what looked like potatoes inside. “The Andalusians were kind enough to share some of their spices with us, and I found some wild potatoes. We’re eating well tonight.”
“The Andalusians brought spices?” Spec said. Amber, sitting next to the fire, nodded.
“I’ve remarked many times on the lack of seasoning in Ridgeback cuisine,” she said. “Simply put, I find it rather bland. Andalusians rarely eat a meal that hasn’t at least some chilies in it, and we bring them with us too. It’s no trouble.”
“Hmm,” Capricorn said, sitting down as well, “I don’t know about this.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it, Cap,” Cesar said. “My momma used to cook with chili. The smell reminds me of home.”
Spec sat down next to Amber with a grunt of greeting, holding out her bowl. Cesar scooped some in, and then prepared a bowl for himself. Spec took a sip. It was spicy, but tolerable, the chilies offering an interesting distraction from the sturdier taste of the potatoes beneath.
“So Noble tells me you two had quite a good spar,” Amber said.
“Yeah,” Spec said, puffing out her chest. “Did he tell you I beat him?”
“Yes,” Amber said. “But he said that you let your guard down and that your arrogance almost cost you the fight.”
Spec choked. “What? That’s bogus.”
“It’s true,” Noble said, shrugging. “I never would have immobilized your leg if you were paying proper attention. You thought your speed would be enough.”
“It was!”
“Only because you got lucky.”
“You do get lucky a lot,” Cesar said between mouthfuls. Spec whirled around and glared at him.
“Yeah?” she said. “Guess you’re just jealous.”
“Guess so,” he said.
“Calm down, dear, we’re only joking,” Amber said. “Personally, I find your combat style quite mesmerizing to watch. It is very beautiful.”
“Oh, um, thanks.”
“Not at all. What it lacks in grace and finesse it more than makes up for in speed and agility.”
“I am fast aren’t I—wait, what?”
Amber hid a chuckle behind a hoof.
“Are you saying I’m not graceful? Why I’ll have you know that—“ Spec made to point a hoof at Amber, but hit the edge of her bowl and sent the soup spilling into the fire. She could only bite her lip and sit down, red faced, as the others laughed.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “But you’ll be sorry when I save your pretty little hide from bandits or whatever.”
“That’s smart talk coming from the mare who I saved from the wargs.”
“I did most of the work on that thing and you know it.”
“I know that somepony was about to get gored before I distracted the beast.”
“Yeah, so that I could take the kill shot!” Spec said.
“Some kill shot. You stabbed that brute through the neck. Where’s the grace? The beauty? The finesse? I thought wingbladers were supposed to be graceful.”
“We’re not all fashion designers, you know. Beauty and finesse aren’t exactly my thing.”
Amber blinked. “I don’t design clothes,” she said.
“And that’s another thing! I— what?”
“You just said I was a fashion designer. I’ve never touched a seam in my life.”
“I—know that,” Spec said. She opened her mouth to say something else, but closed it again. The other ponies in the circle were looking at them curiously. “I… also know that Axel is about to talk about the plan tomorrow! Take it away, Axel.”
The ponies turned from Spec to Axel, who blinked. “Um, yes,” she said. “Thank you for that introduction, Spec. So, Fort Tain is only about five days away at this time, but they’re a dangerous five days. This part of the road is notorious for being infested with robbers; it’s right outside the guard patrol route for the fort but still close enough that the road is used a great deal.”
“So basically we can expect some company,” Noble said.
“That’s correct,” Axel said. “I don’t believe it’s going to be serious. We’re fully armed and there are much easier targets on the road. But with four Andalusians and that ridiculous tent you carry with you, we’re going to look very tantalizing for anyone who’s especially cocky, or especially stupid.”
“Well,”  Amber said, “I suppose the payoff for robbing us would be unusually large. We do have several jewels that would fetch a pretty price.”
“That’s an understatement,” Axel said. “If half the things you put on the ledger are actually in your bags somewhere, these guys wouldn’t have to make another robbery for a long, long time. So I expect someone’s going to try something.”
There was silence at her words. Ivy poked at the ground beside her. Axel looked over the crew. “But we’re going to be fine,” she said. “That I can promise. Just keep your eyes and ears sharp and we’ll handle the rest.”
The crew nodded at her words. Axel sat back, satisfied. “Good she said. Capricorn!”
“Huh?” the stallion said, looking up.
“How about a story? Something to pass the time.”
“A story, eh?” Capricorn said. “Actually, there is one I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Sure, why not?” He sat up on his hind hooves, his front legs spread out before him. In the flickering light, he looked almost ghoulish. “This is the story that my mother told me about the dawn of the earth. It’s an old story, older than the oldest bricks in Ridgeback, older than all memory, living or dead.” The ponies around him fell silent as Capricorn held their attention. 
“Once, before the earth, before time, the Great Sky Sisters danced together through the heavens. They were opposites and equals, light and dark. And as they grew older, they desired to make the world greater, for they were lonely in the heavens and sought company. So the eldest looked down onto the earth and saw ponies, huddled together in the ice and snow, and saw that they were suffering. Her heart went out to them, and so she took the fire in her heart and tied it to the world, and the sun burst into being for all to see. Into it she put her passion, her love of truth, and her desire for order and serenity. The ice was melted from the hearts of ponies and—“
“Psssh, that’s not how I heard it.”
Capricorn put down his hooves and looked at Cesar with an unamused expression. “That so, eh?”
“Just saying,” Cesar said. “The eldest sister wasn’t the passionate one, she was the calm one. The sun was created as a vessel of truth and order, because it showed the true nature of all things. You can’t have the oldest sister stand for both passion and truth; then the younger one gets left out. She’s got to love; it’s what destroys her in the end.”
“Who’s telling the story, you or me?”
Amber, who had been listening in silence, frowned. “I suppose it can be attributed to differences between cultures. After all, the Celestial Twins show up in a number of different stories. Where are you from, Cesar?”
“Ridgeback,” Cesar said.
“There you go,” Capricorn said. “They probably stem from an original Aurora story.”
“I’m from Ridgeback, but my mom was the one who told it to me,” Cesar said. “This story isn’t Auroran at all; it’s native.”
“I’m pretty sure I know where my stories come from,” Capricorn said, an edge to his voice.
“Cesar, shut up,” Axel said. “Capricorn, keep talking.”
“Thank you,” Capricorn said, and continued.
“—the ice melted from the hearts of ponies and they could see the truth in everything. That was the power of the sun and the power of the eldest sister: darkness, secrets, shame, all were cast into the light. The ponies loved it, at first. But the sun is all hard lines, and not all of a pony’s soul can stand the light.
“Her sister saw that the ponies were afraid, so she created the moon. She gave it light, but not much, only enough to shine on forms and render them visible. In the dimness, ponies were free to create themselves, without the harsh light of the sun to force them into being. The elder was displeased at first, but when she saw how happy the ponies were in the moon, she conceded to her sister. She divided the world, putting the sun in one place and allowing ponies to choose the light they saw fit. Some ponies, those that valued objectivity, harshness, and lines, decided to stay in the sunlight, where the red soaked into their fur and manes and remade them in the elder’s image.
The rest of the ponies, those who loved soul and song and the ability to make of themselves what they wanted, chose to live in the twilight. The silver of the moon soaked into their coats and made them blue as the Aurora above them, blue as the midnight sky. And so the world was divided into the Children of the Sun and the Children of the Moon. Red and blue, light and dark, truth and love.”
Jade snorted. “That’s a load of bull,” she said.
“Jade!” Amber hissed.
Capricorn raised an eyebrow. “No, please,” he said, “let the mare who hasn’t said more than five words to us criticize my story.”
“I’m not criticizing it,” Jade said, “I’m just saying it’s a load of bull.”
“Well, it sure sounds like you’re criticizing it.”
“Here you start off with a really interesting take on the Solar Sky Twins, and then suddenly it’s a fur coat origin story? Please. I will never understand you Sagittarians and your obsession with coat color. You’re not even blue!”
“She’s got you there,” Cesar said.
“Shut up, Cesar,” Capricorn said. “Purple is a shade of blue. It’s just an expression.”
“It’s a stupid one. Red and Blue? Why, Axel is yellow! You’re purple! Half the so-called ‘Red’ ponies I’ve met in this country have been some variant of orange. And what about Cesar?”
“What about me?” Cesar said.
“You’re green!”
“So?”
“So,” Jade said, gritting her teeth, “your whole system is stupid. It doesn’t make any sense. Children of the Moon? Children of the Sun? Are you kidding me?”
“Yeesh, lady,” Capricorn said. “It’s just a story.”
“I’m just saying I’m sick of you Auroran-descended ponies and your obsession with pedigree. I literally can’t escape it. I mean, do you realize how inane you sound?”
“Oho,” Capricorn said, leaning back, “sounds like someone’s got a bone to pick. Go ahead, Andalusian. Tell us how to run our society.” He snorted. “What a hill to die on.”
By now, Jade had worked herself into a frenzy. Spec stared at her in amazement; she’d never seen the guard speak more than a few words to anyone.
And she was still going. “…you ascribe all sorts of nonsense to fur color, and then you have the gall to create a contradictory, meaningless system that gets ponies killed! Why, if I—“
“We ascribe nonsense to fur color?” Capricorn shot back. “Look at yourself! If a pony has two tones in their hair, they aren’t true Andalusians? What’s that about, if you don’t believe in coat pedigree?”
“That’s different,” Jade said.
“How, exactly? Because you’re used to it? Or maybe there’s something special about manes that don’t have anything to do with fur coats? You’re just as bad as us, worse, even! Our issues were in the past. You cling to archaic traditions as if your life depended on them.”
“In the past, eh?” Axel said. Capricorn shot her a look.
“You know what I mean,” he said. “Some ponies still have issues but it’s not like it was. They have a whole society based around it.”
“You know nothing about Andalusian society,” Jade said. “You look at us with the arrogance of an outsider, unable to see the problems in your own backyard.”
“I’m just saying,” Capricorn said, “that your ladies over there don’t seem to have any problem putting themselves about others on the basis of ‘arbitrary’ fur colors. Hell, I’m even prepared to take what you all say at face value, but don’t pretend like you’re better than me. I can’t stand that.”
“That’s enough, both of you,” Axel said, interrupting Jade’s furious rebuttal. “We need to get some sleep. There’s a long day of traveling tomorrow, and we’re going to have to watch out for highwaymen. If we can’t work as a team we’re all going to be in trouble. As I’ve said before, and Capricorn knows this, that I don’t care what you believe as long as you can work with the ponies in this caravan. If you can’t, we’ll have a problem. Otherwise think what you want.”
Jade bit her lip, but Amber stood. “Miss Cartwright is correct,” she said, motioning to her guards. “It’s time we all got some sleep.”
She turned and entered the big tent, her sister and guards following. Capricorn shook his head. “Andalusians,” he said.
Spec poked at her food. 
“That means all of us,” Axel said. “Finish your food and get some sleep. I want your wits about you tomorrow. I can’t control the guards’ sleeping patterns, but I sure as hell can control yours.”
“Roger, boss,” Spec said, finishing the soup with a gulp and passing the bowl to Capricorn. She was grateful she wasn’t on cleanup that night. She stood and went into the tent. Amber was laying down next to her sister, who already appeared to be sleeping. She caught Spec’s eye and raised her eyebrows. Spec shrugged.
She rolled out her own mat and laid down. In minutes she was fast asleep. 

The next morning they packed their camp up quickly and began the path down from the old continental shelf and towards Fort Tain. Spec didn’t say much, keeping point at the front of the group and trying to spot threats. Axel didn’t let her range as far as she normally did, an understandable request that was all the more annoying because of it. So she kept her eyes sharp and her ears pricked, and they did not run into trouble for most of the day.
But they didn’t get through unscathed.
A few hours before they were ready to stop, Spec spotted a motionless form in the middle of the road in front of them. She called out to Axel.
“I see him,” the mare replied. “Keep the blades ready.”
As they walked closer, Spec realized it was the huddled form of a stallion, his face bloodied. His eyes were closed, and he took breaths in short, ragged gasps. Spec went to approach, but Axel stopped her. 
“Wait,” she said.
“But he’s in trouble!”
“He can wait a couple of seconds.”
Axel motioned to Capricorn, who withdrew his quarterstaff from his pack. The two of them approached the pony. Jade and Noble softly donned their horseshoes.
With a cry, the stallion leapt up, pulling a knife from within his jacket. He lunged for Axel, but she stepped back and dodged. Capricorn rapped him on the side with his quarterstaff.
That was all they had time for before a shout rang out around them, an seven other ponies jumped out from behind the rocks  that lined the path, armed with horseshoes, staffs, and even a wingblader. They had the company surrounded. Axel took a step back.
“Hello, travelers,” one of the ponies, a tall Camargue who appeared to be in charge, said. “We’ll just take your money and valuables and no one has to get hurt.”
“Unlikely,” Axel said, nodding to Spec. Then the company moved as one. Spec pulled the rope to open up her blades, bringing them high above her head and stretching. Axel did the same. The Camargue sighed.
“So be it,” he said, and the robbers lunged at them. 
Spec met the first one, a wingblader like herself, head on. He brought his blades forward in a classic slashing motion, aiming for the weak spot where her wing connected with her body. She blocked it easily and pressed the advantage, digging one blade into the ground and swinging around with the other. He blocked the attack but the sheer force of it knocked him back. His eyes widened. Spec grinned.
“That’s right,” she said. “You’ve bit off more than you can chew.”
The pony pushed forward again, teeth bared in defiance, but Spec was ready for him. She blocked his attacks with ease, driving him back all the while. He was sloppy, had the marks of only being partially taught. Perhaps not a problem for most ponies he would encounter, but she was a different story. He made a mistake, shifted off-balance, and she made her move.
Spec lunged in and under the swinging blades, kicking him in the gut with a hoof. The wind whooshed out of his lungs and he fell back. She brought one blade around and aimed for the midline of his wing; he tried to block but failed and she sliced a nick through the side. Nothing serious, but the pain would but him out of action. He yelled out, and she kicked him in the side of the face. He went down without a sound.
She turned around and surveyed the battle. It was going well, for the most part. Capricorn was fighting with an earth pony with horseshoes, dancing around him with his quarterstaff. Axel and the other wingblader were similarly locked in combat. Cesar had fallen back, a few nicks in his side showed that the pony with the knife was better than he looked. Jade and Noble were working like a single unit, cutting off any attempts to get to the ladies. 
Amber wasn’t doing much at the moment, trying not to look bored. The guards were too good at what they did.
A shout made Spec turn. The guard with the knife had gotten through Cesar’s defenses. He tried to block but was too slow, and she watched as the pony brought the knife down into his shoulder. Cesar yelled out.
“Cesar!” she shouted, running across the field. The pony with the knife turned away from Cesar and had just enough time to widen his eyes before Spec ploughed headfirst into him. The pair rolled in the dirt before Spec came out on top, kicking his knife away. 
“You’re going to pay for that one,” she hissed.
“Make me,” the pony said, kicking her in the chest with both back hooves. Spec flew back, using her wings to stabilize herself. She was disoriented. The pony picked up the knife and moved towards her, wary of the wings. He couldn’t get close. Well, she would make that easier for him, at least. 
Spec dove again, her wings in front of her, protecting her face. He managed to get the knife into a weak spot between them but couldn’t capitialize before she brought the blunt end of the wing into his temple. His head jerked sideways, and he fell to the ground.
“Serves you right,” Spec said. She turned towards Cesar, who had removed part of his armor. The stabbed shoulder was soaked in blood. “You okay?”
“I’ll be alright,” he said, “so long as everyone else is. You can patch me up later.”
Spec nodded and turned back towards the fight. Noble and been pushed away from the little group, fighting two at once. This had given Amber her chance, and she was now in the thick of the fight, twirling around with her throwing knives, moving like water around the attackers. Ivy was nowhere to be seen, presumably she had gone to hide. 
Noble needed help. Spec ran towards him, spreading out her blades again. These bozos were nowhere near her level. She crashed into one of the two that Noble was fighting, sending him flying. He looked at her.
“Don’t you get dizzy when you do that?”
“Nah,” she said. “I’ve got a thick skull.”
Noble parried an attack from the other pony. “I guess you do,” he said. “Now we get to fight on the same side.”
“These goons have got nothing on you,” Spec said, dodging a clumsy attack from one of them. “You’re playing with them.”
“I’m not the only one,” Noble said, knocking out his attacker with an almost casual blow. “I saw you with that first guy. You worked him so long I thought you two were flirting.”
“He’s not my type,” Spec said. Together, the two of them advanced on the other robber, who backed up. Spec smirked at him. “You see a lost fight, right?”
The robber turned and ran. “That’s right,” Spec said. “Now, what else is—“
“Help! He’s got me!”
The sound made her blood freeze like ice. She turned around. The lead stallion stood in front of the caravan, holding a struggling Ivy in his grasp. A knife was pressed to her throat. 
“Nobody move,” the stallion shouted, “or I open this kitty up and see what’s inside.”
“Ivy!” Amber shouted. Noble and Jade exchanged glances. Jade’s entire body was coiled like a spring; she tensed, but waited. The stallion grinned. “That’s right, missy,” he said. “We can take this nice and easy.”
“You kill her, and there won’t be enough of you left to send home,” Amber said, her voice low. 
“Nobody needs to be killing anyone,” the stallion said. “All we want are the valuables. Caravan like this, has to have something nice.”
There was a pause. The caravan looked at each other. Spec looked towards Axel, whose face was screwed up in concentration. She was looking between the stallion and Ivy, eyes narrowed. 
“Well?” the stallion shouted, pulling Ivy up and pressing the knife deeper, “am I going to have to make a demonstration?”
Slowly, a baleful look in her eye, Amber reached into her pack and withdrew a glimmering diamond necklace. She threw it on the ground in front of her. One of the robbers picked it up, eyeing the jewels.
“I think they’re real, boss,” he called to the leader. 
“Thought so,” the leader said. “But I know that’s not all you’ve got. Empty everything!”
Slowly, the crew began to move. Jade reached into her bag and withdrew a pair of earrings, while Noble rummaged for something as well. Spec stared; she hadn’t realized they had brought so many valuables. Axel was going to have a talking with them when this was over.
“And how about you?” the highwayman said, bringing the knife down to poke at Ivy’s saddlebags. “I bet you have something in there that’s worth a few pennies, don’t you?”
Ivy’s eyes were wide with fear. “I don’t—I promise!” she said, but it was to no avail. The robber was already using the knife to unclasp one of the pouches. Ivy began to struggle, but he was much stronger than her and soon he had removed a small velvet box, dangling from a simple silver chain. 
“No!” Ivy shouted, beginning to kick, “you don’t understand! Give it back!”
“Shut up, filly,” the stallion shouted, shifting his stance to better hold onto her. “What’s this?”
The situation was going south. Spec’s eyes met Axel’s. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Axel gave a nod, flicking her chin towards the robber. Spec looked back, and with a jolt realized Capricorn was sneaking up on them, his staff at the ready. Axel licked her lips. Spec tensed, ready to sprink.  
“Ivy, stop struggling!” Amber shouted.
Ivy didn’t listen, and the guard’s knife slipped slightly, grazing her cheek. The white coat was at once dampened with red blood. Amber gave a moan. “Stop!”
“But he’s got—“ Ivy began, but that was as far as she got before Spec and Axel leapt in motion. Axel spread her wings and took a step forward. As the stallion turned towards her, shouting warnings, Capricorn jumped on him from behind, wrapping the staff around his neck, and Spec shot forward like a rocket, her whole body pushing at the movement, faster than most ponies would have thought possible. She moved through the air like a bullet and before the robber could react she ploughed into him, her hoof contacting with his head, knocking it back. Spec thought she saw a tooth fly out of his mouth. The knife and the chain went flying, and everything slowed down.
Ivy screamed. Spec felt as if there was an unstoppable force turning her head, away from the guard and towards the chain. It sailed through the air in a graceful arc, flying far, far longer than it should have, landing in the middle of the crowd of ponies. As it landed, the latch holding it together clicked off, and something dark and glossy bounced out into the air.
Instantly the air was dead, and all sound became muted. Spec felt like she was underwater. Ivy’s mouth was open, but she wasn’t saying anything. Her hair moved around her face in a breeze that did not exist. 
Slowly, like clockwork, the shadows over every pony and every object in the vicinity turned towards the floating object. They began to stretch and darken, until nothing but inky, oily darkness could be seen in their midst. Spec felt something in her gut shift, a warmth drain from her. She felt sick. 
Capricorn screamed. His shadow, the closest to the object was stretching the longest, coming closer and closer to the thing. He leaned back but was rooted to the spot. His eyes were wild, bucking, she could see spittle flying from his cheeks. The shadow became closer, closer, if it touched something terrible would happen—
Ivy leapt into the middle of the circle and jumped on the object with the box, clasping it up again. At once, as if a light had been covered, the shadows twisted back and the feeling lifted. Spec heard shouts, and realized that the robbers had all fled. 
She stood, shaky, on her feet. Ivy was sitting in the middle of the circle, locking the box shut. Amber rushed to her, sweeping her in a bear hug, tears running down her face. Noble and Jade followed, pulling the two apart to check Ivy for wounds. Axel stood, panting. Cesar looked as sick as Spec felt. And Capricorn—
Spec froze. Capricorn rolled around on the ground, his face squeezed shut, teeth clenched. He muttered something, but Spec did not understand it. He twisted and arched his back so that Spec thought it would almost break. Axel rushed to him, shouting his name, but Capricorn did not respond. Spec threw up on the ground and sat. She tried to go to him, to help, but some force kept her rooted to the spot, and she could only stare, listening as Capricorn fought with something only he could see.
	
	
	
> 7. On the Town
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7: On the Town


“And anyway,” the stallion said, his words swaying almost as much as he was, “that’s how I got into studying professional pencil pushing. It’s not much from the outside, but let me tell you….”
“Uh huh,” Eden said, holding her glass and not even bothering to look interested. “That’s great, uh, Apus, was it? Listen, I can hear my friend calling, I’ll be right back….”
“Sure thing, sure thing,” the stallion said, bobbing his head so much he almost fell over. “I’ll be right over here… oh dear, I may have drunk a bit too much…”
His rambling faded away as Eden left the corner the two were in, weaving her way past ponies of varying levels of intoxication. She made her way to the punch bowl, only to find it empty and repurposed as a garbage can. She dropped her cup into it and sighed. 
Seven days. It had been one whole week since they had gone to see the pre-Mark exhibit, and although they were acting as if nothing had changed, Eden knew better. Sage had taken to her work with a sort of aggressive normalcy that was nothing short of alarming, and Eden had taken to reading the journal in her room, where the sight of it wouldn’t upset her friend. 
And speaking of her friend… Sage was nowhere to be seen. Eden looked around the apartment, clustered with other students mumbling to each other and drinking the cheap punch that their host had provided. A pony was already passed out on the couch, a trail of drool pooling out of his mouth and onto the cushions. Not for the first time, Eden’s thoughts turned to her own apartment. As far as university parties went, this one was rock bottom. 
She ought to just leave; Sage was a big mare, she could take care of herself. Eden was not exactly sober herself, but Sage was a tank and wasn’t about to go down at the hands of a party like this. Her mind made up, Eden turned to the door. 
When she had almost reached it, a pair of hooves came down over her eyes and a voice whispered, “guess who?”
“Sage,” Eden said. “Where the hay have you been?”
“Kicking it with Danger Doughnut over there,” Sage said, jerking a hoof back over her shoulder to where a plump stallion was holding two drinks and trying to look casual. “I couldn’t stand much more of his high-carb hijinks, so I had to ditch.”
“Wow, you are a mean drunk,” Eden said. 
Sage shrugged. “I’m a mean mare, kiddo. I just keep it under wraps most of the time. This party bites anyway, let’s get out of here.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Eden said. “Come on.” She pushed the door open and walked out, Sage right behind her. The door closed behind them and the sudden drop in noise was accompanied by a loss in motion control. Eden swayed on her feet. “Oof,” she said. “Guess I’m drunker than I thought.”
“Lightweight,” Sage scoffed. “I’ll take point.”
The two mares walked out of the apartment complex and onto the street. They were near the Celestial, on one of the cobbled back alleys that housed a number of students. The orange light of Cestel bathed the street. Eden shook her head; for some reason she’d expected it to be darker.
Sage led the way, the ancient houses looming dark on either side of them. They didn’t speak much, now that they were outside. They hadn’t talked much at all lately. Eden wondered what her friend was thinking. Perhaps she was dreading the return home; it meant sleep and more nightmares. Or maybe…
Eden blinked. Sage wasn’t leading them towards the Celestial at all. “Sage,” she said, trotting beside her friend, trying to ignore the buzzing of the alcohol in her head. “Sage, where are we going?”
“Hmm?” Sage said, an air of false confusion on her features. 
“You heard me,” Eden said. “I thought you said we were going home.”
“Home? I said nothing of the sort. I said that party was lame, and you agreed.” Sage’s face lit up in a smile. “But I never said anything about calling it a night.”
“Oh no,” Eden said. “Where are we going?”
“Out,” Sage said. “I felt it was time for a night on the town.”
Eden stopped in the middle of the road. “You’re serious,” she said.
“Oh yes,” Sage said. She paused, and looked back at her friend. “I haven’t left this university setting in months. It’s time I hit some of my old haunts again, saw some familiar faces. I could introduce you. Unless you’re already done for the night?”
“You wish,” Eden snorted. She trotted up next to Sage. “Someone’s going to have to keep you out of trouble.”
“Honey, you couldn’t keep me out of trouble if you tried,” Sage said. 
“Wanna bet?”

Twenty minutes later, Eden’s bed was seeming more and more like the better choice. The two of them were standing on the side of a street, in Hub City’s East End, facing a lit-up building with a line of red ponies trailing out the side. The street was well-lit; ponies walked up and down it, clutching friends in one hoof and drinks in the other. All of them were red.
“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Eden said, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.
“What’s the matter?” Sage said. “Scared?”
“Maybe a little. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate that I….”
“That you what?” Sage said. “Go into a club?”
“Go into… that club.”
“Just because there are more red pones than blue ones and you….”
“There aren’t any blue ponies around. Just me.”
“Makes you more interesting that way,” Sage said. “And don’t worry; the owner’s an old friend of mine. You’ll fit right in. Just….” 
“What?”
“Follow my lead, okay? Especially on the dance floor.”
Eden sniffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing!” Sage said, trotting across the street. “Nothing at all.”
As they got closer, Eden could hear the sounds of the ponies within, as well as a catchy, jazzy tune. Sage walked right past the line, walking up to a burly-looking stallion that was guarding the door. He looked at her, then at Eden, one eyebrow raised. Sage tapped the ground and said something that Eden didn’t understand. The bouncer snorted, saying something back. Whatever it was, Sage wasn’t impressed. She leaned in, yammering away. Eden thought she caught someone’s name, Rika, but the rest of it was incomprehensible. She made a mental note to toss the book of Camargue phrases she had been studying. Lousy thing wasn’t much help at all.
The bouncer looked at the two of them for a minute longer, then dipped his head. He stepped to the side. Sage said something to him and trotted past, Eden on her heels. “Um, thank you,” she stammered as she walked by.
“Watch yourself in there,” the guard said back in a thick accent. 
“Will do. Thanks.” Eden walked past him, doing her best not to scurry.
The inside of the club was dark and hot, lights along the ceiling throwing the single chandelier into sharp relief. They had come out onto a small landing that extended around the entire interior. On the level below was a wooden dance floor, and across from them Eden could see a bar. A stage had been set up by the dance floor. Music was flowing from somewhere. 
“Stick with me,” Sage said. “Looks like the band hasn’t gotten started yet. Just warming up. Let’s get something to drink. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Alright,” Eden said, looking around. 
Sage led her around the landing to the bar. A rather sour looking pegasus was leaning against it, staring into space. She glanced at the two approaching ponies and did a double take. “Sage!” she said, followed by a string of Camargue. 
“It’s good to see you too, Rose,” Sage said. “You mind speaking Sagittarian? My friend here’s not bilingual.”
“If you insist, Sage,” the mare, Rose, said. She was lean and willowy, her wings tucked and bound in the traditional Camargue way. On her front was a blazer and ascot, a square fez on her head. She caught Eden looking and grinned. “Careful, girl. Staring is extra.”
Eden blushed and looked away.
“Go easy on her Rose,” Sage said. “Eden’s out of her comfort zone enough already.”
“Hey, don’t look at me, Ashen,” Rose said, pulling out a bottle of something Eden didn’t recognize and pouring three shots. “She’s the one who was staring.” She pushed two of the glasses across the bar and kept one for herself. “But no hard feelings, see? On the house.”
“You’re going to drink while you work?” Eden said before she could stop herself. Rose’s smile turned sour. 
“We’re not like you Sagittarians,” she said. “Business and pleasure? They’re not always separate. Drink.”
Sage caught Eden’s eye and gave her a reassuring nod. “Well, when in Rome…” she muttered, taking the drink and throwing it back. The liquid burned her throat, but the sharpness was replaced almost immediately by a sweet, fruity flavor. “Wow, that’s great! What’s in it?”
“Look, she likes it,” Rose said, the easy smile back on her face. “Told you.”
“It’s called Palinka,” Sage said. “Traditional Camargue fruit alcohol.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s banned,” Rose said. “You Sagittarians said it caused blindness. Don’t worry though,” she said, upon seeing Eden’s face. “It doesn’t. Probably.”
“I’ve had it for years,” Sage said, “and I’m fine, see? Welcome to the club.”
“…charmed.”
“Rose,” Sage said, turning back to the pegasus. “Is Rika around? It’s been a while; I’d like to catch up.”
“As far as I know, Rika’s backstage,” Rose said. A burly stallion wandered up to the bar and tapped it, growling something at her. She poured him a drink and slid it down without even looking away. “She’s making sure the band has everything they need. They’re new, you see.”
“Well, they look promising.”
“Oh, they are. Rumor is, they’ve got an Andalusian playing the drums.”
Sage raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I’ll have to ask her about it.”
“Sure thing,” Rose said. “I’ll be here when you get back. And, Eden, was it?”
“Yeah?” Eden said, turning back.
“Good to meet you,” Rose said. Eden offered her a nervous smile. 
“Likewise,” she said.
“Come on,” Sage said, pulling her away. “The show’s going to start soon, and you haven’t even met Rika yet.” They crossed over to the stairs and began to descend to the main dance floor.
“You two go back?” Eden said, trying to hear over the buzz of the crowd and the music.
“Yeah, we were raised on the same block,” Sage said. “Rika’s… a character. She’ll like you, don’t worry, but it might not seem like that immediately.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see.”
Sage led her to a door along the side wall marked Employees Only. Behind, the glamour of the club was gone, replaced by bare concrete walls and dim electric torches. Sage navigated through the backstage until the pair came out into the dressing room, where a gaggle of ponies were fussing over the musicians, applying makeup and jabbering at each other like a cluster of hens. Standing away from them was a yellow pegasus with an orange and yellow mane, holding a clipboard and shouting orders. Periodically a pony would creep up next to her and ask something, only to be shouted at and jump back into the fray. Sage strolled up next to her.
“You know,” she said, causing the pony to jump. “I knew you’d gotten big, but I didn’t expect you to be quite so controlling.”
“What the hell do you—“ the pony shouted, turning around. Her eyes locked on Sage and her entire demeanor changed. “Ashen Sage! By Cestel in the sky it’s good to see you. What the hell are you doing out here?”
“I felt like it was too long since you’d had to deal with me,” Sage said. “And I wanted to show my college friend here how we do things back home.”
“You brought some stuffy college kid to my club?” Rika said, looking over Sage’s shoulder to fix her eyes on Eden. “I would have thought even you would….” She trailed off, staring.
Eden’s stomach dropped into her gut. She knew. Rika was looking at her the way Lyra had, or Lightning Dust. 
Not now. Please, by Elu not now.
Sage hadn’t noticed. “Hello? Earth to Rika?”
“Huh?” Rika said, looking back at Sage. She shook her head. “Sorry about that, guess I zoned out for a sec.” She looked back at Eden, and now the look of recognition was gone. “Good to meet you, miss…”
“Evenstar Boral,” Eden said. Rika’s eyes widened at the name, but she kept her face blank. 
“Evenstar, then,” Rika said. “Unusual name, for a Sagittarian.”
“My parents are creative. “
“Guess so. You keeping this one out of trouble?”
Sage snorted. “As if. Eden’s the straightest arrow I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t believe what it took to get her to drink for the first time.”
“I can imagine,” Rika said.
Sage looked between them for a moment, eyebrow raised. “Have you two… met?”
“What?” Eden said, failing to cover the panicked tone in her voice. “Ha—never! What makes you say that?”
“She just looks like somepony I used to know,” Rika said coolly. 
“Huh. Well isn’t that nice,” Sage said. The three of them were silent again before one of the assistant ponies tapped Rika on the shoulder. She turned around, barking out an order. The pony gave a yelp and scampered off. Rika sighed. 
“You know,” she said, “it’s so difficult to get good help around here these days. I swear, Sage, I still haven’t been able to find a good replacement for you, and that’s not for lack of trying.”
“You used to work here?” Eden said.
“Yup,” Sage said, scratching the back of her neck. “For a few years, after we were done with secondary school. I was only in it for the money, but Rika here….”
“Don’t be so modest,” Rika said. “If only I had three more like you, or even one like you. Or you.”
“You know that’s not my place,” Sage said.
“True, true,” Rika sighed. “Still, though, just look at these three; they’re a mess!” She gestured to the three musicians who were sitting in front of the mirrors. Two of them were Camargue, but the third was a white pony with a two-toned blue mane. She was reading a paper as a pony mussed her hair.
Rika shook her head. “Artists, this crew. No care at all for appearance, you should have seen them when they first came in. I don’t suppose….” She trailed off, looking at Sage.
Sage sighed. “You know what? Sure. For old times’ sake.” 
“What?” Eden said. Sage clapped her on the back. “I’ll be right back,” she said, trotting over to the musicians and barking orders to the crowd. In no time, she had integrated herself into the proceedings, directing the traffic of the stylists and coaxing one of the stallions’ manes into a semblance of order.
“She’s ah, good,” Eden said, trying to think of something to say. “I didn’t know she was a stylist.”
“Listen to me very carefully,” Rika said, her eyes still glued to the scene, “I don’t know how you ponies found her, but if you hurt one hair on Sage’s head, I will make sure that you regret it for the rest of your days.”
Eden gulped. “I don’t know what you think you know about me—“ she said.
“I know enough,” Rika said. “I know you’re watching her.”
“No! I’m not, honest!” Eden said. “I met Sage a few years ago. We were in a class together. We became friends, best friends. I’m not watching her or anything. I don’t even really know what’s going on!”
Rika took her eyes off of where Sage was powdering the Andalusian’s face and looked at Eden. “You must know something,” she said, eyes narrowed. “I could see it in your face. You recognized me.”
“No, I didn’t,” Eden said. “I swear. It’s just… there have been a lot of ponies I’ve met recently who’ve looked at me like that. I’ve never met you before, now or… in any other life, I guess.”
Rika’s eyes narrowed, boring into Eden’s with a level of intensity that the other mare had never seen before. She looked back, trying to broadcast her honesty as much as she could.
Rika sat back. “You’re telling the truth,” she said. “But then that means....” A grin swept over her face. “That means—oh, this is too good—that means that you and her became friends anyway! Ha! Holy cow, Blueblood is going to flip shit when he hears about this! His little bearers, cozying up to the enemy! I can’t even—oh man.” She broke off into a fit of chuckles, wiping an imaginary tear out of her eye. 
“I think he already knows,” Eden muttered. “If you’re talking about who I think you are.”
“You met him?” Rika said, her voice suddenly serious. “When?”
“Not him, but someone I think who works with him. Her name is Lightning Dust.”
Rika snorted. “That fool? She was always too arrogant for her own good. I imagine you told her right off for trying to attack or something, didn’t you?”
“You guessed that pretty good,” Eden said.
“Well, I’ve had experience with Lightning Dust before,” Rika said. “But where are my manners? Allow me to reintroduce myself.” She swept into a low bow, the tips of her mane cresting the floor. “In this life, my name is Rika, but you can call me Spitfire, once captain of the Wonderbolts.”
“Wait.” Eden blinked. “Spitfire?” A page from the journal floated back into her memories. “I know you…. Do you know where, um, Rainbow Dash is?”
Spitfire blinked. “I was hoping you could tell me that,” she said. “I’ve searched high and low for her since I woke up, but I haven’t found a thing. I don’t think she’s in the city. You haven’t seen her?”
“I don’t even know who she is,” Eden said. Spitfire grinned.
“Yeah, I guess that would be a bit of a problem,” she said. “Have you met anypony else?”
“A guy named Tweed, Lightning Dust, and a mare named Lyra,” Eden said. Spitfire snorted. 
“Quite the crowd,” she said. “I don’t know this Tweed, but Lyra is a hooffull for sure.”
“Something like that,” Eden said. “But otherwise, just you.” She paused, glancing over to where Sage was fussing over the musicians. An earth pony dipped his head through the curtain and said something, pointing at his watch and frowning. Sage nodded and shooed him away. “And Sage, I guess,” Eden said.
“Ah, yes,” Spitfire said. She took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. “She doesn’t remember anything, does she?”
“I don’t think so…” Eden said. “But hay, I don’t remember anything either.” She fixed Spitfire with a curious look. “I’ve got to ask you, though; everyone else I’ve met who’s a part of this has treated Sage with nothing short of contempt; Lightning Dust tried to fight her. I assumed it was a—a color thing, but now….”
Spitfire laughed. “No,” she said, “it’s not that, although you’d be forgiven for thinking so. I don’t hate Sage because she’s my oldest friend. It’s not her fault that there’s a homicidal maniac buried inside her. But if Sunset Shimmer ever wakes up….” She shook her head. “That’s why it can’t happen. I don’t want to lose her.”
“This really worries you,” Eden said. 
“What tipped you off?”
“Listen, I guess I haven’t known Sage as long as you have, but I know she’d never hurt another pony. She’s brash, sure, and way too reckless, but she’s a good pony at heart.”
“I know,” Spitfire said. “But you don’t remember what Sunset Shimmer was like. It doesn’t matter how small the chance; she cannot wake up. If she does…” On the other side of the room, the manager pony had returned, snatching the brush out of Sage’s hoof and ushering the ponies to the stage. Sage dropped the rest of her supplies with a huff and began to walk back over. “…We’ll talk later,” Spitfire said. “Just have fun right now.”
“But—“
“Wow, did you see that stallion?” Sage said, shutting up Eden before she could finish her thought. “Rude bastard. I just needed a few more minutes.”
“The show must go on, Sage,” Spitfire said, her accent back in place. “And you two should get out of here. I’m running a respectable institution.”
“Rika, you don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“Wanna bet?”	
The two of them scowled at each other for a long moment. Sage broke first, a lopsided smile spreading across her face. “Ah, I can’t stay mad at you, Reek. Come on, Eden, let’s get another drink and hit the dance floor.”
“But I thought you said I shouldn’t dance!” Eden yelped as Sage took her hoof. 
“Nah,” Sage said, nearly dragging Eden back down the hall. “I said to follow my lead.” Eden got a final glance of Spitfire before Eden pulled her away. The red mare winked at her. 
The next half hour was a blur as they returned to Rose’s bar, where Sage laid a twenty on the table and told Rose to keep the drinks coming. By the third shot of Palinka, Eden was feeling warm and happy, but Sage wasn’t done yet. The band had been picking up down below, the sounds of saxophone and bass and drums beating through the club with gusto. And ponies kept flooding in. 
Sage pulled her out onto the dance floor and suddenly she was in a mass of bodies.  Ponies danced and writhed around her, sweat dripping off them and onto the floor. Lights from above pulsed on the floor, shone red, blue, purple. Sage’s face appeared out of the maelstrom. “I’ll show you how to dance,” her mouth said, and suddenly Eden was lifted up onto her hind legs, her front hooves pressed against Sage’s. “You go two forward, two back, like this.” Their hooves moved to the pattern. Sage pulled her forward and under her arm and back around again. “Like that,” she said, face flushed.
“Not so hard, then,” Eden said, making to dip under and try herself. She slipped on a spilled drink and nearly fell over, but Sage caught her. 
“Keep working on it,” Sage said. “Follow my lead.”
They swung back and forth, weaving in and around, close, then far. Her hooves tapped against the ground. A few times, she stepped on someone else’s hoof, but no one seemed to mind. The horns swelled. Sage pulled her in and tossed her in the air. Eden hung for a moment, almost flying, before falling back to the earth. “Not bad,” she said, grinning. “Now it’s my turn.”
The drums picked up tempo as the band moved into the next song. Eden took Sage and spun her around, bolstered above her ability by the alcohol and the infectious feel of the place. She clopped her hooves against the floor, two forward, then back, ducking and dodging between other patrons as the pair spun out into the middle of the floor. Sage smirked. “Let’s change this up,” she said.
Then suddenly she spun out of Eden’s hooves and was replaced by a large, handsome stallion that Eden had never met. He looked at her. She looked at Sage, who had taken up with a stallion of her own. Sage winked, and Eden knew what to do.
“May I have this dance?” she asked the stallion, even though they were already dancing. He grinned at her.
“Please,” he said.
And the two of them were off. The stallion was a much better dancer than she was, so Eden let him lead, winding in and out and through the crowd with abandon. Most of the dance floor had paired up at this point, and those that hadn’t had drifted to the side, eyeing the crowd for partners of their own. Eden and the stallion moved to the middle of the room, twirling with the best of them. Eden caught sight of Sage and her partner, twirling towards them.
“Your partner’s good!” Sage shouted. “I want a try!” Just like that, they switched places, and Sage’s partner went with Eden and vice versa. The new stallion was a bit clumsier, but not by much; he caught Eden’s eye and smiled. 
“Allow me,” he said, just as the music broke out into a roaring drum solo. Eden had a flash of the white pony from before banging on the drums with a wicked grin on her face. Then the stallion turned her around again and she was facing the crowd. One song blurred into another into another; she changed partners again and again, stopping briefly only a few times to grab water and check on Sage. Her friend’s grin was even broader, an expression of pure joy. In the weeks to come, Eden would go back to that smile many times.
At last, she broke away from the crowd for good, panting as she leaned against the wall. Sage glanced at her and gave a worried look, but she smiled and waved a hoof, signaling her friend to continue dancing. Sage nodded and turned back to whichever stallion she’d found this time.
Eden realized how thirsty she was. Keeping her balance as best she could, she maneuvered herself back over to the bar, where Rose was still watching the scene with boredom. Her face morphed into an amused expression when Eden sidled up. 
“Well, I see someone’s been having a good time,” she said.
“Do you have anything to drink that’s not alcoholic?” Eden panted.
“I’ve got water,” Rose said. “On the house, too.” She filled a cup and passed it across the bar. Eden drank the whole thing in a single gulp and passed it back for more. Rose raised an eyebrow.
“I wasn’t sure about you at first,” she said, refilling the cup, “but I guess I was wrong. Sage wouldn’t have brought a square to a place like this.”
“Just trying to give it my all,” Eden said, taking another swig of water. 
“Well,” Rose said, “that’s one way to do it. You’re even giving Sage a run for her money. I don’t think anyone else has been dancing so long.”
Eden looked at her. She figured Rose didn’t know anything out the other stuff, but in her drunk state it wasn’t so easy to tell. She opened her mouth to say something, possibly small talk like So how long have you known Sage, before everything thing went wrong.
A red stallion ran into the club from the hall to the outside. Eden recognized him as the bouncer from before. His face was sticky with something. One eye was swollen shut. He opened his mouth to shout something before a pony in a guard uniform ran in after him and clubbed him on the head. 
Eden’s mind felt frozen, slurred. She turned towards Rose, but she hadn’t noticed yet. Most of the crowd hadn’t seen either. Then a pony near the front screamed. The confusion swirled around Eden like she was still in a dance, like if she closed her eyes she would be back on the floor with Sage, or with a stallion or—
“Everybody get down!” The stallion who had clubbed the bouncer shouted. More ponies were streaming into the room, dressed in guard uniforms and brandishing nightsticks. “Everybody get down! I won’t say it again!”
More ponies noticed now. The dancing stopped, heads turned. The music cut off with a rousing squelch, the white pony whaling on the drums a few seconds longer than the other two. Someone else screamed. The crowd began to surge around them, but the ponies weren’t letting anyone out. 
“Order!” the stallion shouted. “This is the Hub City Guard! We will have order!”
But the crowd wasn’t having it. They were too wired, too flush with music and drink. A burly stallion went to push his way through the guard. One of the guards raised his nightstick, glaring. The stallion backed off.
“Order, dammit!” the guard shouted. “Where is the owner of this establishment! We just want a word!”
The crowd had stopped pushing, milling instead uncertainly on the dance floor. Eden tried to find Sage in the crowd, but her friend was nowhere to be seen. 
“I want to see the owner!” the guard shouted again. “Where is she?”
“Out of my way,” a voice said, and Spitfire pushed her way to the front of the crowd. She saw the guard and her face clouded over. “Orion. What the hell do you want?”
“Ah, Florid Paprika,” the guard, Orion, said. “You never can seem to stay out of trouble.”
“Shove it, stoneface,” Spitfire said.
“Insults will get you nowhere, ma’am,” the guard said.
“Neither will beating up my patrons. What do you want?”
“Your sign outside is off regulation,” the guard said. “Nothing too serious, but when I confronted your bouncer here to inquire as to an inspection, what did I find?” 
Eden pushed her way to the railing around the dance floor. 
Spitfire said nothing, watching Orion with a guarded expression. The Sagittarian held up a flask. “Palinka,” he said, sniffing the liquid in the flask. “An extremely deadly drink known to cause blindness, stupidity, and rage. Completely illegal, for you people’s own good.” He shook his head. “Hard to help you when you refuse to help yourselves. You’ve been warned, Florid. I’ve been more than lenient with you. I’m afraid I’ll have to shut you down. You’re under arrest for drug trafficking and running an illegal club.”
Spitfire bared her teeth. “You can’t,” she hissed.
“’Fraid I can,” he said. He pushed her aside and addressed the crowd. “Attention reds! From this point on, this property is under the authority of the Hub City Municipal Government! Please exit at once, or you will be charged with trespassing and prosecuted with the full power of the law!”
“Why, you—“ Spitfire said, rocking back. “I’ll—“ she made to shove the guard back, but the moment her hoof touched his uniform, there was a cry.
“Officer under attack!”
Spitfire barely had time to blink before three guards pounced on her, pulling out their clubs and hitting her over and over again. She cried out, shoved one of them off, and used her wings to force the other two away. They flew back and crashed against the wall. But Orion was not to be stopped. He caught her left wing between his arm and shoulder and twisted. Spitfire screamed, and Eden could hear the snap all the way across the room.
“My apologies,” he said, stepping away. Spitfire’s wing was bent at an odd angle, her face slick with sweat. She half stood, half fell against the ground. The two guards that she’d thrown off staggered to their feet. “Stay down, if you know what’s good for you.”
“Go to hell,” Spitfire hissed.
Orion looked at her for a moment, then turned back to the crowd. “Please vacate the premises. This mare needs medical attention, which we can’t call until the perimeter is secure. Do not make this harder than it already is.”
“Or what?” a familiar voice shouted, and Eden felt her stomach drop into her gut. Sage had pushed her way out of the crowd and stood in front of the crowd. “You’ll attack us too?”
“We will do whatever is necessary to defend ourselves,” Orion said. “You are all in violation of the law. Comply now or you will be subdued.”
Sage stood in front of the crowd, facing the guards. Something was wrong. Eden could see it in her eyes. Something stirring. 
“Leave,” Sage hissed. “I won’t ask again.”
“You are in no position to make demands, ma’am. This building is in violation, and so are you.”
“Sage,” Spitfire panted, trying to stand. “Don’t—“
“Stay down,” Sage said. “I’ll get you out.”
“You will do no such thing.”
Eden realized she was moving, pressing her way through the crowd, trying to reach her friend. Sage didn’t see her; no one did. She was so close….
“Ma’am, I will ask one more time. We do not want trouble. Please stand down and leave.”
Sage’s eyes narrowed. “Make me.”
“Get her,” the guard barked.
Two guards advanced on Sage. Spitfire, rousing herself, took a leap at one of the guards. The bouncer from before pulled himself to his feet and took a fighting position. The crowd pressed forward, looming in front of the officers.
The guards didn’t get more than ten feet from Sage before a bolt of fire erupted from her horn, slamming into them and driving them back against the wall. The flames roared so hot they were almost white, pinning the two guards down and bathing the wall in fire. The crowd and the guards fell back with a shout. Eden froze. “No….”
The fire died down, and Sage staggered to the side. Everything was frozen. Eden saw Spitfire staring at Sage, face frozen. The two guards, their fur black, slumped to the ground.
“They’ve got weapons!” one of the guards screamed. “Get them!”
The crowd roared. The guards charged. And the entire dance hall erupted into a fight. Eden was shoved to one side, tasted blood, soot. She saw flames. The wall that Sage had hit with the blast was on fire. The guards were retreating back down the passageway, dragging their injured comrades with them. The crowd surged after them.
“Sage!” Eden shouted. “Sage!” She couldn’t see anything. The flames were imprinted on her eyes. She coughed. Someone grabbed her, running with her out of the building. The rough cloth of a uniform scratched against her face. 
“I’ve got you, ma’am,” the pony said. She realized it was a guard.
He dropped her on the ground by the side of the building and ran off. She was outside, the red rays of Cestel blurring with the flames from the building. It was truly burning now, smoke flowing from the windows. Ponies streamed out of the front door, spilling out onto the street. Eden watched as several were cornered by guards and subdued. Several were beaten. 
“Sage!” she shouted again, pressing into the mass. She couldn’t think. The smoke and the crowd and the alcohol were too much, coming in from every direction, a flow of noise that shut out any attempt to process it. “Sage!”
Then she saw her. Sage was standing in the door, facing the main guard. Her eyes were on fire. Strange red light crackled at her horn. The guard did not seem disturbed. For the first time, Eden realized how tall he was. His mane was cropped short and bleached white. His eyes were green. Shadows licked the ground between them. 
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice soft yet still carrying over the crowd. 
“I’ll do what I want,” Sage said. “And you won’t hurt my friends.”
“I am merely following the law. Please comply or you will be subdued.”
“Bite me.”
The guard grinned, and for a moment his teeth looked sharp as knives. “Since you asked.” He leapt at her, and Eden made her decision. 
She raced forward, not knowing what she should do, her mind struggling to keep up with her body. She wanted to leave, to not be here anymore, to go somewhere, anywhere else. She thought of her apartment, the warm bed, her books, the view of the university. A pressure moved from her gut to her horn, and everything began to flash purple. 
She dove at Sage just as her horn exploded into a flash of light. Then everything went dark.
They were moving very fast through nowhere, a tangle of limbs and bodies, nonexistent wind ripping through their fur and making her nonexistent eyes tear up. She was accelerating, faster and faster and faster, until she couldn’t stand it anymore and—
The pair rematerialized with a thump, Eden rolling several meters away and crashing into a wall. She lay there, head spinning, breathing short, ragged breaths. Nearby, she could hear Sage groan.
The two of them were frozen for a few minutes before Eden decided she needed to get up. Every part of her body was sore, the pain concentrated in her horn, which throbbed gently. “What the hell—“ she said, staggering to her feet. In the middle of the room, Sage was curled into a ball, her shoulders shaking.
“Sage--?” 
“I—I’m okay…” Sage said, staggering to her feet. “I—whoops!” She turned her head to the side and threw up on the carpet. “Wow. That was… unexpected.”
“We need… we need… something,” Eden muttered. “Need to get up.” The room was spinning around her. She wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or whatever had happened. “Where are we….”
They were home. Eden blinked. It didn’t seem possible, yet there they were. They were in the living room. That was her coffee table, complete with the remains of their pre-game hours before. That was her rug that Sage had just threw up on. And… they…
“What on earth?” she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “How did we get here?”
Sage stood up, unsteady on her feet. Eden realized with concern that her eyes were unfocused.
“Take… take us back,” she mumbled.
“You think I did this?”
“Yes… take us back. Got to save… Rika. Her club’s on fire. My fault.”
Sage took a few stumbling steps towards the door. Eden chased after her.
“Alright,” she said to herself, “Sage has left the building. Come on, girl. I need to get you to bed. We’ll both have some whopping hangovers tomorrow morning.”
“No… need to get back.”
“You can get back tomorrow. There’s no class. Come on.” Eden laid a hand on Sage’s shoulder and steered her friend towards the bedroom. Sage resisted at first, but she was too far gone to put up a real fight. Some small part of Eden’s mind told her it was the magic, but she didn’t know how she would know that. She led Sage through the kitchen and into the bedroom.
“Come on,” she said, guiding her friend into the bed. “There we go. That’s it. Don’t worry about it; I’ve got you.” She put Sage down and dragged a trash can over next to her. Sage was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Eden looked at her for a moment then closed the door. 
She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, which she finished almost immediately and went for another. She leaned against the counter and tried to stop her head from throbbing. “Stop,” she said, tapping her horn. The pain seemed to come from within; she could touch it without making it hurt worse. 
A light from the window caught her eye. She could see the view of the university, and beyond that, the whole of Hub City, stretching out towards the horizon, the tops of the houses dyed red in the light. In the distance was a flickering orange blob, a trail of smoke leading off of it and up into the sky. Eden looked at it, a foreboding feeling coiling around her stomach. She needed to go to sleep. She needed to rest, to get the alcohol and the pain out of her system. But for the moment, she could only stare. 
	What have we started?




> 8. Among the Living
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	A cold wind blew through the makeshift camp, rustling the grass that grew along the path. No birds chirped, not a single living thing moved. The area was completely, deafeningly silent. 
Across the clearing, the Andalusians were setting up their tent. Noble’s bag had been cut in the fight, and the tear had sliced through a large portion of the tent, creating a cut that opened nearly an entire side to the elements. Now he sat, patiently threading through the tear with a needle that was far too small for the job. Jade was similarly working on the other side. Spec walked up to them. 
“Looks like you’re going to need a bigger patch,” Spec said.
Jade grunted, leaning down and beginning to thread the needle through the cloth at the edge of the tear. The tiny thread looked comical next to the enormous gash. Spec raised her eyebrows as the hole was stitched together.
“Don’t worry about her,” Noble said. “We’re better than you’d think at repairs. The tent will be finished before you know it.”
“Well it had better,” Spec said, looking over to the edge of the clearing. A smaller, pink tent had been set up, and from the silhouettes on the cloth Spec could tell that the two sisters were inside. “That thing doesn’t look watertight at all.”
“It’s a day tent,” Noble said. “Something to keep the sun off while they rest. It’s been adapted for our purposes, but you’re right to think it will not be sufficient for the road.”
Spec stared at it for a minute longer, then turned back to Jade, still working on the tear. It barely looked any different at all. “You know,” she said, scratching the back of her neck, “we’ve got some extra blankets and canvas if you want to use them. They’re not exactly silk, but they’ll do the trick.”
“Thanks,” Noble said. “I’ll ask the ladies, but I don’t know what they’ll say. They’re not the most adept at accepting charity.”
“Well, it’s that or some seriously wet times ahead,” Spec said, looking up at the gathering storm.
“I will ask them,” Noble said. “But we’re okay for now. You can go.”
“Right,” Spec said, rocking from hoof to hoof. “Good talking to you, Noble.”
“Likewise.”
Axel was sitting outside, poking at the fire with a stick. She looked up as Spec approached. “What’s the news?”
“The robbers are long gone,” Spec said, “and there’s a stream near the camp that we can get water from. The Andalusians are trying to fix their tent, but there’s no way they’re going to finish before this storm hits.”
“I know,” Axel said. She looked over. The two of them were working away, unfazed by the size of their task. Spec suppressed a snort. “They’re going to have to ask for help,” Axel said. “I’m going to make them do that much, at least.”
A moan from within their own tent caused her to turn. Capricorn had shifted again, his eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids, sweat beading at his brow. Spec could see the dull form of Cesar crouched over him. “Any news from this front?” she asked Axel.
Axel shook her head. “Nope,” she said. “He’s the same as he was before. We can’t wake him, and he’s refusing food and water.”
“Is anything… coming out?”
Axel’s flat look made her blush. “What? I’m just asking!”
Cesar emerged from the tent, stretching like a cat. Axel looked at him. He shook his head. 
“He better enjoy it,” Axel growled. “Once he gets up I’m going to roast him good for giving us a scare like this.”
Cesar said nothing. He reached over to where a small pile of wood had been stored, and placed a few pieces on the fire. He soon had the fire going again. “Don’t like the look of those clouds.”
“Yeah,” Axel said, squinting at the sky, “they’re unusual.”
Above them, the clouds had darkened to a slate grey. They were rolling over the clearing like the lid of a coffin. Spec could feel the pressure drop in her ears. “Where are all the animals?” she said.
“Hiding, if they have any sense,” Axel said. She looked over to the two guards, now trying to lift one of the poles up to string the canvas along the top. A gust of wind blew the pole down, collapsing the canvas over Jade. Noble scrambled to get her out while a steady stream of swear words came from under the canvas. Axel shook her head. “Spectrum, get the larger canvas out of the bag, and set it up. I have a feeling we’ll need the extra room.”
“If you say so, boss.” Spec stood up and walked to Cesar’s bag, removing the rolled bolt of canvas and laying it out on the ground. She tied ropes to each end and secured it to the ragged tree next to the tent. Then she pounded the stakes into the ground and pulled the tent taught. 
By this time, the first few drops of rain had fallen, splashing against the dirt and leaving small craters of dust in their wake. They hissed as they hit the fire.
“This is going to be a bad one,” Cesar said. “Spec, help me move the fire.” Together, they began moving burning pieces of wood from the fire pit to a spot just beneath the canvas. Across the camp, Axel was walking back over to where the guards were working. She said something to them, but the wind had become strong enough that Spec couldn’t hear.
She walked inside the tent. The rain fell against the canvas, thumping in rhythmic pattern. She could smell ozone from outside, mixed with the smoke of the fire.
The tent flap pushed open and Cesar walked in, shaking water from his dripping mane. “Where’s Axel?” Spec said.
“She’s talking to the guards,” he said. “I don’t think she wants them to stay out in the rain.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Yes,” Cesar said. “She’s got a good heart, but don’t let her catch you saying that.”
“She’s prickly.”
“Axel believes the best way to command respect is through distance. It’s not necessarily something I agree with, but it’s her way.” He paused, shook his head. “Your father was never so strict.”
“What do you mean?” Spec said, hear heart in her throat.
“Blitz, he was… very approachable. He always thought the best way to solve a problem was to get down on the level of the arguers and see them out. He used to say that you couldn’t read a story without looking at the words. Whenever any of the group would have conflict, he would sit us down and listen, and that applied to him too. Sometimes he wouldn’t even lead at all, he’d let me or Marlow or Axel do it instead, because he felt that our areas of expertise were more appropriate for the situation.”
“And look where that got him,” Axel said, stepping through the tent flap. Behind her was Noble, his coat clinging to his body, his mane sopping wet. He offered them all an embarrassed grin.
“Hello,” he said.
“Jade felt like she would prefer to sit outside and freeze to death,” Axel said. “This one has more sense.”
“She felt it would be appropriate for her to guard the Ladies’ tent,” Noble said.
“So they’re just letting her freeze outside?”
“She wouldn’t go into their tent either. Jade is… a very serious mare. She believes very strongly in her duties.”
“She’s a stubborn fool,” Axel said.
“You won’t hear me deny it,” Noble said. There was a silence while they all looked away from each other. He shuffled his hooves. “Thank you,” he said.
“Don’t mention it,” Axel said. “We’re on the same team here, after all. No secrets between friends and all.”
“Yes,” Noble said, sitting down. “Exactly.”
The rain outside increased from a pitter to a constant low noise, like the ocean in a shell. In the corner, Capricorn continued to twitch, but he seemed less anxious now, as if the rain was calming him. His breathing slowed to a calmer pace.
“So,” Spec said after a long pause.
“So,” Noble said.
“Yeah,” Spec said. “I don’t really know what to say. What’s your story, Noble?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. I know the others’ stories—“ here Cesar and Axel shared a look, “—but I don’t know anything about you. So how about it?”
“There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid,” Noble said, shifting in his seat. “My mother mated with an Astral from the middle range—“
“You’re mixed blood?”
“Of course. It’s why I’m a guard. All of us half-breeds are.”
“What’s that?”
“Half Andalusian, half something else,” Cesar interrupted. “Occupies a lower caste in Andalusian society.”
“Oh.”
“Yes,” Noble said. “It’s what your friend Capricorn was talking about last night.” His eyes flicked towards the form on the bed. “I don’t mind it, though. We have a good life, far better than most in this country. You can always tell a half breed by his mane. See how mine’s two-toned? You’d never see a pure breed Andalusian, like the sisters, have a two toned mane.”
“But Ivy does,” Spec said.
Noble blinked. “No,” he said, “she doesn’t.”
“Yes she does,” Spec said. “At least, I thought she did…”
“Noble’s right, Spec,” Axel said. “The sisters only have one color in their manes.”
“Huh.” Spec shook her head. “That’s weird….”
Noble coughed. “Anyway,” he said, “not to bore you with the details, but my mother was Lord Sterling’s sister. So I serve house Sterling. If I was born into another noble house, such as Sanguine or Ferrus, then I would serve them.”
“So you’re related to Amber?”
“Only by blood.”
Spec shook her head again. Cesar chuckled. “Don’t worry about it too much, Spectrum,” he said. “Andalusian customs can be difficult to understand even if you’ve known them for a long time.”
“You sound like you speak from experience,” Noble said.
Cesar shook his head. “Nothing like that. I’ve just been around the block.”
They were quiet for a time. Rain beat against the tent. Lightning flashed outside, and a low roll of thunder sounded soon after. Cesar’s smile faded. “Shouldn’t storm like this so far south,” he said.
“Yeah,” Axel said. “This is unusual.”
As if to punctuate her disbelief, a loud boom echoed above them, rattling Spec’s teeth in her head. Capricorn jerked to the side and moaned. They turned to look at him, but he was still again.
“Anyway,” Noble said, shifting his weight. He sat down and looked at the fire. “That’s me. Not a lot else to tell. I was put into guard training when I was seven, and I haven’t looked back.”
“Jade too?”
Noble nodded. “We’re not that interesting. I’m pretty sure she’s the child of a lesser family member. I hadn’t really met her until this trip. We were on different details.”
“Seems odd,” Axel said, “wouldn’t Sterling want a stronger team, one that worked better together?”
“Lord Sterling didn’t pick us,” Noble said. “Ivy did.”
“The girl?” Now Axel looked genuinely confused. Spec felt a shiver run down her back.
“Yes,” Noble said. “I don’t know why. She just said we were important.”
“Why does a little filly get to make a decision like that?”
Noble shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong guard.” Spec frowned. There was something else in his voice, an uneasiness she hadn't noticed before. Axel noticed it too. She smiled.
“You’re not used to lying, are you, Mr. Shield?”
“What?” Noble looked like he was trying not to spook. “I don’t know what you’re—“
At that moment, the loudest boom of thunder yet heard reverberated through the tent, making them all jump. The flap of the tent opened, and in walked three very wet ponies. Jade led the way, her mane falling into her eyes and a frown so big Spec thought it would fall off her face. Behind her were the two sisters, scarcely looking better. Amber’s mane was in total disarray, and something told Spec that the Andalusian was far more bothered by this than she cared to admit.
But Ivy was the most startling. The filly was a wreck. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and she crouched beneath Amber, shuddering like a leaf in the wind. Spec could almost hear her teeth chatter.
“Goodness!” Amber said, looking around at the gathering ponies. “I hope you don’t mind us dropping in; the wind blew our makeshift tent over and the storm is simply too powerful to sit outside at the moment.”
“It’s no problem,” Axel said. “We’d have offered you from the beginning, you know.”
“Yes, well, thank you,” Amber said. The thunder rumbled again and Ivy suppressed a whimper, clutching more tightly to Amber’s leg. Amber put a hoof on her head. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “We’re going to be okay.” Seeing the assembled looks, she offered them an apologetic smile. “She’s afraid of thunderstorms.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Axel said.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. The two sisters sat down next to the fire, and Jade followed suit, wringing out her mane to get the worst of the water out. Noble stood and took his place next to her. The three caravaneers sat on the other side, looking at the Andalusians. The Andalusians looked back.
Capricorn moaned again. Ivy’s eyes flicked to where he was sitting. Amber cleared her throat. “Is he… any better?”
“No.” Axel’s voice was flat and hard. “He’s not.”
Amber licked her lips. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“Are you?” Axel snorted. “Well, that’s great to hear. Since we’re all cooped up in here with nowhere to go, you’ve got some explaining to do. Nowhere in the deal did it ever specify that you were hauling magical artifacts.”
“Well, you see, it’s rather secret—“
“And my bard is rather unconscious. Don't bullshit me.”
“I’m sorry,” Amber said. “We should have told you from the beginning.”
“Yeah you should have.” Axel sighed. “It’s not a big deal,” she said. “So long as he wakes up.”
“He will!” Amber said. “Soon, I promise.” Axel’s gaze was unwavering.
“What is it?” Axel said.
“It’s… and heirloom,” Amber said. “From the lands where my family is from. We don’t know much about it, truth be told. Where exactly it came from is a mystery to us as well.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Axel said.
“Really,” Amber said, “I don’t know much. Only that the box is as old as it is and the only thing that can contain its power.”
“What did it do to Capricorn?”
“Put him to sleep, temporarily,” Amber said. “Once, when I was a filly, someone tried to steal it from the Sterling family vault. We found him the next day, box opened on the ground, twitching and under some kind of spell. It was like he was trapped in a nightmare.”
The thunder boomed outside. Amber glanced at Capricorn again.
“Did he wake up?” Axel asked. “The thief.”
“Yes,” Amber said. There was something in her voice that suggested to Spec that there was more to the tale, but Axel didn’t push.
“Listen to me, Miss Sterling,” she said. “The success of this trip depends on the survival of my bard. If he dies, consider this trip over. If there are any more ancient relics of great power in your possession that you haven’t told me about, consider this trip over. And if you’ve lied to me about what you know about this thing…”
“We get it,” Jade said. “You’ll consider the trip over.”
Axel looked at her. “You’re picking a bad time to get a mouth on you,” she said.
Jade didn’t say anything. 
“Okay,” Axel said, looking away from her. “Good. Now, how about we get some food passed out. Cesar, were you able to get—“
There was a great crack, and the light from the outside briefly became bright as day. Spec could see the outlines of the trees on the canvas. Capricorn shot straight up in bed and screamed.
“Hold him!” Axel shouted, and then the tent was a flurry of movement. Spec and Cesar jumped on his arms, Axel and Noble on his legs. Jade stood back, hovering over the sisters, watching with guarded eyes.
Capricorn sputtered and gurgled, his tongue hanging out, flecks of spit and drool flying out of his mouth and landing on Spec. She gritted her teeth and held on as his eyes rolled back in his head and his back arched so high she thought it would snap. Strange sounds were coming from his mouth, something between a gargle and a hiss.
“What’s going on?” Axel shouted. Capricorn bucked and she flew off, but barely touched the ground as she bounded back and threw her weight back onto his leg. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know!” Noble shouted as Capricorn pushed him back and forth. The Sagittarian clocked him across the face. “Gah—what do they feed these ponies?”
“Amber?” Axel said, “Start talking!” Capricorn opened his mouth and bit down hard on her hoof. She screamed in pain and punched him across the face. He continued thrashing as if nothing had happened.
“I… I—“ Amber sputtered. Ivy clung to her leg, watching Capricorn thrash with wide eyes.
For a moment, Spec thought she was seeing double. She could see Capricorn, see his chest heaving, his coat slick with sweat, and his wild, roving eyes, but there was something else there too. She could see it in the shadows between his fur and skin, something dark, that crawled and slithered across his coat like oil. It was faint, so faint it might not have been there at all, but the sight of it made her ill.
Then the thunder struck again and Capricorn threw them all off. Spec was sent flying into the wall of the tent and crashed through it, skidding through the icy slush and landing in a heap.
The world was silent around her. She tried to stand, but the lightning flashed again and this time she could not see from which direction it came. White trees flashed against her eyes. She fell back, splashing in the mud. Capricorn screamed. Something was pressing against her, something terrible and ancient and evil, and for a second she saw two eyes staring out at her from nowhere.
Then the eyes were gone, and she was sitting in the mud, rain pouring down on her head. She sat up, and looked to where the tent was still standing. There was a new hole in it, and through it she could see that Capricorn was limp again, ragged breaths coming through his nose. Axel stood over him, face clenched in concentration.
“He needs help,” she said as Spec re-entered the tent. “We can’t do anything for him here.”
“There isn’t a doctor for a week in any direction,” Cesar said. 
“I’m not talking about a doctor,” Axel said. “Whatever this is, it’s beyond medicine.”
Amber looked at the ground. Axel fixed her with an icy glare before continuing. “There is an Ahkal-Teke clan that is only a day’s march away. They will be there, this time of year. They can help him.”
“You think that a bunch of tribal ponies are going to know what this is?” Cesar said.
“No,” Axel said, “but she agrees with me.” She tilted her head towards Amber, who licked her lips. “She won’t say a word but she knows that much. This thing is older than Blue medicine, they won’t have experienced it. And if he stays under much longer…”
Amber cleared her throat. “It is… a possibility,” she said. 
Spec felt hot anger bubble from within her. “A possibility!” she shouted. “You should have told us about this sooner! What the hay is wrong with you? I thought—“ she choked. What was she thinking? They had never been friends. 
Amber didn’t look at her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was of vital importance that the nature of what we were carrying be kept secret.”
“Well, your secrets may have cost us a life,” Axel said.
“They would cost far more if word got out,” Amber said.
Axel shook her head. “We need to leave,” she said. “There’s no point just standing around and arguing about this. Cesar, you’re going to have to carry Capricorn.
Cesar nodded. “I can help,” Noble said.
“Right now, I wouldn’t trust you Andalusians as far as I could throw you,” Axel said. Noble winced. “We’re leaving in just a few minutes. Pack up as much as you can.
“In the rain?” Spec said.
“Yes,” Axel said. “No telling when it’s going to stop.”
The next ten minutes were spent packing the camp up in silence. Capricorn was laid out on a stretcher and bound down so that his flailing wouldn’t cause him or Cesar any harm. The rain continued to beat down again. Distant thunder boomed across the taiga. 
Spec shouldered her pack and took point, but Axel joined her, directing her off the path and down a much less well-known trail. In just minutes they had left the road behind entirely. Spec didn’t know how Axel was navigating; there were no landmarks but the boulders and the slope of the land. They walked in near silence. The Andalusians kept to the back, occasionally muttering something to each other. They seemed to know better than to argue. 
Axel called a stop four hours later. The crew munched on some wet bread. The rain was everywhere, seeping into the deepest parts of Spec’s clothes, soaking her coat through. She felt as if she would never be dry again. 
“How is he?” Axel asked Cesar as they stopped.
“The same, more or less,” Cesar replied. “He’s saying something, but I don’t know what it is. I can’t make it out.”
“But he hasn’t talked to you or woken up?”
“Not at all.”
Axel shook her head. “Hang on, Capricorn,” she said.
They resumed their march at once, trudging down the rocky plain towards a sloping middle ground. Spec gave up all hope of determining where they were. Everything looked the same; the rocks, the few scraggled trees, the grey sky and rain. She walked in a sort of daze, looking forward or down, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. 
Three hours later, Capricorn began to shout again. The thunder rose. He squirmed against his bonds and bit his tongue so hard it bled, the red liquid leaking down his muzzle. Axel bound his mouth shut with a piece of rope, and after that only groans and whimpers came from him. They continued in silence.
Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time. Axel stopped so suddenly that Spec ran into her. “What they hay—“ she said, but she froze. Axel was looking up to the top of the next hill, where the form of a pony was illuminated by the distant lightning. It looked down at them, but Spec could not see who or what it was.
“We seek the council of Mother Malus!” Axel shouted towards the form. Her words were instantly snatched up by the wind. “We have a sick crewmember and we think he is poisoned by something beyond us! We seek passage! We come in peace!”
The lightning sounded again and the figure was gone. “Now what?” Spec said.
“Now we wait,” Axel said. “We can go no further unless they wish us to. Otherwise we invite disaster.”
They did not have to wait long. It was scarcely fifteen minutes later before a shout from Axel announced the arrival of three ponies. They looked like nothing Spec had ever seen. Their clothes were coarsely woven and inlaid with feathers and claws. Their manes were dyed in extravagant patterns of grey and black. They approached, faces set, and Spec could not help but feel cowed.
Axel stepped forward and said something in a language Spec could not understand. When she finished, there was silence. The rain beat down on them. Spec’s hooves slowly sunk into the mud. She felt tense, like the new ponies were about to attack.
With a cry of delight, the pony in the front reared up and threw her front legs around Axel in a full embrace. The surprised caravaneer staggered back, but her expression quickly settled into one of resignation. She patted the other pony on the back. Spec looked towards Cesar, who shrugged.
The pony pulled back, hoof still on Axel’s shoulder, her smile a mile wide. She said something back to Axel, who responded in kind. The two began to talk in earnest now. Cesar’s face was screwed up in confusion now; he was trying to figure out the conversation. Then his eyes widened and he lapsed into a coughing fit. Axel glared at him.
The pony’s eyes turned towards Cesar, and then to Capricorn, who was muttering something in his sleep. The cheer in her eyes faded at once, and she walked over to Cesar and poked at Capricorn. The bard gave a moan. The pony turned back towards Axel and said something else. Axel shot back. She sounded annoyed. Spec scratched her head. There was something… familiar… about how they were talking.
“What are they saying?” she asked Cesar. He coughed.
“The pony’s name is Rokus, I think. She’s annoyed at Axel for bringing a… ‘cursed?’… I don’t know the proper word… pony into Ahkal land.”
“She’s talking about Capricorn?”
“Yeah. There’s more too. Um.” Cesar shifted. “Axel, how come you didn’t tell us?”
“Tell us what?” Spec said.
“It wasn’t ever important,” Axel said.
“Sounds pretty important to me!” Cesar said.
“What’s important?” Spec said. 
“We don’t have time for this,” Axel said. Rokus was looking at her bemusedly. “Rokus says that we can bring Capricorn in, but she’s wary of him. He’s got to go straight to the leader to get exorcised.”
“You mean there’s like a demon inside of him?” Spec said.
“Rokus seems to think so,” Axel said. “It’s an old story in their mythology.”
“You mean your mythology,” Cesar said.
“Cesar…” Axel said, a note of danger in her voice.
“Rokus here is Axel’s sister,” Cesar said.
“What?”
“Dammit, Cesar.”
“I thought you were a city Ahkal,” Spec said. “That’s what my dad always said.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone said,” Cesar said. “And apparently it’s not true.”
“Capricorn is dying!” Axel shouted. “There isn’t time for this.”
Cesar narrowed his eyes. “You’re right,” he said. “But don’t think you’re getting out of this one so easily. We’re having a long, involved talk about this as soon as Capricorn wakes up.”
“Well, I can’t stop you from trying,” Axel said. “Come on.”
“No you can’t,” Cesar said. “And I’m right behind you.”
Throughout this entire conversation the Andalusians had held back, keeping to themselves, perhaps wondering how they would be taken by these strangely dressed ponies. Rokus solved that at once, walking up to Amber and looking her in the eye. Amber didn’t back down, her ears pressed back. Jade made to step forward, but Noble held her back.
Rokus stared at her for a long moment before, apparently satisfied, she turned around and marched back to the front of the group, talking with Axel as they began to move again. 
The three new ponies led the group through a maze of boulders and up another hill. As they approached, Spec could see tents emerge from the mist, far larger than anything the caravan had ever set up. Ponies milled about them, their manes dyed in the same patterns, dressed in similar clothes. She had never been to an Ahkal camp before. 
When they reached the outskirts of the camp, Rokus called for a stop. She talked to Axel, who turned and addressed the rest of them. “Rokus says that Capricorn can go no further. She’s not willing to accept him into the camp in his current state. Instead, they will work on him here. Me, Amber, and Spec are going to go into camp to meet with Mother Malus, the matriarch.
“Why us?” Spec said. 
“Amber because she’s the leader of the Andalusians and technically a foreign dignitary. Me because I’m in charge. You because… this is sort of hard to explain… Mother Malus has been looking for a mare with your mane style for almost a year now.”
“What?”
“You’re not going to be harmed,” Axel said. “That I promise. If she finds out I hid you she’ll be pretty pissed. Malus is intimidating, but she’s not dangerous to us. She’s… how to say this… very old and sometimes gets visions. Apparently one of them involves you.”
“We will protect you, Spectrum,” Amber said. Spec rolled her eyes.
“I don’t feel comfortable allowing Lady Ambrosia to enter this caravan unprotected,” Jade said.
“We saved Ivy from the robbers didn’t we?” Axel said. “You two didn’t do anything about that. You’re going to have to learn that you can trust us one of these days.”
“I will be fine,” Amber said. “Watch Ivy for me. We will be back before you know it.”
Jade grunted, but said nothing. Noble nodded his head.
“Come on,” Axel said, leading the two ponies forward. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Did you know Malus when you lived here?” Spec said as the four of them began to walk. 
“Of course I did,” Axel said. “She’s my great-grandmother.”
“Oh.”
“Ahkal-Teke live in family tribes,” Amber said. “The oldest mare is in charge of the tribe. This Malus must be pretty old if the tribe has gotten this big under her care.”
“She is,” Axel said. “She’s one of the oldest and most respected clan mothers on the plains. Which is why you two need to show your utmost respect to her when we arrive.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Spec said.
“I hope that’ll be good enough,” Axel said.
Rokus led them to the largest tent, perched in the center of the camp. It was made of the same woven fibers as the rest of the tents, but dye and inlay set it apart and signified special importance. The opening flaps had been drawn back, and a fire blazed within. Try as she could, Spec could not see more than a glimmer of the forms that sat within. Rokus stepped forward and called out something in the Ahkal language. Axel stood, straight as a board. A moment later, something inside the tent shifted, and a pony emerged.
She was old, older than nearly any pony Spec had ever seen. Her green coat hung in folds around her face and neck, thin enough in some places that her skin showed through. She was slightly unsteady on her hooves; her enlarged knees wobbled. But her eyes were clear and sharp as any Spec had seen, and she looked at the visiting ponies with something akin to merriment. 
“Well, well, well,” she said, shaking her head. “Askel Rokus, back from the dead. You’ve given your family quite the scare, you know.”
“Mother Malus, I apologize for my transgressions,” Axel said, dipping her head. Her back was stiff. “I present myself to you and seek your forgiveness.”
“Bah, I don’t need it, child,” Malus said, waving a hoof. “You are always welcome to come and go as you please.”
Axel blinked. “That’s… wonderful to hear, Mother.”
“Don’t pretend not to be surprised, I can see it all over your face,” Malus said. “Things have changed around here since you ran off, as your sister might have told you.”
“She… told me that you’ve begun having visions again,” Axel said.
“She probably told you that I’d gone crazy,” Malus said, “that I’ve begun ‘speaking in tongues’ and calling myself by other names.”
“I…”
“She’s right, you know, but don’t let that get in the way. Oh, it’s so good to see you.” Stepping forward, Malus wrapped Axel in a warm hug. Spec stared. Her boss looked more uncomfortable at the gesture than she’d ever seen her before. Malus pulled back and appraised her. “You were right, you know,” she said. “This place can be stifling. I didn’t understand you back then, and I still don’t, but I’ve recalled some experiences from my youth that reminded me of what exactly it was that drove you away. And for that, I am truly sorry.”
Axel swallowed. “I… I see.”
Spec fidgeted; she wasn’t sure if she ought to be there for this moment. Malus caught the movement and turned towards her. “Don’t think for one second I’ve forgotten about you, Rainbow Dash,” she said, a curious accent creeping into her voice. “You and your friends are mighty hard mares to track down.”
“I… I’m sorry?” Spec said. The moment she started speaking, Malus’ smile grew even wider. “I think you might have me mistaken for somepony else.”
“No, I reckon not, actually,” Malus said, walking past Axel and towards her and Amber. “And I can’t hardly believe my luck, either. Near ten years of searching for the elements of harmony. Ten years of chasing ghosts, of wondering if y’all’d even come back at all, and yet here you are, not one, but two, of the Bearers right here, in my camp! Well, I suppose fate, or Celestia, well, she’s going to work in mysterious ways.”
“I—who?”
Malus walked right up to Spec and looked her in the eye. Spec tried not to drop her gaze. “You’re going to have a lot of work cut out for you, you know,” she said, a small smile on her face. “This world is about as far from friendship as can be. It’s been a long, long, long time.”
Spec glanced at Axel, who looked perplexed, and over to Amber, who seemed just as confused. She shook her head.
“If you please, Mother Malus,” Amber said. “I’m afraid we are not following.”
“Then we’re on the same page,” Malus said, stepping away from Spec and towards Amber. “The lovely Rarity herself. I figured you must have come back an Andalusian; the fur patterns wouldn’t allow much else, but the heir of the Sterling line? Well that’s quite the shocker. But I reckon I was just being foolish. You always did act like royalty.”
“Mother—“ Axel said, and Malus turned back towards her. 
“Don’t mind me, Axel!” she called. Axel’s face scrunched even further in confusion. “I’m just getting reacquainted with old friends. These two used to run with my granddaughter, you know.”
“Your granddaughter? I thought Axel was your great-granddaughter.”
“She is, Rainbow,” Malus said. “I’m talking about somepony else.”
“That’s not my name,” Spec said. 
“Mother,” Axel said, “what language are you speaking? I can’t—I can’t understand you.”
“What are you talking about, Axel?” Spec said. “She’s speaking Ridgetongue.” Axel looked at her blankly. “Ridgetongue? The language we all speak? Amber, what’s going on?”
Amber shrugged. “I’d wondered how an Ahkal matriarch spoke the language of the Andalusians so well, myself.”
“What?” Spec said.
“We ain’t speaking neither,” Malus said. “Listen to y’alls selves for a moment.”
“What they hay are you talking about? I am… listening?” Spec froze. She opened her mouth. “I—“ She clasped it shut again. Malus was watching her, excitement lighting up her face. “What’s—“ The words were different, but she understood them. “What’s going on?” 
“You’re speaking Equestrian. It’s been a while, but always good to stretch the mother tongue,” Malus said. “We can switch back now. Just a little test of mine.”
“I…” Spec concentrated, and with some effort was able to speak in words she understood again. “That was weird.” Next to her, Amber seemed to be feeling the same; the Andalusian’s face was scrunched up as if she was thinking very hard. 
Malus smiled at them. “Call me Granny Smith, girls,” she said. “What brings you to my home?”
If Axel found the sudden switch back to Ridgetongue confusing, she didn’t let it show. “One of our caravaneers is very sick, Mother,” she said. “He was… attacked, I think, by an artifact that we know very little about and are not prepared to handle.”
“Magic?” Malus said, her content expression fading. 
Amber cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said, “of a certain kind. But I have to stress that neither I nor my sister knew what the thing was capable of.”
“They’re hauling something very dangerous,” Axel said. “We were attacked by highwaymen on the road a ways from here and it was taken out as part of the robbery process. It came out and they ran.”
“Describe how it made you feel,” Malus said. She began to walk out of the camp; wordlessly, the other ponies followed suit. 
“Cold,” Axel said. 
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Malus said. Axel frowned.
“It felt like it went inside of me and touched me,” Amber said, “but that didn’t feel bad. It felt… resonant, I think, with something already there. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
Spec realized that was enough of a description when Malus tensed, moving faster. “The shadows,” she said, an urgency now clear in her voice. “Did it control the shadows?”
“How did you know?” Spec said.
But now Malus was running, as fast as her old legs would carry her, muttering something under her breath that Spec could not hear. They passed the last set of tents and returned to where the caravan was waiting. A small crowd of Ahkal-Teke ponies had gathered as well. Cesar had put Capricorn on the ground and there he lay, thrashing and muttering to himself, eyeballs twitching beneath closed eyelids.
“Oh, Celestia,” Malus murmured when she saw him. “Out of the way!”
She pushed through the waiting ponies. The Ahkal melted behind her and Spec had to push through, until she found herself kneeling next to Capricorn. Malus had his head cradled in her hooves. “Where is the one who did this!” she shouted at the ponies. “Bring them forward!”
“Granny Smith!” a voice shouted, and suddenly Ivy was there, her face alight with joy. She hugged the back of Malus, who smiled at her. “Hello, Sweetie Belle, I’m afraid now is not the time.”
“But I can help!” Ivy said, rummaging around in her coat. She pulled out the chain with the box at the end—
“NO!” Malus shouted, and for a moment Spec thought she would knock the box out of the filly’s hands. “My word, Sweetie Belle, you’ve been busy! Where on earth did you get a thing like that?”
“It’s an heirloom in my new family,” Ivy said, the words tumbling out of her faster than she could form them. “It’s from the twilight lands. They’ve used it to keep power. They don’t know what it is. When I recognized it—“
“You had to take it away,” Malus said. “Oh, my dear little filly. What have you gotten yourself into?”
“What the hell is going on,” Axel said, and with a jolt Spec realized Ivy and Malus were speaking in the other language again. “Sterling, you’d better have a good explanation for this.”
“I’m afraid I’m as lost as you are, Axel,” Amber said.
“You can save him, right Granny?” Ivy said, looking at Capricorn. “He’s going to be okay?”
“Well…” Malus said. She put her hear onto his chest. “How much do you remember from Equestria, Sweetie Belle?”
“Some, not all,” Ivy said. 
“Enough to recognize the symptoms of shadow poisoning, though,” Malus said. Ivy nodded. “Well he’s in luck. We’ve got two bearers here, but this is a bad case. Something inside him is resonant with the corruption. It’s not about to leave easy.”
Capricorn muttered and turned his head again.
“His form ain’t changed though. There’s hope,” Malus said. “You two!” she shouted, pointing to Spec and Amber. They froze. “Come over here now. Your friend don’t have much time.”
Hesitantly, Spec and Amber walked forward. “Put your hooves on his chest, like this,” Malus said. The two complied. “Now, y’all are still pretty under, I reckon, so this might not work.”
“Under what?” Spec said.
“Don’t talk over your elders. What I need you to do is close your eyes and imagine a strong memory you have with Capricorn, something positive. Something good he did for you, particularly if he was loyal, or generous. Those’ll be the two that will resonate the most here.”
“But I don’t know Mr. Aster very well—“ Amber began.
“You’ve been on the road with him for a while,” Malus said. “And like I said it don’t have to be big. He doesn’t have to had saved your life.”
Spec closed her eyes and tried to think. Capricorn, Capricorn. An image of him poking at the fire, or playing the lute and singing rose to mind. She smiled.
“Good,” Malus said. “That’s good. Push a little deeper, if you can.”
Spec kept thinking. Unbidden, the memories were coming fast now. She thought of the four of them drinking at the tavern before the trip began, tossing theories about the Andalusians and reminiscing about the good old days. And then the times before were in her mind, walking down a sunlit path, her father at her side, Capricorn, then much younger, leading the way. She thought about ponies she hadn’t seen or heard of in years, of Marlowe and Abel and Inlay. And she thought of her father, of his laugh that filled a campsite, of his reckless devotion to his team, of his love of life and every single pony he came across…
Then the memory played like a movie in her mind. Sitting at the fire, listening to Capricorn play, Cesar cooking, her father and Axel planning the next leg of the trip. The deep, gentle snores of Inlay came from the tent, coupled with the sounds of wooden sparring sticks as Abel and Marlowe dueled across the clearing….
Her gut twisted, and suddenly a warmth was filling her from her toes upward, pleasant and exhilarating. Her heart beat faster. Something was coming… she could feel it approaching, right on the edges of her senses, roaring like a wind and crashing over the gathered ponies. Then the ground dropped out beneath her and she was falling down at a great speed, glued to Capricorn, Amber across from her. Mother Malus, Axel, the gathered ponies all faded away into the darkness. Something howled at her ears.
In front of her rose a wave of fire, consuming a city she had never seen before. It crumbled to ashes, only for another city to rise in its place. The fire roared and destroyed it, and again another rose to fall, and again and again and again. And now a city she recognized rose up, Hub City, its brickwork and clock towers gleaming in the fading sun. But the fire rose again, and soon the streets were ash and char rained from the sky. And in that moment, she thought she saw something, a pair of eyes made from green fire, glaring out at her with unspeakable hate. 
Then the force finished and she fell back, dazed. The ponies were back. The camp was back. She lay on the ground, the tough scrub grass digging into her back, staring at the sky. There was a rustle of movement. She sat up. Capricorn was sitting on the ground, blinking like an owl at the gathered ponies.
“Capricorn,” Axel barked, “sound off!”
Capricorn turned towards her. For a moment, his face remained blank. “…Axel?” he said, voice hoarse.
“You’re back,” Axel said.
Then Capricorn lunged for her, wrapping her in a bear hug while great sobs shook his body. Axel patted his back, saying nothing. The pair rocked back and forth.
Mother Malus sat back with a sigh. “Thank Celestia,” she said. 
Spec turned towards Amber. She didn’t need to say anything to know that Amber had seen the same vision she had. Spec shook her head and shrugged. Amber frowned. 
Then Malus was in her face again, holding out a hoof. She stood, unsteady on her feet. “That was some fine friendship magic for somepony so out of practice,” she said.
Spec was about to ask, but closed her mouth. “You just don’t give straight answers, do you?” she said.
“I like to keep ponies on their toes,” Malus said.
Amber stood as well, rubbing her back. “This grass is most uncomfortable,” she said. “And I should like to know what on earth has just happened.”
“You saved him,” Malus said, tilting her head towards Capricorn. “He didn’t have much time life, I fear.”
“Saved him from what?” Spec said. 
Malus smiled. “That’s something I’d be happy to explain to you,” she said. “But not before I feed you all. Come on! You can’t have eaten much with a trek like that.”
Spec’s stomach rumbled. Malus winked. “Told you so,” she said. “Rokus!” the pony materialized by her side. “Inform Gastar that we’ll be having a feast tonight. Some very old friends of mine are here, and I’m not going to let them leave before they’ve seen the hospitality of the Malus Clan. Come on!”
Rokus nodded and dashed through the crowd. Malus grunted in satisfaction and turned away. Spec did the same, but she noticed the old mare’s eyes fall on Capricorn, still crying, clutching Axel so hard it must have been painful. For a moment, the cheer in Malus’s eyes faded, and Spec saw something very old and very tired there. 
“Rest well, traveler,” she said, and then the moment passed and she was cheerful once more. 
	
> 9. Above the Flames
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




You are standing in the doorway to a great broken castle. Above you, the rafters climb high to infinity, lost in the cobwebs and stardust of the sky. The castle is older than living memory; it looks false, about to crumble, as if a single sigh could bring it all to the ground. But there is something here; something that you need. It will complete you…..
…complete you like she wanted to complete the set all of them that’s what she said you know your friend when she killed her she said well that’s two down four to go and you looked at her and wondered what on earth could make a pony become so twisted so cruel so full of hate and she used to be a student too
You walk through the front doors, past frayed tapestries and broken statues, your hooves kicking up dust on the ground. You should not be here. This place, it is lost, and the ghosts that sleep here should remain lost….
….lost is what you are now you know you are her but not not yet that is you know all of this is just an easy way for you to hide her because really you are no different but she is not real anymore she knew the risks even back then its what the others cannot accept be wary of them be wary of all of them….
The castle’s ramparts look like your apartment room the tapestries look like your sheets. You know inside that you are asleep but you are also awake, maybe for the first time in a very long time….
…awake like she said she was when she struck celestia and made her bleed she said she understood her now understood her masks and her lies and how the sins of her past and present will never wash off and you just looked at the princess and watched the bright red blood pour out of her side and knew that nothing was ever going to be the same….
In your bed, you sit up, look around. The room is the same light it always is but some part of you knows it should be darker then lighter then darker again like a cycle but it’s something you’ve never seen before except long before when the sun was not too bright to look at instead it loved you and comforted you and made you whole. And you’re waking but know that even so you must return here at some point because you will never see it any other way again…..


The sound of the slamming door pulled Eden from her restless sleep and right into the worst hangover of her life. She tried to sit up and was struck at once by the spins, accentuated by a jackhammer beat in her head. It felt like her heart had taken up residence in her skull and was trying to remodel. Eden fell back down in her bed and shut her eyes, counting slowly down from sixty. When the count was done, she gritted her teeth and dragged her protesting body out of bed.
“Coffee,” she muttered, trudging out of her room. “Coffee. Now.” She walked through the living room, and her eyes feel on the scorch mark on the carpet from the night before. “Nope,” she said, looking away. “That right there, that’s a future-Eden problem.”
She didn’t say much else as she put on the pot to boil, keeping her eyes squinted as she did to keep as much light out as possible. She sat at the counter, eyes shut, waiting for the coffee to finish. When it did, she poured a mug, dropped a chunk of ice in it, and downed it without a wince. She burped. Industrial strength.
She poured herself another cup and stretched. Her eyes fell on the trash can, where the faint smell of vomit was wafting. “Nope,” she said, picking the can up and dropping it outside of the apartment. “That is also future-Eden problem. She’s going to have her work cut out for her, heh.”
Returning from the hall, she noticed for the first time that Sage’s door was open. “Sage,” she said, but there was no reply. She pushed the door open. Sage’s bed was untidy, her sheets crumpled at the foot of the bed. The water that Eden had left out was drunk. She wasn’t there.
Eden thought to the slamming door that woke her up. “Must be gone,” she said. “Hopefully she didn’t teleport away, ha. Ha ha.” Walking back into the kitchen, she poured another cup of coffee and sat by the window, looking out over the city. A trail of smoke wove its way up from downtown, and Eden felt her gut twist. “Nope,” she said, turning away from the window. Her eyes landed back on the scorch. “That,” she said, “is not possible.” And it was not possible. Clearly some mishap with the lamps last night, or the alcohol had addled her mind, which is why she would think she’d disappeared from one place and… appeared in another…. 
She blinked, hard. There was a slight pressure at the base of her horn, a sort of buzzing, like thousands of tiny needles pricking her. “That,” she said, raising a hoof to the nonexistent crowd, “does not feel good. Probably ought to get that checked out, ha ha! Haven’t been to the doctor’s in a while. Odds of developing metaequine powers? Well, you tell me!” The empty room looked back at her. Eden’s eye twitched.
“No response, huh? Well, that makes sense. After all, I am the only pony in this room! And rooms talking makes about as much sense as oh, teleportation, now doesn’t it! So the impossibly improbable has become possibly probable – a fact that was impossibly probable in a probably impossible way. But that’s just your life now Eden, got to embrace it. Nothing makes sense! And that’s the most logical way to put it—probably.” The hair at the base of her mane began to curl up in a way that most certainly did not look good, but Eden was too far gone to care. 
She waltzed out of the living room and back into the kitchen. “Too bad Sage isn’t here, I’m sure she’d love watching the laws of physics come tumbling down!” Another giggle erupted out of her but she smacked herself in the face with a hoof. “Alright, Eden, got to keep it together. Your friend is gone. The world is okay, for the most part. Got to figure the friend one out first. The impossibilities can wait.” She walked into her room and put on a halfway respectable outfit. Then she left the apartment.
It was cold outside, colder than she could remember it being in a long time, and the other students around her pulled their scarves tighter around themselves and hurried to class. Eden knew she ought to study, but….
She stopped at the newspaper stand and picked one up. Emblazoned on the front cover were the words: RED VIOLENCE DURING ROUTINE DRUG BUST, SEVERAL INJURIES, DEATH. Eden’s grin faded. “Red violence….?” she murmured. She opened the newspaper to the allocated page and began to read.

East Wall – Violence rocked the streets around well-known Red nightclub Bolt last night, reports the Hub City Guard. Responding to an anonymous tip, a routine investigation of Bolt turned into a nightmare for the officers as the Red ponies within responded with violence.
“They torched their own nightclub,” reports Orion Notus, the head officer on the case. “Just sent it up in flames. I don’t know why anyone would burn their own building down, but that’s the sort of crowd we’re dealing with.”
The fire injured two officers, Privates Canis Acantha and Gemini Crux, and the Hub City Herald regrets to report that Private Crux has since passed away. In addition, two red ponies were treated with injuries on the scene and have also died. Investigations are ongoing as to the identity of the ponies responsible for these actions. Authorities are advising all civilians to stay away from the site, as unrest may still be ongoing. The facility was found with quantities of the drink Palinka, illegal in Hub City for its detrimental effects on the mind. 
Eden put the newspaper down and walked away from it. She knew where Sage would be.

The ride to the East Wall was one of the most surreal experiences of Eden’s life. The cable cars, normally loud and full of interesting conversations, were dead silent. At first, the ponies around her were mostly blue, but as she changed cars and got closer and closer to the site, their numbers dwindled until she was the only blue pony in the car. The others looked like they were dressed for war. They wore black outfits and scarves, and carried signs in their hooves, written in both Sagittarian and Camargue. Eden tried not to shrink in her seat.
The car stopped. “East Wall,” the conductor said. The doors opened and Eden got off with the rest of the ponies. They jostled her, and made no attempt to move out of her way. The street smelled like smoke. 
The cable car had let her off at the top of a hill that sloped down towards the ruined nightclub. She could see the damage from where she was standing; the building had burned to the ground.  The crowd was swarming in and around the wreckage, milling about the broken walls and poking at the remains of the dance floor. Some of them wore scarves or masks over their faces. Most, but not all, of them were Red. Their attention was focused on something at the front of the nightclub, and as Eden got closer, she realized it was a shrine of sorts, with flowers and notes arranged outside of the blown out door.
Eden could hear a chant rising from the red ponies, something in a language she couldn’t understand. She’d always thought the Camargue language was hard, but now it sounded downright guttural, something that pushed at the back of her brain and made her want to run. 
She forced herself to tune it out and turned instead to where the guards were standing. They had formed a line of sorts down the street from the ruined nightclub, standing hoof to hoof in a single wall that spanned the street. Behind that first wall, she could see a mess of ponies swarming around, more guards and plainclothes ponies that looked at the mass on the other side of the line with undisguised fear. The guards themselves did not move; armor plating covered their faces.
Eden blinked, a movement behind the police line catching her eye. She watched as a familiar mint-colored unicorn moved among the guards, talking to a few of them as she did so. Lyra? Eyes wide, Eden began to walk towards the police line, steering clear of the mob as best she could….
A shout rang out through the crowd. Something came flying out of the protestors, a glass bottle with a lit cloth in it. It crashed down in front of the guard line, exploding into a plume of fire. Eden covered her face. Several guards fell back, shouting.
The police began to push forward, around the shards of the still-burning bottle. The crowd moved back, hissing. There were still a few yards between the two groups, and as they approached, Eden could see the crowd back up, piling in on itself, compressing, like a spring pushed back almost to its snapping point. Eden caught a glimpse of Lyra once again, accompanied by an Andalusian pony she didn’t recognize. She tried to move towards them, looking if there was a way she could push through the guard without getting hurt—
A loud crack came from behind, and a great force picked her up and flung her foward, towards the guards. She landed on her side, skidding on the road, feeling her flank burn. She could hear screams, her ears were ringing. She tried to stand, stumbled, got to her hooves….
The world tilted. The guard line had broken. She could see Red ponies swarming up the road, fighting with the guards. Another building was on fire. Her side burned. She could feel her heartbeat in the pain.
Smoke coiled up from a spot on the road. A chunk of the cobblestones had been blown away. Several guards lay to the side, not moving. The Andalusian who was with Lyra appeared, sitting next to one of the ponies. She whispered something.
Eden tried to walk towards her, but the world kept tilting. She couldn’t hear. A pair of guards descended on a Red pony who had backed into a corner. He bared his teeth at them, tried to strike out, but one of the guards caught him and hit him with his nightstick. The pony struggled, and the guard hit him again. Their shadows wavered, changed. 
Another Red pony leapt from the crowd, barreling into the guard. She moved faster than Eden would have thought possible, dodging the stick and kicking him in the head. Something flicked around her horn. The guard spat blood on the ground, watching as the two ponies ran away. Eden’s lips said a name. 
Her head was dizzy, the smoke and ash clinging to her coat. She knew she was hurt, that she had to get to a medic but she couldn’t walk straight. Maybe if she sat for a moment, rested, she could get up and go….
The shadows gathered around her. She blinked; they were moving on the ground. Slowly, like the hands of a clock, they slunk across the cobblestones and the street and rose across the building. They pulsed and wavered, a mutating form taking shape within them. Then they coalesced into the silhouette of a pony, or a demon. It had a long, curved horn. A single green eye opened, blinked, and looked straight at her. A mouth opened, and words seemed to form out of the screams and the ash and the crackling of the fire.
…see…what….i…have…..be…..come…..
Then a pony was on top of her, saying something, turning her around.
“…Twilight, can you hear me? Oh, Celestia, this is bad.”
“I… I saw something,” Eden whispered. “Something in the smoke….”
“Don’t talk right now,” the pony said. It was the Andalusian from before. “We need to get you out of here. Great Celestia, Twilight, what were you thinking, coming here?”
“Tried…to…find….”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t keep asking questions. You’ve lost a lot of blood. Just be quiet, okay?”
That was easy enough, so Eden let her head fall the pavement and watched the pony from the corner of her eye. She seemed to be doing something, rubbing her hooves together like she was sanding them or something. An aerial distortion formed around her hooves, making the light within waver. The pony pressed her hooves down on either side of Eden, and something cold flowed from the hooves under Eden’s skin. Her side began to itch, but the feeling was gone in moments as a wave of blackness crept up her spine and began to cloud out her vision.
“Your body needs to shut down for a little while,” the pony’s voice said. “We’ll take care of you, Twilight, don’t worry….” And then Eden lost all sensation.


The first thing that she felt was the cushions beneath her. They were not soft, but better than the street she’d been lying in before. Then she realized that she should still be in that street and sat up so fast that her head began throbbing for the second time that day.
“You’re awake!” a familiar voice said, and Eden turned to see Lyra sitting by the bed, relief in her features.
“Lyra…?”
“Shh,” Lyra said, jumping to her bedside. “It’s okay, just rest for a few more minutes. Got to make sure that you’re totally healed.” Eden shifted and the bed beneath her squeaked. She realized it was just a cot.
“What’s going on?” she said, trying to take stock of her surroundings. She appeared to be in a rundown room of some sort.  “Where are we?”
“Somewhere safe,” Lyra said. “We moved you here after the riot. We were—“
“Lyra,” Eden said, “you’re going to have to do better than that.”
Lyra looked surprised, but the expression soon faded into one of agreement. “You’re right,” she said. “If you’re going to be with us, you need to know more.”
Eden privately thought “with us” was a bit of a misnomer, but she held her tongue.
“We’re in a house not far from the nightclub,” Lyra said. “My house, actually.”
“You live here?”
“Well,” Lyra said, coughing, “sometimes. It’s complicated.”
Eden decided it was time she got a handle on the situation. “Alright,” she said, swinging her back legs out over the bed, “time for Eden to get up and figure out what the hell is going on. I’ll just— oof!” She put her hooves down and swooned as her head suddenly began spinning.
“Easy,” Lyra said, jumping up and steadying her. “Earth pony magic can get you if you’re not careful. Come on, I’ll help you up.” With Lyra’s help, Eden was able to get all four hooves on the ground. She wobbled for a second, but steadied.
“That’s right,” Lyra said, “take it easy. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. Healing like that, you’re probably starving.”
“Healing?” Eden said, but the mention of food drove all other thoughts out of her mind. She was famished. “You have food?”
“Well,” Lyra said, “not much, but it’ll be good for a start. Come on.” She led Eden out of the room and into a small hallway that opened into a kitchen. The house was small but not in as bad of shape as she’d originally thought. Lyra walked over to a pantry and removed a package of nuts. “Here,” she said, “these probably haven’t gone bad. I’ll make some tea, too.”
Eden took the bag and began to eat, trying not to look too crazed as she did so. The pecans were salty and filling, leaving a buttery aftertaste in her mouth. She ate for a while in silence as Lyra filled a pot with water and set it on the boiler.
“You want any?” Eden said around a mouthful.
“No thanks,” Lyra said, “I’m not hungry.” She was staring at Eden in a way that made the latter uncomfortable, like she was drinking in the sight.
“Can you, ah, not stare like that?” Eden said. “It’s kind of unnerving.”
“What? Oh, sorry!” Lyra looked away. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just… a lot of us didn’t think we’d ever see you again.” She pulled the pot off of the boiler and brought it to the table, filling Eden’s cup. The smell of brewing tea filled the room.
“After the museum?” Eden thought back to her furious exit. “Yeah, well you guys didn’t exactly leave a great impression. That Lightning Dust needs to take a breather or something. I mean just attacking my friend like that—“
The front door opened and Lightning Dust walked in, followed by Tweed. “It had to have been her, Tweed; there’s no way the Reds have any other firepower capable of—“ she broke off as she saw Eden. A myriad of emotions crossed her face, not all of them pleasant. Eden tried to keep a calm face as the two of them approached her. “Twilight,” Lightning said, “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am—“
“My name is not Twilight Sparkle,” Eden said. “It’s Evenstar Boral. Evenstar. Got that? And before you say anything else, I’m not interested in any moral judgements of my best friend, either. One word of either of those things, and I’m out that door faster than you can say ‘reincarnation.’ Got that?”
Lightning nodded. Lyra licked her lips. “Eden,” she said, “I know this is difficult for you, but I promise we’re on your side.”
“Yeah, well,” Eden said. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“As you may have noticed,” Lyra said, “Lightning Dust is very… quick-tempered. She doesn’t always think things through.” She finished the sentence with a hiss and a pointed glare. Cowed, Lightning sank back in her seat.
“Miss Boral,” Tweed said, fiddling with his bowtie. “Charmed to see you again. Apologies for the difficult circumstances.”
“Yeah, actually,” Lyra said. “If you don’t mind us asking, why were you there?”
“I was trying to find my friend,” Eden said. “I figured she’d be there.” 
Lightning shot a pointed look at Tweed, who said nothing.
“Sunset?” Lyra said, a surprised look on her face. “What did she have to do with anything?”
“We were there last night,” Eden said. “When the guards came.”
Profound silence greeted her words.
“Eden,” Lyra said. “I’m going to have to ask you to explain what happened to you, very carefully. Please.”
Eden swallowed. “Sage and I went to that nightclub, Bolt, I think, last night because she wanted to see some old friends. We had a lot of fun until the guard showed up, started attacking ponies. I don’t know all that happened… I was kind of drunk.” She chuckled uneasily.
“Understandable,” Lyra said. “Go on.”
“Well, the head guard, Orion, he broke the owner’s wing. You might remember her… Spitfire?”
“Spitfire?!” Lightning Dust sputtered. “She’s awake? She’s here? What—“
“Let Eden finish,” Lyra said.
“Yeah, Orion just snapped her wing and Sage, well… she went berserk. She fired some kind of bolt of fire from her horn, ignited the wall, eventually brought the whole place down. She was about to fight Orion, but I sort of… intervened. I jumped at her and I don’t know what happened, but suddenly we were back at our apartment.”
“You live with Sage?” Lyra said.
“Yeah,” Eden said. “We’re roommates. Last year of college. But when we got there, I mean, I wasn’t sober before but suddenly I couldn’t even stand up straight. We both went to bed but she must have left sometime before I woke up. I came back here because I thought she might be here and, well, here I am.”
“Here you are,” Lyra said.
“Okay,” Eden said. “I told you my part of the story. Now you need to start talking.”
“What do you want to know?” Lyra said.
“How did Sage shoot fire out of her horn?”
“Magic.”
“No,” Eden said, “I want a real answer.”
“And I’m giving you one,” Lyra said, a slight grin on her face.
“I’m a scientist,” Eden said. “I only believe in things I can measure. Granted there are forces in the world that we don’t understand but none of them can be harnessed by a single pony like that.” Lyra’s grin was becoming wider. “What’s so funny?”
“That you of all ponies would doubt magic,” Lightning said. “I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect, but….” She broke off, chuckling.
“Your predecessor was one of the most gifted mages to ever live,” Lyra said. “Still is, I guess—there hasn’t been much progress on that front since, but that’s by the by. She was single-hoofedly responsible for over a dozen advances in magic over the last years of Equestria and even created an entirely new branch of magic based on her studies of friendship.”
“Friendship.” Eden didn’t even try to hide her skepticism.
“Yup,” Lyra said, a pleasant smile on her face. “Frankly, her work is over my head, but all unicorns are gifted in the arcane in some manner.” Her horn lit up and a gold aura surrounded the coffee spoon and lifted it up. Lyra casually stirred her tea in front of a gaping Eden. “But friendship isn’t the only kind of magic,” she said.
Eden stared.
“What’s that you said about not provoking her?” Lightning Dust muttered.
"You just levitated something."
"Well," Lyra said lifting the spoon to her mouth and sipping the tea, "This is different.”
"Are we not going to talk about your levitation abilities?"
“You ask me,” Lightning said, “this is worse than what I did.”
"How are you doing that?"
"Magic." Lyra winked at her.
"Oh no," Eden said, slamming her hoof down on the table with more force than was necessary. "That's not going to cut it anymore. That's full scale gravity manipulation. How are you doing that?"
"Like this," Lyra said. She picked up Eden’s spoon and floated it around her head. "It's easy, see?"
Eden batted one of the forks out of the air. It stopped glowing almost as soon as she touched it, and she caught it awkwardly in her hoof. "Kinetic disruption can break the hold," she muttered. "Hmm. I wonder..."
She dropped the fork. It fell almost to the ground before it began glowing again. Lyra brought it up to eye level. "What are you doing?" she said. "That could have gotten dirty."
"Subject can reintroduce telekinesis while objects are in motion. Hmm. Lyra, think fast."
"Huh?"
The bag of pecans were suddenly launched at her face. Lyra blanched and ducked out of the way, sending them sailing over her shoulder to explode on the floor. Pecans flew every which way.
"Constant concentration evidentially required. 'Passive' effect not seen, as of now. Perhaps all 'magic' is shaped by concentration?"
"Eden," Lyra said, "what are you doing?"
"Science," Eden said. "You won't tell me things so I'm figuring them out on my own. Let's see... here we go." She bent down and picked up a spoon and then her tea saucer. She held the plate in between Lyra and herself, and placed the fork behind the plate so that Lyra couldn't see it. "Levitate the fork."
"What? I can't."
"Why not?"
"The plate's in the way."
"Is 'in the way' a function of visual line of sight or material?"
"I can't see it."
"Hmm." Eden pushed the fork up so that only the top prongs could be seen. "Can you do it now?"
"Um, probably." Lyra scrunched up her face and lit her horn. The familiar magical aura surrounded the prongs of the fork, only up to where it was visible to Lyra. The fork wobbled out of Eden's grasp and floated above the plate, where the rest of it was soon covered in magic as well.
"Fascinating," Eden said, wishing she had a notebook. "Partial telekinetic control utilized to bring the rest of the object into view. What would happen if I tried to hold onto it, I wonder?"
"You might break the fork," Lyra said. "It weakens objects to be partially held by magic. I don't fully understand why, but my teacher used to say it was because of the conflicting forces on the object. That's why we don't normally use it."
"Hmm," Eden said. She looked at the fork, still hovering above the table. "How about this?" She brought the plate up and held it in front of the fork again. This time, the fork didn't fall. The moment she blocked Lyra's vision the fork stayed where it was. Eden noted a fading of the aura, though. She counted to five before the magic had faded enough for the fork to fall. "Slow decline of control once object is out of sight."
"That's right," Lyra said. "Others are more skilled at this than me, they could probably keep it up longer. You, for instance."
"Me?"
"Twilight Sparkle is among the all-time greatest magic users," Lightning Dust said. "You have that talent. Just don't know it."
"Redheart said that your mana pool was stupid big," Lyra said. "Why don't you try to access it? Who knows, it might even help with your memories."
"This is ridiculous," Eden said, but stopped. Was it ridiculous?
"It's not ridiculous," Lyra said. "You just need to try. We all were there at some point."
"...okay," Eden said. "How should I do this?"
"Close your eyes and focus on your horn."
"There aren't any nerve endings in the horn--"
"No, but there are magic sensors."
"Magic sensors?'"
"I don't know the proper term--"
"Thaumaturgical neurons," Tweed said, cutting into the conversation. "That was the old term, roughly translated into Sagittarian. Think of them as specialized neurons that allow you to feel the ebb and flow of your magic. A properly attuned unicorn could feel the flow of their magic like they could feel temperature on their body. All concentrated in the horn."
"So what am I looking for?"
"Just close your eyes and focus on your horn," Lyra said. "Try to imagine it as a sort of well, or an appendage that you've never used before."
"Like ear wiggling?"
"What?"
"When I was a filly, I couldn't move my ears. Late development. When they came around it was like having a whole new limb to use."
"Something like that, then. That's a sound comparison," Lyra said. "Your horn as an ear."
"Not as different as one might think," Tweed muttered. "Horn attuned to magical flux around world. Sensory organ. Fascinating."
"Right." Eden closed her eyes. She felt silly, but focused her concentration on her horn. Eden's horn was of a normal length, as far as unicorns went. There wasn't much particularly interesting about it. She had it filed and polished twice a month and went on with her life. A memory of Sage chastising her for not doing more to beautify it crossed her mind. A faint smile crossed her features.
Right then, she felt something, a vague tingling in the region above her forehead. Something dim, like trying to hear someone with ears plugged up. It felt muffled.
"I... I think I have something," she murmured.
"Really?"
"I'm not sure, but yeah. Like a sort of wave effect, maybe? I don't know. But it's really muffled."
"You aren't used to using it," Lyra said. "That will come in time."
Eden opened her eyes and the feeling lessened. "Still doesn't mean I believe everything you've said," she said.
"You'll get there, in time," Lyra said. Eden narrowed her eyes at Lyra, who continued to smile back benignly. In a way, that was more bothersome to Eden than if Lyra tried to convince her right then. She knew from experience that most ponies who believed something outlandish worked very hard to prove it to others. But Lyra and her friends seemed... stable. She shook her head, a sudden wave of fatigue washing through her.
"Wow, my head," she muttered.
"Probably from the magic use," Lyra said. "You should rest. It's not something that will come back in a moment. Young unicorns often require powerful emotions to activate their magic. Without training, you might never be able to do anything except in extreme circumstances.”
“Training?” Eden said, looking up from her table.
“Well, yeah,” Lyra said. “That’s kind of what we do, at least so far. When ponies wake up, we train them, help them relearn their magical abilities, and then they join the search for more.”
“How many of you are there?” Eden said.
“About a dozen, more or less,” Tweed said. “Tabs exist on five more ponies, but we have yet to make contact. Believe Blueblood was waiting for you.”
“Blueblood?”
“He’ll be along shortly,” Tweed said. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Eden jumped. “Speak of the devil,” Tweed said, getting out of his chair and walking over to the door.
“Bastard,” Lightning Dust muttered, “always with the impeccable timing.”
“Bet you he was listening, waiting for the perfect moment,” Lyra hissed back. The two grinned at each other.
Tweed opened the door, ushering the guest inside. “Welcome, Prince. Charmed to see you. Our guest is right in here.”
Eden stared at the pony in the door. He was an Andalusian, tall and broad-shouldered, his white coat gleaming even in the dim light of the café. His golden mane was braided along the neck in the Andalusian style, adorned with many of the rings and ties that so confounded older Sagittarians about Andalusian culture. Everything about him, from the dark jacket and pants combo to the way he surveyed the room, radiated an easy, confident power. This was a pony used to being listened to.
“Evenstar Boral,” Lyra said, standing from the table, “meet our leader, Azur Sanguine, first in the house of Sanguine. You might know him by his former name, Prince Blueblood.”
Eden stood up, trying not to trip over her chair. Sanguine’s eyes fell on her, and something within them seemed to ignite. Breaking into a huge smile, he bounded over the room and picked Eden up into a huge bear hug, lifting the startled mare off of the ground. She was briefly pressed into his shoulder, the thick smell of jasmine cologne filling her nostrils. He set her back down again and she staggered backward, trying not to be obviously cowed.
“Yeesh, Blueblood,” said Lightning, “looks like you bowled her over.”
“Nonsense, my dear Lightning Dust,” Sanguine said, his thick Andalusian accent adding an extra syllable to every word he said. “Twilight Sparkle is deserving of the finest introduction I can give, be it Andalusian or Equestrian. In fact….” He broke off and sank into a low bow, dipping his horn all the way to the ground. Eden blushed. “Might as well give her both of them, for posterity’s sake. Got to keep the old traditions alive, now don’t we?”
Eden decided it was time that she said something, but when she opened her mouth all that came out was a squeak. Sanguine’s eyes fixed on her.
“Ah, but where are my manners?” he said. “You can call me Blueblood, or Azur, but Blueblood is preferred among my family, and you are part of that now.”
“Your… family?”
“Indeed. My mother and father, they were… harsh… with me. I spent most of my youth in wild abandon, learning the ways of my adopted home, nearly getting myself killed more than once. Then, in a near death experience with a zeppelin, I saw, clear as day, another life! One in which I was prince in a noble land, and a pompous ass to boot. Well, I cannot tell if I am going crazy, because for ten years it’s just me with these memories, and the world is so different now than it used to be. Then I find Lightning Dust and Lyra and the others, and now they are my new family. We Equestrians have got to stick together, you know!”  
“…right,” Eden said, taking a step back. She glanced at Lyra, who had suddenly become the most familiar thing in the room. Lyra smiled at her and gave a little shrug. “So, Mr… Blueblood, you’re in charge of this operation?”
“In charge? No. But I have the money, and what secret organization can run without the money? None of them. So I provide front, cover, that sort of thing, while we search for more of our own. What you see in this room, most of us. Twelve in total. A few more still on the way. You want brains? Look for Tweed. Muscle? Lightning Dust. Morale? Lyra. I am just for the money.” His face turned into an exaggerated pout. “It is sad, yes? They use me.”
“Well, I’m sure you have value other than the money…”
“Ah, of course! My memories, very complete, you know! Much more than most of us. And I was close, quite close, to the princesses, being their nephew and all. So I have my memories, and together with the others we try to discover what happened to the old world.”
“You mean you don’t know?” Eden said.
“We know enough,” Lightning Dust said. “It’s true that we’ve come back with incomplete memories, but they’re all incomplete in different places. It’s enough to know what happened to the world. And who destroyed it.”
“There you go again,” Eden muttered. “Leave my friend out of it, why don’t you?”
“You friend is Sunset Shimmer,” Blueblood said, tutting to himself. “That’s very bad. I’m afraid we cannot ‘leave her out of it,’ as you say.”
“Then how about telling me why?” Eden said, trying to keep the snarl out of her voice. “How about, instead of ominously implying all these terrible things about my friend, you buck up and start talking? What on earth did she do in this past life of yours that so warrants this sort of behavior?”
“She killed a princess,” Lightning said.
Eden raised her eyebrows.
“Look,” Lyra said, “this isn’t exactly the best time to talk about it—“
“No it is,” Eden said. “Because we’re not getting any further until I get some real answers.”
The gathered ponies all looked to Blueblood. He sighed. “This is not a conversation I am wanting to have now,” he said. “Or ever, for that matter. But it is important. You ask me, what of your friend? What did she do? Yes, she killed ponies, but many do that. A simpler answer is that she found him.”
“Sunset Shimmer was the personal student of Princess Celestia, an honor only bestowed to a hooffull of ponies throughout all of Equestria’s history,” Lyra said. “She was brilliant, and she had everything she ever would need to work on her studies: books, unlimited budget, and the love and affection of the greatest pony the world had ever seen.”
“Personal student,” Tweed said, “an honor one can only dream of.”
“And she threw it away,” Lyra said. “All of it. She cursed the Princess’ name and fled the castle, and despite her efforts, Celestia could never find any trace of her.”
“Coward,” Lightning said.
“Perhaps, perhaps,” Blueblood said. “We may never know, eh? But in any case, why she left does not matter to us. Because when she came back, she was not alone.” 
A chill began to seep into the air of the room. Eden resisted the urge to pull her coat tighter around herself.
“She’d found someone, or something, up in the frozen wastes to the north,” Lyra said. “Whether it had ever been a pony, I don’t know. But it wasn’t then. It moved through land and memory in a formless shadow, and where it went, plants died, animals tore each other up, and ponies learned to do far worse things to each other. It was called Sombra, the Shadow.”
Eden’s mind flashed to the image she’d seen on the wall, composed of thousands of writhing shadows. She shuddered.
“Sunset claimed that Sombra had taught her things, terrible things, secrets about ponies and the princesses that had been kept from us. When challenged, she… did something to Princess Luna.”
“That was a terrible day,” Blueblood said. “My sweet auntie, once again in the clutches of the Nightmare. It didn’t last long, but the damage was done. Ponies were killed.”
“And Luna, who had promised the world that she would never fall again…”
“She abdicated the throne immediately and surrendered herself into custody,” Lyra said. “But Celestia would not let her leave.”
“My Auntie, she was very stubborn.”
“She was protecting her sister!” Lightning said, agitation in her voice. “Sunset did something to her, tricked her into falling, and ponies died! Celestia knew that if Luna left, if she left, many more would also die. And she was right! If Sunset—“
“This is not the time,” Blueblood said. “My Auntie’s actions are commendable but perhaps unwise considering the circumstances. But I don’t think that any of us knew what we were dealing with at that point.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, the cheer was back.
“And now we have returned!” he said. “And we must watch this world carefully. After all, if Sunset is back, then perhaps Sombra is as well, and the ponies of this world are not equipped to deal with him. We certainly were not.”
“And what, you think he’s going to contact Sage?”
“I don’t pretend to know the way his mind works, if it works at all,” Blueblood said. “He never behaved the way we thought he would. But there were patterns….”
“You’ve got to understand, Eden,” Lyra said, “this sort of thing, these tensions, they’re exactly what he would play into. His magic operated on the fear and chaos that disrupted Equestrian society, and today’s magic, while weak, is certainly still around.”
“Is that why you were at the protest today?” Eden said. Lyra shared a look with Blueblood.
“More or less,” she said. “We’ve been working with the guard, providing support, making sure they aren’t injured. Modern medicine isn’t really a match for earth pony healing, after all. And in return, they help us out.”
“They’ve got resources to help us find other reincarnated ponies,” Lightning said, “resources that we just wouldn’t have otherwise. It’s a win-win. We help stabilize the situation, monitor it for signs of Sombra, and in return we get intel on possible ponies to add to our group.”
Blueblood shook his head. “I will be frank, my friends. I do not like the guard. They can be very cruel. But Sombra is beyond any of us. If we do not work together, we will surely perish.”
The room lapsed into silence. Eden’s thoughts again flashed to the thing at the protest. “So,” she said, “What are you going to do about my friend?”
“At the moment?” Blueblood said, “Nothing. We are not monsters, Evenstar. I of all ponies should know, new lives mean new opportunities! And perhaps Sombra is not involved in this mess at all." Lightning rolled her eyes, and Eden felt her distaste of the pony rise.
"But if you were to find any evidence…” she said, knowing the answer but not wanting to hear it.
“All bets are off, I’m afraid,” Blueblood said. “As I said, if there is even a hint that Sombra has truly returned, we must act before he has a chance to set his plans, whatever they may be, in motion.”
“But you wouldn’t hurt her, would you?”
The ponies’ silence was answer enough for her.
“Anyway,” Blueblood said, shaking himself out of his reverie. “That was not my intention for you today! I have instead brought you something. Here:” he rustled around in his jacket for a moment before removing a manila envelope. “This is one of the files on a possible reincarnation. I thought perhaps you might be wanting to take a look at it, yes?”
Eden stared at the envelope. “Why me?”
“Because she’s a good friend of yours,” Lyra said. “Or she was, once.”
Eden took the envelope from him and read the name on the side. “Thank you,” she said, tucking it into her jacket.
“It is not a problem. Now, you must be going!” Blueblood said. “We still have much to do, and the ponies outside have not yet finished their rioting. Go home, and when you are ready to learn more, come to the coffee shop. I am told that is where you and Lyra and Tweed first met, yes? It is as such. Then, we can continue your training.”
“Come on,” Lyra said, standing from her chair. “This is a lot to process, I know. I’ll help you get home.”
“No need!” Blueblood said. “I have a carriage outside. Come with me.” He led Eden to the door and pushed it open. The cobblestone street outside was dimly lit, and the faint smell of smoke tinged Eden’s nostrils. An ornate carriage was waiting on the step, a bored looking coach regarding them flatly.
“Definitely not looking to make a scene here,” Lyra muttered, following them out the door.
“What can I say?” Blueblood said, pressing a hoof to his chest. “I am rich. I enjoy traveling in style.”
“Where to, ma’am?” the coach said.
“Um, the Celestial University,” Eden said, “if you don’t mind.” She stepped into the coach and turned around. The four ponies were standing outside the door, smiles on their faces. “Thank you all, I guess,” she said.
“Be seeing you soon,” Lyra said, giving a wave. “And don’t worry too much about Sombra; we’ll take care of him. Just read the file!”
The carriage began pulling away, and the last thing Eden saw was the four of them waving goodbye down the street. Then it was quiet. The carriage bumped over the cobblestones. She thought about Sage. They needed to talk, and she was only going to have one chance to get this right. 

Sage returned hours later, her coat singed, a dark scarf wrapped around her neck. She walked into the kitchen without looking at Eden. The faint smell of smoke filled the room.
“Hey,” Eden said, but Sage still didn’t acknowledge her. Eden put her book down and followed her friend into the kitchen, where she found Sage downing a glass of water as fast as she could. Eden didn’t say anything as Sage finished the glass and went to fill another. The silence in the room began to grow like a living thing.
Sage finished the water and put the glass in the sink. She walked around the kitchen table and disappeared into her room. Eden stood for a moment, frozen, before she followed her in.
Sage had her closet open and was laying clothes out on the bed. Eden looked at them. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Taking a leave of absence,” Sage said, her voice hoarse. “Got to take care of some health issues.”
“Health issues? Anything I know about?”
“It’s a bit removed from you,” Sage said “I did my best not to trouble you with it, but I guess it can’t be helped now.” She moved further into the closet and removed a briefcase.
Eden bit her lip. “So, you’re going? For what, the rest of the semester?”
“Something like that,” Sage said. The two of them lapsed into silence again as she filled the suitcase with clothes. Eden could feel something in her chest, something she wasn’t sure about, something that was pushing to get out.
“Listen,” she said. “We, ah, we need to talk.”
“That so?” Sage said.
“Yeah,” Eden said, chewing on her lip. “I don’t know how to put this exactly… how are your nightmares?”
“Horrible, thanks for asking.”
“Look, I don’t really want to bring it up, but—“
“Well, I’d hate for you to have to do something you don’t want to do,” Sage said, slamming the suitcase shut. Eden took a step back. Sage glared at her, and she thought she saw something green flicker deep in her eyes.
“Look I’ll just say it,” Eden said. “I think you’re being manipulated.”
Sage cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes. If she said it fast enough, maybe Sage couldn’t stop her. “I met with some ponies today. They told me some stuff about the past, stuff I wouldn’t believe if everything else hadn’t been happening too. There’s… someone… colluding to aggravate the tensions between red ponies and the guard. I’ve seen him, I think. And he wants you. Those nightmares… I think it’s him trying to contact you, get to you.” Eden opened her eyes. Sage’s face was blank. Encouraged, she continued. “That’s why you could do that fire blast, he was helping you. Sage, I don’t understand everything that’s going on but I know this person was responsible for a lot of death and destruction. You have to be careful, Hub City could be in danger.”
Sage’s face was still blank.
“I wouldn’t have believed it myself, believe me,” Eden said, the words tumbling out of her mouth now. Sage’s silence was beginning to worry her. “But the evidence I’ve seen is—“
“What evidence?” Sage said, her voice hoarse again.
“…well, the abilities we used the other night, for one thing,” Eden said. “And, and a dream I might have had the other night….” The words seemed to die as soon as they left her mouth, falling to the ground and shriveling under the heat of Sage’s expression. “Just some… things I can’t explain.”
“That so?” Sage said, sucking on her teeth. “Things you can’t explain, eh? That’s a new one.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?” Sage shouted, and Eden shrank back. “What the hell are you saying? That I’m being manipulated? That forces are conspiring to destroy Hub City? Well I’ve got news for you: those forces aren’t unknown, they’re looking right at you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You already know the answer to that,” Sage snarled. “You just don’t want to admit you know. You can’t admit that your best friend, your good, Red friend would earnestly want to burn your beloved city to the ground. I’ve got news for you, Eden. If there is some magic force working to destroy Hub City, good! We need all the help we can get.”
“You don’t mean that,” Eden said.
“No, you don’t want to admit I mean it. That I want to burn it to the ground. All of it. I used to think otherwise, used to think that you Blue ponies could understand what we go through, but I was wrong. You can’t. You know, I think you actually, physically can’t. My grandfather used to say that Blue ponies were damaged, that the only way they could possibly be as callous and cruel as they are was because something inside of them was broken. I thought he was crazy, but you know he’s starting to make a lot of sense!”
“Sage—“
“You’re off investigating crazy conspiracy theories and ancient magic and whatever-the-hell else it is you can waste time on, while, back in the real world, my people are dying every day, and if they’re not dying they’re suffering, and I can’t go a single moment longer knowing I could have done something about it!”
“Sage you’re not—“
“Three years, Eden! We’ve lived together for three years, and in that time how many tests, how many parties, how many weekend study marathons did we go through? Every day I went to this school—did--did you know it was constructed, the original castle was constructed using forced Red labor? That the grant that started this place came from one of the largest Blue work foreman in Hub City history? This place was built on the blood of my people. This whole city was built on it.”
“I know that—“
“You do, and that’s why I can’t make excuses for you anymore! You’re too smart, and too educated, to not know the history of Hub City, how the guards terrorize us, how we’re underpaid and overworked, how they profit off of our blood and sweat and tears, and you never talk about it, never say anything to your other friends, or your family, or your professors. So long as you know what happened, so long as you had a friend you could vent your guilt to, it was fine. But it never did anything for me.”
Eden felt tears begin to form at her eyes, but Sage didn’t stop. She was sustained by something larger than herself. She loomed in the room, sparks playing along her horn. “I saw you today, you know, wandering towards the guard like they’d save you. I saw you last night. You were so worried, so caught up in the big picture. The equine struggle of it all. You think you can just stand there, watching, above the flames? We’re fighting for our lives! I hope that view helped you, Eden, I really do, because applying salve to your guilty blue soul is apparently all I was ever worth to you. And I’m finished with that. Welcome to the real world, friend.”
With that, she took the suitcase and marched right past Eden, who stood frozen in place. The seconds ticked down one after another, and suddenly Eden flew out of the room, running into the living room, where Sage was walking out the door. She reached out a hoof to say something, anything, to say that she’d failed or that Sage was being irrational or that maybe the city should burn down but Sage didn’t understand that she needed her—
There was a crackle, a spark, and Eden jerked back as if stung. Red sparks played across Sage’s coat, crackling from the tip of her horn. She glanced over her shoulder, and Eden saw that her eyes were red. “…Sage?”
Sage turned back around and walked out the door, slamming it behind her. Eden listened to her footsteps fade away. She stared at the door for a long time, tears running down her face.
Finally, the sound of the hour chime pulled her out of her reverie. Still sniffling, she walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water, drinking it to stop her hiccups. She saw the cup that Sage had used a few minutes before, sitting in the bottom of the sink. She went to pick it up but stopped. Then she washed her face and returned to the living room.
She took a sip of the water and put it to the side, her hoof shaking as she did so. Something caught her eye. The folder was still in her jacket, the edge sticking out. She walked over and picked it up. She sat down and opened it, taking note of the name on the side. 
“Applejack”
> 10. Far from the Tree
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
            There was a dead rat in the ditch that morning, drowned in the rain from the night before. It lay belly up in the stagnant water, eyes open and glassy, tongue out. It was big, one of the biggest she’d ever seen, but it was no match for the deluge.
            Jonagold barely paid it any mind. It was normal. Dead things were always accumulating in the ditches along the Red Town main road; the Hub City municipality saw fit to ignore the Red districts in their midst, and there wasn’t a lot of time for the ponies who lived there to do it themselves. Sometimes it was a rat. Sometimes it was something much bigger. It never concerned her much either way. She slung her bag higher up over her shoulder and kept walking, her hooves catching on the chipped cobblestones or slipping in the mud.
            Along the street, Red ponies were preparing for the day. She saw stallions and mares, fillies and colts, bundling up and leaving their apartments, locking the doors behind them and eyeing the street as if expecting a fight. On street corners, ragtag gangs of young stallions stood, eyeing passerby with hollow eyes, smoking cheap rolls. Along the alleys, ponies bundled in rags shivered in front of small cups, waiting for a passing cap or anything a pony could spare. Most passersby ignored them both.
            Jonagold was no exception. She walked past the other ponies without looking at them, keeping her eyes straight ahead, humming a small tune from a time long ago. She knew the drill. She couldn’t look. The clothes she was wearing already made her a target.
            “…brothers and sisters, the wicked Blues know their time is near an end! They know that soon, a great Red tide will sweep them down, and we will reclaim our birthright! The Blues know this, brothers and sisters, and that is why they strike so hard on the vanguard! Now is the time to join up! Now is the time of renewal!”
            She rounded a corner and came to Cinnamon Park, where a burly Red stallion with wild eyes stood on top of a wooden crate, shouting at the ponies that walked past him. Ever since the flames at the nightclub last week, someone would be there, harking to the end times. A small crowd had gathered around the pony, nodding as he spoke. A few guards watched the crowd with a wary eye. Jonagold walked past without looking. He wasn’t worth the trouble. 
Across the street and another block away, the ruin of Red town began to fade. Within the span of a couple blocks, the broken down apartments and abandoned stores vanished, replaced with larger, brighter buildings that did not have boarded windows and graffiti. She began to see Blue ponies, young ones, sometimes pushing carriages with foals in them. She smiled at all of them. Some of them smiled back. Some didn’t.
            At the corners leading into the financial district stood two guards, smoking and looking bored. They glanced at her, looked at her clothes, glanced away. She walked past without incident, and then she was in. The buildings rose tall around her, Auroran Gothic architecture in full splendor.  Now she saw nothing but Blue ponies and the occasional Andalusian. They were becoming more prominent in the banking section of late. 
She walked to her office building, showed her ID at the door and entered. The majesty of the lobby was breathtaking, ten stories high with an enormous shining chandelier perched above, glimmering in the new electric lights. The floor was polished so thoroughly she could see every inch of her reflection. The sight was powerful enough to take a newcomer’s breath away. Jonagold was not impressed. She’d stopped being impressed many years ago.
 
            “You can’t leave us!” she shouted, louder now, as if the anger could stop the tears that threatened to break beneath her eyes. “We need you! What about Honeycrisp?” What about me?
            “You can’t look at me like that, now, Jonagold,” her brother said, pausing from his packing. He didn’t look at her. “There’s no jobs left in this town. There’s no jobs left anywhere. That’s why I’ve got to quit this place.”
            “You’re abandoning us!”
            “I ain’t doing nothing of the sort! I’ll send for y’all soon as I got a place to work, promise! Listen to me, Jonagold, things here just ain’t working out.”
            “You can’t give up so easy now.”
            “This just ain’t the way,” he said. “It just can’t be the way. I refuse to live like this. I either rot in a mine, rot on a farm, or rot in a factory for the rest of my life, making Blue folks richer than you wouldn’t believe. You would not believe how rich they are, Jonagold. The manager, Pisces, he let me into his office one time, and I couldn’t—they have gold inlaid onto the ceiling in there, Jona! Why, if we had even a scraping of what they’ve got in that place, we’d never have to work another day in our lives!”
            “You don’t got to tell me that, Jersey,” she said. “But you got to suck it up. This here ain’t no time for theatrics or running off. Honey’s about to start school, and she’s going to need supplies and—and a normal life! I can’t do that! If I can take a firing or two, the heavens know you can!”
            “You just don’t understand,” Jersey said, and then Jonagold noticed the fear in his eyes, a true fear, the sort that bubbles up from time to time but is always around, always hovering, always a threat. “You just don’t—“
            A low suspicion began to stir in the back of her mind. “Jersey,” she said, “what exactly happened today? What’d they fire you for?”
            He didn’t look at her. “I need to go,” he said.
            “No you sure don’t,” she said. “You’d better start talking to me before you walk out on your sisters like some coward.”
            “I AIN’T NO COWARD!” he roared at her, whirling around, spittle flying from his lips. “Don’t you NEVER call me a coward, Jonagold, so help me…”
            “Or what? ‘Cause you’re sure acting like one, running off like this.”
            “They was gonna—they was gonna—“
            Jersey seemed to be struggling with some great force that swelled within him, pushing out on all sides. His face was like stone, his eyes clenched shut, his teeth bared. His whole body shook.
            “Jersey Mac, what on earth—“
            “They was gonna make me hurt him, Jona!”
            “What are you talking about?”
        But Jersey wasn’t talking. He closed his eyes and for a moment, Jonagold thought he was going to cry. He looked just like their father in that moment, his deep red coat stained with sweat, his face scrunched with the burden of something he could not define. Jonagold was about to ask him about it again when he opened his mouth and began to talk.
            “Unlit Parsnip, he’s one of the workers at the plant. I don’t know how old he is, but he’s old. His vision’s going.” The words were tumbling out of Jersey’s mouth now. Jonagold licked her lips. “He can’t see like he used to, and… and it’s affecting his work. We’ve all seen it these last few months, but ain’t no one’s about to say anything and get him fired. Until today, when he slipped, mangled a small part. It wasn’t a big deal, really. Probably cost the company a couple caps. But Pisces saw it as his opportunity. They all knew that we were protecting him, even me.
            “So he called me up and said I wasn’t performing properly. Said that Parsnip’s mess-up was my fault, ‘cause I hadn’t been paying proper attention. So he gave me a choice. I could discipline Parsnip, or I could leave my job.”
            Jonagold’s mouth was dry, but Jersey wasn’t finished.
            “And he didn’t mean no stern talking-to, Jonagold. It’s how they keep us in line… Pisces knows he can't whips us, but he can look the other way if I do it. Then it's just another brutal Red keeping his own people in line, and he can act shocked as anyone when it comes out. I've seen it before, and I knew that if I stayed there I’d become even worse than him, ‘cause even my own people would hate me, and I’d get to hating myself so hard I’d never come out of it. So I walked out. And I know I’m finished here.”
            “Finished?” Jonagold said.
            “Pisces has my name,” Jersey said. “He’ll make sure I never get anything above a mine or floor job again. It don’t matter either way. I’ve already betrayed pap, betrayed us… y’all’d be best off without me anyway. Don’t want Honeycrisp growing up to hate her own brother.”
            “Ain’t no one around here’s ever going to hate you, Jersey,” Jonagold said. Her brother barked out something like a laugh, tears in his eyes. Then the siblings were embracing, Jonagold pulling her brother close and resting her chin on his shoulder like she used to do when she was a foal.
            “Where are you going to go?” she said, her voice thin.
            “I don’t know,” he said. “I reckon Fort Tain, or maybe even Prospolis. I hear ponies there don’t care one whit about fur color. Ain’t that something? You could just walk down the street without a care in the world.”
            “Sounds pretty nice,” Jonagold said.
            “I swear by Cestel in the sky  I’m going to send for y’all,” Jersey said as they pulled out of the embrace. “I don’t know when, but as soon as I’m settled. We’ll all get the hell out of this place and never, ever look back.”
            “I know you’ll keep that promise, too,” she said, trying to smile.
            Jersey picked up his suitcase and walked for the door. “Be seeing you, sis,” he said.
            “I reckon,” she said.
 
            “Jonagold…? Miss Jonagold? You in there?”
            The voice pulled Jonagold out of her memory. She looked up with a start. A well-dressed Blue pony smiled down at her. “Oh,” she said, “sorry about that, Mr. Gemini. Let me just buzz you in right quick here.”
            “It’s quite all right, Jonagold,” Gemini said, “I’d imagine this job can get pretty boring sometimes.”
            “Yes, sir,” she said, smiling along with him. “I mean, you know how it is: same old places, same old faces.”
            “Every time,” Gemini, said, laughing. “Well, you do a good job of it all the same. Say… I was wondering if you could help me with a little problem of mine?”
            “Well, certainly, sir, but I don’t know what sort of problem I could help you with.”
            “Don’t sell yourself short, girl! Here’s the thing.” Gemini leaned in closer, conspiratorially. Jonagold could smell his breath. Peppermint. “My son-in-law’s coming in to see me today about some business, and I’d like to play a little prank on him, you know how it is.”
            “Certainly,” Jonagold said.
            “So I’ve got this name tag especially made up for him, oh, where did I put it….” Gemini rustled around in his bags. “Where oh where… ah! Haha, here it is!”
            He pulled out a nametag that had been garishly decorated with bright pink sparkles and swirls. The name on it read Zephyr Booties. Jonagold looked at it.
            “His real name is Boötes,” Gemini said with a wink. “It’s like a joke between us. If you could just give this to him in lieu of the normal ones we give out, I’d really appreciate it.”
            What if I refuse? “An excellent choice, sir,” Jonagold said, taking the badge with a knowing grin. “I’d be delighted to.”
            “Oh, wonderful,” Gemini said, chortling to himself. “Be sure to give it to him straight, too! Oh, to see the look on his face! But I’m sure I’ll see it myself soon enough. Thanks Jonagold, you’re a real peach!”
            “Of course, sir,” Jonagold said, tipping her cap to him as he walked through the security door. Her eyes followed him until he got to the lift, noting the spring in his step. He was truly delighted by his little joke. She slumped back down into her chair and looked at the nametag. Zephyr Booties. Hilarious.
            “Wish you could see me now, Pap,” she murmured. “I wonder what you’d think? Playing pranks for rich Blues. Oh, if you could see me now…”
 
            “Straight and easy now, girl, just like that. Oop! Watch it, you don’t want to get too much ink on the side; there you go. Very nice!”
            Jonagold’s tongue was clenched between her teeth as she brought the top of the printing press down. Bits of ink flecked the sides of her coat; the assembled ponies in the room all looked like Dalmatians. She turned the last screw of the printing press and felt it tighten.
            “That’s perfect, Jonagold. Jersey, bring it up now, will you?”
            Her brother lifted the top of the press up again and pulled out the sheet of newspaper. Their father took it and held it up to the light. Jonagold read the words on it: The Red Review.
            “Now that’s a real thing of beauty,” her father said, a satisfied look on his face. “Excellent work, kids. Jonagold, that was a good first print.”
            “Thanks, Pap,” she said, beaming with pride.
            She was eleven years old. It was the first time she’d been allowed to work the printing press for herself, the first time she’d technically been allowed in the basement at all. She’d snuck down before and looked at the giant machine, wondering how it might work. Now that she’d seen it in action, she was less impressed. But the words her father spoke had made it exciting once again.
            Pap laid the completed newspaper to the side. “We’ll put this one in a special place,” he said. “You can keep it. Like a trophy.”
            “You never did that for me,” Jersey grumped. Their father laughed.
            “Well, that’s because I didn’t know what I was doing back then, my boy,” he said. “It’s been a long time since then. If I had your first print, I’d give it to you too.”
            Jonagold looked over the print. The headline story read, GUARD MURDERER OF TWO REDS FOUND INNOCENT OF CRIMES: A TOTAL INDICTMENT OF THE SYSTEM IS NECESSARY.Her father swooped it up from her again.
            “Maybe best you didn’t read it quite yet,” he said, glancing at Jersey. “No need for them to grow up too soon.”
            Jonagold huffed. She knew all about the Aster case. Her teacher at school wouldn’t stop talking about it. Sometimes she wondered if the Blues thought about it too, but she wasn’t sure. They were a mystery to her, living in the same city but never coming to the Red side of town. Jonagold didn’t mind. She had her hooves full with the other Red ponies as it was.
            Her father and brother continued to stamp newspapers for a while, and Jonagold helped, falling quickly into routine. The sounds in the press room put her in a sort of trance: the rustling of the paper, the jokes her father and brother made, the clop of their hooves on the stone basement floor…
        The sound of heavy knocking came from the front door. Her father looked up. “They’re early,” he said. “Well, it works for us. We’re just about finished anyway. Jersey, tie up the last of the bundles, will you? Jonagold, come with me.”
        “Where are we going, Pap?”
        “There are some ponies upstairs I’d like you to meet.”
        Jonagold’s face must have broadcasted her confusion, because her father laughed and laid a hoof on her back. 
        “It’s okay,” he said. “They’re good ponies, some of the finest I’ve ever met.”
        “What about Jersey?” 
        “He’ll be along shortly. Besides, he’s met them before.”
        Jonagold turned back to look at her big brother, wondering at this new information, but he seemed unperturbed. She turned back and began to follow her father up the stairs.
        “Coming, coming,” he said, hurrying down the hallway to the door. “Sorry, I was just in the basement, and-- howdy Copper, Rocky, Cardamom. How’re y’all doing?”
        Jonagold looked at the ponies standing in the doorway. They were all Red, of varying breeds. The one in the front was deep red, like her brother, his two-toned grey and white mane cropped short. Next to him was an orange unicorn with a darker mane, and behind them both was a Camargue earth pony with no mane at all. She caught Jonagold’s eye and winked. Her father smiled at them and greeted them all in turn. 
        “Come in, come in,” he said. “Jonagold, let me introduce you to some friends of mine. This is Copper Felt, Arrok Gastar, and Silten Cardamom. They’re all old friends.”
        “Hmm,” the pony in front, Copper, said, blowing the statement out his nose. “This is your youngest, right Hayward?”
        “That’s right,” her father said. “Jonagold turned eleven last month.”
        “Congratulations are in order, then,” he said. 
        “Thank you, sir,” she said. 
        “Come in, come in, get off the step then,” her father said, ushering them in. “Coat rack’s right behind you, Rocky, there you are. Jonagold, put on some tea, would you?”
        She nodded and raced into the kitchen, lighting the boiler and putting the kettle on. The newcomers followed her father into the living room, with the exception of the mare, Cardamom, who followed Jonagold into the kitchen.
        “What tea are you making?” she said.
        “Chamomile,” Jonagold said. “My pa says it’s the best for when guests are over.”
        “He’s taught you right then,” Cardamom said, looking over the tea leaves. “Do you mind if I smell?”
        “Go right ahead.”
        The mare leaned down and smelled the leaves deeply, a smile sliding across her face. “Oh, Hayward does know his teas,” she said. 
        Jonagold wanted to ask why she didn’t have a mane, but she thought her father would get mad at her for such a question. “Yes ma’am,” she said. “He gets the tea im-ported, but I don’t know what that means.”
        “You want to ask about my mane, don’t you?” Cardamom said.
        “I-- I didn’t mean--”
        “It’s alright,” she said, holding up a hoof and laughing. “Your Pa has taught you well, but I don’t mind. I keep it shaved, see?” She tilted her head, and now Jonagold could see the ridge along Cardamom’s spine where the fur changed to a light orange, the only remnants of her mane.
        “Why’d you do that?”
        “To remember something bad that happened to me a long time ago,” she said. “I suppose, in a way, that’s why I’m here. Did your Pa tell you about this meeting?”
        Jonagold shook her head no.
        “Then I’ll let him tell you when he’s ready,” she said. 
        “Cardie!” Hayward called from the other room. “You ready? We’re about to begin!”
        “Coming!” Cardamom called. “I’ll see you later… what was your name?”
        “Jonagold Winesap, ma’am,” Jonagold said.
        “Jonagold,” Cardamom said. “That’s a very nice name.”
        “Thank you ma’am,” Jonagold said. “It was my grandma’s.”
        “Well, I had better see what the fuss is about,” Cardamom said. “I’m looking forward to that tea.”
        “Yes ma’am.”
        Cardamom giggled at Jonagold’s mannerisms and left the room. Jonagold turned back to her tea. The kettle was boiling now. She separated the flowers into their separate cups and poured the water. Her brother walked in the room, his face still covered in ink splots.
        “He got you making tea?” he said.
        “Yup,” she said. “I’m making chamomile.”
        “Figures,” Jersey said, slumping on the wall.
        “What’s the matter, Jersey?”
        “He never lets us sit in on anything,” Jersey said. “Watch. He’s going to let you bring that tea in there and then send us both to bed.”
        “But it’s not even late!”
        “That’s to keep us from snooping,” Jersey said. 
        Jonagold poured the tea and watched the leaves change the color of the water. “I’m sure he’ll tell us everything when we’re ready, Jersey.”
        “I’m ready now,” her brother said. “I’m almost fifteen! I know they’re trying to fight the Blues, and I want in!”
        “What are you talking about?”
        “Pa’s part of some sort of resistance,” Jersey said. “I read the letter on his desk.”
        “You read--”
        “It’s not a big deal. Just don’t tell him, okay? We get to have secrets too, you know.”
        Jonagold scrunched up her face. “I don’t like it,” she said, picking up the platter of cups and balancing them on her head. 
        Her brother shrugged. “Whatever,” he said.
        Jonagold didn’t say anything else. She took the tray into the room, where her father was pouring over some papers that the newcomers had brought. He looked up from the papers and smiled. “Thank you kindly, Jonagold. Just set them down on the table there.” Jonagold did as she was told, keeping her head down. She glanced up for a moment at Cardamom, who smiled at her and winked. Jonagold smiled. 
        “Now listen here, Jona,” her father said. “You don’t have to go to sleep right now but I want both of you upstairs for a while. This meeting’s very important. Understand?
        “Yes, sir,” Jonagold said, backing out of the room. Her eyes caught Jersey’s, who was slinking at the edge of the door, just out of sight.
        “And tell your damned brother that the same goes for him!” her father called, a smile on his face.
        “Ooh, you’re caught now, Jersey” Jonagold said, unable to keep the glee from her voice.
        “Shut up,” he muttered, and the two of them walked up the stairs. Jonagold checked in on the nursery, listening to Honeycrisp’s light snores. She closed the door.
        “What’re you going to do now, Jersey?” she said.
        Her brother walked past her in a huff and closed the door to his room. Jonagold shrugged and went to her own room. She pulled her copy of AMAZING TALES! from underneath her bed, sat down, and began to read. The knight was about to brave the haunted castle for his princess, and she wanted to see the end of the story….
        She must have fallen asleep at some point, because sometime later shouts from downstairs roused her. She sat up, blinking, bleary-eyed. It was impossible to know how much time had passed.
        “You’ve gone soft, Hayward! I’ve never seen such bullshit! And you were supposed to make this paper something special!”
        Definitely from downstairs. Jonagold poked her head out from the door and looked down the hall. Jersey was doing the same; they looked at each other. Jersey shrugged. Jonagold stepped out of her room.
        “Please, Copper,” her father’s voice said, calm but with an edge of steel, “you’ll wake my family.”
        “Well, maybe they need to hear this too, then!” the voice of Copper shouted back. 
        “Come on, Copper,” the soft voice of Cardamom said. “I think you have a point, but there’s no need to bring Hayward’s family into this.”
        “Into this? What are you saying, Cardamom? This is our lives, and it’s going to be his kids’ lives too if we don’t do something about it.”
        “I agree with you, Copper--” Hayward said, but that was all he could get in.
        “No, I don’t think you do, Hayward,” Copper said. “I think you’ve gone soft. I mean, look at this place!”
        “Are you implying something about the place I live?” Hayward said.
        “I’m saying it’s a fucking mansion compared to what some of us are living in. Hey Rocky, remember when we lived in that hovel in the attic of the old Hub City renovation projects? Because apparently Hayward doesn’t at all!”
        “Listen, Hayward,” the gruff voice of Rocky said, “I can understand you not wanting to sacrifice what you have, but you have to see how this is frustrating for us.”
        Jersey and Jonagold crept down the stairs, inching closer to the fight. 
        “Not all of us get to pretend we’re rich and well off,” Copper growled. “Some of us are still in the trenches, fighting the good fight.”
        “I’m not--”
        “You see it every time, don’t you, Rocky? One of us gets lucky, stumbles into a little money, maybe the Blue in charge of them feels guilty and gives them a raise, I don’t know, and suddenly they’re prancing around like they’re better than the rest of us, like the guards wouldn’t beat their heads into a pulp if given the slightest chance. You even talk different now! All the money in the world won’t wash that Red off of you, Hayward. Don’t you ever forget it!”
        “I would NEVER forget where I came from, Copper!” Hayward roared, louder than Jonagold had ever heard him shout. A jolt of fear ran through her veins. She leaned forward. “And don’t you NEVER imply that I’m a traitor to my race! You say I’ve gone soft, I say you’ve lost your mind! You want a war! Your bloodlust is going to rend this entire city apart!”
        “My bloodlust?” Copper shouted back. “It’s not my bloodlust that kills our people every day! It’s not my bloodlust that ensures we never have enough to eat, so that our foals starve right in their mothers’ hooves! It’s not MY bloodlust that killed my parents! You say I want to start a war? I say we’re already in one! We’ve been in a war since the day we were born and nothing you or I say will ever, EVER change that! And you want to sit down and let them kill us! Why, what would Jeanton think of this--”
        “Don’t you say his name like you knew a damned thing about him,” Hayward said, his voice low and threatening. “Don’t you talk to me about things I already know. I have worked hard all my life to ensure that my children live better than he did, than I did, growing up. Now we have some luck, some things coming our way. I will NOT jeopardize that. Not for you, not for anything on this earth. Jersey’s going to go to college next year, and in a few years Jonagold’s going to go too. And they’re going to grow and have a better life than you or I could dream of! And in the meantime I’ll keep fighting, because I hope they never have to. But I’m going to do it my way, and I’m going to use this paper how I please.”
        Jonagold leaned a bit more forward and slipped, tumbling down the last few steps and crashing into the foyer. Behind her, she heard Jersey curse. She looked up, blinking stars out of her eyes. The four ponies in the hallway were staring at her. Her father’s face was red, beads of sweat on his brow. He wore an expression of mounting regret. “Jonagold,” he said. “How much did you hear?”
        “I--” she stammered. He closed his eyes. Upstairs, Honeycrisp began to cry.
        “I think that will be all for tonight, Copper,” Hayward said. “We appear to have woken my entire family. Jersey?”
        There was another curse, and her brother stepped down the stairs. “I’m sorry, children,” Hayward said. “I didn’t want y’all to hear that.” He glanced at Copper, who was still seething with rage. “Copper, I am truly sorry, but I cannot help you here. You’ll have to look elsewhere.”
        Copper shook his head. “You think you can change ponies’ minds,” he said. “You think you can talk them down. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
        “Believe it,” Hayward said.
        “Fine. I’ll be going then. Cardamom? Rocky? We’ve wasted enough time here already. Come on.” The other two ponies followed suit as he opened the door, filing out. Cardamom glanced at Jonagold one final time, her face sadder than Jonagold had ever seen before. Copper went to left, but paused. He glanced back, looking at Jona and Jersey.
        “We used to say we’d teach each other’s kids, right Hay? We’ll I’ve got one lesson for them. You ain’t never going to change a mind that don’t want to be changed. Ponies don’t just have opinions, they live in them. I learned that a long time ago, and I thought your Pa had too. Good night.” And he left the house without another word.


                       There was a pony staring at her from across the lobby. Jonagold blinked, looked away, then back. She was still there, staring at Jonagold like she was afraid the Red pony would disappear. She was quite sure she’d never seen this particular unicorn before; Blue ponies were always coming in and out of here but she knew all the regulars. The pony was a unicorn mare, purple, with a darker mane of a similar color. She wore a thick sweater and a saddlebag that looked too big for her. As Jonagold watched, the pony came closer, then backed up again, as if she was afraid Jonagold would spook.
            Well, that’s unlikely, girl. Seems to me like you’re the one out of place.
            After what seemed like an eternity, the pony trotted up to her. Jonagold put on her best smile.
            “Yes ma’am? How can I help you?”
            “Um hi, yes,” the pony said, sounding flustered. “I’m sorry, this is going to seem terribly rude… are you Jonagold Winesap?”
            A spike of adrenaline shot up Jonagold’s spine, but she kept her smile flawless. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “My name is Jonagold Smith. There aren’t any ponies here with the name Winesap. What can I help you with? Are you looking for a banker? Maybe you wish to start an account?”
            But the pony’s eyes told Jonagold that she wanted none of those things. The unicorn was looking at Jonagold with something almost… desperate in her eyes. She looked like she was on the brink of a meltdown. Jonagold leaned back. This Blue knew who she was, or thought she did. If the bank found out she had kicked out a potential customer, she might lose her job. But if they found out who she really was, she’d lose a whole lot more.
            “My name is Evenstar Boral,” the unicorn said. “I’ve been looking for you all over town. The file said you were a receptionist but it didn’t clarify where….”
            Now the spike of adrenaline had turned into a river. They were keeping tabs on her. But now this unicorn was here, and….
            “Anyway,” the mare, Evenstar was saying, “we’ve been tracking you and a few others for a while now, not in a bad way or anything! But just to make sure that we knew you were who you thought we were—“ She broke off, apparently noticing the look on Jonagold’s face. “Oh, Eden, you are an idiot. Winesap, Smith… I’ve blown your cover! This doesn’t have anything to do with your father, and I’m not with the Hub City government, I swear! I just--”
            “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Jonagold said. Evenstar froze.
            “But—“
                   A shimmering anger was rising inside of Jonagold. At the mention of her father’s paper, all of the fear she’d been feeling fell away, replaced by a desire to get this foolish Blue out of her face, job be damned.
            “Please, ma’am,” Jonagold said, trying to keep the growl out of her voice. “My father’s paper has nothing to do with me. What he printed in that paper were the ramblings of a deluded pony, and neither I nor my sister know or care about what he had to say. I don’t know who you are, or who you work for, but you’re too incompetent to be with Hub City. If you truly mean me no harm, you will walk out that door right now.”
            “But—you’re supposed to be Applejack,” the unicorn said, almost to herself. “I... I figured, if any of us would be ready to fight evil at the drop of a hat, it would be you.”
            Jonagold’s anger only rose at Evenstar’s statement. That she could lecture Jonagold about evil…. “I reckon you heard wrong,” she said, “and this is your final chance.”
            The unicorn seemed to wilt under these words.
 “I—I understand,” she said, almost in tears. “I should have known—I’m sorry for the intrusion. I just—here.” She slid a small card over her desk. “I’ll be going now. I swear I mean you no harm. Please don’t call security.” With that, she gathered herself and walked out the doors, head down. Jonagold watched her go, then looked at the card.
            There was a small drawing of three apples on it, in bright autumn colors. Jonagold tilted her head. She’d seen it before… somewhere…. She shook the mood off. It didn’t matter. She went to throw it in the trash, but paused. Then she shoved it in her desk. That was a sign. Sometime soon, she and Honeycrisp would have to vanish. If someone knew her identity, it was only a matter of time before Hub City knew as well. She began to run out a plan for the night head.
            The rest of her shift was uneventful. She gave Gemini’s son-in-law the nametag, keeping a straight face as he immediately saw through the ruse. Gemini came out and clapped her on the back for it, as if they were old friends. She felt something akin to warmth at the gesture, but distant, muted.
            There was an altercation on the park corner when she walked home. The pony on the corner had gone too far, and now a pair of guards stood to the side, watching him. As Jonagold walked by they decided it was time to act. She kept her head down as they approached the stallion.
             “Excuse me…”
            “Get your goddamn hooves off me!”
            “Alright, pops, time to go.”
            “You’ve had your fun.”
            “—better enjoy your spoils while you can, pigs! The end is coming!”
            “Yeah, yeah, save it for the jail cell. Plenty of your kinsmen in there would love to hear it.”
            Jonagold risked a look, slowing down for just a moment. The guards were trying to coerce the pony off of the crate, and as she watched one of them became impatient. He tried to shove him at the exact moment the pony decided he’d better comply, sending him toppling over and onto the other guard.
 An explosion of flyers blossomed from his jacket, spilling out onto the street. He tried to get up, but the guards reacted with lightning speed, pinning him on the ground and pushing his snout into the dirt. The pony cried out.
            “That’s right,” one of the guards said. “Stay down.”
            Jonagold watched as they picked him up, cuffed him, and began hustling him down the street. None of the other Reds said anything. They kept their heads down. Jonagold bent down and grabbed a flyer, tucking it into her coat. She began to walk again. Pick your battles, Jonagold, and don’t look back. Don’t ever look back.
 
           She didn’t know what was wrong, only that her father had burst into the room and told her to hide in the basement. It was cold here, and damp. Her brother’s coat pressed into her side. She cradled the warm form of her sleeping sister in her arms.
       In the darkness, the printing press loomed like a horrifying monster, its girth sucking the air from the room. The stacks of newspapers were tied up for tomorrow’s distribution. Somehow, Jonagold knew that they would never leave the basement.
            Through the boards of the ceiling, she could hear the squeak of the rocking chair, moving back and forth. Her father was upstairs, saying nothing. When she remembered it later, that moment was frozen in time, an eternity, the last moment of her life before it was changed forever.
             A knock sounded at the door, loud and powerful. She heard her father’s footsteps walk across the floor to the door, and the creak as it opened. Silence. Then she heard a voice talking. Her father replied.
            She had to know what they were saying. Perhaps a part of her, the part that knew to always watch for guards and to keep her head down when she walked to school, already knew, but the rest of her refused to acknowledge it. She would have to see firsthand.
            “Hold Honeycrisp,” she whispered to her brother. His eyes were wide and fearful.
              "What the hell are you thinking?” he hissed back, but he took the sleeping girl when Jona passed her to him. Jonagold turned and crept up the ladder to the main floor. 
              “The Red Review is not seditious, Constable Nadir, and it is not involved whatsoever with the actions of any Red nationalist group.”
            “You know I want to believe that, Hayward, I really do.”
             The second voice had the cool inflection of an outskirts Sagittarian, the Blues that lived between Redtown and the main city proper. Worse, Jonagold recognized it. Orion Nadir, the constable. Her father had invited him over once for drinks and he’d been cordial, if nothing else. Later her father had told her it was to make the Blues know the paper was harmless. “Just part of the game,” he said.
            But now Orion’s voice felt tense in a way that Jonagold did not understand, as if there was an underlying joke beneath it that everyone but her understood. She leaned forward, ear pressed against the cellar door.
            “I don’t see what the problem is here,” her father said, his voice still level. “We’ve been putting this paper out for years now.”
            “But you haven’t been putting it out like this, Hayward,” Orion said. “And frankly, you’ve got a lot of folks in this neighborhood worried about you. We don’t want you Reds getting ideas in your heads that’ll get you hurt.”
            “There is nothing in my paper that is not of the highest journalism,” Hayward said, “and all of our research is independently verified.”
            “That so?” Orion said. There was a rustling, and Jonagold realized he was holding up one of her father’s newspapers. “Says right here on page three. ‘The Camarguan Kingdoms: Once, long ago, before the arrival of the Blue Aurorans to the Mare, we Camargue ruled the plains. We had a sophisticated writing system, language, and our own kings and queens, powerful and beautiful. When the Aurorans came, desperate and in exile, we gave them shelter. In return, the Aurorans betrayed and enslaved us....” Jonagold heard the sound of a pony spitting.
            “Now,” Orion continued, “I know that an honest, educated pony like yourself doesn’t believe in this sort of garbage. But the ponies who read this newspaper, the ones who can read, anyway, are more likely to, and it’s creating quite a disturbance around the precinct. Can’t have ponies with a false sense of their own history starting trouble. And, to make matters worse, this is remarkably similar to the propaganda the Red nationalist groups like the Pheonix teach their followers, groups, I may remind you, that have been outlawed for terrorist actions, treason, and cold-blooded murder.”
            There was a long silence. Jonagold decided to risk it further. She cracked the door of the cellar open, revealing the scene at the door. There was her father, standing, facing out. A small assembly of ponies stood on the front steps and out on the yard. Some of them held torches. All were blue. Orion stood in front, casually sizing up her father.
            After a long moment, her father spoke. “We can go for a reprint,” he said. “The press is in the basement. It’ll only take a day or two.” He sounded choked, as if each word had fought hard not to be said. 
        Orion sighed. “I’d like to do that, Hayward, I really would, but the truth is we just don’t trust you anymore. This has happened one too many times at this point. So we’ve come to take the press away.”
        “What--” Hayward’s eyes widened. “You can’t--”
        “I’m sorry,” Orion said, the words dripping off his tongue.  He smiled a lazy smile. “If there were any other way….”
        One of the ponies began to push through past Hayward, and he pushed back, blocking the entrance. The pony pushed harder and with a grunt Hayward sent him flying back into the crowd. There was a low hiss from the assembled ponies. 
            The smile dropped off Orion’s face. “You clayhides are getting a lot of nerve. Get him.”
            The guards jumped at Hayward, who reared back, his teeth bared. He kicked the first one down hard; he fell and did not move. Another guard jumped into the fray. The fight was in the hall now; the entryway mirror fell with a crash. The thumps against the ground reverberated through the basement. Hayward fought, but they grabbed him around the neck and didn’t let go.
             “Stop!” Jonagold shouted, jumping from behind the door. “Let my daddy go!”
            For as long as she lived, Jonagold would never forget the look on her father’s face when he saw her there. It held such a mix of desperation, of anger, and of raw, naked fear that she nearly turned tail and ran herself.
              “Someone get this clug bitch out of here!” Orion shouted, and now a guard was advancing on her. She fell back in fear.
              “Jonagold!” her father shouted, struggling to breathe under the weight of the ponies on top of him, “Jonagold, you have to listen to me! Run, get your brother and your sister, and run! Don’t look back! Don’t you ever look back!”
            Then the guards pulled him out onto the front lawn. Jonagold kicked, but they were too strong, grabbing her and dragging her out as well.
             A crowd had gathered there, guards and Blue civilians, jeering and shouting at her father as he tried to fight the guards.
              “Look at him buck!”
            "He’s quite the bull, isn’t he?”
              “About time the guards took Big Hay out back for some lessons.”
             Jonagold stood frozen, watching.	 The guards held him in front of Orion.[/	i]
            “I’m gonna teach you a lesson now,	 clayhide,” Orion said, his voice low and breathless. His eyes were alight with a fire that seemed to transform his whole face.
             He reared back and struck Hayward across the face. The crowd roared. Jonagold shouted, cried, but the guards held her fast. 
“I’m gonna teach your whole family.” Orion struck her father again. He spat blood on the ground. Orion’s face was distorted by some emotion that welled inside of himself. He looked ghoulish in the torchlight. 
“We build nice schools for your clug children, but you never learn!” His entire body was trembling, sweat running down his face. Hayward looked at him, dazed. Blood dribbled from his mouth. 
“We treat you right, even after your betrayal. We’re kind to your people, we uplifted you!” Orion shouted. His shadow danced in the light of the torch. The crowd leaned forward, captured by the same spell that held Orion. They knew what was coming. 
 “You just—“ he struck again “—never—“ again “—learn—“ he reared back and turned, bucking Hayward in the chest as hard as he could. Something snapped, and her father slumped over, unconscious. Orion stood over him. Slowly, his eyes turned upwards towards Jonagold, and in that moment she had never felt fear in quite the same way. She saw, in those eyes, something deep, deeper than Orion, deeper than any pony there could know or could begin to understand.
“Torch it,” Orion said, and the guards threw their torches through the windows, breaking the glass that she and her brother spent so much time keeping clean. 
The guards were trying to move her to the side, towards the circle.She had to do something. She twisted around and bit the guard’s arm, sinking her teeth into fur and flesh. He shouted out, loosened his grip. She twisted around and bucked him in the jaw as hard as she could. His head snapped back and he went limp. She didn’t have time to think about it. The house was on fire. She ran inside, the crowd at her tale and flew through the basement door, barricading it behind her.
Honeycrisp was crying. Jersey looked at her. “We need to leave,” Jonagold said.
“The cellar door,” he said. “Where’s pap?”
“They got him,” she said. “It’s just us now.” Jersey gulped but took a strong stance.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Upstairs, she could hear shouts at the door. Something was hammering at the barricade. She pushed past Jersey to the back of the cellar, where the passage to the backyard was covered. She kicked it open.
 The ponies upstairs thundered over the floors she’d swept just earlier that day. They pounded on the barricade. Jonagold stepped through, Jersey right behind her. She took the foal while he closed and latched the door behind them. Then they ran down the dark, earthen tunnel that ran under the backyard to the woods at their edge. Jonagold pushed the exit open and climbed out, taking the foal so that Jersey could leave. Honeycrisp wailed.
“Come on,” Jersey said, pushing into the forest. Jonagold was about to follow, but something stopped her. She turned, looked back towards the house. It was burning in earnest now and would soon fall. The ponies inside had begun to clear out, and in their arms she saw her mother’s best china and her father’s favorite hat. She licked her lips. A fire deep inside of her pushed out, and for a moment she almost went back, but the shouts of Jersey and Honeycrisp’s cries pulled her back to her senses and she turned away, the forest swallowing her up like a dangerous secret.

 Jonagold pushed the key into the lock on her apartment door and walked in. She knew something was wrong at once; Honeycrisp’s pack was sitting by the couch. She wasn’t supposed to be home for another hour. Jonagold sighed, rubbing her temple with a hoof. She put her pack down and walked down the hall to her sister’s room.
“Honeycrisp? I saw your pack. Why’re you home, girl?”
There was a long silence. Jonagold imagined her sister trying to formulate an excuse. Then a small, hoarse voice replied: “Don’t come in, sis! I’m, uh, sick.” This statement was followed by a series of unconvincing coughs. Jonagold rolled her eyes and pushed open the door.
Her sister was sitting on her bed, still fully dressed. There was mud spattered down her overalls. One eye was swollen almost shut, and she was holding a chunk of ice against it. When Jonagold opened the door, Honeycrisp jumped, frantically looking for a place to hide before realizing the jig was up.
“Honeycrisp,” Jonagold sighed, “what on earth happened to your eye?”
“I fell,” her sister said.
“You fell.”
“Yup!” Honeycrisp said. “I fell on my way to class and hit a… a rock. Busted my eye up real good.”
“Sure looks like it,” Jonagold said.
“Yeah,” Honeycrisp said, becoming more convinced of the story as she told it. “And Miss Shields said that I could go home early to get some ice to put on it.”
Jonagold sat on the bed next to her. “Well, I’m real sorry to hear that,” she said, putting an arm “around her sister. “The path to that school is slippery; you know, I keep telling ponies that they ought to fix that road up but nothing ever gets done.” Honeycrisp relaxed a fraction and leaned into the hug, allowing Jonagold to snatch a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Oho, what’s this?”
Honeycrisp blanched. “Give that back!” she said, trying to grab the paper back, but Jona pushed her back with one arm while unfolding the note.
“Summons for Miss Jonagold Smith to a teacher conference to discuss delinquent behavior of her sister Honeycrisp… oh, Honey, what did you do this time?”
Honeycrisp stopped trying to snatch the paper back and crossed her arms, looking down at the bed. “He started it,” she said. “He said that Fjords were just mud ponies and that we just got lucky.”
“Who?”
“Tarken Clove. He’s this mean pony up a couple grades. He’s always harping on Fjords.”
“Well, Honeycrisp, you’re only half Fjord, so that should only make you half as angry. Does he like Ahkal-Teke?”
“He don’t know what they are.”
“No, I reckon he don’t. Camargue never care about the other red tribes. Honeycrisp, you can’t go about fighting every pony that don’t agree with you, or thinks you’re worthless. You’d be fighting this whole damn city.”
“Well, I can try,” Honeycrisp muttered.
“Listen to me, Honey,” Jonagold said. “This is the third time this month you’ve come home early because of a fight. Now, you’ve got to cut this out. Your education is more important. You can beat him by being successful.”
     “Now I know that’s a load of bull.”
            “Honeycrisp….”
            “It is though! You can’t tell me I can’t fight some bully when you’re out here glorifying all these historical Red ponies who’ve fought back against the Blues! I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’m going to defend myself!”
            “I don’t give a damn what those ponies did. They were great mares and stallions, you’re just thirteen. You can’t go about picking fights like that, you hear? If I catch word of one more fight like this, you ain’t going to like what I’ll do, understand?”
             Honeycrisp fidgeted. “Yes, ma’am,” she said.
            Jonagold relaxed. “Good,” she said. “Now give me that ice; you’re dripping it all over the floor. Get yourself cleaned up, and when you come back out we’ll eat some food. I’ll put the stove on. Okay?”
            Honeycrisp rolled her eyes, but came in for the hug. The two sisters embraced. Jonagold stood up. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything else.”
She went to walk to the door. “Jona?” her sister said. She paused.
             “Yes?”
            “You think Pap and Ma would be disappointed in me?”
            “Oh, Honeycrisp,” Jonagold said. “I reckon they’d be just about as proud of you as a body can be. You’re growing up so fast.”
            “And Jersey? When he comes back, I mean.”
            Jonagold pushed a hot spike of anger back down. “I’m sure of it,” she said. “You go on and get cleaned up now.” Honeycrisp nodded and she closed the door.
             Jonagold walked into the kitchen and set a stove to boil. She leaned against the counter. “Bastard,” she said. “You couldn’t even have sent a note? She still expects you and—“ she cut herself off. She walked over to the couch where she’d thrown her coat and went to hang it up. The flyer from before fell out. She picked it up.
              ATTENTION REDS: THE TIME HAS COME TO ORGANIZE. THE BLUE MENACE THAT STRANGLES OUR NATION IS WEAK, DAMAGED BY INFIGHTING AND WASTE. WE HAVE THE POWER TO ACT NOW!
            Below the notice was a time, a few days from now, for an organization meeting. It was only a few blocks away. Jonagold picked the note up and threw it in the trash. She set a pot of water to boil and poured some oats in. Then she sat down at the kitchen table and began to write a letter.
        Cardamom,
        I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while, but I’m calling in that favor. Someone knows who we are, and I think Honeycrisp and I are going to have to disappear….

	
> 11. Fort Tain
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“There it is,” Axel said, looking out over the river valley below, “just a few hours march away.”
Spec looked at the town below them. It was smaller than Ridgeback, smaller than she remembered. The stone buildings were all built up against each other, stacked in uneven piles and pressed right up against the wall, overflowing in some places and continuing for some time until they gradually diminished into nothing. It was a sprawling, chaotic mess.
“Fort Tain,” Axel said, a rare smile on her lips. “Stonekeep. The only Ahkal-controlled city in the entire Mare Aurora.” A genuine grin crossed her features. “It’s good to be back.”
It had been four days since they left the Malus clan, stuffed to bursting with food and warm memories. Mother Malus had given the crew the Ahkal equivalent of a blank check (as much so as a moneyless society could), and Spec and the others had been treated with the height of courtesy. While Amber had taken to it at once, it made Spec uncomfortable. She hadn’t forgotten the conversation Malus had had with her and Amber at their arrival, and the morning they were to leave, her suspicions had been confirmed.
Malus had pulled them aside, her face, for the moment, serious. Then she had spun them the craziest yarn Spec had ever heard: that they were the reincarnations of ponies from an ancient, long forgotten society, raised from the dead to fight a threat that wasn’t clear, but certainly had something to do with whatever had got Capricorn sick. 
Spec snorted. Unlike most of her people, she was never much of a moon-worshipper; but she had to admit that even that system made sense compared to  whatever Malus was preaching. Reincarnation?
Amber, on the other hand, had kept quiet, interrupting only to ask a question here or there. At the end, she’d nodded and rose.

“Thank you for telling us that, Granny Smith,” she said. 
“My pleasure, darling,” Malus had said. “You’ve probably heard some of it from your sister already.”
“Something like that… but Ivy doesn’t remember much. Mostly dreams, nightmares...I have a question, though.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you want the amulet, or at least the thing inside of it?”
Malus’s eyes had grown wide with fear. “No, no,” she said. “It isn’t safe here… if that thing is what I think it is, it may not be safe anywhere.”
“What is it?” Spec asked. 
“It’s a bit, maybe the last bit, of the monster that got us all into this mess in the first place,” Malus said. “It’s real powerful, and dangerous to boot, and I wouldn’t let it out of your sight. Frankly, dear, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
“Ivy thinks that there’s somepony in Prospolis that can help us,” Amber said. She rubbed a hoof against her forehead. She looked very tired all of a sudden. Spec wondered how long Ivy’s dreams had been going on. 
“I reckon she might be onto something,” Malus said. “Sweetie was always a smart one. I’ve never been to Prospolis myself, but I know where it is on a map. Used to be a huge empire based there, north of Equestria. If there’s anypony alive who can do something with that thing, I’d imagine you’d find them there.”
From outside Spec could hear Axel’s voice, bidding them to resume their journey. 
“Y’all need to get going” Malus said, “but before you do, I’ve got something for you. Couple of things, in fact. The first is this.” She held out a sheet of coarse paper, on which were painted six symbols. Spec’s eyes found the third down: a rainbow-colored lightning bolt shooting out from a cloud.
“These are the six cutie marks of the Elements of Harmony,” Malus said. “Rainbow, this one is yours.” She pointed to the lightning bolt. “And Rarity, this is yours.” She pointed to another, a trio of sparkling diamonds.
“Cutie marks?” Spec murmured. Something about the symbol... something about it.... 
“Yes. In the old days, everypony had one. But they’re all gone now… maybe with the loss of magic, I don’t know. I got mine back when my memories came back, see—“ she pulled the side of her skirt up, ignoring their barks of protest, to reveal what appeared to be a pie tattooed onto her side. 
“That’s… neat,” Spec said.
“Oh, get on out of here, Rainbow Dash,” Malus said. “This is a respectable Apple family mark… not that that means much now. Either way, I reckon y’alls cutie marks will come back in time too. And if y’all see anything that looks like any one of these, take a look. You might find something important.”
Axel’s cry became more impatient.
“We’ve got to go,” Spec said. “It was nice meeting you, lady, but—“
“I have one more thing,” Malus said. Spec shifted on her hooves, unable to hide her impatience. “More of a request, really.”
“Name it,” Amber said.
“The owner of this mark,” Malus said, pointing to a trio of apples, “is named Applejack. She’s my granddaughter. Her mother left the tribe when she was a young mare and married in the city. She’s dead now and I lost all contact with her husband and kids. But I’d never forget that face. If you see her, let her know she’s got a home here.”
“We don’t have time for—“
“We’ll do our best, Granny,” Amber said, dipping her head. The old mare’s face crinkled into a smile.
“You always were a good one, Rarity,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll look for your granddaughter,” Spec said. “Can we go now?”
“Yes, Spectrum,” Amber said. “Granny Smith, it’s been a pleasure.”
“Likewise, girls. Do come to visit if you’re ever in the area. It’s always good to see old faces.”


Old faces…. Spec snorted. Old faces, new faces, what did it matter? They were moving on, Capricorn was awake, and whatever the hell that thing was, it wasn’t near her. Now, if only she could get Amber to step off a bit…
As if on cue, she turned and saw the white pony walking up the hill towards them. She caught Spec’s eye and smiled. Spec nodded back.  
“Hello dears,” Amber said. “Sorry to bother your gazing but Noble has a question about the packs and I didn’t know the answer.”
“That so?” Axel said. “Well, I’d better give him a hoof. We’re set to kick off pretty soon.” She turned away from the view, but paused. “Spec, you’re packed and ready?”
“We’ve only stopped for an hour, Axel. What do you think?”
“I’ve seen you spread your stuff out faster than that. Make sure it’s wrapped up.”
“Yeesh, alright,” Spec said, stepping to the side to hide the small pile of her belongings she had laid out. “Go help Noble.” Axel rolled her eyes and walked back towards the camp. Spec stuck her tongue out at her and began to pack her bag.
“Here, let me help you, Spectrum,” Amber said, picking up an apple and looking at it. “Honestly, how could you become so disorganized in such a short span of time?”
“Don’t you start, too,” Spec said, stuffing her mat into her bag. “I don’t know why… I just needed to get something, and next thing I know it’s time to go.”
“Hmm; well, a little proper organization would go a long way towards fixing these problems. If you’d just let me work on it for a bit…”
“Thanks, but I’m good,” Spec said, stuffing her bedroll in as best she could. There was silence between them, but Spec wasn’t fooled. She knew what was coming.
Her thoughts were confirmed when Amber cleared her throat and began to speak. “You know,” she said, with the air of someone treading very carefully, “we still ought to talk about what happened back at the Ahkal camp.”
“You heard Axel,” Spec said, not looking up. “She doesn’t want it mentioned. All that matters is that Capricorn’s back, he’s mostly fine, and we’re on our way again.”
“I’m not talking about Capricorn,” Amber said. “Well, not mostly. I’m talking about you and I.”
“What about us?” Spec said.
Amber sighed. “Why are you playing around the topic like this? Doesn’t it seem strange to you that you might be the reincarnation of an ancient hero?”
“Not really,” Spec said. “I already know I’m awesome. This is just the icing on the cake.”
Amber scoffed. “I don’t understand you, Spectrum Tempest.”
“Join the club.” Spec finished packing her bag and stood, looking Amber in the eye. “Are you done?”
“For now, yes,” Amber said. “But we’re going to compare notes at some point, even if I have to get you stone drunk to do so.”
Spec grinned. “I’ll take that as a challenge.” Then the two of them walked down the hill towards the rest of the group. Spec kept her face neutral, but inside she was as confused as Amber. Truth be told, Spec didn’t know why she was resisting talking about Mother Malus and her stories. She just knew that every time Amber tried to bring it up, she just… stopped. Amber was frustrated with being stonewalled, but Spec didn’t care. Some things could wait forever to be talked about.
“There you two are,” Axel said as she spied them. “Ready to go?”
“Yes,” Amber said, “I believe we are.”
“Where’s Capricorn?” Spec said.
Axel and Cesar glanced at each other. “He went ahead to scout,” Cesar said. “Said he wanted to make sure the path forward was safe.”
Spec frowned. “But we’re right here.”
“I let him go,” Axel said. “He looked like he needed to work some things out.”
“Oh,” Spec said. “Okay then.”
Cesar looked like he was going to say something, but he glanced at Axel and kept his mouth shut. Spec looked between the two of them and felt the weight of a conversation she had missed and was not yet meant to hear. 
“Alright then,” she said, clearing her throat loudly. “Guess I’ll be going. Do you want me to take point?”
“That would be good,” Axel said. “Cesar and I will watch the back.”
“Sure thing,” Spec said. She paused once more before she left. “Is everything… alright?”
Axel looked at her. “Yes,” she said. “It’s fine. Go on.”
Spec stayed put a second longer, then shrugged and walked to the front of the clearing. She pushed the feeling down. If something was wrong, Axel would let her know.
Capricorn rejoined the group a half hour later, looking no worse for wear. His brow was scrunched in thought, and his ear tweaked to the side as if listening to something only he could hear. Spec walked over to him.
“You feeling alright, Cap?” she said.
He looked at her blankly for a moment, then grinned. “Me? Don’t worry about me, Spec. I’m fine. Just got to shake it off,  you know?”
“Yeah,” Spec said. “I hear you.”
She nodded again and returned to her spot in line. The cheerful expression on Capricorn’s face faded away. And so the company finished their trek to Fort Tain.

The square-cut blocks of the buildings looked alien to Spec's eyes. “Where are we bunking down?” she asked, her mind turning towards thoughts of uncomfortable hay beds and strange, foreign smells.
“Not any of these spots,” Axel said. They rounded a corner. “This,” Axel said, looking towards the building at the end of the street, “this is the place.” It was squat, standing out from the plain brick around it with unique markings and style. Two huge torches blazed in front of it, casting the portrait of a mare with a fish’s tail in sharp relief. The sign underneath read The Siren.
Jade stared at the sign in distaste. “This is your idea of hospitality?” Amber gave her a sharp look.
“The Siren  is the best around, at least as far as I’m concerned,” Axel said. “This caravan has been going here since before Spectrum was born, and you won’t find a better room for his rate anywhere in the city. Besides, Easter’s a friend.” She glanced at Spectrum. “I wonder how he’ll react to seeing little Spectrum all grown up.
Spec made a show of cuffing her on the shoulder. “Shut up,” she said.
“You remember Nor’Easter, don’t you?” Cesar said. 
“Uh, yeah,” Spec said, but she was unsure. A dim memory of a huge Astral unicorn floated vaguely in her mind, but she suspected she was supposed to remember more than that. “He, uh, gave us good deals here, right?”
“More than that,” Axel said. “Your dad once helped him out of a pretty rough situation. He’s got a soft spot for Tempests ever since. Used to sneak you snacks under the table.”
That was something Spectrum remembered. “She smiled. “I remember that guy.”
“Figures food would jog your memory,” Capricorn said.
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying….”
“Cut it out,” Axel said. “It’s been a long day and I’m sick of all the griping. Which reminds me: no funny business inside, got it? That goes double for you, Spectrum.”
“What? Why me?” Spec said, her voice cracking. Amber snickered, and Spec shot her a dirty look.
“Because Easter is going to try and encourage you,” Cesar muttered. He winked at her.
Axel shook her head. “I’m serious. I know we all want to have a good time, and believe me Easter will provide, but anyone who starts a fight is going to get stick duty for a week, understand?” There were reluctant nods, and Axel appeared satisfied. “Come on then,” she said. “I’m sure we all have a lot of catching up to do.”
Spec’s first thought when she opened the door was that The Siren could have been right at home in Ridgeback. The architecture, from the wood beam and thatched ceiling to the engravings on the walls, all screamed Astral, especially in this city of Red ponies. The interior was large and warm, lit by a central fire that blazed bright and warm. A pot of leeks and potatoes was simmering above it, and the smell wrapped the company up as soon as they entered. The rest of the floor space was lined by long wooden tables where a motley assortment of ponies sat, eating and drinking and gambling. In the back of the room, behind a wooden bar, an enormous Blue pony sat, filling a mug while he talked to a patron. At the sound of the door he glanced up, his eyes finding Spec at once. A huge smile spread across his face.
“Well, I’ll be,” he boomed, loud enough for the whole bar to stop and stare. “That mane… it’s a Tempest if I’ve ever seen one!”
The crowd stared at Spec, who did her best not to flinch at the sudden onslaught of attention. Capricorn chuckled. “That’s what I thought,” he said. Raising his voice, he shouted at Easter. “Now, just because the lady has a pretty mane doesn’t mean you can forget about the rest of us, now can you?”
Easter stood and moved out of the back of the bar as the crew approached. “Capricorn Aster, I’ve spent the last ten years doing my best to forget all about you,” he growled, a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t ruin my streak now.”
“Save it for later, Easter,” Axel said. “We’re going to need at least two rooms. What do you have?”
“For you, old friend, I have anything,” Easter said. “There are two rooms on the top floor; they’re yours. I just had the heating pipes reworked so they should be nice and toasty. You’ll be staying only one night, I take it?”
“You know we can’t stay, Easter,” Axel said. 
“Psssh, you caravan types, always with one eye on the clock. I’ll bet you haven’t spent a combined month in Fort Tain the entire time you’ve been on the road!”
“You’d lose your cash, Easter,” Axel said. “I’ve been doing this a long time.”
“Still, the point stands. At least don’t go to bed immediately. Stay down here a while and catch up, for old time’s sake. Or at least let the kid stay.”
“What, Ivy?” Spec said, before she realized that Easter was referring to her. She blushed.
“Your father was one of my dearest friends,” Easter said, his voice dropping, “and when he died I felt it like he was in my own family. I know you don’t know me very well, but I want you to know that you have a place here, and that I will do whatever is in my power to ensure that your time in The Siren is comfortable.”
“Oh, well, thanks, I guess,” Spec said, looking anywhere but at the stallion.
“You’re welcome,” Easter said.
“Hey Easter,” Capricorn said, “I lost my dad too! Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“I never met your dad, Capricorn,” Easter said, giving him a flat look, “and if I did I’d probably have a thing or two to say to him about his job as a parent.”
“Fair enough,” Capricorn said, “he was a piece of shit.”
There was a moment of silence while the company stood in the doorway awkwardly. At last Amber cleared her throat. “If it is alright with you, Miss Cartwright, I’ll be taking Ivy to bed now. Perhaps I will return if you all plan to go out tonight, but I’m not sure. I’m rather tired myself.”
“Aww,” Ivy said, “I’m not tired!” 
“Hush, Sweetie. You will be.”
Ivy blinked and shook her head. “What was that?”
“Come on, dear.” Amber began gently nudging Ivy towards the staircase. 
“I don’t know about you all,” Capricorn said, “but I’m going out. Easter, what’s going on in this town tonight? I don’t mean Ahkal nonsense, either; is there anything around that us Blues might enjoy?”
“Hmm,” Easter said, scratching his chin. “Well, there’s a traveling performer that’s set to do a show in a bar a couple streets down, it’s called the Barrel Wheel. She might be trash, I don’t know, but that bar’s one of the best around, besides mine. If you’re looking to get out and see what’s to offer, that might be a good place to start. I know the owner, too; tell him Easter sent you, and you might even get a free drink.”
“Sounds like my kind of place,” Capricorn said. “Cesar, you coming?”
“I suppose,” Cesar said.
“Mind if I tag along, too?” Noble said. Capricorn blinked. 
“Not at all,” Cesar said. “Right, Capricorn?”
“Yeah,” Capricorn said. “The more the merrier.”
“Jade,” Noble said. “You coming?”
But Jade was already following Amber and Ivy up the stairs, her nose in the air. Noble shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“You three go on ahead,” Axel said. “Easter, Spec and I are going to do a little catching up.”
“Don’t wait up too long,” Capricorn said, already headed out the door.  The door shut and the three ponies vanished into the night.
“I can’t believe you kept him around,” Easter said, shaking his head. He reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid.
“Well,” Axel said, “I figure that someone has to keep an eye on him, or he’s going to get himself into trouble.”
“He can do that with a bunch of eyes on him just fine,” Easter said. He mixed out and poured three shots of the amber liquid, topping it off with lemon juice and something else from the bar. Then he slid two of the drinks down the line. Axel picked one up and both she and Easter looked at Spec.
“What?” Spec said. She picked up the drink and sniffed it. “Yeesh, this is strong.”
“Blitz only liked the best,” Easter said.
“Whenever we’d come here in the past,” Axel said, “Easter would fix me, Blitz and himself Red Lightnings.”
“It’s the only time I’d ever drink on shift,” Easter said. 
“And since he’s not here anymore,” Axel said. “You’re going to have to take his shoes.”
“I hate that,” Spec muttered, but she picked up the drink just the same.
“To family,” Easter said, “both by blood and by bond.”
“To family,” Axel said.
“To family,” Spec said, and drank. The three cups clanged against the wooden table. “Wow,” she said. “That’s a drink.”
“It’s a real kicker, ain’t it?” Easter said. “Gets the party started a bit faster than most folks are used to.”
Spec could feel the warmth of the liquid already spreading through her midsection. “No kidding,” she said.
“Get me a beer, Easter,” Axel said.
“I’ll have one too,” Spec said.
“Oho,” Easter said, pulling two mugs off of the back rail. “Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?”
“I’m twenty-three years old, Easter,” Spec said. “I think I know what I’m doing.”
“Alright, alright,” Easter said, holding his hooves up. “No offense meant. You’ve got to understand, the last time I saw you was what, fifteen years ago? You’re still a little filly in my mind.” He passed the two beers across the table. Spec swept hers up and took a deep gulp, belching out the air that bubbled back up her stomach.
Easter grimaced. “Although,” he said, “that image is changing pretty quick.”
“Spec, behave yourself,” Axel said. “I know we’re among friends, but you’re still representing my caravan.”
“And how on earth did you get the caravan anyway?” Easter said, leaning back from the bar.
“I didn’t,” Axel said. “After Blitz died I stopped caravanning for a couple years, before I realized there wasn’t really anything else I wanted to do more. So I started working for the Andalusians. It’s sort of like the old days, Easter, but the ways of the old Caravanners are gone. The airships changed everything.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Easter asked, polishing a glass as he listened to her story.
“One more big job,” Axel said. “I was working for a stallion named Sterling, Andalusian. He wanted his children taken to Prospolis. A bit farther than I’m comfortable with, but I volunteered for the mission. Told him I used to move ponies all the time in my youth. He gave me the opportunity to put a team together, and I tracked as many members of Blitz’s old team down as I could. There weren’t many.” She sighed. “I also found this one, cheating ponies in a Cliffside bar.”
“I wasn’t cheating—“
“You sure were, and don’t even deny it.”
“They’re all a bunch of scoundrels anyway,” Spec said, shrugging. “So what if I scraped a bit off the top?”
Easter shook his head in mock disapproval, but his smile gave the game away. “My my. I wonder what Blitz would think of his only child becoming a common criminal.”
“Well I wouldn’t know, now would I,” Spec shot back, “because he never really told me much of anything.”
Easter’s smile faded. “Blitz was complicated,” he began, but Spec cut him off.
“Not at all,” she said. “He wasn’t complicated at all. He wanted his open trails and his freedom, and he wasn’t about to let a mistake from the back of some Ridgeback inn get in the way of that.”
“Blitz loved you—“ Axel said, but she winced as Spec cut her off.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Spec said. “Sure he did. Loved me enough to shove me off on various houses while he went out and invented elaborate toasts with his buddies, right?” she glared at Easter, daring him to argue.
Instead, Easter just sighed. “I always told the old bastard his hatred of responsibility would get him in trouble,” he said. 
“Blitz didn’t always know how to say it,” Axel said. “But he did love you, Spectrum. He was far from a perfect stallion, but—“
“Nope,” Spec said. “He was about as far as you can get. You know how weird it is to spend weeks in the company of ponies who just can’t stop worshipping this asshole? Because I do. Let me tell you, it’s really frustrating. ‘Oh, Blitz never did this’ and ‘Oh, Blitz was the perfect whatever.’ That stuff really gets on my nerves. I mean, what if I said things like ‘Oh, Blitz was a deadbeat,’ and ‘Oh, one time he left for six months and came back with a piece of candy as an apology!’”
“Some stallions aren’t meant to be fathers,” Easter said.
“Well gee, that makes me feel way better,” Spec said. “Did you know—did you know that’s why I started studying wingblading? Sure had a lot of time on my hands, and I thought that maybe I could be useful to my own damn father if I could have a skill he valued. So all that time he was away, I studied and studied and worked my feathers off. And you know what? It turned out great! I got so damn good at it they had to invent new levels of goodness, just for me! And when dad found out, you better believe that he was taking me along. And where has that gotten me?” She slammed her hoof on the table. Easter and Axel flinched.  “Only further in his shadow, it turns out. All the way to this damn barstool!”
Easter and Axel were both looking at her, frozen. Spec’s anger faded, replaced with a growing sense of shame. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m… I’m just going to go find Cap and the others. Easter, thanks for the beer.” She got off her stool and left the inn.
She got a hundred feet from the door before she started shaking. Tears stung her eyes. She scrunched her face up and clenched her teeth, taking in slow breaths.
“That’s right…okay, okay… not here.”
After a minute or two, the feeling passed, and Spec took a shaky breath. “Alright,” she said. “Going to go find Capricorn and the others and get stupid drunk. Then I can apologize in the morning.”
Satisfied with this plan, she headed down the street towards where Easter had directed the others. The streets were empty for the most part, only a few ponies scurrying around to do last minute errands before the shift change. Her breath fogged and her hooves scraped on the cold cobblestones.
Something nudged at her side. She swatted it away without thinking before she realized what it was. “Hey!” she shouted, whirling around in time to catch the filly that had stolen her coin purse. “You little—you picked the wrong target this time!”
The orange filly struggled and kicked, her short magenta mane whipping in the wind. Spec tried to keep a grip on her but she was too quick, sliding out of her grasp like a snake and shooting off into an alley. Spec’s coin purse fell on the ground. She picked it up and weighted in her hoof. Still there.
“Street punks,” she muttered, refastening the purse under her cloak and pulling it tight around her shoulders.
She rounded a corner and spied the Barrel Wheel across the street. The front was brightly lit and she could hear the sounds of ponies talking and laughing coming from within, as well as more than a few boos. 
She went to push the door open, but all at once someone grabbed her from behind and whirled her around. She found herself looking into a pair of crazed eyes.
“Have you seen her?” the pony whispered.
“Back off, pal,” Spec said, pushing the pony off of her. Her yellow coat was dirty and stained, her blue and pink mane in a ratted mess.
“Celestia, Rainbow,” the pony said. “Where is Celestia? She’s gone. The sun--” she swallowed, shivering. “The sun is silent.”
“Wow,  you’re nuts,” Spec said. “I’m just going to leave now.” She turned again to go back to the tavern, but the pony grabbed her and pulled her away.
“You can’t go in there!” she hissed, holding Spec’s head in both hooves. “It’s not safe! Bad things are planned for in there!”
“What sort of bad things?” 
“Bad. Things,” the pony said.
Silence. The wind whispered around them. 
Then the light in the pony’s eyes dimmed again, and she let Spec go. “Wow,” she said, turning down the street away from Spec. “I can’t believe you got this, Lyra! It must have cost a fortune! Ha! You didn’t?”
Spec watched her go, a prickle of unease trickling down her spine. She shook her head.
“Loonies,” she said, turning back towards the door. “Sounds like someone left the crazy bin unlocked.” She pushed the door open.
The tavern was built differently than she was used to, with a long central fire and the bar tucked in a corner. Dominating the opposite wall was a stage, and on that stage an embattled unicorn appeared to be trying her best to wow the crowd. 
She was blue, with a light, almost white mane, her horn polished to a mirror sheen. She was wearing a triumphant smile, but her eyes told a different story. The crowd was having none of it.
“And, fillies and gentlecolts, for my next trick, I will need a volunteer from the audience!”
“Good!” someone shouted. “Maybe they actually know some magic tricks!”
The crowd laughed at that, but the unicorn seemed undeterred. Spec felt her respect for the pony rise. “Anyone from the audience?”
“I’ll do it,” a familiar voice said, and a moment later Spec saw Noble threading through the crowd. The unicorn’s face lit up.
“Excellent, sir, thank you!”
The crowd murmured as Noble walked up. Spec turned away and cast her eyes over the crowd. She spotted Cesar and Capricorn sitting by the bar, cheering Noble on.
“Hey guys,” she said, threading through the crowd and coming up to them. “How’s it been going?”
“Spectrum,” Capricorn said, his tone conspiratorial, “check this out.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close, directing her vision with a hoof. 
Spec eyed the multiple shot glasses and spilled beer on the table. “You three didn’t waste much time, did you?”
“Nah,” Capricorn said. “You’ve got to check this pony onstage out. She doesn’t know anything!”
“I think she might be drunk,” Cesar rumbled, spilling his beer.
“She’s a piece of work,” Capricorn said. 
Spec removed herself from under Capricorn’s arm and sat down on the stool next to them. “She’s not a good magician?” 
“Nah, she’s fine,” Capricorn said. “It’s just her mannerisms! See the banner behind her?” For the first time, Spec noticed it. It was huge and golden, painted with the words The Spectacular Cirrus!
“I’ve never seen a pony so full of herself,” Capricorn said. 
“Besides you,” Cesar said.
“Now that’s unfair. I have my moments, but am I wearing a cape monogrammed with my own initials? I don’t think so.”
“Yeah,” Cesar said, “the cape is a bit much.”
Onstage, Noble had taken his place next to Cirrus. “Now,” the pony said, waving her front hooves in the air. “Watch and learn as I make this pony disappear! What’s your name?”
“Noble.”
“Alright, Noble, if you could just stay there for a moment….” Cirrus jumped off of the stage and ran behind the curtain. Noble fidgeted onstage, flashing the audience a nervous smile.
“I thought I was the one who was going to disappear,” he said. The crowd laughed.
Cirrus returned, pushing a large box. The letters S.C. were carved into the side. Spec rolled her eyes. She was beginning to understand what Capricorn had meant.
“Now,” Cirrus said, “Mr Noble, if you could just step inside this box here, we can begin!”
“Just… like inside?” Noble said, his ears back.
“Yeah,” Cirrus said. “Don’t worry, it’ll only be for a second, then you’ll… disappear!”
Spec’s enjoyment of Noble’s discomfort was interrupted by a nudge on her shoulder. She turned around to see that the bartender had come up to her. “Hiya!” she said, smile impossibly wide. “What can I get you?”
“Just a house ale, please,” Spec said. 
“Sure thing! You want to open a tab?”
“Um… you know what? Sure.” Spec slid a few coins over the table and the pony scooped them up. “Might just be here for a while.”
“Well, you won’t be the only one,” the pony said. “Pretty soon this crowd is going to want to be throwing things.” She leaned in to Spec. “I can get you a pretty sweet deal on some rotten tomatoes if you want to get the party started early.”
“Um, no thanks, I’m okay,” Spec said. The pony shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” she said, filling Spec’s mug and passing it over. “If you need anything else, you know where to find me!” Then she bounced to the other side of bar and began chatting with some other customers. Spec blinked.
“I see you’ve met our bartender,” Capricorn said. “Quite the looker, I’d say, if a bit… eccentric.”
“Something like that,” Spec said. She shook her head. Something about the pony seemed… familiar? A gasp from the crowd pulled her back to the show. Noble had climbed into the box and now sat, too big for it, looking out over the crowd. A slight blush colored his cheeks. 
“And now,” Cirrus said, lifting the top of the box and waving it around her head. “Witness in awe as I make this stallion… disappear!”
Then several things happened at once. Spec blinked. The unicorn’s horn seemed to be glowing… so faintly that it almost might not have been there. Noble looked at the horn, his expression showing surprise, but that was all he had time for before the unicorn brought the top of the box slamming down, pushing him into it with an audible pop. 
Spec blinked. The crowd was silent. Cirrus waited a few seconds, eyes closed in apparent trance. Then she opened them and smiled wide. She tapped the box and all four corners fell down, revealing a stage with no Noble in sight.
“Ta-da!” Cirrus said, wiping sweat from her brow.
The crowd was dead silent. Cirrus kept her pose, her smile becoming more and more strained. The sweat began to return. Then:
“That’s amazing!” a pony in the back said, and the entire audience erupted into cheers. Cirrus gave a bow, and then another one, basking in the attention of the crowd.
“Huh,” a voice behind Spec said, and she turned to see the bartender had returned. “Guess I’ll have to do something else with all these tomatoes.” She reached under the bar and removed a large cart of rotten tomatoes, breathing heavily as she lugged them to the back. Spec watched her leave, then turned back to Capricorn and Cesar.
“Where do you think Noble is?” she said. Capricorn shrugged. 
“Hope it’s not too cramped,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll bring him back soon enough.
“Yeah,” Spec said, finishing her drink, “I suppose so.” She looked around for the bartending pony. “Hey, bartender!”
“Yeah?” the bartender said, rising up from behind the bar so close to Spec that she almost fell off her stool. The pony smiled, her coat so pink it hurt Spec’s eyes.
“Get me another beer,” she said.
“Coming right up,” the pony said, grabbing another mug. She began to fill it, then froze. The mug fell out of her hoof, and she began tapping the floor at a rhythmic pace.
Spec looked at her. “Hey,” she said, “are you alright?”
The pony jerked to the side, her puffy tail bent at an angle. She whirled around, and Spec was shocked to see real fear in her eyes.
“Get down!” she shouted. “Something’s about to happen, get down!”
Spec turned from her to the crowd, but no one was listening to her. They were all still cheering for Cirrus, who was now signing autographs at the front of the room. Spec narrowed her eyes. A pony had stood towards the back for the room. He looked at Cirrus, turned, and walked towards the door. Spec’s eyes followed him as he left the building. 
“Get down!” the bartender shouted again, “please!”
Spec felt like she was moving through molasses. She looked at Capricorn, who was watching the bartender with an amused expression. Her heart beat faster. Spec opened her mouth. “Do you think we should get down?” she asked.
“Nah,” Capricorn said. “We’re fine.”
Then an enormous explosion ripped through the wall on the other side of the tavern, sweeping Spec up in its vortex. She sensed a moment of terrifying violence, extreme motion, fire. Then her head hit something hard and everything went dark.
	
> 12. Sanctuary
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late. Honeycrisp was asleep. If she knew that anything strange was going on, she hadn’t said. Jonagold sat in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee, staring at the door. The reply to her letter had come the day before, and she could feel the tension in the air. They were coming.

When the knock came she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She opened the front door and Cardamom strode past her into the room, silent as a breeze. She wore a dark cloak that covered her entire body, and when she pulled the hood down Jonagold was surprised at how much older she looked. A new scar ran down her face, and her muzzle was touched with grey.

“Where’s your sister?” she said, scanning the room.

“Still asleep,” Jonagold said. 

“Wake her,” Cardamom said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Jonagold nodded and walked down the hall to her sister’s room. She pushed the door open.  

“Honeycrisp,” she said. “Wake up. We’ve got to go.”

“Mmm,” her sister said, rolling over in bed. “Not now, sis. A few more minutes?”

“We’ve got to go now,” Jonagold said, her voice injected with a note of danger. Honeycrisp sat up.

“What’s the matter, Jona?” she said.

“We need to leave,” Jonagold said. “It’s not safe here anymore.”

“Is this about dad?”

“Sort of.” Jonagold stopped and turned towards her sister. “Hey.” She tried to smile. “It’s going to be okay. There’s a pony in the other room that I’d like you to meet. Come on, I’ve already packed your bag.”

Honeycrisp got out of her bed and followed her sister down the hall, her tough-girl façade struggling to stay in place.

Cardamom was waiting in the main room. She smiled at Honeycrisp. “Hello there, I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted.”

“This is Silten Cardamom,” Jonagold said. “She’s an old friend of dad’s. Here, take your pack.” She led her sister over to the bags and began to don her own. Honeycrisp wavered.

“How long are we going to be gone?” she said.

Jonagold looked at Cardamom.

“A while,” she said at last. “Come on, I promise it’s going to be okay.”

Honeycrisp nodded, beginning to put her own pack on. She sniffed, blinking back tears. Jonagold felt a burst of sympathy for her sister. This life was all Honeycrisp knew; by the time she was old enough to remember, the days of running and transient identities were all but over. For the millionth time she wished her brother was there.

Jersey, if I ever see you again, I’m going to kill you for putting me through this.

“Hey,” she said, walking over to her sniffling sister. She put a hoof under Honeycrisp’s chin. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. We’ll have to lay low for a bit, but Cardamom’s promised me that where we’re going isn’t far and it’s safe. They’ve even been able to get some school supplies so you can keep your studies up.”

Honeycrisp sniffed and tried to smile. “Aah, shoot. I was hoping there’d be something I’d get out of it.”

“You’re not getting off the hook that easy,” Jonagold said. “Now, buck up and let’s go.” Honeycrisp nodded and finished putting on her backpack. She walked up to Cardamom and swallowed.

“Ready, ma’am,” she said.

“Look at you,” Cardamom said, smiling at her. “Here. I, ah, couldn’t remember how old you were so I brought this. Sometimes they help.” She removed a small stuffed teddy bear from her cloak and gave it to Honeycrisp, who clutched it tight, suddenly looking much younger than her fourteen years. “Let’s go,” Cardamom said.

Jonagold thought they must have made a strange sight, three mares like ghosts, the smallest clutching a stuffed animal to her chest. Cardamom led them down the street and towards Cinnamon Park, where a new pony was preaching the coming apocalypse to a nonexistent crowd. Cardamom grinned, dropping a few coins in his tin cup. He winked at her.

Before Jonagold could inquire about the interaction, Cardamom led them again, through the turning passages and tall, narrow alleys that wound between the overflowing structures of Red Town. Jonagold tried to keep track of where they were going but was soon lost. 

After an uncertain amount of time, Cardamom stopped in the back of a nondescript alley. It smelled like garbage. 

“What’s—“ Jonagold said, but Cardamom shushed her. Then she rapped three times on the back of the door. A moment later, it opened, and a grim face peered out at her. Jonagold realized that she recognized it.

“Evening, Rocky,” Cardamom said. “I’ve got the Winesaps with me.”

Rocky nodded and stepped back, and the door fully opened. Cardamom gestured, and Jonagold stepped in. They were in the back of what appeared to be a restaurant, or a tavern. She saw barrels of ale and sacks of produce and flour stacked against the wall. She looked back, to where Cardamom was standing.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a tavern,” Cardamom said. “We use it as a base. Come on.”

She walked over to the corner of the room and pushed a crate that looked much heavier than it was out of the way to reveal a trapdoor. Then she beckoned. 

“Down here,” she said, opening the trapdoor. The low sounds of conversation drifted up to them. “You might recognize a few of them.”

Jonagold glanced to Rocky, who hadn’t said a word. Then she walked to the trapdoor, Honeycrisp following. She began to climb down. 

The room that she found herself in was another basement, of sorts, older and perhaps from a different era. It was brightly lit and cheerful, with enough bedding for several ponies. A table was set up in one corner and a number of ponies sat around it, playing cards. They’d stopped the game, turning instead to look at the newcomers. 

Jonagold shifted. “Howdy,” she said.

“Well, I’ll be,” one of the ponies said, a smile on his face. He looked vaguely familiar. “It’s Jonagold Winesap. My, you’ve grown up!”

The words broke the ice, and soon the whole crowd had surrounded her, smiling and offering hooves to bump. She did her best to smile and greet them, but was relieved when Cardamom raised her voice and said “Alright, everyone, Jonagold and her sister are very tired. Also, I don’t imagine they have any idea who any of y’all are. So it’d be much appreciated if we held off on the introductions for now until they get all settled in.”

There was some grumbling, but the crowd took the hint, meandering back to their table and picking up the cards. Soon, their game had resumed as if nothing had happened. 

“Thanks for that,” Jonagold said.

“You’re welcome,” Cardamom replied, a smile on her face. “You’ll get plenty of time to meet the rest of them later.”

“What is this place? Are y’all some sort of resistance?”

Cardamom’s smile faded. “I wish. This is just a bolt hole for people considered enemies of the state. The owners put it together themselves, but it’s not connected with anything.”

“So we’re enemies of the state now?” 

“Technically, no,” Cardamom said. “Really it was your dad, but the government doesn’t really care that much about the details.”

“Guess not,” Jonagold said.

“You can stay here as long as you like,” Cardamom said. “Don’t worry about that. You might have to pay for food but we’ll give you a good discount.”

“I can pay my way just fine, thanks.”

“If you’re sure,” Cardamom said. “In any case, you might want to talk to some of these ponies, get to know them. Most of them are here for press-related offences, like your father, and we’ve got some pretty good minds in the bunch. If there ever was a resistance, I wouldn’t mind seeing them start it.”

There was a silence after that. Jonagold looked down at her hooves. “Listen, Cardamom, I really appreciate you bringing us here. Can’t tell you how much, actually. But I don’t want nothing to do with any sort of rebellion or resistance or what you call it. I just want to lay low and keep Honeycrisp out of trouble.”

“Hey,” Honeycrisp said. “I’m right here.”

“And that’s where you’re gonna stay, too.”

“It’s okay, Jona,” Cardamom said, holding up a hoof. “You don’t have to worry about that. Not everyone’s cut out for a fight, and I certainly wouldn’t make anyone put themselves out on the line.”

Jonagold sighed. “Thank you, Cardamom.”

“It’s alright.” Cardamom shrugged. “Who knows? You might even change your mind at some point. Some of these revolutionary types, you’d be amazed what they can do with words.”

“I’m sure they’re impressive,” Jonagold said.

Honeycrisp yawned, and Jonagold turned on her like a hawk. “Bed,” she said.

“Aww, but I’m not even tired!”

“Not true at all, and you’ve still got some work you’re going to have to do tomorrow, missy.”

“We’re living lamb,” Honeycrisp said. “We don’t have to do any work.”

“It’s on the lam, girl,” Jonagold said, ushering her towards one of the mattresses. "And don’t think your big sister is going to roll over just because of that. Cardamom’s got some schooling for you tomorrow, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right,” Cardamom said. “Or rather, he does.” She jerked her head over to one of the ponies playing cards. Jonagold sized him up.
“Looks like one of those intellectual fellows,” she said.

“That’s right. He’s the best in the business.”

“We’ll see about that tomorrow,” Jonagold said. “For now, Honeycrisp, we’re both going to bed.”

She led her unhappy sister over to the mats and picked one out. From within her pack she withdrew a large, faded quilt, fraying at the edges. Honeycrisp perked up.

“You brought Mom’s quilt!” 

“You wouldn’t think I’d leave home without something important like this, would you?” Jonagold said, winking. She set the quilt out on the mattress, careful to lay it just the way it was set at home. Honeycrisp laid down and Jonagold tucked her in. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, stroking her sister’s mane. “Don’t worry.”

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Honeycrisp murmured, already drifting off to sleep. 

“Never,” Jonagold said. “I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

“Mmm, good.” Her sister’s chest began to rise and fall. She was fast asleep. Jonagold stood.

In the corner, the other ponies were still playing cards. She looked at the stallion who was supposed to start teaching Honeycrisp tomorrow. He was out of the game, watching the others with an amused expression on his face. His eyes flicked up to Jonagold, who motioned to talk to him. He stood.

“Those ponies are going to play me out of house and home,” he said, trotting over to her. “I swear, they can’t do anything right except for cards, but they can do that damn well.”

“Hmm,” Jonagold said. 

“But where are my manners?” The pony held out a hoof. “Sunlit Sage, at your service.”

“You’re Camargue?” she said.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. I was just curious as to how many Camargue are here.”

“Well,” Sunlit said, “considering the fact that the vast majority of Red ponies in Hub City are Camargue, I’d imagine the ratios are similar here. Your name sounds Fjord, if I may be so bold.”

“Half,” Jonagold said.

“That would be the famous Hayward Winesap, then.”

“Is that a problem?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Not at all. I have great respect for your father, Jonagold. The Red Review was what got me into politics in the first place.”

“It was a dangerous magazine,” she said. 

“Sometimes telling the truth is dangerous. Doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“It didn’t matter anyway,” Jonagold said. “The Blues thought he was too dangerous and the Reds thought he was too tame.”

“It sounds as if you empathize with that position,” Sunlit said. 

“I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice,” she replied. 

“That’s the case with everyone here,” he said. 

“Including you?”

“Nope,” he said. “I just like camping out in musty basements.”

She looked at him. His smile grew wider. 

“That’s a joke,” he said. “Helps to lighten the tension.”

“I feel so light right now.”

“I can tell.” Sunlit sighed. “No, it’s the usual story. Poor family. Got on the wrong side of the law. Did some things Hub City would consider rather… ill-advised in my youth. Came out of it okay, but eventually my past caught up to me and… now I’m here.”

“Does your family know?”

“Nope,” he said. “At least, not the ones that matter. But for the record, I am trained as a professor and I’ll be able to teach your sister whatever it is she needs to know. I can teach you too, if you’d like.”

“I don’t need to be taught anything,” Jonagold said. “I finished my schooling just fine. Never really did me much good either way.”

“Suit yourself,” Sunlit said. “The others over there would probably agree with you. Maybe you could win some money back for yourself.”

“I’m not really a gambler.”

“What are you, then?”

Jonagold shrugged. “Just me.”

“Well, just you, good to have you onboard,” Sunlit said. 

“I’m not ‘onboard’ with anything. If you ponies try to make me fight, I’ll leave.”

“If you fight,” Sunlit said. “It won’t be because we make you, and if we do, we’ll have already failed.”

“You’re too idealistic,” she replied. “Ponies never give anything for free.”

“If you say so.”

Across the room, one of the ponies cheered. Jonagold glanced over at them. 

“It was nice meeting you, Jonagold,” Sunlit said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and try to win some of my money back. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Jonagold nodded, and he turned and walked back to where the others were. She returned to the mats, where Honeycrisp was sleeping. Jonagold sat down next to her and closed her eyes, but it was a long time before her mind sank into sleep.


“…Applejack, we have to go now!”

The wind pushed through her mane, making her eyes tear up and almost forcing her backwards. She turned. Rainbow Dash had landed next to her, mane whipped up, wings struggling to stay at her sides. Her eyes were wild.

“We can’t leave!” Applejack shouted, her voice barely legible over the din. “Twilight’s still in there!”

“She can take care of herself!” Rainbow shouted. “Look I appreciate the effort, but you being more loyal than the Element of Loyalty isn’t good for my image! There’s no one else who can handle the princess like Twilight! We’ve got other things to worry about!”

Applejack gritted her teeth. Above her, the dark storm clouds swirled around the highest spires of the castle, where an unearthly glow emanated from the windows. She thought she could hear a laugh on the wind. She opened her mouth to tell Rainbow to go without her when a shattering boom exploded from above. The tower had burst, great pieces of stone falling towards the ground below.

“There are still ponies down there!” Rainbow shouted. 

“Go!” Applejack said. “I’ll get the ones here.”

Rainbow nodded and took off, her contrail stuttering in the hurricane-force winds. It was astonishing that she could fly at all. Applejack turned towards the falling pieces of stone. In the courtyard she could see ponies running, panicking, unaware of the death that was falling towards them from above. She began to run, hooves pounding the ground. She jumped off the wall she was standing on and braced herself for the fall, summoning her magic to strengthen her bones and weather the impact. 

She landed, a small crater forming around her. The stone blocks began falling around her, knocking over other buildings and sending dust and fire into the wind. She ran forward. A scream came from her side. A red unicorn struggled, a broken, burning log covering his legs. He twisted and cried out, eyes wild.

“I’m here,” Applejack said, running to him. She dug her front hooves under the log and heaved, planting her back hooves into the earth with the power of her tribe. The log began to move. Slowly, inch by inch, it came off of him.

“My leg is broken,” he panted, struggling away. 

“My friend can get you to safety,” Applejack said. “Here.” She picked him up and trotted to an area free of debris. She set him down. “Rainbow will get you here,” she said. “Can you send a flare?”

He nodded, closing his eyes. From his horn a single bolt of sparks fired into the air, exploding in the sky. Applejack nodded. “Good. I’ll be back.” She turned, but paused. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“Yes,” he said. “Sunburst, royal ambassador from the Crystal Empire, at your service.”

“That’s right,” Applejack said. “Well, Mr Sunburst, you sit tight and we’ll get you out of here in a jiffy.”

He nodded, and she turned around, plunging back into the chaos to find more ponies to rescue. 


She was woken the next morning by the shuffle of ponies. At some point in the night, those playing cards had returned to the mats as well, and now they were all around her, yawning, talking, rubbing the last bits of sleep out of their eyes. Beside her, Honeycrisp stirred.

“Good morning!” Cardamom half-sung, climbing down the ladder from the tavern above. “I brought y’all breakfast.” She was carrying a large platter full of sandwiches. “They’re the best we’ve got at the moment, but that doesn’t mean they’re not good!”

She set the tray down and the ponies began to eat. Jonagold took one for herself and tried it out. Cucumber dandelion. Not bad, all things considered. She munched on it while she waited for Honeycrisp to wake up.

“Now,” Cardamom said. “Hope everyone’s rested up. Couple of things about today. There’s going to be a meeting upstairs tonight about possible protests and actions for the coming week. Y’all are welcome to come but there’s no guarantee that you won’t be recognized. Otherwise, stay low and do whatever it is you normally do. Burlap, you were going to do a combat training exercise later, weren’t you?”

The earth pony in question nodded. “If anyone wants to learn how to defend themselves, I can help,” he said. 

“Burlap used to be in the guard,” a voice said. Jonagold turned to the side and saw Sunlight sitting next to her. “If you want to fight, he’s the guy to go to.”

“Good to know,” Jonagold said, looking back at him. Burlap was roughly the size of a mountain, a thick layer of fat failing to hide the enormous muscle beneath. 

“That’s all I’ve got,” Cardamom said. “If you need anything, knock on the trapdoor and one of us will come get you. Until then, I’ve got customers to serve.” She climbed back up and disappeared into the tavern above. 

“What’s going on?” a sleepy voice murmured, and Jonagold turned to see Honeycrisp sitting up, looking around with bleary eyes.

“Here,” she said, holding out a sandwich. “I saved you one.”

Honeycrisp munched on the food and looked at Sunlit. “Who are you?”

“Your new teacher,” Jonagold said. “So show some respect.”

“It’s alright.” Sunlit held out a hoof. “My name is Sunlit Sage,” he said. “Pleasure to meet you, Honeycrisp.”

“Likewise, sir,” she said, tapping his hoof. 

“I’m ready to start whenever you are,” Sunlit said. “Jonagold, would you like to sit in?”

“No, that’s okay. I’m going to see who else is around,” Jonagold said. “Thank you for doing this, Sunlit.”

“My pleasure,” Sunlit said. Jonagold stood, and her sister turned back to her, a note of worry again on her face.

“You’re not going far, are you?” 

“Not at all,” Jonagold said. “Just over there to talk to the other ponies. If you need anything, just give me a holler.”

Honeycrisp nodded. Jonagold ruffled her mane and walked over to where a group of ponies were standing around Burlap. They were talking about fighting.

“…now,” Burlap was saying. “Your back hooves are your most powerful fighting tool, but they can be difficult to utilize properly. One solid buck will knock out any pony, and that’s why the majority of hoof-to-hoof combat revolves around making sure that your opponent can’t buck you, while trying to get into a good position to buck him instead.”

Jonagold stood to the side of the group. Burlap glanced at her but didn’t stop talking.

“Some of you might know about different martial arts: Akhal-Khan, Durindam, Hvorstfell. All of those have something in common: they’re sports. Some of the most powerful moves aren’t taught because they can kill. If you’re in a real fight, that won’t matter. Win at any cost. That’s why I’m going to teach you what they teach the guards: Ursan, or Bear Fighting. I need a volunteer.”

There was silence for a moment. Jonagold stepped forward. “I can,” she said.

Burlap looked at her. “You’re the new one,” he said. “Winesap’s kid.”

“Jonagold,” Jonagold said. “Seems like everyone here knew my father.”

“It’d be hard for us to not,” Burlap said. He took a step back. “Show me your fighting stance.”

Jonagold crouched slightly, her left two legs in front of her right ones. “That’s good,” Burlap said, walking to the side of her, “but keep your weight on your back legs more. The whole point of the opening stance is to make it easy for you to rear. In the beginning of the fight, that’s what you’ll be doing. And if you’re good, you won’t even have to do anything else.”

Jonagold crouched and reared up, testing her balance.

“That’s good,” Burlap said, but be careful. You don’t want to be caught halfway. You can’t balance there.”

“I know that,” Jonagold said. “I’ve been around the block too, you know.”

“That so?” Burlap said, grinning. “Get in fights at school? Punch some bullies?” With a speed she didn’t think was possible, he ducked in under her guard and kicked her feet out from under her. She fell down with an uncharacteristic oof. “You’ve got to be more careful. Street fighting is tough, sure, but it’s no match for anyone who’s trained.” Raising his voice, Burlap turned back towards the rest of the crowd. “Everyone, get in a line, now!”

The ponies scrambled to do so as Jonagold picked herself up from off the ground, grumbling. A hoof entered her vision, and she looked up to see Burlap standing there, a small smile on his face.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, hauling her to her feet, “you did a good job trying to anticipate me at the end there.”

Jonagold nodded and took a spot in line. Burlap walked along it, correcting stances as he went. 

“Good,” he said, “now, I want you to rear, punch with left hoof, down. Rear, punch with left hoof down. Just like that. Good. Remember, your job is to get into the fight, attack, get out of the fight before the enemy can get you back. Rear, punch, down, good….”

Two hours later, her coat slick with sweat, Jonagold returned to where the mats were, panting and trying not to look as tired as she felt. 

Next to the sleeping area, Sunlit had erected a makeshift desk with some of the boxes and was lecturing Honeycrisp on the rotations of the celestial bodies in a clipped voice, pausing ever minute or so to make sure the filly was taking adequate notes. Jonagold slogged over to them.

“Ah, Jonagold,” he said, pausing the lecture and giving her a small bow. “Good to see you. You’ll be pleased to know that your sister is taking to the material quite well, in spite of the fact that her education has some remarkable holes in it.”

“Holes?” Jonagold said, flashing a look at Honeycrisp.

“Not her fault, of course,” Sunlit said. “I’d wager the dismal state of the Hub City educational system is more to blame. Can you imagine that she’s covering the constellations without learning of the circuit of Elu?”

“Sunlit, I don’t know the circuit of Elu,” Jonagold said flatly, fixing the teacher with a steady eye. “And honestly I can’t say what good it would do me to know it.”

Sunlit blinked at her a few times. “I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t be teaching you both,” he muttered.

The creek of the trapdoor above made them all turn. Cardamom’s face appeared at the top and she began to descend again, carrying another platter. Behind her came a second pony, a Red pegasus with one wing wrapped in a tight brace. They were still talking as Cardamom descended.

“All I’m saying, Cardamom, is that you’re going to need more space. The number of ponies coming here tonight is much bigger than I think you understand.”

“And I’m saying I can’t spare it, Rika. I do have a business to run, and besides I don’t want any more trouble than I can take. I don’t want this place getting shut down. There’s too much precious cargo.” She looked at the assembled ponies. “Which reminds me: lunch!”

She opened the plate to reveal another batch of simple sandwiches. The ponies around her began to take them. Cardamom set it down and turned back to Rika. “Look,” she said, “I don’t want a huge public meeting. This simply isn’t the place for it. Bring some leaders if you want, by all means, but this place is primarily a sanctuary, not a launching ground for resistance.”

Rika didn’t look too happy, but she nodded. “I’ll send the word out,” she said. “Trust me, they’re all well-behaved.”

“What about the friend you mentioned?” Cardamom said, grabbing one of the sandwiches for herself. “The scholar?”

Rika shrugged. “No one’s heard from her in a while,” she said. “I don’t know what happened. But I don’t think she’s coming tonight.”

Jonagold reached the front of the line, still looking at the two ponies. There was something familiar about Rika, but she couldn’t put her nose on it. She took a sandwich. “Thank you for the food, Cardamom,” she said, grabbing another one for later.

“My pleasure, Jonagold,” Cardamom said. 

The other pony, Rika, glanced up at Jonagold, and their eyes connected. A spark of connection passed between them, and Rika’s eyes widened. Jonagold turned away.

“Oh, Jonagold,” Cardamom’s voice said. “I haven’t introduced you.” Jonagold turned around again. Rika was still staring at her in shock. Cardamom put a hoof on her shoulder. “This is Florid Paprika, an old friend of mine. Her nightclub was the one that was raided last week."

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jonagold said.

“Rika, this is Jonagold Winesap. Her father was a very old friend.”

“Hayward Winesap,” Rika murmured. “Of course. Old revolutionaries....”

Jonagold coughed. “It was nice meeting you, ma’am,” she said. 

“Huh? Yes, good to meet you too,” Rika said, her eyes fixed on some point behind her. Cardamom looked between them, a note of concern on her features.

“You two haven’t met, have you?”

“Can’t say so,” Jonagold said. 

“No,” Rika said. “I just… knew of your father.”

“Seems like everyone does around here.” 

“He made a lot of waves, you know,” Cardamom said. 

“That’s not how I remember it, but thanks for the complement, I guess.” Jonagold left the group, aware of Rika’s eyes boring into the back of her head. She didn’t turn around again.

“What was that about?” Honeycrisp asked, munching on her own sandwich. 

“I don’t know, little sis,” Jonagold said. She sat down next to her and the two ate in silence. Across the room, Rika and Cardamom had returned to the upstairs compartment, but the memory of that conversation stayed with Jonagold for a long time after.

She spent the rest of the day dozing, listening to Sunlit’s lectures, and playing card games with some of the others. The lack of outside light began to affect her, and the lack of clocks in the room made it difficult for her to tell the passage of time It was in one of her naps that she was woken up by a loud crash coming from above her. She jumped up with a start.

Around the safe house, other ponies were looking up at the ceiling. Loud voices could be heard from above. They were arguing about something but the muffling of the floor distorted the meaning. Jonagold looked around for someone to ask.

Burlap was sitting up in his mat, listening to the din with a thoughtful expression on his face. Jonagold walked up to him. “What’s going on up there?”

“The many illustrious figures of the Red Underground are discussing what to do in light of the nightclub fire,” he said.

“Sounds to me like there’s not a whole lot of discussion going on.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it?” he said, a faint smile on his face. “It’s funny, for a group that supposedly cares so much about Red liberation, they don’t like each other very much, do they?”

“What are they arguing about?”

“Want my guess? Something extremely trivial involving the allocation of funds. Problem is that everyone up there has their own project or thing they think is going to save everyone, and as far as they’re concerned everyone else is just in the way.” He blinked. “Not that they’re not noble projects, mind you. But asking if more money should be sent to drug houses or to distribute flyers for disruption actions is sort of a moot point.”

Jonagold looked around, realizing suddenly that half of the ponies in the cellar were gone. Burlap noticed her look and grinned. “Don’t think that the ponies you’ve met so far are any different.”

“I don’t,” Jonagold said. “One time my dad met with Cardamom and a few others, probably a similar situation to this. It didn’t turn out well then either.”

“It never does,” Burlap said. “If you ask me, the main reason the Blues don’t fear us at all is because there’s nothing to fear. We’re a wreck.”

Jonagold stood up again. Burlap fixed her with a steady gaze. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To see for myself,” she said.

“Tell them I said hi,” he called after her. She snorted. 

To her mild surprise, the trapdoor opened into another basement, this one full of produce and kegs of beer. She stood, noting the keg that could be easily shifted over to cover the trapdoor if needed. Perhaps it was wise to not simply use the basement as the safe house. The floor now was wood; she could see shafts of light coming through it, and shadows moving between the boards. The voices resolved themselves further.

“…say what you will, Copper, the point remains that what you’re suggesting is impossible!”

“That’s exactly what you would expect coming from a pony who’s been coddled in the blue cradle for most of his life!”

“That has nothing to do with what we’re talking about at all! Don’t change the subject—“

“I know that the conditions you’re in now are hardly your norm, professor, but for hundreds of thousands of ponies this is our entire lives! You wouldn’t be so dismissive if you know what we were going through!”

“I do know what our people are going through, Copper! But forgive me if the thought of raising an army sounds like an absurd notion! You seem to think that the Red ponies of Hub City, who, may I remind you, make up maybe twenty percent of the population, would all rise up together and destroy the much better funded, more disciplined professional army of Hub City.”

Jonagold walked through the doorway and the scene came into focus. There were maybe thirty ponies in the room, most of them seated in concentric circles and facing the middle. A second, smaller circle, consisting of seven ponies, sat in the middle. Jonagold recognized Cardamom, but otherwise the faces were a mystery to her. Two of the ponies in the middle were standing. With a jolt, Jonagold recognized Sunlit as one of them. 

The other pony she remembered from much longer ago. The same rust-colored fur. The same furious expression. His eyes were bleary and red rimmed, and his physique had lost much of its former shape, but she would never forget Copper Felt.

Copper glared at Sunlit. “Say all you will, but everything else has been tried. We have no choice but war.”

“Copper,” Cardamom said, “that’s enough.”

“Why was he invited anyway?” one of the other ponies chimed in. The pony next to him, who looked so much like him they could only be twins, scratched his chin and shook his head.

“Unqualified,” he said. The first brother nodded. Copper glared at them. 

“I don’t need a couple of sell-outs to tell me what’s right,” he said. “Why are they here again?”

“Because we’ve got more money in one of our hooves than you do in your whole body, old timer.”

“One part of our hoof!”

“Indeed.”

“This is a meeting of the entire community,” Cardamom said. “The Fennel Brothers are here for the business interests. Please, Copper, sit down.”

“I’m not the only one that thinks this way,” Copper growled. There were grunts of affirmation from the ponies in the wider circle. “You’re going to have to listen to us sooner or later, Cardamom. The workers can only be held down for so long.”

“Noted,” Cardamom said. “Now, please sit down.  Mr. Sage has not yet finished his presentation.”

“Thank you, Cardamom,” Sunlit said. He cleared his throat. “Now, as I was saying, a litmus test of the general Red population indicates increased motivation and political will. Hub City has overplayed their hoof; if we focus our actions properly, we can make a concerted effort to press for our rights and….”

A hoof tapped her on the shoulder. Jonagold turned around to see a pony she’d never met before; a Camargue unicorn with a red and yellow mane. The unicorn smirked at Jonagold and nudged her head towards the room, as if the two of them were conspirators in some joke.

“Watch,” the unicorn whispered, before stepping forward.

“And what, Sunlit, would you know about motivation or effort? I seem to recall dragging you through most of our studies together.”

Every head turned towards the newcomer, but she seemed unbothered by the sudden attention. Her gaze was fixed on Sunlit, who was looking at her with an expression of disbelief. “Ashen?” he said.

“Hello, little brother,” the unicorn said. She walked forward. “You’ve gone up in the world since being declared an enemy of the state. I wonder what got you in the end, some pamphlet, or did you actually get some guts and hit someone?”

“Enough,” Cardamom said, standing. “Who are you?”

“This is Ashen Sage,” Sunlit said. “She’s my older sister.”

“Older and smarter,” Ashen said, stepping closer. “Basically better in every way.”

Sunlit rolled his eyes. “Also more modest,” he said.

“Well, family aside, this is a private meeting,” Cardamom said. “Since you are family, you can stay and observe if you want, but the proceedings must continue as planned.”

Ashen tapped a hoof on her chin and shook her head. “Nah,” she said. “I don’t think so. You see, I’ve been thinking about this whole business a lot this past week, ever since I was in the fire that burned down my friend’s club. And you know what I realized? Every single time Red ponies have tried to get together, they’ve failed because of things like this. A catastrophe happens, everyone scrambles to organize, and they fail because they can agree on nothing except that everyone else’s plan is a failure. So we’re not going to do that anymore. Instead, I’m going to be in charge.”

A pony in the circle actually burst out laughing, but Ashen didn’t look at her. A few others chuckled to themselves. 

“Ashen,” Sunlit hissed, “not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but this is not the time.”

Ashen ignored him too. “The first thing we’ll do,” she said, louder now over the murmur of the crowd, “is press back against Hub City. I’m talking a citywide strike. Meanwhile we’ll train, organizing into battalions and teach the population how to fight. And—“

“—Look, lady,” Copper cut across, himself now laughing. The whole room was stretching, languid, waiting for this interloper to be kicked out. “Not that I don’t admire your gumption; we could use more of that around here. Now get out and wait for us to tap you. Maybe you’ll get somewhere someday.”

Ashen fixed him with a cool gaze. “You’re Copper Felt,” she said. “You lead a failed insurrection in Red Town, got a lot of ponies killed. Now you’re just a washed-up alcoholic has-been. Sit down before you embarrass yourself further.”

Copper’s good humor vanished in a second. “You little bitch,” he growled, standing up. He lunged for her. Cardamom shouted—

Ashen’s horn lit up with a violent cyan glow and froze Copper in his tracks. Complete silence took over the crowd. Jonagold’s heart stopped cold.

Ashen lifted him up and moved him backwards, advancing into the center of the room as she did so. The crowd fell away from around her, watching with horrified eyes. Slowly, Ashen entered the center of the room. Her brother flinched as she approached, scattering to the side. A strange, twisted grin lit up Ashen’s features. Her shadow flickered in the light of the magic. 

“You want to know why I’m going to be in charge?” she said, pressing Copper against the back wall. “Because I can do this.”

The magic around Copper faded and he leaped to his feet, trying to get away. But Ashen wasn’t finished. She twisted around, and from her horn a jet of white-hot fire exploded outwards. Ponies screamed and ducked as the flames licked over the room. They landed on chairs, walls, floors, but before they could so much as singe, Ashen recalled them to her person, reabsorbing them into her horn. It glowed for a moment then exploded in a stream of light, illuminating her and everyone in the room. 

Ashen opened her eyes and looked at the magic she had cast. For a moment, she seemed almost tired. Then her face lit up and she began to laugh. The magic flowed from her horn, bathing the room in golden light. One by one, the pones stared at her in awe, stepping forward, trying to get closer, to see what she was doing.

Jonagold’s body felt locked, immobile. She didn’t understand what she’d seen, but she knew she didn’t have to.  She knew Ashen had won. And she knew nothing was going to be the same.
> 13. Salvage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
       “Aww,” Ivy said, “I’m not tired.”
 
       “Hush, Sweetie,” Amber said, scooting her sister along the floor towards the stairs, “you will be.”
 
       Her sister tensed beneath her hoof. “What was that?”
 
       "Come on, dear.” And before Ivy had a chance to complain further, Amber was hurrying her up the staircase, away from the rest of the crowd. Ivy scarcely seemed to notice.
 
       “You used my name!” she said, hopping up the stairs. “My other name, I mean.”
 
       “Yes, well, it must have just slipped out,” Amber said. She guided her sister to the room that Easter had specified. Inside were ten beds, neatly arranged in rows and covered in warm blankets. The thatched roof sloped to a low point at the window. Outside, a few ponies walked along the cobbled pathways, leaving hoofprints in the light snow. Amber could see two of the caravaneers and Noble walking down the street. 

“Odd,” she said. “It looks awfully empty out there…”
 
       Ivy continued to talk even as Amber sat down next to her on the bed. “…and I was just thinking that Granny Smith might have jogged you and Rainbow Dash’s memories, but she seems the same and I can’t really tell about you, but if you called me by my other name maybe that means Rarity is breaking through!” She blushed. “Not that I don’t love having you as a sister as well.”
 
       	“Well, from what you’ve told me, we’re not actually different ponies,” Amber said, beckoning her sister closer. Ivy obliged, leaning in while Amber began to examine her hair.
 
       	“Shining is still deep under, though,” Ivy said, a note of sadness in her voice. “I tried to talk to him the other day but he wouldn’t really talk to me back.”
 
       	“Mhmm,” Amber said. “And what about Jade?”
 
       	“Fleur is scary. I don’t think she likes me.”
 
       	“Miss Jade is very devoted to her task,” Amber said, continuing to parse through Ivy’s hair. “Don’t be sad if she treats you coolly, it’s what she was taught to do. And, ah… there it is. Looks like some color’s growing back in. We’re going to have to fix that.”
 
       	“Aww…”
 
       	“Don’t fuss. Let me just get my bag…”
 
       	There was a knock on the door, and Amber heard Jade’s voice on the other side. “Lady Ambrosia? Lady Ivory? Is everything to your liking?”
 
       	“Yes, thank you, Jade,” Amber said, keeping her voice light in spite of the frustration she felt. “We are discussing personal matters and will be done shortly.”
 
       	“As you wish, my lady.” There were no more sounds from the other side of the door. Amber imagined Jade standing outside, stiff as a plank. She sighed. The guards had never bothered her before, but lately something about their utmost devotion to her seemed… unsettling? She brushed off the feeling and reached for her bag.
 
       	“Now, I know I have it in here somewhere… aha!”
 
       	She removed a small glass vial, about half full of dark purple liquid. She frowned. “The dye seems to be running out faster than I’d thought…”
 
“Maybe if it runs out, we can explain the situation,” Ivy said, her eyes hopeful. “And then I won’t have to wear it anymore, and I can have a cool mane with more than one color like Shining or Rainbow--”

“Oh, Sweetie, you know it’s not that simple,” Amber sighed. “Now, how about you come and sit on the floor--”
 
       	“You said it again!”
 
       	“Yes, dear. Now, the floor.”
 
       	“Yes, Amber,” Ivy said, getting off the bed and sitting with her head by Amber’s lap.
 
       	“Thank you, dear,” Amber said, uncorking the bottle. She applied a small amount of the solution to a stained cloth and began to dab at Ivy’s scalp, where a streak of pink mane was just beginning to show .
 
       	“It burns,” Ivy said.
 
       	“Oh, I know, dear,” Amber said, wincing at Ivy’s expression. “You know if there was any other way…”

“It doesn’t seem too bad being a half-breed,” Ivy said. “Shining and Fleur don’t seem to mind it. Plus they can fight!”
 
“They can fight, sure. But so can you.” Amber continued to apply the dye, holding Ivy’s head still while she did so. “And they can also never take a mate, or serve on family counsels, or manage our business affairs. It is a life defined by service and solitude. Our father swore you would avoid that fate. He made that promise long ago.”
 
“Well those rules sound stupid. Why can’t we just let half-breeds do all those things?”
 
Amber chuckled, finishing the dying process and dabbing Ivy’s hair dry with a handkerchief. “You tell me, dear sister. I know your tutors taught you better than that.”

Ivy sighed, and recited in a sing-song voice. “The Half-Breed Ordinance is a compromise designed to protect the cultural and racial purity of the Andalusian line while allowing maximum freedom for all ponies involved. After the issue of intermarriage between locals and Andalusians nearly led to civil war, a compromise was reached whereby intermarriage and romance between local breeds and Andalusians were permitted, so long as the children of such relationships were forbidden themselves from passing on such genes.” She pouted as Amber tied a handkerchief around her head to cover the still-damp dye. “I still think it’s a stupid rule.”
 
“It is what it must be,” Amber said. “Even if there are issues with the law, the family clans cannot afford to fight about it. The preservation of a united front to outsiders is fundamental to our way of life. Besides, intermarriage between breeds is exceedingly dangerous for the long-term stability of a region--as the history of the so-called ‘Red’ and ‘Blue’ ponies of this land can tell you.”

“Rarity wouldn’t agree with that,” Ivy huffed. 
 
Amber sighed -- why did talking with her sister always lead to such a hornache? “Well, I’m afraid Rarity isn’t here,” she said. “Now, don’t fidget with that bandanna so much-- it could fall off early.” She raised her voice and called outside. “Jade? You may enter.”
 
       	The door opened and Jade stepped in, her face cautious. “I trust all of our affairs are in order, My Lady?” she said.
 
       	“Of course, Jade, thank you. We were just discussing the next step for our journey. I do not expect we will linger in Fort Tain for very long.”
 
       	“If I may be so bold, My Lady, I hope not. This place is scarcely more than a den of thieves.”
 
       	“Oh, pooh. Mr. Nor’Easter has been nothing but polite.”
 
       	“As you say, My Lady.” Jade bowed her head.

“Of course. Now, I’d like you to take a letter for me,” Amber said. “We’re only a week from Hub City, and I want to write ahead to tell House Sanguine to expect us.”
 
       	“Yes, My Lady. I will send official herald at once of our arrival. Do you expect trouble with the House?”
 
       	“Not at all, but Azur, bless his heart, is a rather forgetful pony.”
 
       	“Yes, My Lady. Would you like to—“
 
       	But that was as far as Jade got before a deafening boom echoed through the room. The beds shook, and before Amber had time to process what had happened Jade had leapt at her, throwing her and Ivy to the ground and shielding them with her body.
 
       	“I—what has happened?”
 
       	“Stay down!’
 
       	There was a long moment. Amber’s heart beat loud in her ears. She could feel Jade’s breath on her face. Ivy shivered next to her.
 
       	Once it seemed clear that nothing more was going to happen, Amber gently pushed Jade off of her. “Thank you, darling, but I believe that the danger has passed.”
 
       	“Of course,” Jade said, straightening up. She helped Amber and Ivy to their feet.
 
       	“What on earth do you suppose that was?” Amber said, checking to make sure that her bag was still in order.
 
       	“I don’t know…” Jade said, looking towards the window. “Something from outside…” Her face froze.
 
       	“What is it? What do you see?” But Jade didn’t need to respond, because as soon as Amber looked out the window she could see it as well. Scarcely two blocks away was the smoking ruin of a building. Splintered wood and stone blocks were strewn all over, and the snow had melted down to the brown grass beneath.
 
       	“You’re in danger, My Lady,” Jade said. “We have to get you out of the city at once.”
 
       	“I need to talk to Mr. Nor’Easter,” Amber said. “Jade, watch Ivy.”
 
       	“But—“
 
       	“I can protect myself just fine, Jade.” Amber put a hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll just be a moment.”
 
       	“But ma’am,” Jade said, but Amber was already walking out of the door. She went down the stairs and into the main hall, where Easter and Axel were huddled together, talking quickly.
 
       	“What’s going on?” Amber said, trotting up to them. “What’s happened?”
 
       	“We don’t know,” Axel said, frowning. “Easter reckons it's best if we stay indoors, but I’d much rather get out there and figure out what’s happened.”
 
       	“A building has been destroyed,” Amber said, her voice breathless. “Down the street to the east.”
 
       	Easter’s face paled. “That’s the direction of the Barrel Wheel,” he said.
 
       	“The others,” Axel whispered, and then she was moving towards the door, so quickly that Amber had to struggle to keep up.
 
       	“Hold on, wait!” she called, but Axel was out the door and Amber followed. The snow had started again, mixed with small tendrils of falling ash. Amber could smell smoke and burning in the air. She could hear voices nearby and saw Axel running down a side street towards the site of the explosion. Amber hurried after her, wishing she’d thought to bring a hat or scarf.
 
       	The site of the explosion was visible from a ways off by the billowing chimney of smoke that rose into the night sky. The street was empty. Amber could hear faint cries on the wind. Ponies had been hurt. 
 
       	There was almost nothing left of the building. The brick foundations remained, but the heavy wooden logs that propped up the roof and gave the structure its shape had been cracked and broken.
 
       	“Cesar!” Axel shouted, looking over the crowd and towards the ruins. “Capricorn! Spectrum?”
 
       	A cry drew Amber’s attention. These ponies needed help. All around her they wailed and clutched burned and broken limbs, their faces coated in soot. She saw a few forms laying perfectly still, their motionless forms sending shivers down her back. She rushed to the nearest pony, a green-yellow stallion with a grey mane.
 
       	“Where are you hurt?” she said, scanning his injuries. His leg was mangled and the fur on one side had been completely burned away. He winced, tears in his eyes, saying something she couldn’t understand. “Right, the language barrier. Well, dear, I think I can see what’s wrong. Let me see if I can find some bandages…”
 
       	A pink hoof thrust a pile of clean rags into her vision. She took them. “Thank you,” she said.
       	“Don’t mention it,” the pony said, giving her a halting smile. Other than the soot on her face she was unharmed. “I’ll get some more stuff.” Then she was gone.
 
       	Amber turned back to the stallion. Her education had covered first aid, but she had never dealt with it on the ground in quite this way. “I need you to breathe easy, dear,” she said, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “This is going to hurt. In fact, here—“ she rolled one of the rags up and offered it to him, making an exaggerated biting motion.
 
       	He took the rag in his teeth and nodded. Amber returned to the leg. The bone was out of place; it would need to be set. She put one hoof on either side of the leg, braced herself, and pulled hard, once. The stallion let out a strangled cry.
 
       	“It’s over, dear. It’s done. Let me just bind it up.”
 
       	He kept talking to her in the Ahkal language. She couldn’t understand him but she knew the horror in his face all too well. Leg fractures were very, very serious. Amber did her best to keep her face calm and in control as she wrapped the leg up. “There,” she said when it was done. “I’m finished. Someone will be along shortly to help you move. I’m afraid you’re too big for me to carry.”
 
       	“I can help with that!” The pink pony was back. Amber smiled at her.
 
       	“Thank you.”
 
       	Together, the two of them lifted the stallion up and braced him so he didn’t have to walk on the broken leg. Slowly, the three of them left the rubble and set the stallion down at the edge of the ruin, where an official-looking pony had appeared, laying out a tarp.
 
       	The pink pony said something to the official, who was now (doctor, Amber realized), examining the wounded pony’s bandages. She turned towards Amber and said something Amber didn’t understand.
 
“I… I’m sorry,” Amber said. “I do not speak your language.”
 
“Then I can speak the language of Ridgeback just as well,” the mare said. “I’m Clearstone. Thank you for bringing him.”
 
       	Amber gave a small bow. “My name is Amber. And it was no problem.”
 
       	“His bindings look good. You’ve been well trained.”
 
       	“Thank you ma’am,” Amber said. Then she felt a tug on her shoulder and the next thing she knew she was being dragged back into the rubble.
 
       	“Come on,” Rosie was saying. “Plenty more ponies need our help!”
 
       	The next hour was a blur for Amber, as they moved from pony to pony, pulling them out of the rubble and treating their injuries as best they could. She and the pony Rosie worked like a well-oiled machine; Rosie would retrieve the needed materials and Amber would use her medical knowledge to the best of her ability. Amber didn’t think about the passing time, focusing instead on finding one pony, then another, then another…
 
       	And then it was done. She sat back, exhausted, and wiped her brow with a grimy hoof. “I should say,” she said, “that was quite a bit of work. I think I shall have the most marvelous bath after this.”
 
       	“Ooh, a bath sounds really nice,” Rosie said. “With all the warm water, and bubbles! But we’ve still got a few things left to do, I think. Here comes your friend!”
 
       	Amber looked over to see Axel walking up to them, looking just as exhausted as she felt. “Any sign of the others?”
 
       	The look on Axel’s face told her all she needed to know. “We found Cesar,” she said. “He’s got a broken leg. The guards whisked him off for questioning. He doesn’t know where the others were, says they were right next to him.”
 
       	“They must not have been in the bar, then,” Amber said.
 
       	“Ooh!” Rosie said, raising a hoof. “I can help! I remember all the names and faces of my customers. Who were you looking for?”
 
       	Axel raised an eyebrow. “Three ponies, two Blue, one Andalusian.  Capricorn, Spectrum, and Noble.”
 
       	“Yeah, I remember them!” Rosie said. “They didn’t want to buy my rotten tomatoes for when the show was bad. But then the show got really good at the end so I guess it makes sense. I was talking to Spectrum when the explosion happened.”
 
       	“They were here?” Axel said, grabbing Rosie and practically shaking her. “Where?”
 
       	“Right over there,” Rosie said, pointing to the blackened remains of the bar. “You can’t see it very well anymore, but that’s where I would serve the drinks for everyone. It’s also where I kept the tomatoes—“
 
       	“Arrgh! I don’t care about your fucking rotten tomatoes!” Axel shouted, dropping Rosie and turning towards where she’d pointed. Rosie shrank back.
 
       	“I’m sorry,” she said to Amber as the latter helped her up. “I guess I just talk a lot when I’m nervous. Or excited. Or both! My mother says I talk too, she says it’s why I can’t get a better job, but I really really like working here, you know? It’s so much fun, and I get to meet so many different ponies all the time, but what am I going to do now, because it’s gone and I don’t think Miss Cumulus is going to be able to rebuild, and she’s always talking about how--“
 
       	“Rosie,” Amber said, gently putting a hoof over her mouth. “I understand. This is really stressful for all of us, especially Axel, even if she’s being super rude.” She glared over to where the other pony was searching. “But she’s lost her whole team, so you’ll have to excuse her. Incidentally, was the Andalusian with them when the bomb went off?”
 
       	“Bomb?”
 
       	“I’m assuming that’s what happened. I don’t know, obviously.”
 
       	Rosie blinked. “No he wasn’t. Noble was volunteering for a trick with The Spectacular Cirrus.”
 
       	“Who?”
 
       	“She was putting the show on tonight. She’s over there.” Rosie pointed back to where the rescued ponies were sitting. One in particular, a blue pony with a nearly white mane, was arguing with Clearstone about something.
 
       	“She seems like a fiery one, doesn’t she?” Amber said.
 
       	“Why?” Rosie said. “She’s blue.”
 
       	“Yes… I’m going to go talk to her, just a moment.”
 
       	Amber left Rosie and the still-searching Axel behind, walking back to the edge of the crowd. The conversation Cirrus was having with the doctor swam into clarity.
 
       	“I tell you, I’m fine! I used my magic to survive the blast.”

       	“Obvious concussion. Please, Miss Dusk.”
 
       	“It’s The Spectacular Cirrus!”
 
       	“Not in my office, it isn’t.”

“This isn’t an office! You just laid a tarp on the ground!”
 
       	“Excuse me, Madam Doctor,” Amber said, “but may I have a word with your patient?”
 
       	Clearstone frowned. “I don’t know if—“
 
       	“Ah!” Cirrus said, turning around with a smile bigger than her face, “a fan! Tell me, did you enjoy the performance tonight? I hope I captivated your senses and dazzled your imagination!”
 
       	“Actually,” Amber said, “I wanted to ask you about one of the ponies you used for a trick. I’m afraid I wasn’t here for your performance proper, although—“ she added, upon seeing the look on Cirrus’s face—“I’m sure it was quite delightful!”
 
       	“That’s how it is,” Cirrus mutters. “Everypony remembers you for your mistakes, not your successes. Although, the trick at the end…” her eyes widened. “Oh dear. He’s still… whoops! One moment I… ah… ACHOO!”
 
       	She sneezed, and Amber felt a tingle of power rush through her. She turned back towards the ruin, where a hatch opened in the floor and up popped a very confused-looking Noble.
 
       	“Sorry about that,” Cirrus said, “although I guess he was protected… in fact… yes, I meant to do the whole thing!”
 
       	She stood and took a bow. “Once again, The Spectacular Cirrus has demonstrated her caring and heroic side, by shielding this innocent from the cruel explosion that destroyed this bar! Is there no end to her heroism?”
 
       	Amber glanced at Clearstone, who was looking at her patient, unamused. “Alright,” she said. “I think that’s plenty of talking for you. Come along.”
 
       	Amber turned away from the protesting Cirrus and ran over to Noble. He still looked confused.
 
       	“Noble,” she said. “Are you okay?”
 
       	“I… I think so,” he said, accepting her offered hoof. “I… whoa. What happened to this place?”
 
       	“You don’t know?” Amber said. “But you were here!”
 
       	“Yeah, but—“
 
       	“Noble!” Amber turned to see Axel running up to them. “Where are the others? Where’s Cesar? Capricorn?”
 
       	Noble blinked. “I thought… they were right the bar?”
 
       	“Rrrr! What do you mean, at the bar? There’s no bar, and there’s no team! You were here the whole time! What’s the matter with people in this town?”
 
       	“Noble,” Amber said, turning to face the confused guard. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
 
       	“Well… I’d volunteered to do a magic trick with the performer who was there, and she put me in this box, and I remember thinking, this box is way too small for me to fit in it, but then she slammed the lid on me and I did. I think I had some weird dreams in there…. But then the lid opened and you started asking me questions again and that’s pretty much all I remember.”
 
       	“Argh!” Axel shouted again. “I can’t believe this. I—I just can’t!”
 
       	Her voice caught. Amber bit her lip.
 
       	“Noble Shield,” she began. He wilted back. “I am quite disappointed in you. I know that we have been on the road for quite some time, and that Jade is not good company at the best of times, but this was extremely reckless.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”
 
“You are exactly right it won’t.” Amber sighed. When Ivy had asked her to allow the guards some leeway to let loose and relax, she’d been hesitant, but her sister had won her over. Now she was beginning to remember why such things were forbidden at home.
 
Well, can you expect anything less from a half-breed? Her mind whispered. She pushed the thought down. 
 
“It’s okay, Noble,” she said, rubbing her horn. “I’m sorry. Just… go back to the hotel and inform Jade of what happened.”
 
“Yes, ma’am.” He left with a salute.

Amber looked at him leave, then turned back to the others. Axel was looking at her with a cloudy expression, like she wanted to say something. 
 
Rosie’s stomach rumbled. She jumped. “Gosh, I didn’t realize what time it was. I’d have gotten off an hour ago! My family will wonder where I am… say, you should all come over! It’s a bit cramped, but we’re all great cooks, and we’ll make you a meal you won’t forget!”
 
       	“I… appreciate the offer,” Axel said, looking like she felt anything but, “but I need to file a report. Food is the last thing on my mind.”
 
       	“I’d love to come by, Rosie,” Amber said, “but I’d like to clean up first.”
 
       	“Then it’s settled!” Rosie said. “You go have that bubble bath and get all squeaky clean, and then come by my place! You can’t miss it, just go down that street over there and it’s the fourth on the left. I’ll see you later!”
 
       	She gave the whole group and exaggerated wave, then bounded off down the road. Axel blinked. “Glad she’s gone.”
 
       	“I thought she was rather charming,” Amber said. “She was certainly quite helpful with helping save the other ponies.”
 
       	“She wasn’t hurt in the blast…” Axel murmured. “That’s suspicious.”
 
       	Amber frowned. “I highly doubt our new friend had anything to do with the explosion,” she said.
 
       	Axel shrugged. “Just making sure all our bases are covered. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go report my missing team to the guard. Good luck with that dinner; if I had to spend a few hours in the company of a family of those I’d probably go mad. We’ll regroup later at the hotel.”
 
“See you,” Amber said. Axel nodded and walked away. Amber turned back towards the direction of their inn. A bath would be really nice.
       	

       	An hour later, fresh from the water and an argument with Jade about the dangers of visiting strangers, Amber was back on the road. The smell of smoke was still in the air, but the doctors and the patients had been cleared out. In fact, ponies were back in the streets, walking around the rubble like nothing had happened. It made Amber uncomfortable, for some reason.
 
       	Ivy bounced along next to her, trying not to fidget with the bows that Amber had put in her hair. “How far is it to Pinkie’s? I want to see her!” When Amber had told her about the exuberant pink pony, Ivy had been ecstatic.
 
       	“Now, Ivy, I know you’re excited, but that’s not her name, remember? You can’t go calling ponies by names they don’t recognize, even if you remember them that way.”
 
       	“I know,” Ivy said, sticking her lip out in a pout. “But I think it is! It must be! Oh, she’s going to have to come with us on this trip! How do you think we could convince her? Maybe, if you two get together and really talk it out, do friendship stuff, you can… but that didn’t work for Rainbow, hmm…”
 
       	She continued this train of thought as Amber led her down the path that Rosie had specified earlier. Down this path, free from the Astral architecture of the Siren and the Barrel Wheel, the buildings felt alien, their thick-cut wooden slabs and bright colors a far cry from the grey stone she was used to. She stopped in front of the one Rosie had specified. “Let me just knock…”
       	
       	But the door opened before Amber had a chance to put her hoof to the wood. “You’re here!” Rosie said, grinning. “Come in, come in!”
       	
       	The main room was small and homey. A fire burned in the brick fireplace, and a blue-gray mare stood next to it, stirring something in a pot. She glanced up as they entered. “You’re Rosie’s friends? Come in, come in. There’s bread on the table, if you’d like a snack. Stew will be done shortly.”
 
       	“Thank you very much, Mrs…”
 
       	“Call me Topaz,” the mare said. “I’m Rosie’s mother. Thank you very much for helping her today. She’s the baby of the family, so we always worry about her. It’s good to see that she can take care of herself.”

       	Rosie stuck out her tongue. “I’m eighteen, Mom,” she said. “You’re gonna embarrass me in front of my friends!”
       	
       	“Rosie did fine today,” Amber said. “She helped us find some of the victims and helped me bind wounds and move patients.

Topaz smiled. “That sounds like my Rosie. I’ll call the others. Dinner is almost ready.” Topaz closed her eyes for a moment, then shouted: “Amy! Emerald! Beryl! Dinner!”

       	Amber rubbed her ears. A moment later she heard the thump of hooves, and thee mares came down the stairs, all of them some variant of gray-blue.
 
       	“I’m back girls!” Rosie shouted, coming in for a hug.
 
       	“Rosie! Get off,” the first one said, laughing as she pushed Rosie away. “You didn’t go anywhere!”
 
       	“Shh, Emerald, just accept the hug,” Rosie said, before letting go and bounding back towards Amber. “These are my new friends Amber and Ivy! They helped me get ponies out of the blast when the bar came down! Well, Amber did. Ivy’s her sister!”
 
       	“Pleased to meet you,” Emerald said, bumping Amber’s hoof. “My name is Emerald, and these are my sisters Amethyst and Beryl . You’ve already met Rhodochrosite.”
 
       	Rosie stuck out her tongue. “I hate that name.”
 
       	“I know.”
 
       	“You all have such lovely names,” Amber said. “I wasn’t aware of the Ahkal practice of naming children after gemstones.”
 
       	Beryl and Amethyst looked at each other, and burst out laughing. “She thinks we’re Ahkal? Looking like this? Are you serious?”
 
       	“It was just a question,” Amber muttered.
 
       	“It’s fine,” Emerald said, sitting down next to her. “You don’t look like you’re from around here either.”
 
       	“You’re not?”
 
       	“We…” Beryl said, waving a hoof in the air and looking into the imaginary distance. “Are not from Fort Tain!”
 
       	“We…” Amethyst continued, joining her sister, “are not from the Mare at all!”
 
       	“No, the land we come from is far away, where the great Eye Spirit shines eternal in the sky!”
 
       	“Where—“
 
       	“We’re Prospolian,” Emerald said. The smiles dropped off Amethyst and Beryl’s faces.
 
       	“Aww, you ruined it.”
 
       	“What’s the matter, Emerald, can’t take a joke?”
 
       	“Prospolis? How exciting!” Amber said. “That’s where we’re headed.”
 
       	“Really?” Rosie squeaked. “Oh my gosh, you have to tell me all about it when you get back!”
 
       	“Er…”
 
       	“Rosie doesn’t remember it,” Emerald said. “She was born there, but we left too soon for her to know what it was like. I can’t believe you’re going there, though. Most ponies don’t even know where it is.”
 
       	“It’s a very, very, very long way away,” Beryl said. Amethyst nodded solemnly.
 
       	“Believe me, we are aware,” Amber said. “I’ve never even met anyone who’s from there, just people who have passed through. Are… are the things people say about it true?”
 
       	“What sort of things?” Emerald said, raising an eyebrow. “Like that there’s no government and everyone just lives peacefully together?”
 
       	“Um…”
 
       	“Sort of. There’s no central government, that’s for sure. The city’s too big and it changes too much.”
 
       	“Changes?”
 
       	“Dinner time,” Topaz said, bringing the pot of stew over. “Now, girls, I don’t want you four fighting over who gets to go first. We have guests, and that means proper manners. Understand?”
 
       	“Yes, ma’am,” the group chimed.
 
       	“Please, help yourselves.”
 
       	Amber accepted the offered bowl gratefully and began to pour stew for herself and Ivy. She took a sip. It was delicious, a rich mixture of onions, barley, and carrots. “Madam Topaz, this is wonderful,” she said.
 
       	“Madam?” Topaz chuckled. “I don’t think I’m quite that fancy.”
 
       	“Hey Amethyst, give me that bowl!” Beryl shouted, reaching for the bowl. Amethyst held it out of reach.
 
       	“Shut up, Beryl,” she said. “Let me get my food…”
 
       	Emerald plucked the bowl out of Amethyst’s hooves and began to server herself some food.
 
       	“No fair…”
 
       	Emerald gave a little shrug. “It’s fair if you make it fair,” she said.
 
       	Rosie grabbed a bowl for herself and began to eat. Amber turned back towards Topaz.
 
       	“So… do you like it here? I suppose it must be very different, without the sun in the sky and all.”
 
       	“Yes, it is… but I’ve gotten used to it. I knew it would be an issue when I first came here, but some things are more important.”
 
       	“Like what?”
 
       	Topaz glanced over to a picture on the wall, showing herself and a brown Ahkal that could only be her husband. “Love,” she said.
 
       	“Oh my, that’s so… romantic.”
 
       	“I’m gonna puke,” Beryl muttered.
 
       	“Shut up.”
 
       	“Make me.”
 
       	“Maybe I will!”
 
       	“Girls, stop fighting,” Topaz snapped, before offering Amber a smile. “It’s not much of a story. We met in Prospolis, and when he had to make the move back to Fort Tain, there was no question of me coming along. Fort Tain is largely accepting of mixed couples, and the city itself is small enough that I never really get lost.” She let out a soft laugh. “Although to be fair, any city in the world would be dwarfed by Prospolis.”
 
       	“So all of your children are mixed,” Amber said. “I was wondering where Rosie had come from.”
 
       	Topaz laughed. “It’s funny, because now I know you’re not from around here. Everyone thinks Rosie is from another stallion but no one will say anything. It’s just their way. But Prospolis is just like that. There aren’t ‘breeds’ like there are here. When ponies don’t segregate along those lines, all sorts of coat colors can lie dormant until… surprise! You’ve got Rosie. I tell you, the color system was the hardest thing in the world to get used to when we first moved here.”
 
       	“Frankly, my dear, I’m still wrapping my head around it myself,” Amber said. “Although ponies have said the same thing about my own people’s ways.”
 
       	“Where are you from, then? I don’t recall ever seeing a pony like you two around here before.”
 
       	“We’re from the far south,” Amber said. “Or at least my family is. I was born in Ridgeback, like Ivy. I’ve never been down there, but I’ve heard fascinating things about it. They say there’s no light at all except when the moon comes to visit. That’s where our calendar comes from. We have celebrations for the full moon in Ridgeback too, but I can’t imagine how much bigger they must be in the home lands. The first natural light in a month… goodness!”
 
       	“Sounds like a neat place,” Topaz said. “Someday I’d like Rosie to see Prospolis; we’ve got plenty of family that’s still there, after all.”
 
       	Amber felt an elbow nudge her. She looked down to see Ivy jerking her eyes back and forth from her to Topaz. Her eyes were full of expectation. Amber coughed.
 
       	“Well,” she said, “I’m sure that she’ll get to go out there one day.”
 
       	Ivy crossed her arms and huffed.
 
       	“Ooh!” Rosie said. “How long are you all in town?”
 
       	“Not sure, now,” Amber said. “Probably at least for a little while. Some friends of ours are missing in the blast, and until we… find them, I don’t think our lead caravaneer is going anywhere.”
 
       	Topaz and Emerald glanced at each other. Rosie put her spoon down. Amber looked at them in confusion—the sudden loss of good cheer was disconcerting. “What? is it something I said?”
 
       	“Miss Amber…” Emerald said, choosing her words carefully. “You have to understand… that explosion, it was almost certainly the work of ponies who are not going to give your friends up easily.”
 
       	“What? You mean you know who did it?”
 
       	“Well yeah!” Rosie said. “Everyone around here knows.”
 
       	“Wait,” Amber said, “are you serious?” Now that she thought about it, Clearwater had seemed unusually nonchalant about the whole thing… and the ponies of the city had seemed to recover remarkably fast. “Can you tell me anything more about what they do?”
 
       	The other ponies looked at each other again. Emerald cleared her throat. “Look, about a half year ago we started to have attacks in and around the city. Ponies were abducted. There wasn’t any heads or tails to who was taken; Red, Blue, and others were all snatched with abandon.”
 
       	Amber’s mouth felt dry. “What about the government?” she said. “Are they trying to track them down?”
 
Topaz rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how much you know of Fort Tain politics, Miss Amber, but the city council is effectively deadlocked. Both Ridgeback and Hub City would like nothing more than to directly administer this place, and all they see in this is opportunity. They’re both accusing the other of being behind the attacks and offering us ‘protection.’” She snorted. “We’d be safer in a den of lions.”
 
“That’s terrible,” Amber said. Topaz shrugged.
 
“It is what it is. We’re right between the two greatest powers in the land. That means we’re a target. But if you ask me, it’s neither.”
 
“Why is that?”
 
“Because there’s no political order to the kidnappings. And because they sometimes come back.”
 
No one was smiling anymore, not even Rosie. A cold trickle of fear ran down Amber’s back.
 
Topaz continued. “Whatever happened to them… it’s caused them to lose their minds. The families of the victims keep it hush hush for the most part, but a few of them didn’t have families and are still roaming around the city now. I try to give them a coin or two, you know, just doing my part.”
 
“What… what do they talk about?”
 
       	“All sorts of things, if you listen,” Rosie said. She seemed subdued. “There’s one who hangs out around the Wagon Wheel, or used to I guess. Gosh, what’s going to happen to her now?”
 
       	“Rosie,” Emerald snapped. “Focus.”
 
       	“Right,” Rosie said. “Sorry. Anyway, she’s always going off about someone named ‘Lyra’ and how the Sun has stopped moving, and a bunch of other crazy stuff. I told her one time that she should be a storyteller, but she just looked at me like I was the crazy one. I mean, can you imagine?”
 
       	Ivy was sitting stiff as a board. Amber looked down at her, and she looked back, eyes as wide as saucers. Amber cleared her throat. “That’s quite the story, Rosie.”
 
       	“Sure is. She’s got a lot of them though. I can take you to see her tomorrow, if you’d like!”
 
       	“That actually sounds like it may be a good idea,” Amber said as Rosie nodded empathetically beside her. “I’d love the chance to speak with her myself.”
 
       	“Perfect! You’re at the Siren, right? I’ll come by tomorrow morning. Shoot, I’m going to need a new job now… maybe they’re hiring!”
 
       	“Actually, that would be a step up,” Topaz muttered.
 
       	“Marvelous. I’ll await your call tomorrow morning. Then we can get to the bottom of this mystery.”
 
       	“Well,” Emerald said, “don’t get your hopes up too much. These ponies, they’re gone. Not much is left in their heads anymore.”
 
       	Amber nodded and looked down at the remainder of her soup. Somehow, the meal didn’t seem as appetizing as it had before.
 
       	The conversation at the dinner table soon moved onto more lighthearted topics, and an hour later Amber and Ivy were bidding them goodnight. Ivy bounced along next to her sister as they walked back towards the inn.
 
       	“Did you hear all of that? They must be abducting ponies to try and get their memories back! Oh man, this is crazy! Sounded like they got Bon Bon, gosh, I hope she’s okay. They can’t really be as bad as Miss Emerald says, can they?”
 
       	“Probably not,” Amber said, “but I do want you to be careful, Sweetie. We don’t know what she’s going to be like, and I need to be able to protect you.”
 
       	“You just said my name again!”
 
       	“Yes well….” Amber looked towards the Siren, the huge torches casting a red glow over the snow. Somehow, the places didn’t cheer her up as much as it had before. “Let’s just say I’m beginning to suspect you’re on to something.”
 
 
        	Drip. Drip. Drip.
 
        	Did you think you could beat me so easily, CELESTIA?

 
       	Spectrum’s eyes flew open with a start. She sat up, body tensed, ready to fight. Her mind struggled to throw off the fog that bound it. She’d been dreaming about something, something important… it was gone now. She rubbed her head.
 
       	There. On the floor, near her, was a form… Capricorn.
 
       	“Cap!” she hissed, running over and kneeling next to him. “Cap! Oh shit, are you okay?”
       	He was limp, his breathing shallow. She rolled him over and put her ear to his chest. The pulse was strong. “Come on, Cap, wake up,” she said. “I need some help here. Cap?”
 
       	He stirred, his eyelids flickered. Then he was on top of her in a flash, one hoof digging into her neck, his body pressing her down. She tried to get her wings into position to push him back but realized with horror that they were bound.
 
       	“Cap!” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Capricorn! It’s me…”
 
       	Recognition filled his eyes, and he rolled off of her. Spectrum sat up, coughing.
 
       	“Oh jeez, Spec, I sorry,” he said. “Really. I just… an unknown place and all.”
 
       	“It’s cool, it’s cool,” she rasped, hoof to her throat. “I probably… would have done the same thing.”
 
       	He grunted. “Shame it was you waking me up and not whoever put us here.”
 
       	“True. But where is… here?”
 
       	Spec looked up at her surroundings for the first time. They were in what appeared to be a small cavern. The walls were smooth and damp. There was one opening on the wall that appeared to lead into a larger cavern. Iron bars blocked the way.
 
       	“What’s the last thing you remember?” Spec said, walking towards the entrance.
 
       	“I don’t know… we were at that bar, right? You said something about maybe needing to duck down, and… huh. I guess you were right about that.”
 
       	“When are you going to learn that I’m always right, and that you should just listen to me instead of getting yourself in trouble?” Spec said. She looked out between the bars. The cavern continued beyond. I ways down the passage, she could see another cell. “Hmm, no door…. Do you think we should try to—“
 
       	“H—hello?”
 
       	Spec froze. She glanced at Capricorn, who shook his head.
 
       	“Hello?” the voice said again. Spec realized it was coming from down the hall. “Is anypony else out there? I heard—I heard voices. Please! I’m scared to be alone.” A purple hoof stuck out between the bars and waved.
 
       	Spec licked her lips. “Yes, I can hear you,” she said. Capricorn bit his lip. “I’m here in this other cage with my friend. What’s your name?”
 
       	“I—I can’t remember, exactly,” the pony said. She sounded on the verge of tears. “I think it was… Cassie, Cassiopeia, or no, it’s... Starlight? I don’t know! I used to know, but now….” The voice broke off into soft sobs.
 
       	“Shhh,” Spec said. “Hold tight, Cassie or Starlight or whatever your name is. We’ll get you out. Right, Capricorn?” He shrugged. “Oh don’t look like that. We’re heroes! Besides, we need to get out anyway.”
 
       	“They’ve got a huge brown pony who can bend the metal,” Cassie said. “I don’t know how he does it! It should be way too strong for him.”
 
       	“That’s too strong for anyone,” Spec said. “Are you sure he doesn’t just use a key or something and make it look like he’s actually bending the bars?”

“I don’t think so,” Cassie said, but she sounded doubtful.

“Well, we’re going to need a different way out of here,” Spec said. “Cap, you don’t think
there’s something in this cell that we can use, do you? I don’t know, like something to pry or…”

Capricorn’s face was scrunched in thought. “There’s something I want to try,” he said, “but you have to promise not to freak out.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Spec said.

Capricorn pushed past her and stood in front of the door. He closed his eyes. For a long moment, nothing happened. “What,” Spec said, “you going to think it open?”

Capricorn didn’t say anything. Spec sighed, wondering if the capture was putting more of a toll on him than she’d thought. First a magical prison, and now this…..

Something was happening.

She could feel it in the air, a crackle, a smell of ozone. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words died in her throat when she saw the sparks that danced along Capricorn’s horn. His face was twisted in concentration, and Spec watched open mouthed as the light surrounded one of the bars and began to bend it. Sweat beaded Capricorn’s brow.

“That’s impossible,” Spec breathed.

The light pushed the bar to the side just far enough for a pony to squeeze through. Capricorn released the magic and fell to one knee, panting.

“Oh yeah,” he said, grinning at his accomplishment. “Eat your heart out, Spec.”

“How the hell--”

“I don’t know. A lot of stuff happened to me when I was under. I still don’t know exactly what. But I can do that now.” Capricorn frowned. “Are you going to freak out?”

“You kidding? That was awesome. I’ll freak out later. Come on.”

Spec squeezed through the holes the bars made, followed by Capricorn. She dusted herself off and got a better look at the passage. It was long and low, stretching off into darkness in either direction. “It’s a start. Come on Cap, help me get our new friend out.”

She walked over to the other grate. The pony inside was Sagittarian, thin and purple, with highlights of lavender and cyan in her mane. She looked out at them fearfully. “You got out?” she said. “But that’s something only the guards know how to do.”

“Well, maybe it’s not as unique as they think,” Spec said. “Cap, you care to do the honors?”

“With pleasure,” Capricorn said. He closed his eyes and the magic returned. Cassie watched wide-eyed as the bars on her cell door bent open.

“You are just like the guards,” she said. “Then… why do they have you locked up?”

“Probably because they don’t know what they’re dealing with,” Spec said. “Now come on, let’s get out of this place. Do you know where they may have put my weapons?”

Cassie stepped hesitantly out of the cage. “I’ve never been down that way,” she said, pointing down one passage, “but this way leads to the interrogation rooms. It also slopes up. I also think there might be a guard storage room. If they have your weapons, they’ll probably be in there.”

“Interrogation rooms?” Capricorn said. “What kind of place is this?”

“The worst kind.”

“Not for long,” Spec said. “When we get out of here I’m going to get my friends and we’re going to lay waste to this whole operation, just you wait.”

Cassie didn’t look convinced. “Come on,” she said. “If there is a way out, it’s this way.” She began to lead the other two down the passage. Soon enough, they came to a flight of stairs. Their hooves clicked softly against the damp stone.

“You weren’t kidding about us being down low,” Spec said, wiping sweat off of her brow. “How far down do you think we are?”

“I have no idea,” Cassie said, “but pretty far down. I haven’t seen light in… oh stars, I don’t even know!”

She sounded like she was about to cry. Spec’s heart lurched. “Hey,” she said, pausing and turning around. She put a hoof on Cassie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get you out of here, and whoever else is down here too. But first, we’ve got to look out for ourselves and get out of this mess, you know?”

Cassie sniffed again and wiped her face. “Thanks,” she said, giving Spec a trembling smile. “You’re right. We’ll get out of here soon. Come on, I think this is the landing.” She led them down another passage. The complete silence of the facility was beginning to get to Spec.

“Where is everyone?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Cassie said. “Usually there’s at least some noise… maybe they’re asleep?”

“Maybe,” Spec said, but she didn’t like it.

Cassie stopped in front of a small door. “Here’s the storage room,” she said. “You two go on first, I… I don’t like it in there.”

“It’s going to be okay, Cassie,” Spec said. “Come on, Cap. Let’s see if they’ve got your staff too.”

Capricorn nodded. Carefully, Spec pushed the door open…

Right into a waiting nest of guards. They grinned at her. Spec felt a spike of fear. She tried to slam the door shut, but something grabbed her from behind and pushed her forward. She realized with horror that she couldn’t move.

“Thanks boys,” Cassie said, her tone suddenly clipped and professional. “I always like to give our new guests a proper welcome”

No…
 
Spec’s body was turned around to stare right into Cassie’s face. The fear in the other pony’s eyes was gone, replaced by a cold humor. “Aww,” she said, grinning at Spec’s horror, “did the little heroes buy my game? Eh, doesn’t matter. I got the information I needed. You’re as boring and predictable as ever, Rainbow Dash, even when you don’t remember anything. But what I wasn’t expecting…” she turned towards Capricorn, his face alive with rage, “...was you. You’re not a reincarnation of anyone, are you? And yet….”
 
       	Her horn flashed, and then the light color around Capricorn changed. A single band of white light moved from his top to his bottom. When it reached his heart it flashed red, then black. The color drained out of the mare’s face.
 
       	“Oh, sweet baby Celestia,” she whispered.
 
       	“What is it, Starlight?” one of the guards said.
 
       	“He’s been touched by the King. Quick, get him out, out, to the interrogation room! He’s wanted for something, and we need to figure out what. Rainbow dear, sorry, but our own little chat is going to have to wait. I am so excited to finally see you again, though. We have so much to talk about! Oh! Cadenza, be a dear and escort our other guest back to her quarters? It’s a shame she’s still asleep, you two used to get along famously. Tootles!”
 
       	She trotted out of the room, Capricorn floating out behind her. The door slammed shut and the bands of magic binding her fell away. She landed on her feet, crouched into a fighting stance. “Come on,” she hissed, “which one of you is gonna go out first?”

The guards parted, and a tall, thin mare stepped forward, dressed in all black. Her fur was pink, and her multicolored mane was cut almost as short as Jade’s. She looked at Spec with an expression of utter contempt. Spec stepped back. “Wait,” she said, “do I know you?”

Then the mare moved faster than Spec thought possible and everything fell to black.