Chapter 1

1115 AF

Two years after the Battle of New Canterlot City

Emberglow awoke gently, like the petals of a flower unfurling in the light. The warmth of the silken sheets against her fur and camisole did not compare to that of her princess, who was also stirring from sleep beneath an outstretched hoof. Feathers shifted as mare and wife rose in sync, limbs pulling up and back, their bodies long used to rising at this early hour.

“Morning,” Emberglow greeted, smiling softly. Even with her mane bent and bunched up from the pillow, Rarity was still the most beautiful thing in the room. And their room, fit for royalty, had some of the finest furnishings in the palace.

“Not yet,” Rarity quipped. It was an old joke, but Emberglow would never tire of what came next.

Stepping onto the carpet, Rarity approached their bedside window, pink and purple pre-dawn light filtering through gossamer curtains. She lit her horn, and the moon fell, pushed below the distant horizon. At the same time, the sun rose opposite it, lifted aloft by Sunset from across the castle.

She still almost couldn’t believe that it was she herself who had touched the heart of such a divine pony.

This sacred ritual complete, Emberglow stood and stretched her back. After planting a quick kiss on her wife’s cheek, she headed off to their shared bathroom to take care of business and have a quick shower. She always went first, as Rarity’s morning routine took far longer. Meanwhile, she knew Rarity would usually spend this time double-checking her schedule for the day and picking out an ensemble. The work of a princess was never done. Except for today.

As she showered, Emberglow called out through the door. “I imagine you planned out your outfit for the grand opening of Sunset’s School for Gifted Unicorns in advance, right?”

“Of course,” Rarity confirmed, tittering. “I’m going for something more subdued. Wouldn’t want to take the spotlight away from the mare of the hour!”

That certainly made sense to Emberglow. Sunset had been working on getting a magic school up and running for a while now, both as a means of honoring the legacy of her predecessors and ensuring that many of the lost spells from her era didn’t stay lost. Even just finding and training enough competent teachers for all the requisite grade levels had been a struggle.

“Well, sure, but you are still going to be teaching there a few times a week,” Emberglow pointed out as she lathered shampoo into her mane and tail. “You’re entitled to some attention. In fact, how could anypony ignore you?”

Rarity laughed at that, figuratively waving the statement off. “Oh, darling, you flatter me. Teaching may not be my true forté, but it is something I grew to enjoy in the old days. I agreed to take up the Intermediate Magic and Spell Multitasking class only because Sunset insisted I was needed.”

“If you say so. I still think part of it was to have an excuse to interact with cute foals more often.”

A polite huff emanated through the door. “I shall neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

Emberglow beamed softly to herself. Her wife could be so silly sometimes. Headstrong, too, especially regarding more personal topics. Like foals. But what couple never argued at all? They were still only equine. And they vowed to take the good times with the bad.

“At any rate, you’re going flying with Terminus today, I believe?” Rarity asked.

“Yes,” she replied, nodding automatically while she scrubbed. Working at the hospital for this long had ingrained her with a fast and thorough personal hygiene technique.

“And Heartwing still doesn’t mind you spending time alone together, hmm?” she posed, coy.

Rinsing off, Emberglow rolled her eyes, her smile widening. “Oh, stop. If you’re so concerned, you can ask them yourself at group therapy this evening.”

“‘Twas merely a jest, darling. I know the two of you are the last ponies in the Empire who’d be unfaithful. In the romantic sense, at least,” she clarified.

“Ha,” Emberglow chuckled dryly.

After finishing up in the bathroom, a very fluffy towel wrapped around her drying mane, Emberglow switched places with her wife, the two of them reaching out to touch wingtips as they passed.

Smiling upon hearing Rarity begin humming a cheery tune to herself, Emberglow got dressed and put on her hairpin. Then she sat down on the plush sofa, taking advantage of the free moment by grabbing her reading material from the crystal coffee table. It was the latest medical journal, covering some recent breakthroughs in non-invasive surgery. The Knights Radiant were finally beginning to incorporate the medical knowledge of unicorns and other races into their repertoire, despite pushback from those who would obstinately let their loved ones suffer rather than admit unicorn expertise had value.

She shook her head to clear it, not wanting to dive down that rabbit hole again. Honestly, after everything she’d been through, having a set routine again had done wonders for Emberglow’s mood. She and Rarity were busy, yes, but it was a good busy. The worst Emberglow had to deal with on the regular were cranky patients and awkward conversations with Radiants or her parents. A far cry from some of her far more hostile interactions with other ponies during the war.

Lost in her thoughts and the journal both, it took a hoof on her shoulder and a polite clearing of the throat to call her back to the present. She closed the publication and turned.

“How do I look?” Rarity asked, striking a pose. She had actually picked out a sort of educator’s look befitting the day, with a sleek charcoal gray skirt, lighter grey blouse, and a bright blue ascot. Her ‘casual’ silver tiara - not the one with her Element - still made her status clear.

“Amazing as always,” Emberglow replied.

“Flatterer,” Rarity tittered. “Now let’s go have breakfast.”

Side by side, they pulled open their doors to the hallway, where their long-time guards, Iron Shod and Crossguard, flanked the egress, at the ready with patient smiles. They followed Emberglow and Rarity at a close but respectful distance as they trotted down sparkling passageways to their destination.

The royal dining room, unlike the banquet hall, was a small, intimate space, lit with gently glowing wall sconces that sent orange firelight dancing across the rose quartz walls. The hardwood table was large, but not massive, with room for only a dozen pony-sized creatures. Empress Cadance and Princess Sunset were already chatting over their food at one end of the table, and Sunset waved hello as they entered.

“Hello, friends,” Emberglow greeted, settling atop a floor pillow. To her, these mares weren’t the unapproachable leaders of a nation-state, they were her dear, long-time companions. Their familiar faces were a comfort.

“Oh my, that looks scrumptious,” Rarity noted, eyeing the spinach quiche hungrily. Emberglow had to agree. In addition, there was a dish of sauteed crystal berries and toast as well as the usual coffee, tea service, and biscuits. Every day, the castle chef, Thorkell, proved anew that yaks were indeed best at cooking.

As Emberglow thanked Rarity while she served their portions with magic, Cadance looked towards them after dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

“Morning you two!” Sunset exclaimed after swallowing her bite of toast. “I was just telling Cadance how nice it is to finally be done with all the logistical headaches of setting up the school.”

“So you can get to the good part?” Emberglow asked as she sat down. “The actual teaching?”

“Exactly,” Sunset confirmed. “Plenty of foals look up to me already, and this is my chance to really connect with them and make a difference in their lives. Pay it forward, after what Celestia and Twilight did for me.”

Emberglow agreed one hundred percent. Someday she also wanted to pass on her medicinal skills to the next generation.

As Rarity cut out a small section of quiche, Cadance looked between them and Sunset, head inclined in a pointed gesture. “The relationship between a student and teacher is quite the fulfilling one, yes. Of course, that’s not the best kind, in my humble opinion.”

Sunset sighed. “Look, I told you before, I have no intention to start dating again at this point,” she insisted, pouting slightly.

“Well, I’m inclined to agree with Cadance, here,” Rarity said with a grin. “‘Tis a most worthwhile pursuit.”

“See?” Cadence declared, resting her chin on her hoof impishly.

Emberglow was too preoccupied enjoying the ripe berries to comment, but she did smile. Of course the wise old matchmaker would bring this up. After her long period of recovery, the empress was in peak health again, with an abundance of energy. She would never have expected Cadance to have such a mischievous side, but definitely didn’t mind her ensuing antics. Cadance had lost a great deal in her life, especially recently, so Emberglow was glad to see the impish joy of matchmaking replace her frequent sad, distant stare.

Princess Sunset was the only remaining creature in her immediate circle of friends who didn’t have or hadn't once had a life partner. Well, besides Oak Chips, and Emberglow was pretty sure he possessed zero interest in romance. Meanwhile, in addition to being royalty, Sunset was pansexual, she knew, so the mare had no shortage of interested parties to get to know better.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit preoccupied running an empire,” Sunset pointed out, with emphasis. “I get the most done on that front out of anypony at this table!”

“Well, yes,” Emberglow confirmed, “but that’s because you take your responsibility a bit too seriously, I think.” Feeling guilty about not doing enough to help was something she was very familiar with. “You need to keep your own happiness in mind.”

“Well said, darling,” Rarity confirmed, sipping her tea. “The Empress and I have gotten rather practiced at delegating to the right ponies; our subjects aren’t a bunch of children.”

Cadence nodded firmly. “You have nothing to lose and the world to gain!”

Under the kind yet insistent stares from Emberglow and her fellow alicorns, Sunset at last caved, rolling her eyes. “Fine, I’ll keep my eyes open. Happy?”

“Very much so,” Rarity replied primly, putting a pin on it by extending a wing to rest affectionately on Emberglow’s back, making an effective demonstration of what she was missing. Emberglow savored the contact.

The Empress’ smirk grew sly. “Just don’t try to bed any of your older students. That dynamic almost never ends well.”

Sunset nearly dropped her fork as she sputtered, a blush coloring her cheeks. “C-Cadance!”

Emberglow burst out into good-natured laughter.

It was a warm, pleasant day in the Empire. Thanks to the Crystal Heart, all days were warm and pleasant as long as love flourished. Creatures were now able to come and go freely across the Empire’s borders, which had expanded over the last thousand years. Though they could move freely, the polar winds could not, leaving the remaining air currents to be gentle at most. The city, therefore, was an ideal environment for long exercise flights. Here in the center of the city, plenty of creatures, both pegasi and griffons, were out and about, traipsing through the heavens.

Still, as much as she and her wife spent their time together, this was one thing Rarity often passed on, despite having earned wings. Though she reveled in flight, soaring at any significant speed ruffled her mane too much, she insisted.

Emberglow glided along through the air, the magic in her wings carrying her aloft. Even now, the simple act brought her joy. Idly watching the ground-bound residents going about their days, she made her way over to the humble set of condominiums where Heartwing and Terminus lived.

Built to accommodate those with mobility issues, each single-story home was built entirely flush with the ground. It made Heartwing’s life far easier. Cadance had of course offered the pair rooms in the palace after everything they’d done, but the structure’s ancient architects had been rather fond of staircases. Lots and lots of staircases.

When Emberglow arrived, Terminus was already waiting on the roof, stretching his wings. His movements were automatic, devoid of enthusiasm.

Hmm. Something was eating at him. She didn’t want to pry, but as long as she was there for him, hopefully he’d confide in her.

Emberglow waved down at the stallion to catch his attention, hovering in place. “Hi, Terminus. Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he said, cracking his neck. Not wasting any time, he leapt into the air to join her.

For a little while, they flew in silence, slowly rising higher into the sky and building up speed. Emberglow’s thoughts quieted, and she focused on the experience. Feeling the air rush across her feathers, the steady in-and-out of her breathing, just being.

“So, how are you?” Terminus eventually asked. “Anything exciting going on?”

The words pulled Emberglow back into herself. “A bit. Cadance finally convinced Sunset to start looking for somepony. And the school is opening up today.”

Terminus grunted in acknowledgement, matching Emberglow’s speed without visible effort. “Rarity doesn’t mind you missing it?”

“She says she’d be too distracted by my radiance to teach,” she admitted with a laugh. “Besides, I’ll be keeping her company during her dressmaking hour as usual.”

“Still only one hour a day for her cutie mark talent?” Terminus questioned. “Damn, and here I thought Heartwing was keeping too busy despite his 'retirement.' He’s been out most of the day dealing with some Discordant matters.”

Emberglow nodded sagely as her smile widened. “Such is the price we pay for marrying ponies in power.”

Terminus snorted. “Indeed.”

There was a lull, then, as they continued soaring along. They’d reached the outskirts of the city now, grown and built homes and workplaces giving way to close-packed acres of farmland. In the distance, the exterior of the glacier-carved changeling hive was just barely visible through the edge of the crystal heart’s barrier. Sweat was beginning to form beneath her clothes. Terminus, wearing nothing, did not have this problem.

Emberglow turned her good eye toward him, resuming the conversation. “So, any luck on your project? Topaz won’t be mad either way, but still.”

“A bit, sort of,” he admitted.

A while ago, Terminus had admitted to the Elements during group therapy that he’d been feeling listless without any soldiering to do. Cooking and housekeeping were entirely different kinds of work. So, Topaz had encouraged him to find a hobby he enjoyed. But so far, nothing he’d tried really clicked. Emberglow hadn’t realized it was weighing on him quite this much, but “sort of” meant he probably had good news!

“Care to share a bit early?” she asked, gently curious.

His ears lowered. “It’s not a sport this time. You’ll think it’s foalish.”

Well, that wouldn’t do. Time to reassure him, lighten the mood again. “I doubt it. My idea of a foal’s pastime was going to medical school, remember?”

At this, he grinned a little. “Okay, Emberglow. I’ve been setting up some model trains.”

She blinked, slowing down just enough that he overtook her. Not quite the answer she’d been expecting. “Model trains?” Emberglow echoed.

“Yeah. It’s… oddly familiar. Building and painting them is reminiscent of cleaning and reassembling a rifle, only with more little wheels.”

Now Emberglow was grinning along with him. The mental image that evoked - of solid, unwavering Terminus Flash hunched over a worktable carefully painting the Crystal Empire Express in its official pinks and purples - was both deeply incongruous and deeply amusing.

Terminus glared over his shoulder at her. “Don’t laugh. It’s a perfectly respectable pastime.”

Emberglow took a deep, careful breath. “I w-wasn’t going to,” she insisted, barely holding herself together.

In response, Terminus flapped hard to the side, hip-checking her. Emberglow yelped in surprise, her trajectory shifting a good bit away before she could course-correct and return to her former relative position.

Terminus scrunched his muzzle and sighed.

Her ears fell. Now Emberglow felt badly for reacting the way she did, but she couldn’t help it! “I’m sorry, Terminus. But you have to admit it’s a little funny. I was expecting something like yeti wrangling or blacksmithing.”

“Really? Blacksmithing?” Now Terminus was smiling again, to her relief. He rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you’ve seen a pegasus in a forge? My feathers would get all singed!”

“Good point,” she admitted. Wings required enough personal maintenance as it was. It was worth it, though, to feel the rush of air moving past her like this, faster than any gallop. “Still, I’m sure the others will be more composed at the news than I was.”

Terminus hummed in agreement. With nothing further forthcoming, their conversation lapsed back into silence. Emberglow went back to taking in the green pastures below. Though they were smaller than many farms in the Diarchy, the sight of so much cultivated land gave her renewed appreciation for all the hard work earth ponies did to ensure the people had full bellies. It was a beautiful thing to see everycreature contributing what they could.

Soon, they reached the point which had long marked the midway point of their flights: a tall grain silo of varnished wood. Emberglow banked into a turn, arcing around the structure as if it extended many times as tall as it was, Terminus matching her movements. Then, without preamble, he picked up speed, putting more energy into each of his wingbeats and pulling ahead.

Time for the real workout. Emberglow followed suit, and they powered their way back to the Empire.

After Emberglow returned home, sore in a good way, the rest of her day proceeded as usual, for the most part. Lunch, a bit of time to herself as Rarity handled matters of state, checking her mail for anything notable, keeping Rarity company in her workshop, and then dinner.

Now, she and Rarity were arriving at the cozy private lounge where Topaz conducted their regular group therapy sessions. Unlike most of the castle, the lounge was carpeted, and there were plenty of couches suitable for sitting and reclining. Cheerful landscape paintings hung on each wall, and a skylight ensured the room was naturally illuminated.

Lofty and Topaz were already present, sitting side by side. Topaz was totally in her element, chipper and ready to facilitate with a clipboard in one hoof and a pen capped with a yellow smiley face in the other. True would be with Empress Cadance, learning to read and avoiding any potentially heavy subject matters that the Elements might discuss.

Lofty raised a hoof as she and Rarity entered. “Hello, you two! Ready for another riveting discussion about our persistent anxieties?”

Topaz elbowed him in the ribs as Emberglow’s lips curled upwards. “Stop leading with that!” Topaz protested. Her friend wasn’t actually angry; Lofty did this every time. And it wasn’t even accurate anymore. Their sessions were now mostly just a way of staying in touch coupled with affirmations that they were now much better.

As Topaz had once told her, the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, when properly remedied with therapy and medication, could be mitigated or made to vanish almost completely. Emberglow was certainly grateful for that; no longer did she hear the voices of deceased ponies whispering lingering words of guilt into her ears.

Her failures had not brought her low; they’d strengthened her. Enough that she’d helped stave off eternal winter. Even Rarity insisted she was a worthy successor to Applejack, brushing off any denials of such on Emberglow’s part. The last, lingering wisps of pain in her heart were kept at bay with everyone’s help.

Emberglow was brought out of her musings and back to the present by a nudge from her wife, whom she immediately followed over to the couch across from the one Topaz and Lofty occupied. Exhaling in contentment, she shimmied herself into Rarity’s side, basking in her touch.

“You two seem to be doing well,” Lofty noted, mirroring her motion and adding a nuzzle to Topaz’s cheek. “I’d ask how your week was, but Heartwing and Terminus are a bit late.”

“I’m sure they’ll be here in a moment,” Rarity reassured. “Celestia knows we’re all busy ponies.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Topaz. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Emberglow nodded firmly in agreement. So long as there were creatures that needed her help, she would be there. And Topaz was of the same mind.

Nevertheless, as if summoned, a crystal guard - one wearing the livery of House Cadenza - pushed open the door to admit Heartwing and Terminus, the latter pushing the former in his wood and metal wheel harness. Emberglow did a bit of a double take when she saw the looks on their faces. Heartwing seemed quite troubled by something, judging by his serious frown and narrowed brow, and Terminus’ expression showed obvious concern.

She wanted to ask what was wrong, but held her tongue. Topaz would doubtless broach the subject during the session. Stepping on the expert’s hooves would be counterproductive. Instead, she just waved to them.

“Hi there, we’re all glad to see you,” Topaz said, maintaining her gentle, practiced smile.

Rarity hummed in agreement. Emberglow knew her more than well enough to tell that she was also struggling not to jump the gun. The tension in her wing was a giveaway.

Glancing at Heartwing, his lips pursing momentarily, Terminus replied, “We’re happy to see you too, friends.”

Topaz simply waited patiently, even as Lofty glanced sidelong at her, his own brow now creased with worry. Terminus helped Heartwing up and settle into the plush sofa on Emberglow’s left.

Only once Terminus himself was seated did Topaz begin. “Alright then! The six of us are all here, so let’s get started. Per usual, I’d like us to start off by sharing one word with the group which summarizes how you’re feeling. Today, I’m feeling hopeful. I hope that everyone’s days are going well, and that if they’re not, they can trust others in their lives to support them with love however they need it.”

Then she paused, tapping her pen against the clipboard before turning to Heartwing. “Heartwing? Why don’t you go next?”

Emberglow’s gut, as well as her experiences with Heartwing, told her this wouldn’t be a simple issue. Echoing Topaz’s sentiments, she faced the stallion, ears perked.

Heartwing took a long time to answer, meeting each of their inquisitive gazes in turn, as if to judge whether or not this was a matter he could freely share. Or perhaps whether or not he should. For the first time in a while, Emberglow couldn’t place the emotion behind his eyes. Sadness? Fear? Disbelief?

Eventually, he answered. “I’m feeling… disturbed.”

Emberglow tensed.

When he failed to elaborate further, Topaz - maintaining her patient demeanor - continued. “And why are you feeling 'disturbed,' Heartwing?”

Terminus wordlessly draped a wing over his partner's back in support, but it still took Heartwing a few very long seconds to answer. “There’s a rumor spreading like wildfire through the Diarchy at the moment. And if it wasn’t for the fact that so many of my clandestine contacts thought it substantial enough to report up the chain, I would have dismissed it out of hoof as blatant fabrication.”

Pausing, he sighed in concession. “There are rumors down south, unsubstantiated as of yet, that the Saints have returned.”

Many heartbeats passed as Emberglow processed this. She turned the idea over in her mind. But before she could voice just how patently absurd that was, Rarity beat her to it. “I’m sorry, Heartwing, darling, but could you repeat that? It sounded like you said the Saints were back.”

“Oh, they’re definitely not our old friends,” Heartwing elaborated. “Their actions aren’t even close to how any of them would actually react to being thrust into this disharmonious future of ours. Otherwise we’d be hearing of a major ruckus from the Diarchy and not just rumors. Pinkie Pie’s antics alone would trigger a witch hunt,” he added, chuckling at his own joke.

“Really, Heartwing, that’s not funny,” said Lofty, who stared at him in disappointment. “This is supposed to be a space where we’re genuine with each other.”

“He wouldn’t lie about something like this,” Terminus insisted, even as his own doubts flickered across his face. Topaz was furiously taking down notes.

“I mean, yes, but…” Emberglow trailed off. It was just completely unbelievable, for multiple reasons. Heartwing seemed to be genuinely concerned, yes, and she trusted his judgment, but in this case he had to be jumping at shadows.

Right?

To prove her point, Emberglow rested her head against her wife’s. “Rarity is right here. The real Rarity, back after a millennium of stasis. Not the made-up earth pony Rarity written as propaganda for the Book. You were the one who taught me the truth!”

“Exactly,” agreed Lofty, his concerned gaze shifting away from her and back to Heartwing. “And say what you will about the ponies living in the Diarchy, but if there's one trait they all share, it’s some level of stubbornness. Even now, they still live their lives by the Book of Saints. Those who don’t have pretty much all left by now.”

Emberglow nodded at that, her thoughts reeling at a breakneck pace. She no longer had a copy of the Book, but as she sifted through her memory, she couldn’t recall anything about a prophesied day when the Saints would return. They were ostensibly watching from on high with the Diarchs. So then how exactly were so many ponies so convinced?

Before Emberglow could voice these questions, Topaz beat her to it. “Okay, and what exactly makes these rumors so believable?” Even she couldn’t keep the confusion off her expression any longer.

Heartwing tapped his hoof against the sofa. “Just to be clear, I don’t believe them yet, either. It’s just that according to my Discordant, others are saying that they believe the Saints are back. Because there have been reported sightings of - and interactions with - all six at different locations. Each matches their popular depictions in Diarchy statuary and artwork. And there’s a second Rarity among them.”

“So there’s an earth pony with my figure prancing about, is there?” posed Rarity, nonplussed. “I’m sure her uncanny resemblance to moi is entirely coincidental and not, say, a changeling copying my likeness. Because that wouldn’t be the first time.” She peered at Heartwing in concern. “I’m sorry to dismiss your worries, Heartwing, especially now, but this is simply too far-fetched.”

Heartwing started to frown, but pushed it away. Terminus clutched him tightly. “No, no, I understand how this sounds. But it’s not that simple. What do you think the first thing any Knight Vigilant who met them did?” he posed. “Whatever they are, they’re not changelings, veiled beneath illusions, or wild magic clones. And supposedly they can perform miracles, or at least cast spells without horns or gauntlets.”

“Seriously?” The question slipped out of Emberglow, the pace of her breathing accelerating. Everything about this situation was unbelievable, and yet it was somehow happening. There was zero chance these Saints were real, of course. If that were the case, then… She looked at Rarity, focused on where their bodies met. Rarity caught her gaze, and squeezed her reassuringly with a wing.

No. That was beyond consideration.

“So they tell me,” Heartwing said in reply before going quiet. There was a silence as the five of them processed the news.

The more she mulled it over, the more Emberglow found herself coming to one conclusion: She had to fly down to the Diarchy and see these supposed Saints for herself. One way or another, she had to uncover the truth and confront these convincing imposters for what they were. She couldn’t abide the thought of anypony else misleading ponies back down the path of hate, nor giving her beloved a bad name, or her Element wasn’t Honesty.

“I can certainly see why this news would be troubling to you,” Topaz noted, studying Heartwing and the rest of them carefully, salvaging what she could of their therapy session. “How do you feel we might be able to help?”

“Investigate the issue ourselves,” he answered matter-of-factly, clearly on the same page as Emberglow. His eyes narrowed. “I won’t be able to rest properly until I nip this desecration of their memory in the bud. The Knights Discordant may be trained for this, but they don’t know these mares like we do,” he added, giving Rarity a purposeful look.

“Indeed,” she agreed, determination writ large in her voice. “This is something which absolutely demands our attention. The sheer gall.”

“That would mean going to the Diarchy, though,” Lofty pointed out, running a hoof through his mane. “And neither of you are exactly popular over there. It would be incredibly dangerous for Heartwing especially, given his physical condition.”

“They’ll be too busy paying attention to these ‘Saints’ to care, I wager,” Heartwing said. “And I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Terminus confirmed. “No chance I’m not going with him. I imagine it’s the same for you, Emberglow?”

As if it even needed to be said. “Where Rarity goes, I go,” she declared with conviction.

“I would never leave you behind,” Rarity declared. Emberglow met her subsequent loving sidelong glance with one of her own.

Lofty shot them a smirk, only half-forced. “I’d expect nothing less.” Then his expression soured once more. “However, I still think you should leave this to the others, Heartwing,” he insisted.

“I agree,” said Topaz, gesturing to him. “The others can fly away if there’s trouble, but…”

“I’ve evaded their grasp for this long, my friend. What’s another day or two dancing with danger?” Heartwing quipped. “And Termie will be watching my back, as always.”

Terminus met Topaz’s eyes, conveying the fire within his own, and she relented.

Lofty, though, did not. “I’m still far from convinced that it would be safe for you to do this, Heartwing. What if I went in your place? I’m more than capable in a fight in case events proceed in that direction, and you can only use half your limbs! I’d be very worried about you.”

Heartwing pursed his lips at Lofty. “I still have centuries more experience than everyone else in this room, a working horn, and the skill to use it. I’ll be fine, as always. Dealing with the unpredictable is still my forté. Besides, think about the logistics for a moment. If you waltzed into New Canterlot with a spear and gauntlet, you’d be stopped and questioned immediately, whereas I can just wear a large hat or something to evade detection.”

“He’s got you there, honey,” Topaz said, nudging Lofty in the side.

Sighing in defeat, Lofty turned to face Emberglow instead. “Aren’t you going to object to any of this?”

Emberglow shook her head. “I’m worried, too, but I trust Heartwing’s judgment. As for me, my wife seems to be decided, and there’s no chance I’m letting the world lose another alicorn, especially not this one,” Emberglow declared, pulling Rarity closer with a wing and planting a kiss on her cheek.

She cooed appreciatively in response. “I don’t doubt it,” Rarity said. “Still, my new students are going to be rather disappointed. Alas, I am needed elsewhere. Somepony has to remind the ponies down south what a real Rarity looks like.” She flipped her mane for dramatic affect.

“Regardless, this information stays confidential until further notice,” Rarity continued, changing the subject. “I trust our guards to maintain discretion, but if this news reaches the general public in the Empire, it could cause a panic. I’m sure Cadance and Sunset will agree; they should be informed, at minimum.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Heartwing said. “It also wouldn’t do to have all six of us be absent at once, as that would be equally concerning. If your colleagues want to disseminate the news further, that’s their prerogative.”

Topaz’s ears fell. “I suppose there’s no stopping you, is there? In that case, Lofty and I can stay here,” she suggested. “I don’t believe either of us have as much stake in the matter, right honey?”

“I guess not,” Lofty admitted. “Besides, I realize we can’t just leave True alone with Cadance at the drop of a hat. We’re his parents. He needs us.”

“That leaves the four of us to investigate, in two groups,” said Terminus, his tail flicking in deep thought. He turned to Heartwing.

“We can prepare to fly tonight and leave first thing in the morning,” Heartwing suggested. Emberglow could practically see the well-worn gears turning in his head. “While I can’t predict their movements for certain, the best places to look will likely be Old and New Canterlot. Emberglow, you’ve been building a rapport with the Knights Radiant, so you and Rarity can head to the Canterhorn. Terminus and I will fly for New Canterlot City. Assuming that’s acceptable, Princess?”

Rarity straightened and met his gaze, the fire in her eyes matching his. “It is, Heartwing. Emberglow?”

“Yes,” she said. She certainly didn’t have any better ideas.

“We’ll make sure the nation doesn’t collapse while you’re gone, Princess,” Lofty joked. Though his smile was clearly just pasted on to conceal dire misgivings.

“That settles it,” Terminus said, rising from the couch to all four hooves. “Time to get our ducks in a row and get moving.”

“I guess I'll have to postpone this session for later, huh?” said Topaz, stowing her notepad. “Hopefully this is all just a huge misunderstanding and we can all meet up again next week for a double length one, yeah?”

“Hopefully,” Heartwing agreed, as he allowed Terminus to help him back into his harness.

“Good luck, and take care,” bid Lofty.

Emberglow almost said goodbye, but the nature of the situation made her pause. It felt too needlessly final, or so said her superstition. So instead, she just reached forward and swept him up in a hug. The others joined in, and soon all the Elements were trading embraces in turn.

No more words needed to be said. They left the lounge to make their preparations for this new mystery that awaited them in the Diarchy. She’d unravel it one thread at a time. Hah, even Rarity’s choice in metaphors was rubbing off on her.

As they walked, Emberglow cast a sidelong glance at her, and Rarity looked back, full of care.

Whatever fate had in store for Emberglow, she wouldn’t be facing these ‘Saints’ alone, and that was all she needed to know they’d be alright.

Chapter 2

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The northern forests of Equestria, with their dark evergreen trees, mountain valleys, and small settlements, passed by far beneath Heartwing as he and Terminus sailed through the soft mid-morning light. Terminus was hooked up to his wheel harness via a pair of detachable steel tug lines, transforming it into a one-pony sky chariot.

It was just the two of them; Rarity and Emberglow had left later per his suggestion, so as to draw less attention from other pegasi by moving in smaller groups. He’d also prepared disguises, donning a thick but tattered hooded cloak to hide his horn and play the part of a tired old cripple, while Terminus wore an utterly ordinary shirt and trousers. If things went south, they would meet up at a safe house in burgeoning Old Canterlot.

Heartwing tried to be good company for Terminus, at first. Even if he couldn’t quell his own internal tension, coiled like a spring, Heartwing could at least try and keep his partner’s spirits up even slightly. But the situation was too serious, and Terminus continued to fly, focused, the silence between them a far cry from relaxed.

Trying to make one set plan with this many unknowns would be a fool’s errand, and Heartwing was no fool. At least not in the intellectual sense. If there was one thing all his experience had taught him, it was that some level of chaos was inevitable, but that chaos could be steered into the right direction.

He had one main worry which refused to leave his thoughts: What if the rumors were, against all logic, true? What if, by some miracle, his dearest love and source of strength had actually come back to life?

Chest twisting, he shifted anxiously. Would he freeze in awe, weeping? Spray fireworks from his horn and jump for joy, leaping into her forelegs? Be consumed by creeping, gnawing doubt about the rest of their new start together? All at once and more? Heartwing groaned, clenching his eyes shut.

No, it couldn’t be, Heartwing reassured himself, taking a deep breath. Surely, they were merely highly convincing impersonators trying to deceive the already indoctrinated citizens of the Dairchy for their own gain. A pony pretending to be a Saint would be able to bend the will of the people for all sorts of malicious ends.

So lost in his musings was Heartwing that he barely paid attention to the view. Neither the slow transition of the biome below to rolling hills and fields nor the motion of the sun across the heavens pulled at his focus. Even Terminus’ tail end, situated directly in front of him, had no effect.

Only the beginnings of a gradual descent combined with the sprawling city suddenly under his hooves drew Heartwing into full situational alertness. “Ah, it seems we’re here.”

“Yes,” said Terminus, glancing over his shoulder at him, his lips set in a line. “Bit for your thoughts?”

“I have too many bouncing around in my skull at the moment, my dear,” he replied, plastering on a forced grin. “Best we get to it promptly, for the sake of my sanity.”

“Is that really the only reason?” Terminus pointedly asked, staring into and through him.

Heartwing exhaled. Now was not the time to reopen this can of worms. “Yes, it is,” he insisted. “I’m treating this as a matter of national security for the Empire, and nothing more.”

Heartwing watched as Terminus turned this reply over in his mind for a long moment. “If you say so,” he sighed, turning back to face the sky ahead. “We’re talking after we grab lunch, though. And this was a long flight; I need to rest my wings.”

“Of course, of course. But who says we can’t do both at once?” If anything, sharing a meal would make them look less out of place as they eavesdropped, Heartwing reasoned.

“Yes, sir,” Terminus agreed, continuing his descent. The sudden shift to a more professional tone of voice stung Heartwing a little.

For myriad reasons, Heartwing hadn’t been to New Canterlot City in the flesh since that intense day two years prior, and much had changed besides the weather. Buildings that had been too damaged in the fighting had been torn down and replaced, while others had clearly been patched up to some degree. The storm had spared nothing, from pauper tenement houses to the largest manses.

No pegasi, Knight or otherwise, moved to intercept them as Terminus brought Heartwing down into a gentle landing on the street in a middle-class neighborhood of the same sort once common in Ponyville. Family businesses on the first floor, living spaces above, ponies going about their days and exchanging pleasantries. Neighbors made ordinary small talk about the weather and their hobbies, finding contentment in their unchanging routines.

However, as a Knight Vigilant passed by on patrol across the street, the mood shifted, bringing to the fore the true extent of the Diarchy’s difference from the old, harmonious norm: a lingering undercurrent of fear lying beneath surface-level happiness. Conversations ceased as he neared, lest he find some issue in their words. Heartwing bowed his head, both to feign respect for the authority the Knight represented and to better hide his horn. For while there weren’t that many ponies out and about in general, the total absence of unicorns among them was pronounced.

As Terminus unhooked himself from the wheel harness, Heartwing subtly scanned the street from beneath his hood. The place was nearly deserted, with most of the shops having CLOSED signs hanging in the windows.

“It’s too quiet,” Heartwing whispered, as Terminus turned all the way around. “Something is definitely going on.”

Terminus’ stomach rumbled. He blushed faintly, raising a solitary eyebrow.

“Right, right. Food first.”

They walked down the road at a decent clip, Heartwing’s wheels clacking against the cobblestones. An actual gallop was beyond him, but if they did need to make a run for it, he could build up plenty of speed in a straight line.

After two blocks, they found an open eatery. Terminus decisively beelined right for the entrance. Heartwing checked his peripheral vision for anything even slightly amiss as they approached.

The restaurant, Golden Pizza, could best be described as humble. With worn yellow paint on the outside walls and grease stains so numerous on the tables that Heartwing could see them clearly even through the windows, it seemed to be the closest thing to fast food in the Diarchy, by his reckoning. The sort of place Princess Twilight and Rainbow Dash would have loved, with their tastes for grease and carbs respectively.

At any rate, this place was perfect for their needs.

Brass hinges creaked loudly as Terminus held the door open for him. A portly orange earth pony stallion, seemingly the sole proprietor, spun from the large brick oven he was using to greet them. “Welcome to Golden Pizza.”

“Hello,” Heartwing said, glancing around the interior. They weren’t the only customers; a couple sat in the back, managing their fussy foals, and a trio of mares in very cheap-looking yet stylish outfits chatted amicably over their slices.

Terminus moved up to the counter and planted his hooves, scanning the chalkboard menu. Heartwing followed automatically.

Apparently satisfied with the state of the oven, the stallion smirked as he joined them. “Lemme guess: You heard the news and flew in from the next town over?”

“Exactly,” Heartwing replied, the half-lie emerging effortlessly. “Quite shocking, isn't it? I had to see for myself.”

“You and everypony else!” the chef confirmed, excited.

“Then why are you here?” Terminus asked.

“Saints or no Saints, ponies still gotta eat,” he said, gesturing to the other patrons. “The only thing more important to me than keeping the faith is keeping my neighbors fed.”

“Fair enough. We are hungry and appreciate the service,” Heartwing said, smiling truthfully. Diarchy citizen or not, you never disparaged a cook on an empty stomach.

“Thanks,” the chef replied. “So, what are you having?”

“Veggie Lover’s. Extra bell peppers,” Heartwing said. Honestly he didn’t care much for the peppers, but Terminus did, and a bit of charity wouldn’t hurt with things this tense. Terminus shot him a grateful look.

After passing over some bits, they sat down and waited for their order. Heartwing examined the trio of mares they’d spotted on the way in, sharing a knowing look with Terminus. They lapsed into patient silence, and beneath his hood, Heartwing swiveled his ears in the group’s direction.

“Like, I’m still feeling lightheaded after just seeing them!” said the first mare.

“For real, for real,” confirmed the second, nodding sagely in his peripheral vision. “And could you believe those robes? I’d never be able to pull off that look in a million years, even if I had the bits for enchanted fabric.”

“No way those are ordinary enchantments,” the first mare insisted. “They have to be gifts from the Diarchs.”

“Does it honestly even matter what they’re wearing?” the third mare posed. “Their bearing and words alone made me feel like a shameful little foal again.”

“Me too,” admitted the first mare, softly. “We’re unworthy to approach their greatness; it’s why we left, remember?”

“That, and the growing crowd was starting to make Polish uncomfortable,” the second mare said, turning to the third.

“Sorry,” Polish apologized, expression sinking.

“It’s fine, really,” said the first mare, placing a gentle hoof on Polish’s withers. “It’s not like we won’t get the chance to see them again later. Saint Twilight said that she and Saint Fluttershy would be in the city for a while. Just answering all the Knights’ questions at the New Star Shine Building is probably going to take a whole moon.”

Heartwing stiffened. The “Saints” certainly left an impression on these mares, regardless of the accuracy in their portrayal. Two of them were in the city, likely heading for the New Star Shine Building. And one of them was Fluttershy.

The thought of any version of Fluttershy entering that place sent shivers down what was left of his spine. Even without a fiendish Windigo containment contraption in a secret basement, it was still the headquarters of the Knights Mystic. A snake’s den of torturers and spies.

He was broken free of his thoughts once more by the sound of something being set in front of him. Terminus had returned with their pizza. Heartwing hadn’t even noticed him move.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Heartwing grabbed a slice and started eating. It was pretty good, all things considered, though just as greasy as he’d expected.

Terminus met his eyes, radiating concern, both for Heartwing and the news they’d just become privy to. But he ignored the look, projecting contentment. They couldn’t afford to blow their cover now. “This is great pizza,” he said.

After a beat, Terminus replied “It is.” Then, between bites, he asked the million bit question. “Are you going to say anything to the Saints when we see them?”

Taking his time, Heartwing methodically chewed, swallowed, and answered. For once, he actually quoted from the Book of the Saints. “Unto all ponykind, good or ill, I reveal the truth: To all, that which is deserved shall be given.”

Heartwing and Terminus proceeded into the core of the city, the Tower District, with Terminus in the lead. The closer they got, the more numerous the crowds became. First a trickle, and then a surge, all moving in the same direction like the rising tide. Only instead of the roaring surf against the rocks, this tide was punctuated by the susurrus of conversation. Within the growing mass, the two of them drew zero attention. All eyes were pointed forward.

Heartwing was keeping his wide open.

Soon, they could go no farther. The central plaza was packed with what had to be thousands of ponies all cramming themselves into the space by way of a huge circle. Heartwing had never seen so many Diarchy bodies in one place outside of combat. He looked to Terminus. “Three guesses as to who’s standing in the middle of that, and the first two don’t count.”

“The Saints,” he answered, eyes narrowed.

They moved in. The sheer number of ponies present was a testament to the Saints’ magnetism, whatever its purpose. There were many armored or robed Knights present, but none looked their way, even as Heartwing studied their makeup.

As expected, there were representatives from all four orders still fully loyal to the doctrine of the Diarchy among the throng. Jubilant, Vigilant, Adamant, and Mystic alike had joined the civilians, many staring in awe. Some mustered enough courage to shout words of praise or pleas for salvation, while others were genuflecting in adulation.

There were only a few exceptions with the wherewithal to try and maintain order. “No shoving, ponies!” shouted a Knight Vigilant. “And don’t hog space in front! For the love of all that is holy, show some respect!”

“Pegasi, take to hovering, clear some room!” instructed another Vigilant, already ascending into the air himself.

Terminus shot Heartwing a questioning look. Heartwing gestured wordlessly upwards with a slight motion of his head. Taking his cue, Terminus flew up a few dozen feet, joining the other pegasi in gazing upon the figures in the center of the crowd.

Heartwing couldn’t see how his partner was reacting from this angle, at first, while he looked ahead. Only after a few wingbeats did Terminus shift his gaze back down to Heartwing, his mouth set in a line as complex emotions warred on his face. Disbelief, anticipation, confusion, clear envy, a hint of grief. Then, he turned to face ahead again.

He could have tried to shout comforting words over the din, asking Terminus what was wrong. But the atmosphere was still too bleak. Heartwing’s words would have sluiced off again. Instead, he continued to approach. At this distance, ponies weren’t packed too tightly to circumnavigate, and, seeing his wheels plus his missing hind leg, many of them shifted slightly to the side to let him squeeze in.

His heart began to race in anticipation as he approached. With fewer ponies ahead of him, he began to catch glimpses of familiar hues. Each was a flash of fleeting moments long passed, phantoms once laid to rest now tearing their way free, each an aching nostalgic yearning as sweet and debilitating as the finest vintage.

Then fragments of two voices reached his ears. One he had heard much of recently, coming from Rarity’s gifted information-storage construct. That voice, though, had been bereft of emotion, unlike the one that wafted over the heads of the ponies in front of him. Whether that emotion was genuine remained to be seen.

The other stirred a centuries-dormant longing in his breast.

Before he knew it, he was through. Heartwing choked on his own breath, for there stood Fluttershy.

The likeness was immaculate. She was in her prime, appearing around as old as the time they’d met, her butter-yellow coat and long, pink mane and tail perfectly maintained. Her body was covered by a one-shouldered garment in the style of ancient Pegasopolis, a toga, stola or something of the sort. The garment shimmered with an ever-shifting gradient of soft greens, blues, and pinks, as if the aurora borealis itself had been pulled down from the northern sky and wrapped around her.

Next to her stood Twilight, wearing a matching garment. She, too, was the spitting image of the mare who had been his irreplaceable friend, save for the lack of a horn upon her brow. Also present by their sides were two tall, bipedal creatures that looked to be made out of silvery metal and some sort of black material. Their limbs were too thin for them to be covered in armor, even for an Abyssinnian. Magically animated golems, perhaps? It didn’t matter; his focus was on Fluttershy.

Currently, she was talking to somepony on the opposite side of the crowd, standing with Saint Twilight and the others near the center of an empty space about fifty feet across in the core of the plaza. Whether out of intimidation or respect, the ponies had given them room. “Why, yes, I was indeed with the Diarchs all these years,” said Fluttershy. “They’re both truly wonderful. All ponies should strive to be righteous in this life and the next, so that they might meet them one day.”

Heartwing stared. Listened. Scrutinized.

With that question answered, more voices immediately chimed in. But the loudest was a stallion. “Saint Fluttershy!” he exclaimed. She turned to face him, and he continued. “My sister’s in the marine corps, and she was supposed to be back from her tour in the Dragonlands by now. Can you tell me if she’s alright?”

“I’m sure your sister is fine, sir,” Fluttershy said, voice gentle but firm. “And if not, I’ll be certain to deal with those responsible.”

Inhaling with an audible gasp, the stallion dropped into a low bow before retreating deeper back into the group. He was immediately replaced by another, the colt’s lanky body barely qualifying him as such.

“My Saint,” began the colt, ears folded in desperation, “Mama’s kennel got hit by lightning in an accident last week and burnt down! Now all the shelter dogs don’t have a place to sleep, but we don’t have the money to rebuild. I don’t care about us, but we need a miracle to restore it, for the pups! Please, Saint Fluttershy?” he pleaded, bowing.

“Healthy dogs are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves,” the Saint replied, her tone clipped. “If a work of fate destroyed the kennel, then perhaps a member of your family did something to incur the ire of the Diarchs. If you renew your faith and work hard to rebuild, you might find the brand new kennel is better for it.”

The longing in Heartwing’s chest fizzled out, replaced with a growing heat. The pony before him was not the same mare he’d once known. Her mannerisms were wholly different; Fluttershy never would have promised retribution like that, let alone ignore homeless puppies. This mare was not his Fluttershy. She was a Saint, icon of the faith, plucked from the Book and made flesh. And he was far from faithful. His blood began to boil and his thoughts whirled.

Heartwing forced himself to resume focus as his brows furrowed beneath his hood. He’d missed something, and now Saint Fluttershy was exchanging a look with the golem-thing next to her. It had the number ten painted in white on both sides of its faceless head. Or were they helmets? Their shape was unusual; it was hard to tell. The other creature, accompanying Twilight, bore the number one, but was otherwise indistinguishable.

If Saint Fluttershy had spoken to it, she had done so too softly for him to hear. She was now back to addressing the clamor of impromptu petitioners and supplicants. Her next focus was a young pegasus mare, frantically waving her hooves overhead. “Yes?”

The mare practically swooned upon being acknowledged. “Lady Fluttershy, you’ve always been my role model, and I really, really want to join the Knights Angelic, but I was wondering, do you approve of the direction the order has taken since being rebuilt?”

Saint Fluttershy didn’t even stop to think before answering. “While they’re certainly far from the contemptible heretics my original order regrettably became, as genuinely consorting with non-ponies is a grievous sin, the new Knights Angelic do need my guiding hoof. To truly serve their purpose, they should take a more proactive approach and rejoin the Diarchy, serving as I originally intended. Even injured and meek, other creatures are to be feared, lest they divide us.”

She extended a foreleg upwards, continuing. “You have the enthusiasm and thoughtful devotion of a truly exemplary pony. Should you succeed in your training, I would be glad to have you as a Knight, young one.”

The mare beamed, her s wings buzzing with joy. “Eeeee, thank you! I’ll make you proud, my Saint!”

Simultaneously, The heat within Heartwing burned brighter and brighter until all he could feel was pure, unadulterated rage. His limbs began to shake as his restraint quickly began to evaporate.

Fluttershy championed those who were suffering, the only group she had never been afraid of. This caricature before him was a twisted joke, one that had more than run its course. And he could contain himself no longer.

“YOU’RE NOT FLUTTERSHY!” Heartwing screamed with his entire being, almost tearing his throat raw.

Every other voice went quiet as his outburst drew everypony’s attention. He didn’t care, breaking through the invisible circle of reverence which kept the other ponies at bay.

The quiet shattered as quickly as it had come, with overlapping cries of “Nonbeliever!” and “Of course she is!” assaulting his ears. Some ponies even leaped after him, ready to tackle the audacious, broken fool they thought he was and drag him away.

However, the Saints themselves were not among them. Saint Twilight turned away from the white-maned Mystic Inquisitor she’d been speaking with to face him, expression inscrutable. Saint Fluttershy simply glanced up at the figure standing by her side, and it raised a metallic hand, quickly tracing runes in the air.

Before Heartwing could be assaulted, a chartreuse dome of magic appeared around him, and a dozen hooves bounced off its surface. Was he saved, or was he trapped? Too late to go back now. Terminus must have been worried sick. Still, he did not take his eyes away from the Saints.

As the Saints and their golems approached, the Diarchy ponies he’d offended stepped back slightly while still watching him warily all the while.

Once she’d gotten close enough, Saint Fluttershy spoke. “And who are you to make such an accusation?” she asked, her stolen voice having taken a curious tone.

Heartwing couldn’t hold in the smirk. “Someone who knew her in life,” he declared, before throwing off his cloak.

This time, the onlookers all repeated the same word: “Unicorn!”

Saint Fluttershy’s ears turned briefly in the direction of the loudest among them before returning to focus on Heartwing. Her tail swished once to the side. “I see. So you doubt not just me, but all of us. The whole of our teachings.”

“Of course I do,” he seethed, not breaking eye contact. “You’re clearly impostors. And the teachings you uphold are all twisted lies. If you read the Friendship Journal, you’d know that.”

The creature bearing the number one spoke, with a gruff mare’s voice. “This pony is clearly a problem, my Saint. Should I take care of him?”

Heartwing ignored her, his gut churning with displeasure as his legs locked in fury. The sweat beading across his back in fear and heat went ignored. He would say his piece, dammit.

“How dare you pretend to be my friends - sully their names even further,” Heartwing hissed through gritted teeth. “I don’t care what you’re trying to achieve here, whoever you are, but I will not tolerate this. They were good ponies who extended a hoof in friendship to all kinds, not violent xenophobes who imposed their will on others through fear and force!”

This would be the part where he blasted them with the Elements of Harmony, were they present. Instead, he keenly felt their absence, and even the small but noticeable distance between himself and Terminus. They found their true strength together. Now, he faced them alone.

Saint Fluttershy’s brow creased at his impassioned words, though she held her tongue.

Saint Twilight, however, did not, the mare unmoved by his display. “No, Archpaladin. The opinion of one misguided stallion changes nothing. Yet I must make it clear: we are the Saints of yore,” she declared.

Without warning, a pillar of stone rose beneath her hooves, elevating her such that she loomed over Heartwing.

He stared in stunned silence. There had been no indication at all of any magic being cast, by her or any of the others. It had just happened.

Also, a small part of him observed, Twilight never loomed. She’d endeavored to keep herself approachable. Besides, she’d never been any good at it. Humility had been ingrained deeply within her.

Saint Twilight seemed to take no satisfaction in her new position. Her expression was unreadable, her lips a thin line. However, she did project her voice, addressing the crowd as well as Heartwing. “We have been given a task by the Holy Diarchs on high, granted new life to fulfill this purpose! Just as they have guided you, I shall guide my fellow Saints as the six of us shepherd this country back onto the path of true righteousness!”

Everypony was listening, rapt. Even Heartwing, still seething, could not bring himself to interrupt. If nothing else, he’d learn their plans.

“No longer will lesser creatures besiege our borders from without, for mighty Paladins shall defend you!” Saint Twilight continued, spreading her wings wide. “No longer will unicorns threaten to tear apart our unity from within! The Diarchs, acting through me, will usher in a new golden age of peace, order, and happiness! Under my leadership, miraculous blessings await!”

Once it was clear she’d finished her speech, the crowd erupted into cheers, hollering in joy. But Heartwing’s ears fell. Whoever was wearing Twilight’s face as a mask, they were clearly aiming to take charge.

It would mean another war.

Heartwing could easily teleport out of this net of bodies, but he would never leave Terminus behind. But where was his partner? Perhaps Terminus was waiting for his signal while keeping his eyes peeled for a sneak attack? Or could he be as emotionally overwhelmed by these events as Heartwing was?

Acting on this line of thought, Heartwing raised a forehoof high in a beckoning motion as the cheering died off. “An excellent plan,‘Saint.’” He put as much sarcasm as he could muster into the word as he looked up at the mare. “Too bad it’s been tried before, and recently, I might add. But my friends and I stopped Steadfast Word, and we’ll stop you, too.”

“You cannot,” Saint Twilight said matter-of-factly. The pillar she was standing on retreated back into the earth, and she turned to face the number ten golem thing - the Paladin - who was holding him captive. “Release him,” she ordered.

Heartwing blinked, slowly. That was about the last thing he’d expected. But neither the Paladin nor Saint Fluttershy objected, and the Paladin wordlessly dismissed their shield. He probably could have broken out of it shortly - shields tended to weaken with distance - but still, he wasn’t complaining.

Immediately, the ponies who had tried to attack him previously stalked forward. By now there were more Knights among them, weapons raised to cut him to ribbons. More than one was calling for his head. Heartwing eyed them carefully. At the same time, a familiar black shape began diving through the air, rushing to his side.

Terminus reached him before anypony else could, coming in for a skidding landing. He took up position at Heartwing’s back, covering him. “That was incredibly reckless,” Terminus said, teeth clenched, before adding, “I almost did the same thing.”

Managing a small smile, Heartwing eyed the mob that had them cornered. They were currently unarmed, vastly outnumbered, and far from safe territory. Not the best odds, but he’d faced worse. He lit his horn.

But Saint Twilight raised a hoof. “Let them leave.”

It took a second for what she’d said to sink in. Heartwing gawked in disbelief.

The townsponies and Knights reacted similarly, protesting their Saint’s orders and calling for blood.

“There’s such a thing as being too merciful!”

“What? You must reconsider!”

“He needs to be punished!”

One had a longer argument. “But they’re infidels! And you were the one who said ‘any righteous action, taken in defense of the faith, is just and sanctified’ in the Book!”

“My little ponies, do not immediately resort to violence against your fellow pony,” instructed Saint Twilight, stepping closer. “In this case it may be justified, but that does not mean it is ideal. Violence should still be the last resort. This stallion must be the one known as Heartwing whom I’ve heard much about: he leads a large organization, and harming him would almost certainly provoke a military response. Besides,” she continued, “this is a punishment; the harshest one I can administer.”

Her cold gaze turned to Heartwing. “No matter what these heretics try to achieve, they will ultimately fail, for the strength of the divine is absolute. That shall be their punishment: to look on from afar, helpless to affect change. Their lives will be spent reflecting on their many misdeeds as their false ideology crumbles around them and the rest of ponykind is brought to salvation under the will of the Diarchs.”

Ice prickled across Heartwing’s body. The look in her eyes… there was not a trace of doubt in those violet pools. It was as if she could see the future and know their fate for certain.

Heartwing took a breath and steeled himself. Destiny could be defied. That he was no longer the Spirit of Chaos proved as much. That he was no longer whatever he had been before becoming the Spirit of Chaos proved it as well.

He tried hard to never think of those days.

Regardless, he would continue to fight fate, if fate was on Saint Twilight’s side.

After a long pause, the Knights and others surrounding him and Terminus backed off, sheathing their weapons. Some among the crowd started stomping their hooves in approval, and soon everypony was cheering for their returned savior. Disturbed, Heartwing turned to give one final look to the false Fluttershy. She was smiling, proud of her sister in Sainthood. Paladin Number Ten somehow gave off the impression that they were analyzing him.

Shivering, he spun towards Terminus. “L-Let’s go.” There was nothing more to do here.

“Yeah,” Terminus said, ears flicking urgently.

Nopony accosted them physically as they harnessed Heartwing’s wheels to Terminus again. That did not stop many ponies from berating them verbally, however, even as the two Saints had put the matter behind them and were already back to interacting with the masses and making glacial progress towards the New Star Shine Building.

Before anypony decided to change their minds about attacking, Terminus took to the sky, flapping with strong wingbeats to take them almost straight up. One pony threw a rutabaga at Heartwing and missed. “And don’t come back, scum!” somepony else shouted.

Peeking over his shoulder, Heartwing was glad to see no pegasi pursuing them. Their obedience as a collective was greater than their hatred, even for the most zealous, it seemed. But he was all out of shock after everything that had just happened, leaving only emptiness and confusion. “You okay?” Terminus asked, once they were high up enough to be out of earshot. “Because I’m definitely rattled.”

Heartwing frowned. The sun’s warmth somehow felt oppressive as they flew. “You and me both, Terminus.”

Chapter 3

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The Day Prior

“Be good now, you hear?” the guard said, as he ushered Lady Turquoise, Knight Jubilant, back into her cell.

Turquoise did not know his name. They rotated too often, and didn’t often introduce themselves. What she did know, very intimately by this point, was her cell. With practiced motions, she undid the straps on her wheels and hauled herself onto her cot. By the time she had, the other prisoners had also been locked in, and the guard departed.

It was time to resume her self-imposed task. Now that they were back in their cells, her two crystal pony neighbors could not escape from her sermons.

The Book, her faith, was correct. Any alternative spat on a thousand years of history. If her ceaseless efforts could guide even one soul down the path of truth, it would be worth it. And Turquoise still knew that path in its exactness.

With her efforts here, she could make up for her mistakes, in some small way. What she’d failed to do before she could achieve now. Her destiny might not yet be lost.

It couldn’t be. Without that hope, she was nothing.

Any doubts would be smothered in verse.

Clearing her throat, Turquoise picked up her Book of the Saints from where it rested on her splintering, rickety table. She turned to Mirror Facet, the shiny, silver-coated mare groaning in annoyance from across the bars. The linen of her prison garb chafed at Turquoise’s back as she moved. She’d focused on her other neighbor, Cubic Lattice, yesterday, and both were potential converts.

“I know they were trying to show compassion, but I really wish the palace staff hadn’t given you a copy of that book,” Mirror sighed.

Turquoise’s eyes flicked downward, and her grip on its pages tightened. It’s presence gave her comfort, even if it wasn’t her treasured personal copy. This one had been printed as a lowly paperback instead of the hardcover it warranted!

Still, Mirror’s demeanor would not deter her. “Let us begin with another passage from the Book. The Diarchs spoke to Saint Applejack, saying ‘You shall go to the town north of the forest wild, and there you shall find a plague of deceit which must be cured, otherwise the lives of good mares and stallions might be lost.’ And Saint Applejack listened.”

Mirror Facet groaned, slamming her face into her pillow. “Ugh, not this one again, you nutcase. I get it, scamming creatures is a bad idea, I’m already in the freaking dungeons!”

“But you must internalize why doing so is wrong. Show real remorse,” Turquoise explained patiently. “Otherwise, you may make further incorrect moral judgments in the future.”

“This was never an issue of morals, you already know I wanted to help ponies. I just didn’t have the money to pay for law school, despite it literally being my special talent!” she insisted. “Besides, you’re one to talk about showing remorse! Didn’t you—”

Turquoise’s ears fell. Don’t let her say it.

Shaking her head once, Turquoise cut her off, continuing. “After a journey of many days, the Saint arrived. When she did, she found the town in a buoyant state. A duo of salescolts were distributing an elixir to the worn and battered residents. They claimed the elixir was blessed by the Diarchs themselves, and had the power to cure any ailment. And so they sold many bottles.”

Mirror Facet turned away, her ears folding down as she made a point of trying as hard as possible to ignore Turquoise. But this was as much for herself as it was for Mirror, so she kept going.

“Saint Applejack, in her eloquence, explained to the ponies that this was a lie. ‘The Diarchs granted ponykind knowledge of different medicines to cure what ails them. There is no singular cure for all sickness. This is either a false promise or, worse, zebra witchcraft, which will afflict you with curses.’ However, only the wisest amongst those present listened to her. The rest continued to believe the wicked words of the salescolts.”

Turquoise turned to the next page. “One such pony was a beloved elder, strong of will but weak of body. After taking the elixir, she incorrectly judged that her age-begotten frailties had vanished. ‘I wish to frolic about in the river as I did in my youth,’ she said, and leapt into the water. However, her limbs lacked the strength to fight the current, and she was swept away, drowning before any noble pegasi could save her.

“Upon discovering her, washed up on the riverbank, the ponies of the town realized their error, and were as furious at the salescolts as they were ashamed of the fact they had not heeded Saint Applejack’s words. Their cries of regret reached the ears of the Diarchs, and they transformed the ill-gotten coin of the terrible colts into a golden viper, which bit both of them before slithering away into the woods.”

“What a waste of precious bits,” quipped Guzuko, the griffon hen from Turquoise’s neighboring cell. Turquoise ignored her. Even if she hadn’t been forbidden to interact with her kind, she wouldn’t have. Disgusting carrion-eaters, the lot of them. The griffon could earn salvation in her next life.

They probably couldn’t even feel guilt. At least, not in the way Turquoise did, like waves lapping at the shore, slowly eroding every wall she built. She pressed on, ignoring that errant thought.

“As the pair of evildoers writhed on the ground in pain, the venom eating through their flesh, Saint Applejack gestured to their remaining stock. ‘It seems you are in need of a cure. Why not imbibe your miraculous elixir?’ she proposed.

“Through their anguish, they replied in unison. ‘We were deceiving everypony! The elixir’s power is a fabrication we devised to scam those too trusting out of their wealth!’ Saint Applejack and the townsponies did not move to aid them. Thus did the Saint impart her wisdom: ‘Then take this lesson with you into your next lives: Do not make untrue claims of your works, lest you bring about great misfortune for yourselves and others.’ And so the virtue of Honesty was reaffirmed.”

“Again, there’s no chance that’s what happened,” Mirror Facet insisted, shooting Turquoise a look over her shoulder. “You’ve been indoctrinated by hostile rhetoric, dumbass. The kind ponies of that era’s Equestria wouldn’t have just sat back and watched as two stallions died of snake bites for any reason. Doesn’t matter if it was murder or an accident. You want me to cite the legal definitions of each?”

“Oh, please, stop interacting with her already,” Cubic Lattice chimed in before Turquoise could respond, tapping her sapphire hoof on her table. “She won’t let us do anything else until she’s finished. And I’d like to have the chance to hear myself think, today.”

Turquoise welcomed the interference. It gave her something to focus on besides what Mirror had said. She frequently rebuked the content of the Book, as heretics did, and these rebuttals disturbed her. Made her question, in a way that was growing more and more difficult to ignore. A churning in her stomach, a dreadful retrospection.

No, that would not do. She took a breath. Focus on your charges. Your mission.

“Thinking? About what?” Turquoise posed. “We’re in prison; there isn’t much to think about besides how exactly you wound up in here and why. I’ve done plenty of that, myself, and it’s far from pleasant or illuminating.”

“Oh? Care to share? I could go for some schadenfreude,” Cubic said with a smirk, crossing her hooves behind her head as she reclined on her threadbare cot.

“Yeah, that I would appreciate,” echoed Guzuko, who folded her wings.

Turquoise, however, frowned. The churning redoubled as her focus returned inward.

Yes, she had done a lot of self-reflection on that during her time here over these past two years, as well as a lot of listening.

Even in prison, she heard rumors. From what she’d overheard, her comrades had eventually succeeded in slaying the abomination Flurry Heart, only for two more “alicorns” to take her place. One claimed to be the Great Heretic Sunset Shimmer, and the other the false Rarity who had landed Turquoise in this situation to begin with. Neither mare had been that manner of creature in life, and to present otherwise was utter nonsense.

Now, this Rarity was helping run the Empire. Yet while she had risen, Grandmaster Steadfast Word and Grandmaster Proud Stone had fallen. It left a sour taste in her mouth. The Diarchy was surely on the side of justice, so how had her brothers- and sisters-in-arms failed so spectacularly?

How had she failed so spectacularly? Was it her mistake siding with Steadfast, even though he’d sounded so reasonable, tasking her with the mission that had led to both of them being struck down, crippled and caged?

Was it even further back, when she let her friend fall from her Radiant place?

Turquoise still didn’t know the real reason why she’d had to lose everything, and it ate at her.

Of course, she wasn’t about to admit all this to them.

She shoved her introspection aside, returning her attention to her fellow prisoners. “Is reveling in the suffering of others how you cope with the repetitive nature of this continued existence, settled upon us like a shroud?

“Every day here is indistinguishable from the last. Wake up, eat the provided breakfast, stretch in the exercise courtyard, eat the provided meals, sleep, repeat. It seems that this depressing place has gotten to you, without faith to buoy your spirits,” she noted.

“See, Cube? As if that’d work,” Mirror said, rolling her eyes. “All this lady does is recite verses at us or start lecturing like this. She’ll just keep going anyway.”

“That’s not true, I don’t only proselytize,” Turquoise insisted. “I also pray in silence. For my country, my family, the salvation of all who might stray.”

Mirror’s brows furrowed as she stared more intently at her. “And you believe that’s enough, after everything? I’ll state it plainly, since you clearly didn’t catch on: you’re a hypocrite, Turquoise. The officers literally offered to move you into a special condominium for house arrest because of your condition, and you refused. Because of all the ‘good behavior’ you’ve shown, they said all you’d needed to do was apologize. Express some form of regret for your actions. And you couldn’t even do that.”

Turquoise sighed. They didn’t understand. “Of course I have regrets. Who doesn’t? But I don’t care about the ability to cook my own food, make my own schedule, or wear actual clothes next to my pride and dignity as a Knight. It’s the one thing that wasn’t stolen from me.”

There was the tiniest hint of uncertainty in her mind as she said it, though she kept it from creeping into her voice.

Even her faith threatened to slip away from her, the longer she spent trapped in this accursed city. Having another pony from home to talk to would have helped, but Turquoise hadn’t even gotten any letters. Her family and friends had probably been told she’d been killed in the line of duty.

She pushed herself as upright as she could, projecting her voice. “The abominations needed to be purged, and I was glad to carry out the task,” Turquoise declared, speaking it into truth. “Even if you would have taken that deal, I refuse to compromise my principles for mere creature comforts. I shall gladly endure these indignities if it means the Diarchs and Saint Pinkamena will reward me for my faith, in this life or the next.”

“Really?” Guzuko said, her annoyed expression somehow twisting further. “And I thought this mare was insane after she tore into Lute over a bit of PDA. Seriously, who constantly calls a couple of friends with benefits ‘heathens’ and spits in their face?”

Turquoise still did not dignify the griffon with a response. They’d been a homosexual and interracial couple, deserving only of her contempt.

And yet, the picture they’d painted had made Turquoise… curious. The Book said one thing, but the daily lives of these creatures said another. It was heresy of the highest order, plain to see, yet Lute and Guzuko had seemingly gotten along without issue.

It was the same with unicorn magic around the palace grounds. That art was also abundant, and seemed to better many lives.

At first, it seemed to be madness, but after two years of being subjected to such sights and gossip, it had almost begun to sound reasonable.

And that terrified her.

Indeed, none of this blatant sinning led to the destruction of ponykind. The Empire was currently not at war with any other nation, and despite all the heretical freedoms, freedoms which should have led to lawless anarchy, ponies actually seemed… happier.

Even this prison was far smaller than any she’d ever heard of back home, the creatures interred within the exceptions rather than the rule. In fact, Turquoise had been incarcerated here longer than almost anyone else. Most of the other prisoners served very short sentences, for acts such as repeated thievery or getting into brawls after one too many cups.

Well, excluding those within the maximum security section. Turquoise had passed its thick, enchanted crystal door almost daily during her time here. However, she’d never seen the inside, and could only imagine what sort of inequine monsters these heathens considered to be dire threats.

The alternative, that it held ponies of the Diarchy not so different from herself, was far worse to contemplate.

Lost in her musings, she nearly missed Cubic Lattice chiming in. “Eh, she used to be more insufferable as a cellmate, even with her ass-backwards values,” she begrudgingly noted. “At least Turquoise agreed to my idea of passing the time with science texts.”

Guzuko snorted, her glare still promising vengeance upon Turquoise. Cubic, meanwhile, didn’t seem to care.

It had been a good idea, regardless of the morally dubious source, Turquoise admitted internally. She would have risked losing her worldliness and the Book its context otherwise. Science specifically was fine, but anything more would be tainted with heresies, views of morality and implied instruction on life contradictory to the Book’s.

Yes, the only instructions Turquoise, or anyone, needed to follow were those laid down by the Diarchs and their Saints. She couldn't afford to let their small kindnesses lull her into a false sense of appreciation, allow her to be corrupted like Emberglow was.

Turquoise was still perfectly fine.

“Forget the textbooks,” began Mirror, her tone mischievous. “In my professional assessment, what this girl really needs is to get some action for once. Like, what are the odds a mare who’s so stiff she doesn’t bat an eye at killing on orders has ever gotten laid? Bet she’d loosen up and relax if somebody showed her all the best parts of life she’s been missing. Any volunteers?”

As Guzuko and Cubic laughed at her expense, Turquoise bristled.

“I will not be led astray, no matter how long I’m held captive, or what you people tell me about the city beyond these cells,” she replied, this close to seething. “So there’s no need to continue blaspheming or pressing me any further.”

Cubic and Mirror were misleading her somehow. They had to be.

As if they actually cared, as her comrades did.

Abandoning her efforts at converting them for the day, she laid back down and rolled onto her side, facing away. She shut her muzzle and tried to calm down. Whatever they did next, Turquoise tuned out. Her sermon was long over.

The sun eventually dipped below her high window, shrouding the mare’s wing of the dungeon in deep gray. Her dinner’s flavors, brought to her, were equally drab.

Hers was a state of limbo, biding time until something changed. Maybe the rest of the alicorns would go mad and kill each other, or the Diarchs would cleanse the land in holy fire.

Until then, she would find security and peace of mind through her continued worship. In worship, all her worrisome thoughts were banished, or at least shoved into the recesses of her mind. In worship, she could not hear the doubt that threatened to poison her belief. The notion that, maybe, the faith itself was but a construct, her life a lie.

No. Turquoise shook her head, hard. All these contradictions made her thoughts twist in ways she could not bear. She had to get back to reading in the dim light. Soon, she’d have the entire text memorized, their meaning painstakingly etched into her very bones.

Despite the scratchy sheets, another indignity Turquoise had become accustomed to, the call of sleep soon claimed her, an identical tomorrow beckoning.

Rippling pain from her side quite literally knocked Turquoise awake. She let out an undignified yelp of surprise, her eyes shooting open at the possibility she was being attacked. And here it is, she thought, despite her grogginess. The empire is showing its true colors at last.

Turquoise was surprised to discover that it was still the middle of the night. Faint moonlight streamed in through the windows, casting the metal and stone in a dark blue pallor. But the truly unusual sight was the bipedal figure looming next to her. Her self-satisfaction gave way to apprehension. A cold chill rushed along what was left of her spine.

“W-Who are you?” Turquoise asked, pushing herself back as she squinted to try and make out more details. “D-Don’t hurt me!”

“I will not hurt you. I am a Paladin; I serve the Saints,” the figure - a she - replied. Her voice was tinny, as if she was speaking through a thick metal helm. “I was sent to take you back to the Holy Equestrian Diarchy.”

Turquoise stared in bewilderment. Her attention flicked momentarily to the cell door.

It had been flung totally open.

Eyes wide, she looked back to the so-called Paladin. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“No,” said the Paladin, reaching forwards to pinch her ear between fingers that were hard and coarse, almost like scales. To Turquoise’s amazement, it stung!

Between her eyes adjusting to the light and the reduced distance between them, Turquoise could make out the Paladin’s form in detail. Her body was all hard lines and overlapping plates, too large to be scales but too small to be a suit of armor. She almost looked too thin to be stable while upright. A body that was rigid yet devoid of imperfections, a marionette given fluid life, carved in seamless black and purest silver.

If she hadn’t spoken to her, Turquoise would have thought the Paladin a frightful metal monster of unsettling artifice. But her higher faculties overrode her instincts as mind raced frantically.

Was this some new initiative in the Diarchy, one that created better knights who could walk upright? Or had she actually come down from heaven? Had the Lunar Diarch crafted this being from dreamstuff? The creature was too alien for a rational explanation.

Buoyed with elation and burgeoning curiosity, Turquoise rapidly climbed into her wheels and quickly straightened her mane with a few passes of her brush. “H-How did you even get in here? Infiltrating a place like this must be supremely difficult with all the security.”

The Paladin did not answer her question. “Looks like you’re ready. Good. Wait a moment,” she said before unceremoniously leaving her cell for the next.

Taking this in stride, she turned to look at the Paladin through the bars and bowed her head for a moment to show her gratitude before stepping out into the hall. Turquoise watched as she traced a rune spell to unlock the rest of the occupied cells and then jostled everyone else awake, prompting a series of surprised shouts.

Once she had everyone’s attention, the Paladin spoke again, gesturing to Turquoise. “I’m breaking her out and taking her back to the Holy Equestrian Diarchy. Those of you who wish for salvation, or if you just want to be free again, come with me.”

None of the three other prisoners present shared Turquoise’s enthusiasm. “I think I’m good, thanks,” said Cubic Lattice, her voice conveying sarcasm even as her eyes were wide with surprise. To Turquoise, it came across as a thinly veiled defense mechanism. “I’ll be back with my family in a few months.”

“And wind up a third-class citizen? Hard pass,” said Guzuko, her eyes narrowed even in the dark. “I’m not afraid of you, crazy evil freak thing. Good luck escaping the city and then trekking all the way there when her legs don’t work, dumbass,” she added, pointing to Turquoise.

Mirror Facet definitely was afraid, the mare shaking on the floor against the far wall of her cell. Turquoise pitied her.

“They don’t deserve your generosity anyway,” Turquoise decided, impressed that she was actually willing to offer such charity. “Especially if they can’t tell the holy from the monstrous.”

The Paladin hummed at that, then turned for the exit, beckinging Turquoise to follow. The moment was so surreal, Turquoise nearly tripped over her own hooves. Her former cellmates were quiet now, save for the faint sound of Mirror’s rapid, terrified breathing. In the sudden near-silence, Turquoise’s hoofsteps rang loudly on the stone floor with her squeaking wheelchair in contrast to the Paladin’s deathly silent gait.

They carefully passed through the heavy door to the cell block, into a hall illuminated by wall sconces. The night guard was slumped in an ungainly manner over the watchmare’s desk, unconscious.

More important, Turquoise concluded, was the Paladin herself. It was definitely clear now that she wasn’t a normal creature at all, but rather a divine avatar sculpted of gleaming metal using techniques beyond mortal ken. Turquoise gaped in amazement. “May I ask you name, Paladin?”

“Not important,” she said, moving towards the entrance to the stallion’s wing. She tapped the side of her faceless head, where the number four was sharply displayed. “You can call me by my rank if you want. Paladin Four.”

Her rank? The number? Did she not have a name, an identity? Was that what one needed to do, to be a true servant of the Diarchs? Revoke everything except belief in the words of the Saints?

Turquoise figured that neither she nor anypony else alive was capable of that.

The thought opened the floodgates. There were so many questions about the Paladin. Where had she been before this night? Why now, and why not in equine form? Had Turquoise somehow earned this? Because she didn’t feel like she had.

Turquoise had so much to ask, yet she held her tongue. There would be time for such later. “Understood.”

Turquoise waited as best she could, trembling with nervous energy, while Paladin Four slipped into the other half of the dungeon, likely to ask the rest of the prisoners if they would join them.

Paladin Four emerged again a short time later, without anyone else. The Paladin showed no expression at the apparent rejection. “Alright, let’s move.”

Following without question, Turquoise stuck close to the Paladin as she led the way along through the depths of the castle. Bare stone gave way to crystal that shimmered faintly in the late hour as they ascended a staircase. They passed a pair of guards, also unconscious, slumped beneath a watercolor landscape painting. Her Paladin companion was certainly in her element, and far be it from Turquoise to break the cautious silence as Paladin Four peeked around the corner ahead.

Once more beckoned along, Turquoise followed down more corridors until they came to an unguarded window leading outside, already cracked open. Reaching for her side, Paladin Four pulled out a small wand from somewhere, carved ornately from wood and stained golden.

“What’s that for?” Turquoise asked as Paladin Four helped carry her over the threshold.

Paladin Four elegantly climbed through after her before explaining. “Long-distance teleportation. Saint Twilight set up an anchor for all of us, but the castle’s wards would have detected and tracked it if I did so while we were inside.”

Teleportation? That was impossible with runes—

Then it clicked, and confusion gave way to astonishment. “Wait, Saint Twilight did?” As in, personally?

Before Turquoise could ponder the implications of this any further, Paladin Four waved the wand, and Turquoise was blinded by a flash of light.

When the stars faded from her vision, they were abruptly standing in the interior of a large building. Bright white lines of light were spaced uniformly apart on the ceiling, obviously magical in nature. The floor and ceiling were clear of dirt or debris, but stained, as if the wood and tile had been in a state of disrepair and only recently repaired. The interior walls had been knocked out at some point, leaving only support pillars. At the far ends of the space, glass walls which looked brand new kept out the cold night air. Beside them were unusual works of artifice she could not immediately discern the purpose of.

“Ah, hey, there you are!” somepony exclaimed.

Turquoise spun to face the source of the voice, her wheels squeaking on the polished floor, only to freeze in her tracks.

It was Saint Rainbow Dash.

That legendary mane was unmistakable. Another Paladin stood beside her, this one bearing the number two, though otherwise indistinguishable.

Turquoise choked on her own tongue. Could she be absolutely sure she was awake? Or maybe she’d been fed illicit hallucinogens?

“You remember where the altar is?” asked the literal, actual Saint standing right there. Her robes, imbued with shifting, holy light, added to the gravitas of her presence.

“Of course,” Paladin Four replied, her stance professional and unshifting.

“Great! You know what to do, so I’ll leave you to it,” said Saint Rainbow Dash. “We’re about to head out, but Pinkamena should be back soon.”

“I’m still not sure it’s the right call, going with this mare,” Paladin Two interjected, gesturing to Turquoise. Her voice was downright saccharine, compared to Four’s. But the way she held herself was more playful, and yet… it struck Turquoise as somehow forced.

Too many screws were spinning loose in Turquoise’s head; she could barely breathe, let alone analyze!

“She doesn’t seem like leadership material to me. Without the drive, the hunger…” Paladin Two trailed off with a shrug and a bow. “But it’s not my place to object. You and yours know what’s best for everyone, after all, my Saint.”

“Exactly,” Saint Rainbow Dash confirmed. “I hear you, but trust Pinkamena and Twilight, she’ll do great.”

She shot a winning smile at Turquoise, who was now very close to fainting on the spot. “Get excited! Big changes are coming! Oh, and nice to meet you by the way, Lady Turquoise.”

Saint Rainbow Dash knew her name. Saint Rainbow Dash knew her name.

Heart fluttering, the strength in her legs gave out and she bonelessly collapsed face first onto the floor.

Sensation returned slowly.

First came weight and touch, even as she remained groggy. Turquoise was lying on her stomach, feeling better than she had in a while.

Then came her consciousness and the memories of last night.

No, not memories. A dream, surely. She knew all that had been too good to be true. Paladins and Saints, a prison break? Of course she’d been dreaming. It had been a very vivid dream, certainly, but a dream nonetheless.

Forcing her eyes open, the blurs in front of her gradually sharpened into focus. Turquoise did not see the familiar bare wall of her cell. Instead, she was resting on a hard, silvery surface, and a translucent dome that had been covering her body was peeling itself away. Her hearing returned only to catch the tail end of the faint whirring noise accompanying the motion.

She recoiled in confusion, or tried to. Her body was still leaden with lethargy, as if she’d been sedated, but that was rapidly wearing off, cast off by the beginnings of panic.

After blinking repeatedly, Turquoise frantically looked about and discovered she was not alone; another pony was present. Despite having never met them before, the earth mare was unmistakable: pink coat, perfectly straight, hot pink mane and tail, with robes that shimmered like the northern lights.

“Hello there,” she calmly greeted.

There was only one conclusion Turquoise could reach from this. She hadn’t imagined last night’s events at all. It had all actually happened. Oh holy Diarchs above.

Scrambling onto four hooves, Turquoise leapt onto the floor, dipping her head in reverence. “S-Saint Pinkamena!” she exclaimed.

Saint Pinkamena, for her part, merely chuckled politely. “While your attention is appreciated, I believe you just skipped over something even more notable.”

When she did not elaborate, Turquoise looked up at the saint, only to see Pinkamena gesturing behind Turquoise with a hoof.

That was when it hit her. Whipping her head around to confirm, Turquoise’s jaw dropped. She wasn’t wearing her wheels. She was standing. Transfixed, she trotted in place a little before sending an awestruck gaze at Saint Pinkamena, who was now smiling.

“Acting through the Altar of Enlightenment, the Diarchs fully restored your spine and back legs,” she explained, motioning to the platform Turquoise had awoken within.

Joy filled Turquoise as her heart leapt, prancing in place a little as she stretched out all manner of kinks in her hind half. Atrophied muscles unused in ages burned in the best way, and Turquoise was lightheaded. She was so preoccupied savoring the ability to move freely again that she totally forgot to whom she was speaking.

With a squeak, she froze, but she could not prevent the questions suddenly roiling in her mind from bursting free. “Altar of Enlightenment? What exactly is that? And how did it heal me?”

“I will answer that. Can you hear me?” a different mare’s voice suddenly asked her.

Turquoise couldn’t pinpoint where the voice was coming from, but it sounded very close by. She’d heard about the incident when many ponies started hearing voices a few years back, and they’d been crazy, driven insane by demons. Was she going mad? “Y-Yes?” she tentatively answered.

“Good, everything is coming through to me in full,” the voice continued. “And before you ask, no, you’re not mad. Lady Turquoise, you have been granted a most wonderful gift. I am Twilight Sparkle. The altar’s main purpose is to allow those chosen to receive the wisdom of the Saints directly, communicated through me.”

As she struggled to process the magnitude of this fresh revelation, Saint Pinkamena smiled patiently. “It can be startling at first, but her presence by your side should be a comfort in due time,” she said.

Oh. Oh wow. “I-I don’t deserve such a miraculous blessing, my Saints,” Turquoise stuttered out.

“That’s not true; we chose you,” Saint Pinkamena insisted. She closed this distance between them and cupped Turquoise’s cheek in a hoof with all the tenderness of a mother with her child. She couldn’t look away from the Saint’s kind blue eyes. “Eventually, we hope to enlighten all ponykind. But few in number are the ponies worthy enough to help bring that hope to fruition.”

“Lady Turquoise, Knight who bears my Mark, will you join me in taking charge of this sacred task?” Pinkamena asked.

Tears began to flow down her cheeks as all of her plugged up emotions, all of her shame and disbelief, boiled over, replaced by clarity and elation. After all her trials and tribulations, Turquoise’s commitment to scripture was being repaid beyond expectations. Truly, this made the restoration of her spine seem almost paltry!

“Y-Yes, of course!” Turquoise dipped down to her knees in supplication, shaking as she pressed her muzzle to the tiles. “It would be my greatest honor to serve at your side!”

“Thank you, but you need not dirty your face against the floor on my behalf. Show your allegiance with these instead,” Saint Pinkamena said.

Picking herself up obediently, Turquoise saw that her Saint was holding a set of folded pink robes out to her. Terrible understanding dawned.

She was naked. In front of Pinkamena herself!

Seeing the fresh panic on her face, Saint Pinkamena hummed softly. “Do not be ashamed. The Altar requires ponies to bare themselves fully to the Diarchs, so we removed and discarded your prisoner’s clothes.”

Sighing in relief, though still extremely embarrassed, Turquoise took the set of Jubilant robes and donned them on the spot as quickly as she was able. Her rear legs were stiff with disuse, but she managed.

Yet that was far from the main focus of her thoughts as she dressed. She’d accepted the honor without question, but did she truly deserve it, now, after everything she’d been through? Maybe Paladin Two had been right, before? Best to confess openly, admit her faults without the Saints needing to ask.

Taking a deep breath, more than ready to face whatever may come, Turquoise met Saint Pinkamena’s eyes. “I must confess… surrounded by heresy as I was, and after everything that’s happened, I was beginning to doubt.”

This was a gross understatement, utterly inadequate to describe her months of turmoil, yet it had to be enough.

“But never again. I now see the whole breadth of the church’s merciful glory laid out before me, embodied in you and your Paladins. Like them, I shall cast all else aside, and devote myself wholly and completely to carrying out your divine will,” she declared.

“You have my gratitude for your commitment, and forgive you for your doubts,” Saint Pinkimena said, in a tone carrying boundless compassion. “Now rise anew, my Knight. There is much work to be done.”

Chapter 4

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Unsigned message deciphered by Diarchy codebreakers, delivered secretly by a Paladin during a brief visit while accompanying Saint Rainbow Dash

General,

The Saints bless all, but bestow the greatest power to those who can anticipate and act in accordance to their will without needing to be told.

Your predecessors have all sat idly by as heretic ponies at your borders plant their insidious roots, content merely to defend. But you aren’t like them, are you? Your acumen is higher, and the Saints will witness it, much as they acknowledged mine and made me one of their Paladins.

Seek those like-minded, and together you can triumph. Follow your heart’s ambition, and be rewarded beyond your wildest imagination. Stop waiting, and do what those less faithful won’t.

Your country will thank you for it.

Wispy clouds whipped past high in the sky above Emberglow as she and Rarity continued to soar south. They’d been flying for some time already, but between some convenient updrafts and their steady pace, they weren’t tiring much.

As her mind threatened to wander to uncomfortable places, Emberglow fidgeted with the sleeves of her Discordant robes, finding the familiar fabric small comfort. She preferred these to her armor, at any rate.

The twin Knights Resplendent accompanying them - literally, as they were identical twin sisters - contrasted in their more striking armor. Rarity, meanwhile, was unclothed. Her “adventuring suit,” she called it.

Rarity had really come into her own these past few years. The confused mare out of time was now the confident, courtly, and composed co-ruler of an entire nation. Sometimes Emberglow even marveled that she had such an incredible mare as her partner.

She wondered what was going through Rarity’s mind right now. Wordlessly, Emberglow watched Rarity, hoping for some acknowledgement.

Rarity, catching her expression out of the corner of her eye, looked back with gentle eyes and a winning smile. Emberglow smiled back.

Soon, they were close enough to the mountain to make out the individual buildings in the mostly reclaimed city. There was the palace and its surrounding buildings in the complex, worn white stones shining in the daylight. However, as she and Rarity passed over the city streets, Emberglow noticed that the usual forms of ponies going about their business within the city walls were curiously absent.

Alarm bells went off in her head.

Emberglow turned, shooting Rarity a look of concern. “Of all the times I’ve visited as ambassador to Old Canterlot it was never this empty. Something’s off. Do you think it could be…?”

Rarity’s eyes only betrayed an unwavering determination. “If there is a duplicitous Saint in the city, so be it. There’s nothing we can’t face together, right?”

Like magic, Emberglow was reinvigorated, buoyed by her wife’s reassurance. “Right.”

Wind Tunnel and Wind Chime, their guards, also, smiled.

Emberglow shook her head to banish her remaining doubts, and the four of them broke off into a glide, descending into Old Canterlot. The sun cast jagged shadows upon the scene where it hit the myriad crumbling spires of the city.

Beneath those shadows, Emberglow discovered where all the creatures had gone. A large crowd of ponies and other creatures were amassed in Cathedral Row.

Still, she couldn’t help but notice Rarity’s impressed expression out of the corner of her eye. “Oh my, how lovely. They’ve built a veritable melting pot of worship. You can clearly appreciate each group’s distinct cultural values from the architecture. And that crystal tree transplant in the middle must be the memorial you’ve told me about, darling.”

“It is,” Emberglow replied, her thoughts elsewhere. She had planted that tree herself, to remember Flurry Heart. And Bubblegum. “As much as I’d enjoy giving you a tour, now’s not the time. We need to investigate.”

“Quite so. Saints or no, something notable is certainly transpiring, to occupy the attention of so many,” Rarity commented, her gaze fixed down below. “No sense in dallying.”

“Yes,” Emberglow said, before adding, “Let’s keep to the back at first.”

“A good idea. I wouldn’t want to derail proceedings with my presence,” Rarity noted, sounding a bit coy.

Emberglow failed to hold back a giggle. It was the small things.

Still, Rarity was back to business shortly, and she turned to their guards. “We’re ready. Please take the lead and cover us.”

Wind Chime and Wind Tunnel both nodded before descending.

Course set, they carefully banked towards street level in a wide arc. Emberglow kept her good eye fixed on the assembled creatures. They were all bunched together in a thick semicircle centered on the least visually impressive but most inviting of the Row’s constructions, tiers of wooden benches dug out of the earth forming a small storytelling amphitheater, the centerpiece of bat pony faith.

The seats were packed, so a good chunk of the surrounding hoof-worn road was further occupied by compressed bodies nudging and jostling each other for better views.

At least, she hoped that was why they were shoving each other.

Due to their low approach, Emberglow was unable to make out the figures in the middle. But as she got closer, she was able to recognise a good number of familiar faces, including old schoolmate Astrolabe, Grand Master Ambrosia of the Radiant, and many of the Knights Angelic escorting her.

However, the blood rushed out of Emberglow’s face when she spotted her parents Textile and Needle Point sitting opposite them on the far side of the amphitheater.

Memories of crushing past visits to their new shop in the city flooded back. Her tail twitched as her hooves contracted into her barrel. Her teeth clenched behind her lips.

Noticing, ever attentive as she was, Rarity hummed reassurance. “What is it?”

After a beat, Emberglow said only, “My parents are here.”

Rarity hummed in sympathy, her expression firm. “We don’t need their approval. We’re adults, too,” she stated plainly.

Emberglow sighed, letting her emotions escape with her breath. That pressure wasn’t healthy. “Well, whatever this commotion is, it’d have to be big to get Mom and Dad to leave the store at this hour,” she noted.

“You’d know better than I would,” Rarity replied. “I can only recognize a scant few faces.”

Nodding once, Emberglow bled off her remaining speed and touched down softly behind the twins, Rarity landing by her side with a sweep of her elegant wings. As Rarity perked her ears, straining to hear through the susurrus of the townsfolk, Emberglow gestured to the most knowledgeable pony with room nearby: Grand Master Ambrosia.

The four of them quickly walked up to her, the Knights all exchanging perfunctory acknowledgements. Casting a furtive look through the crowd, Emberglow spoke up. “Grand Master. Apologies for the interruption, but, uh, what’s going on?”

Ambrosia didn’t flinch, instead pivoting around smoothly to face her before replying. “Ambassador Emberglow. Lady Rarity. Some strange ponies arrived out of the blue a while ago, calling themselves Saints and reciting scripture. Then everypony else started showing up, half to listen, the other half to argue. Frankly, I’m still unsure what to make of them, exactly.”

It looked like Heartwing’s contacts had been right on the money. “That’s why we’re here as well, to see for ourselves,” Emberglow explained. “Evidently we aren’t the only ones.”

“Have you seen them?” Rarity asked. “Are they truly so convincing that Knight and commoner alike would believe my friends have somehow come back to life after over a thousand years?”

“It’s not just your old friends: One of them is the spitting image of you, Princess Rarity,” Ambrosia said through pursed lips. “She’s claiming that the princess is the fake between them.”

Rarity’s tail swished back and forth in contemplation, her eyebrow practically shooting into her mane. “Is she, now?” Rarity slowly said.

“But all they’ve done so far is preach, right?” Emberglow inquired. “These Saints haven’t instigated any violence?”

“No, Emberglow, they’re still just debating theology,” Ambrosia confirmed. “Creatures are starting to get riled up, though. Listen.”

Emberglow did, going still as she strained her ears to pick out the individual speakers. “— cannot truly expect us to believe you, right?” exclaimed a mare with a faint lisp that identified her as a bat pony. “Besides, Rarity was already found!”

“Regardless, we are here. And we have forever served the Diarchs. Only by their grace have we returned to preach the truth.”

Emberglow stiffened. That voice! It sounded exactly like Rarity’s! She turned, wide-eyed, to look at her wife. Rarity’s own expression had morphed into something inscrutable.

“But why now, though, my Saints?” asked a young stallion in marine fatigues. “We could have used your wisdom years ago, before the revolt!”

It was not this Saint Rarity who replied, but a different mare, one with an odd accent, one which tickled with familiarity at the edge of Emberglow’s memory. “You may not understand yet, but a greater crisis yet looms, and now is the time to prevent it. Have faith in us.”

Rarity’s eyes widened in recognition, but she stayed quiet. Ambrosia, meanwhile, was eying them inquisitively.

“Tell us more about this crisis,” someone demanded.

At this point, Emberglow couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer, the need for understanding overwhelming her remaining patience. Without wasting any more time, she began squeezing her way towards the center of the semicircle and into the amphitheater proper, gently pushing past ponies who were too focused on the speakers to object. Soon, she got close enough to see.

Emberglow froze.

It was a second Rarity.

The resemblance was uncannily exact, save for her complete lack of a horn and wings. It was as if someone had plucked the Saint version of her wife right out of the collective imaginations of everypony who had ever read the Book of the Saints.

Standing next to Saint Rarity was the spitting image of the very mare who had bestowed Emberglow’s Element upon her. This Applejack had the same tied back, hay-yellow mane, and the same rich orange coat as the earth pony Emberglow had met once in that plane beyond. The only thing missing was her weathered hat. Instead, both she and Saint Rarity were clad in iridescent, single-sleeved robes the likes of which Emberglow had never seen.

Her jaw slowly hinged open. The very idea of someone impersonating her wife, using her name to act in a way she never would, had already filled her with discontent, but actually seeing the impostor was another beast entirely.

How was this possible?

Emberglow stood there, her jaw working to find an objection. Too many words wanted to escape at once, her mental and emotional gears catching and putting her at a frustrating loss.

Rarity pushed past her on her right and into the open with purpose and poise, the familiar, calming contour of her wings brushing against hers. Emberglow’s confidence returned as she stopped to watch.

“Oh my goodness, that iridescent fabric is simply stunning!” she declared, interrupting the Saints. Her eyes gleamed with wonder for a moment as she studied their outfits. But that wonder faded as she lifted her focus to the mare sharing her face. “However, that loose-fitting cut died with ancient Roam,” she continued, gesturing dismissively with a wing as her brows creased. “It’s prone to bunching up and wholly unflattering to the figure. If you’re trying to impersonate me, you’re doing a mediocre job of it.”

Immediately, the onlookers burst into a minor fervor.

“It’s the princess!”

“I’m seeing double!”

“Oh boy, here we go.”

“Now things are getting interesting.”

Emberglow’s heart was starting to race, and her focus bounced between the Saints, Rarity, and the awe on numerous faces. Even Emberglow’s parents bore resentment and lingering pain on their faces. The conflict in her chest tied her tongue, her legs stiff.

“If it isn’t one of the heretic ‘princesses’ of the Crystal Empire,” Saint Rarity noted with a hint of disgust. “A mare whose very body exhibits her hubris.”

Rarity barked out a laugh, holding a hoof to her chest. “I’m the one showing hubris? You, with the audacity to pretend to be a version of me that never existed?”

“Yeah, who are you, really?” cried a pony in the crowd.

“It’s not audacious, it’s the truth,” Saint Applejack stated plainly. “Meanwhile, you are the one whose existence is impossible. Ours is backed up by numerous historical records.”

“That’s a load of rubbish and you know it!” Rarity snapped, her temper clearly fraying already. “I was never an earth pony to begin with!”

“No, you’re the fake! Arrest her!” a stallion in a blue tunic pointed, practically leaping from his seat. When Wind Tunnel forced her way toward him, interposing herself between him and Rarity, other ponies glared.

“Oh, be quiet,” Astrolabe interjected, somewhere to Emberglow’s left with a pointed look down her muzzle. “I know petty when I see it.”

“Seconded,” said Ambrosia, who had pushed through the edge of the crowd herself by now and was struggling to observe the situation dispassionately, her tail swaying to betray her building agitation.

“Screw you, winged freak! That’s proof enough!”

“Why’re you here, anyway?”

“Yeah, leave us be!”

“Let the Saints speak, abomination!”

Emberglow suddenly realized exactly how to play this. “Forget these meaningless accusations!” she cried, cutting through the chain of disdain. “It’s simple. Whoever has more wisdom for every creature is the real Rarity,” she declared, head held high.

It might exacerbate the conflict, but at least this would give Rarity more openings to say her piece. Emberglow could see tensions were slowly heating up. Necks strained high over shoulders, more seated ponies were rising, harsh whispers echoed in the confines, body heat stifling even in the mountain air, even as the sun was partially shaded by the spires of the Row around them.

If anyone could keep this pot from boiling over, it was Rarity.

“Oh? And what might those ‘teachings’ be?” Saint Applejack said, looking down her nose at Emberglow, even though she stood below her in the bowl of the theater. “The same paranoid rhetoric that destabilized an entire nation, plunging it into chaos?”

Rarity grit her teeth in frustration. “That wasn’t me, that was Steadfast Word’s doing!” She paused, taking a deep breath and bouncing the coif of her mane. “As princess, I follow in Twilight Sparkle’s hoofsteps and endeavor to spread friendship to all.”

“‘All,’ you say?” cried an old mare wearing a full-length frock. “Including monstrous beasts like griffons and dragons?”

“Watch your tongue, mare!” shouted a black-coated griffon by the back wall. The pair glared at each other in contempt.

Rarity held up a hoof, Wind Chime leaning to the side to make space. “In the Crystal Empire, people don’t need to hide who they are, or who they love! All races are treated with fairness, dignity, and respect. The same cannot be said here.”

A wing snapped. “Of course not!”

A hoof stomped. “Some races simply do not belong in polite society!”

A voice cracked. “We can’t trust you!”

For each loyalist rejection came a counter from one of Emberglow’s comrades.

From Wind Chime: “She has every right to speak!”

From the griffon: “Strive for Harmony, hypocrite!”

From one of the Knights Angelic: “Keep it civil, or we’ll remove you from our city!”

The rising tension made Emberglow reel as the crowd buzzed and vibrated like a wasp’s nest, liable to unleash a frenzy of stings at the slightest provocation. A seed of fear planted itself in her gut.

Meanwhile, Saint Rarity was an ocean of calm in the storm as she made eye contact with Rarity. “These responses illustrate our judgment clearly. So long as there is disunity amongst people, there will be fear. Griffons, dragons, these creatures have a right to live in happiness like ponies do, but that happiness is best found among their own kin.”

Emberglow snorted at that. “Why did you paint other races - even unicorns and alicorns - as totally inequine, then?”

The corners of Rarity’s lips turned up in approval, beaming briefly at Emberglow in pride before facing the Saints. “I’ll tell you why; it’s because the Book of the Saints was written as nothing more than propaganda by a spiteful, power-hungry mare.”

“Exactly,” Emberglow added. “You’re just trying to smooth the edges off her vitriol.”

More ponies objected to her words. Emberglow hadn’t expected any different at this point, and she tried to tune it out and focus on those she knew nearby instead. Astrolabe was looking equally uncomfortable and overwhelmed, though to a lesser extent than Emberglow felt. Only her locked knees gave it away. Grand Master Ambrosia, meanwhile, showed only a deep concern.

“Not only that; why persecute ponies for being different?” Rarity was ignoring the interjected commentary and press of bodies around her to focus solely on the Saints. “We are all unique individuals to begin with; our Cutie Marks attest to that! Confining every last pony inside the same heterosexual, cisgender box and throwing them into a literal box if they try to leave is simply not healthy!”

“You tell ‘em! Let ponies choose!”

“But that’s heresy!”

“We’re not here to discuss that,” interjected Saint Applejack matter-of-factly, the loyalists quieting as she raised a hoof. “But we can if you’d like.”

“Don’t just let that slide.”

“Reprimand those fools!”

Emberglow turned to Rarity, who was also peeking sidelong at her. The look in her wife’s eyes was firm. They could counter any argument thrown at them, certainly, but did they want to, or should they encourage the Saints to cut to the chase?

Before Emberglow could decide, Saint Applejack chose for them. “The short answer is that the Diarchs do not actually object to same-sex or interracial relationships. They merely wished to quash the fear of difference and the violence that brings. The sin in these actions is only in the strife they invite, not in the actions themselves.”

The uproar from both sides was nearly deafening. Emberglow’s ears pinned to her skull reflexively. Their Knights immediately moved to protect them, same as with Ambrosia and hers. Surrounded by a sudden cacophony, Emberglow froze, only able to watch as the marine stallion from before burst from his seat and surged towards the Saints.

Before he could get close, a figure lunged out of the narrow, shadowy alleyway behind the amphitheater. They were at least twice Emberglow’s height, with spindly limbs that looked gangly and unsettling, yet they moved swiftly. With a single monochromatic, metallic arm, they held the marine back, humbly shaking their head ‘no’. On their temples, the number twelve was printed.

Presumably, this was one of the Paladins Emberglow had heard about, a direct protector of the Saints.

And thank goodness both sides had security personnel ready to de-escalate, Emberglow thought. This was already teetering on the knife's edge of turning into a full-blown riot, and the Saints hadn’t even gotten to whatever “revelation” they were presumably here to share! She could acutely feel the adrenaline in her veins.

Rarity visibly flinched in surprise, her expression aghast. Emberglow had no clue if this was a reaction to the ponies’ aggressive behavior or the Paladin’s somewhat ghastly appearance. Probably both.

The combination of the Paladin’s arrival and a pair of disapproving furrowed brows from the Saints managed to slowly return everyone back to at least the facade of calm, at least.

Saint Rarity took a breath. “It seems many of you have unfortunately misinterpreted the intent of our doctrine. Ponies are creatures of harmony by nature; prone to ostracize or even force out anyone who does not conform with the community. We only wished to prevent that suffering.”

“Bullshit!” cried the batpony from earlier as she wrapped a protective hoof around the mare next to her. “Not being able to be with the ones you love is way worse!”

“I never picked that up when reading the Book at all,” Emberglow’s dad Textile said, sounding confused.

“No, no, the Saints are making sense!”

“So, what, we’re supposed to accept the fillyfoolers and coltcuddlers among us now?” asked the marine.

“It would be nice if you did, yes,” went a Knight Angelic.

“But the Saints said ostracizing them is natural!”

“Then just keep your malice to yourselves,” insisted the griffon with a wave of a claw.

“Whether punished or not, they’re still permitting hatred!”

The old mare from before clapped her bony hooves. “Don’t question them!”

As the sharp fervor built, shouts overlapping and voices impossible to pick apart, Emberglow noticed the conflict on Astrolabe’s face. Her gaze flickered over the figures between them to meet Emberglow’s, rubbing one white-robed forehoof against the other in shame.

Mixed emotions churned fiercely in Emberglow’s gut, memories surfacing. Memories of her own intimate joy and brutal heartache. Memories of her once hostile interactions with Astrolabe and Green Fields, now together in exile. While they had made amends since, this did not erase their shared past.

With this clarification from the Saints, could Astrolabe’s life have played out differently? No active persecution to worry about, no avoiding relationships that might grow into love, only disdain from bigots and the pain of self-loathing to be outgrown in time.

As ponies traded shouts around them, Rarity squeezed backwards, pushing against the angry swell of the amphitheater beyond capacity with the Knight’s help. She brushed a hoof through Emberglow’s mane, her pupils darting across her face.

“Do not dwell on might-have-beens,” Rarity insisted, for her ears only. “You found your true self. And now maybe more ponies in this country will get that chance, too.”

Before Emberglow could thank her, a voluminous ringing sound struck her ears with almost physical force, drowning out everyone. It was so loud that dust was shaken off the roofs of the various churches and shrines around them. Blinking, Emberglow saw a large teal-blue bell of magical energy dissipate from above the Paladin’s head as the mighty chime’s echoes faded. They lowered their hand, a gnarled wand clasped between their fingers.

That was one way to do it.

Once everyone had ceased their protests and the Saints in the middle once more commanded full attention, Saint Applejack calmly surveyed the whole group. “Thank you, Silent Sorrow. To those who wish to pursue such relationships, I understand your feelings, but you must keep the big picture in mind. The Diarchs’ greatest wish is to build a peaceful whole for as many ponies as possible, and we work to achieve that. You must put your neighbors before yourselves. So for now, let us get to the heart of this visit.”

Saint Rarity hummed in agreement. “Yes. It is time we shared the true reason we came here, to the headquarters of my Knights. We bring tidings of a new blessing the Diarchs are prepared to bestow upon all who require it.”

“Indeed. It took a bit to get everything ready, but now we have,” Saint Applejack explained.

Emberglow watched carefully as she reached into her shimmering robe and pulled out a bronze pendant, hanging from a cord. She hoisted it high in her hoof with a triumphant pose. When Emberglow squinted, she could barely make out that it featured the Marks of all six Saints.

The Saints were… giving away accessories for national pride? Emberglow’s brow quirked. Even Rarity, normally a proponent of all things fashionable, looked baffled.

“What exactly is that?” Grand Master Ambrosia asked. The audience at large was still cowed into a tense quiet.

Saint Applejack met her clear scrutiny with a more level one of her own. “A solution to a different problem of division amongst ponies that this nation has faced since its inception,” she answered, gesturing to Silent Sorrow.

With a knowing smile, Saint Rarity took over, raising her voice to address the whole crowd. “These amulets, when worn and activated, can make you completely immune to the effects of unicorn magic! No longer will ponies need to cast out or execute their kin! So much needless suffering will now be prevented!”

Relieved gasps echoed throughout the amphitheater. Emberglow met Rarity’s eyes again.

Now, the fear in them was plain.

“Incredible!”

“That’s some miraculous magic, if it’s true.”

“How come nopony else ever thought of that?”

“We’re saved!”

Emberglow’s gaze whipped back and forth as she gauged the crowd’s response. The Diarchy loyalists were elated at the news, cheering, while most everyone else grew even more agitated, limbs twitching or tightening in barely contained ire.

Meanwhile, the Saints simply waved their hooves, signaling for the tumult to settle from their position in the theater’s dead center. They weren’t even glancing at each other.

With that single push in the wrong direction, they might very well lead the unity Emberglow and her friends were working towards to crumble before it truly began to show.

At the surface level, these amulets seemed like a simple safety tool. But fearmongering over unicorns and other creatures like kirin would only intensify as they spread through the Diarchy, regardless of any level of ‘integration’ they facilitated. Moreover, the potential ramifications went far beyond safety. They could easily also be used as anti-unicorn weapons. A chill swept down her spine at the thought.

Emberglow opened her mouth to object over the din. “Are you truly so blind that you would accept a workaround rather than open your hearts?”

“And that’s assuming the things even work,” added one of the Knights Angelic.

Rarity narrowed her eyes, her skepticism and dismay equally present on her face. “Indeed. That may be the case, but I doubt it. Why, such a powerful and specific charm seems entirely too far-fetched to be possible at all.”

“Hear hear!”

“I bet those things are actually pure horseshit!”

“You tell ‘em, Princess!”

Rarity watched the Saints intently, maintaining her poise even as Emberglow danced anxiously in place next to her.

Before they could speak, the loyalist old mare raised a shaky hoof and leveled a deep, sour glare at Emberglow and Rarity. “No poisonous theories! Let the Saints finish!”

“Yes, please, continue!” cried Needle Point. Emberglow’s mother’s voice was heavy with desperation. As other ponies echoed her mother’s sentiment, believers hungry for their words and wishing for surety, Emberglow’s mind whirled.

The Saints - and Silent Sorrow - did not look put off by the disbelief in the least. Once the exclamations had largely ceased, Saint Rarity nodded and cleared her throat. “We shall. As I was about to explain, Saint Twilight, guided by the Diarchs, has perfected a quick and easy process for crafting these amulets, one which our comrades are distributing to various metalworking and rune-carving factories as we speak. We will arrange for the nation to cover the low costs involved, to ensure they are available freely.”

Needle Point’s eyes widened. She and Textile’s necks craned to see over the crowd, rapt with attention.

Emberglow bit her lip at the sight of her parents completely wrapped around the Saints’ hooves. True, their faith hadn't wavered in the last few years, but it still stung to see it right in front of her. What Saint Rarity actually said hardly registered.

Desperate to look at anything else, Emberglow’s gaze settled on Astrolabe. She, meanwhile, was laser-focused on the Saints. “How can we believe you? You’d have to provide a demonstration, first,” she proposed.

“And we will,” Saint Rarity confirmed before facing her counterpart. “I would ask you to volunteer your horn, princess.”

“Me?” Rarity repeated, pointing to herself. “I assumed I didn’t have your trust. Much as you don’t have mine.”

“You have a reputation with the creatures here our words fail to reach,” her counterpart explained. “Better yourself than somepony unknown.”

“That makes sense,” Rarity began, “but I’m afraid I must decline.” Then, she fanned out her wings as much as she could with the limited elbow room. “Whatever game it is you are playing here with the people of Old Canterlot, I will not fall for it,” she declared.

“Good,” Emberglow said, voice low so only Rarity could hear.

“How dare you refuse!” someone reprimanded.

Saint Rarity, though, was nonplussed, and simply cocked her head to the side. “Oh? I’d assumed you would take the opportunity to prove us wrong in front of this crowd. If we were bluffing, we would have lost all credibility in an instant.”

“Which implies you aren’t,” Emberglow noted, her ears itching as she formed backup plans. Earnest forthrightness wouldn’t cut it in this situation. She pressed forwards slightly, jostling to get a better view of the amulet Saint Applejack still held.

“Of course the Saints wouldn’t lie to us!” yelled the young marine stallion, slamming his hoof down onto the side of the bench.

Emberglow took a deep breath, powering through the collective scent of agitated bodies. She really needed to regain her mental balance, too, do her part to counter the Saints’ objective here, now that it was revealed for all.

“Maybe they aren’t,” Emberglow began. “Maybe they’re just omitting crucial details instead. What’s the catch?”

Beside her, Astrolabe gasped. “A good point! Is there a downside to wearing one? These amulets won’t ricochet spells into bystanders, will they?”

“While your concern is appreciated, that’s not how they work,” Saint Applejack answered, peering upwards at them. “Saint Twilight ensured they were perfectly safe.”

“Obviously!”

“Then show us! Where’s that demonstration?”

“A public demonstration can certainly be arranged here,” Saint Applejack confirmed, nodding. “We’ll just need somepony to wear the amulet,” she said brightly, searching through the eager faces in the crowd.

However, it wasn’t a loyalist who answered. “I’ll do it. For both Raritys,” said Ambrosia. “As leader of the Knights Radiant, it should fall to me.”

Her Angelic escorts immediately voiced words of protest, but they fell on deaf ears. However, her resolve was clear for all to see, and she only needed to reply with a look to quiet them down.

While their eyes still shone with worry, her guards did not stop her as she marched down the steps to stand next to the Saints.

“Alright.” With a nod, Saint Applejack looped the amulet around her neck. “This’ll be very simple. All you need to do to turn on the amulet, Grand Master, is push the button in the middle. You’ll be able to feel it working. The same button turns it off. Once you are ready, Silent Sorrow will try to attack you with his magic. When wandcasting, a Paladin’s magic is essentially a far safer version of a unicorn’s, not tied to emotion or instinct.”

Turning to the Paladin, she added “Please demonstrate the spell you will use.”

Silent Sorrow nodded, raising his wand once more. With little fanfare, he pivoted to face a nearby metal rubbish bin nestled at the edge of the alley he’d arrived from, the ponies nearby wisely shuffling away to make space.

As many in the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves in anticipatory or nervous tones, Silent Sorrow charged his spell. Once it was ready, he pointed his wand at the bin, and three bolts of lightning struck it in rapid succession from above. Emberglow flinched at the light and noise.

Once the afterimage faded, she saw that the bin had fallen over, spilling its contents. Said contents were now little more than a pile of ashes.

Gulping, Emberglow looked back at Ambrosia, but she showed no signs of having second thoughts. Instead, she simply hit the button on the amulet and took a few steps back. A brave mare, indeed. Her composure didn’t waver as Silent Sorrow turned his gaze on her, either. A hush fell over the mass of onlookers as all watched with bated breath. In this single moment, the Row was at peace once more. Emberglow knew none present wanted Ambrosia harmed, albeit for different reasons.

Once more, Silent Sorrow readied his magic. The bolts of lightning struck Ambrosia dead-on.

Absolutely nothing happened.

There weren’t even any thunderclaps this time, let alone any transfer of force or patch of singed uniform. Silent Sorrow’s stance relaxed somewhat.

Sounds of awe and admiration rose from the crowd. Emberglow balked, and Rarity did the same next to her.

They did function. The gravity of this news was too big to play off completely, Emberglow knew.

Despite the evidence, others remained unconvinced. “Clearly that Paladin just used a different spell,” stubbornly scoffed the prior griffon.

“What’d you say?” uttered the marine, his voice laced with ill intent.

“Are you daft?”

“Calm down,” Ambrosia ordered, her expression hard. “The amulet worked true, though I cannot say how.” She squared her shoulders and pierced the Saints with her gaze. “However, I felt drained, lethargic while it was on. As if my pegasus magic was tapped out. Do you have an explanation for that? Moreover, are there other negative effects? Is unicorn magic the only type they block?”

The crowd took the opportunity to weigh in.

“Enlighten us, if you are, in fact, the embodiment of honesty!”

“How exactly do they work?”

“They’re blessed, didn’t you hear that part?”

“A valid question, Grand Master.” Saint Rarity noted, splitting her address between Ambrosia and the rest of the throng. “The method Saint Twilight used to craft these unicorn defense amulets, as ordained to her by the Diarchs, involves the generation of a localized field of magic nullification which closely wraps around the wearer’s body. Much like the battery in a rune gauntlet, all magical power needed to maintain the field is drawn from the surrounding area, so they’ll continue to work so long as they aren’t completely broken to pieces.”

“Of course,” Rarity hummed in understanding. “So it’s almost like an antimagic zone, only more compact.”

“What does that mean?” asked Needle Point.

Saint Applejack cleared her throat politely. “It means that, while active, these amulets will nullify all magic.”

As this addendum sunk in, renewed murmurs of confusion percolated through the crowd. Even some of the few Diarchy-loyal Knights seemed put off. Emberglow, too, was just as baffled as she was appalled.

If the amulets nullified magic in general, this presented even more new problems. While their amulets were on, pegasi wouldn’t be able to fly, earth ponies would lose their resilience, and Knights wouldn’t be able to cast! To Emberglow, this made it even more likely the amulets could be misused.

Meanwhile, Saint Applejack and Saint Rarity didn’t react much to the change in reception at all. They stood unflinching, as if barely invested one way or the other. As they met the prying eyes of those around them, the atmosphere fell into a silence so tense the air seemed liable to snap.

“We know what you are thinking,” began Saint Rarity, enunciating precisely, “Why do these amulets make it more difficult for Knights to do their jobs? However, this is the will of the Diarchs. Protecting the lives of adult unicorns and foals alike with these amulets will help widen the foundation of the Diarchy: her ponies. More hooves make for light work.”

Emberglow highly doubted that the four full Diarchy orders would be so quick to agree. Her old scars ached, her injured eye burned.

The griffon from earlier wound up voicing this for her. “Fat chance the Mystics will agree to that without a fuss, even if Saint Twilight herself is the one telling them.”

The grumbling of the crowd surged into another low roar. The disapproval of those the Diarchy indoctrinated drowned the amphitheater in noise, their previous enthusiasm for the Saints’ blessing fading with the unveiling of its full measure.

Ambrosia’s eyes darted about. Even as she still had the floor with the Saints, she was hesitant to speak in haste, her jaw working.

“Is that really going to make us any safer?”

“Keeping the peace is hard enough as it is!”

“The Vigilants and Mystics are stretched thin already, they shouldn’t have to worry about unicorns on top of all the other heretics!”

“Forget the Knights, having unicorns around helps us how, exactly?”

Rarity couldn’t help but flare her wings at that, scowling. “Maybe because they’re ponies who deserve to live their lives without being exiled or killed?”

Her Saint counterpart, however, was as calm as a pond at midnight. “Precisely. Being born a unicorn, and posing a danger to your friends with surges of wild magic, is a cruel existence, and the Diarchs wished to reduce the cruelty in the world through Saint Twilight, and all of us,” she said. “This way, all unicorns born in the Diarchy can keep living amongst their kin without having to fear for themselves or others. Today is a glorious day for all!”

Saint Applejack projected her voice to address the entire crowd, even the suspicious or forlorn. “You hear that? No longer will innocent foals be ripped from their parents’ arms forever. No longer will prejudice against magic cloud your hearts. Thanks to this gift, ponykind may at last be truly united!”

At this proclamation, there was a pregnant pause as those standing and seated alike soaked that in, adjusting their opinions. Emberglow shot Rarity an encouraging look. Now was the moment to press their fresh advantage, take the reins of this discussion back from the Saints’ grip.

Rarity got the message loud and clear, rearing back and stomping her own hooves, drawing all ears of the crowd with a sharp crack. “Integrating unicorns back into your country is unquestionably a good thing. But this doesn’t address the fear you feel, which is the root of the problem. Ponykind was united before segregationists reared their heads.”

“Yeah! Without that fear, these amulets wouldn’t be necessary!”

“We don’t need more tools of suppression!”

Giving silent thanks to her wife for solidifying her own resolve, and to her like-minded fellows, Emberglow took a step forward. “Exactly. A peace built atop roots of constant suspicion is no peace at all,” she declared, her voice thick and heavy with raw emotion.

“What she said!”

“And what’s stopping the clandestine killings of unicorns from continuing anyway?”

“I assure you, such actions will no longer be tolerated,” Saint Rarity said loudly. “We are already in the process of enlightening problematic Knights and clergy not amenable to this more moderate course so they may see the error of their ways.”

“Oh, is that so?” posed Ambrosia, scrutinizing the pair intently as she spoke. “Stop dancing around the issue. What undisclosed consequences does ‘enlightenment’ have for the ponies who receive it? ”

Saint Applejack met her firm glare without a trace of anger. “None at all. It simply lets Saint Twilight into their heart, so that she may supervise them at all times. With her watching their every move and conveying guidance when needed, it will be impossible for the killings to continue. All unicorns will be safe, from others and from themselves.”

“D-Do you truly mean it? What happened to my… my son won’t happen again?”

Emberglow had to do a double-take. It was her mother, stumbling out of Textile’s reach and towards the Saints. Her earlier outcry suddenly clicked.

My son, she’d said. Emberglow’s brother. Lucky Break.

Oh Celestia.

“It won’t,” Saint Rarity reassured, simply.

Needle Point collapsed to her knees a step before reaching her. Her body shook with grief as tears streamed down her face, sobs scraping her throat raw. Emberglow could only stare dumbly as her wife’s monstrous doppelgänger embraced her mother in a tender hug as dozens of creatures watched. From his spot further back, her father, too, cried silently.

For once, nobody interrupted the moment, not even the belligerent old mare.

Emberglow’s heart ached for her family, her eyes growing watery for the brother she’d never known, even as pangs of dread roiled in her gut.

The solemn, reverent façades of Cathedral Row, suddenly seemed to loom over her, more gravestones than sanctuaries. The deaths of unicorns, past and present, lives slipping through their collective grasps into the void.

Even Rarity was showing hesitation now, her ears folded as she draped wing over Emberglow’s back. But for once it didn’t really help. Her insides were still all twisted up. This whole situation was surreal.

Only once her mother had shed all her tears did the tableau seem to unfreeze. Ponies and other creatures traded looks of excitement, pride, doubt, and disbelief in equal measure. Enthusiasm for the amulets was returning, yet all manner of conflicting ideas were voiced, bouncing through the throng.

“I’m not sure how I feel anymore.”

“The side effects seem worth it, right?”

“The princess has to cooperate now. Otherwise she’s basically admitting foals should keep dying!”

A leaden ball settled into her stomach. Emberglow looked into her wife’s eyes, their muzzles nearly touching. In those perfect blue pools were emotions Emberglow could feel, yet had no words to describe, for she knew they were the same emotions she was feeling.

When Rarity didn’t, or couldn’t, piece together the right words to reenter the discussion, Emberglow took that responsibility upon her own shoulders. She pulled away, hammering her focus back into place.

“Okay, maybe the Saints’ plan appeals to some ponies,” she admitted, sparing a hesitant look towards her mother. “But it’s still built on the fundamental foundation of a lie: that they are the Saints, and thus have authority. Which they don’t, because they can’t be.”

At this, the remaining objectors present burst into a fresh furor of outcry and condemnation. Traces of bloodlust, a bubbling thirst for retribution, emerged behind the eyes of many in the throng at the mere audacity of somepony questioning a Saint’s fundamental integrity.

Emberglow bristled. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

However, Rarity nodded firmly to Emberglow before stomping a few paces towards the Saints, reaching the steps. She slashed a forehoof in front of her, cutting off their voices if not their animosity. “My dear Emberglow has a point. We still haven’t fully addressed the elephant in the room: that there are two ponies present claiming to be the real Rarity.”

“And I truly do not take offense to your claim,” reassured Saint Rarity with a small, magnanimous smile. Though it didn’t put Emberglow at ease in the least. Even the light of the sun now seemed to have turned harsh as the Saint spoke.

“Yes, you should admit you’re the fake!” insisted the crone, who waved a wrinkled hoof at Rarity. But a stern glare from Wind Chime cut off any further comments she may have had.

Astrolabe sighed, still near Emberglow. “Arguing about that won’t change the appeal these amulets clearly have for many ponies here. What matters in the end is what those with authority decide is best for the people under their care.” She turned toward Ambrosia. “Grand Master Ambrosia, may we hear your thoughts?”

Ambrosia, scratching her chin in thought, was suddenly drawn out of her self-possession as she noticed the crowd’s attention congealing on her. She blinked, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “Well… it could certainly be worse. Even with the amulets in play, unicorn foals will technically still have their magic, and they have a family to gain on top of that. The alternative is convincing the Diarchy to revise the Book, an impossible ask.”

The bat pony mare’s jaw dropped. “Grand Master? You can’t seriously be considering going along with all this, right?”

“At what level we should cooperate is her call to make, alongside Grand Master Magenta Mirror,” Astrolabe noted, glancing between Ambrosia, the bat pony, and other immigrant holdouts in the crowd. “But she’d probably also listen to the princess were she to weigh in,” she added, before turning to eye Rarity expectantly.

More faces spun Rarity’s way. She paused to carefully consider her response.

“There’s always room for friendship and compromise,” Rarity stated diplomatically. “While there are superior methods of maintaining peace and fostering harmony, with or without Knights, this plan the Saints have brought may have some small merit.”

While she’d schooled her bearing into one of outward neutrality, the undercurrent of conflict in her tone was obviously apparent even to those who weren’t intimately familiar with her mannerisms like Emberglow was. Having to actually agree with a point her own warped impostor was making couldn’t be comfortable.

Still, maybe the Saints could compromise, too.

Emberglow fluffed her wings and exhaled once, gazing down at Saint Rarity and Saint Applejack. “Can you wait on distributing the amulets so we can iron out any kinks?”

“Change the course set by the Diarchs? Preposterous!”

“Heretic!”

“Exactly. You should stay quiet and be grateful for all this,” said Textile. Emberglow hadn’t seen him stop crying. “This already sounds far better than the old norm. What part needs changing?”

Emberglow frowned. That was hardly the point she wished her father would make.

“The ‘old norm’ for you would’ve been to hunt down and slaughter just, kind ponies like Her Highness on the spot just because of what’s on their head!” exclaimed the bat pony mare.

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Why change what isn’t broken?”

“The old way doesn’t make our Knights’ job harder!”

“Only those unsightly creatures like that devil princess right there need be hurt!”

“How dare you, murderer!”

“Do not stoop to that barbarous level!”

“But it’s what we already do?”

“Do you want to be arrested right now?”

Emberglow reeled. Whatever unexpected changes these Saints’ coming wrought, it would be difficult for them to twist her birthplace into anything worse than it already was.

Emberglow bit back a retort in defense of her beloved as Rarity took a calming breath. “I very much do not appreciate what some of you ponies are not-so-subtly suggesting,” Rarity noted, her tone carrying an angry undercurrent. “I’d rather wear one of those amulets myself than let anypony else lose their horn on my watch.”

The thought of her wife losing her horn again nearly made Emberglow double over in sympathy. Her composure was certainly beginning to fray under stress as old emotional wounds reopened. A few more tugs on her metaphorical string, and she could very well unravel. If this escalated any farther, Emberglow would need to just grab Rarity and fly off, then take time to pick up the pieces and put herself back together.

“Then why don’t you?” the marine stallion asked, eying Rarity. “It’s not as if you need to have magic to command that faithless country of yours, right?”

“No, but she does need it to raise and lower the moon,” Emberglow pointed out matter-of-factly. “I’ve watched her do it.”

Astrolabe’s brows rose at that. “While I don’t necessarily go by the Book there, I still find that notion very hard to believe. The sun makes light and heat by itself, it probably moves by itself, too.”

“That has to be wrong,” Textile countered, frowning as he shielded Needle Point’s ears by holding her head against his barrel.

“It is,” Saint Applejack said in confirmation.

For an instant, Rarity looked dumbfounded, but this was quickly replaced by a dismissive huff. “Surely you can’t mean to imply that you Saints could move the sun and moon in mine and Sunset’s stead?”

“Of course not,” Saint Applejack elaborated. “That is the domain of the Diarchs. They have always moved them.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” Rarity wore a smug grin. “Then how about another demonstration?” She opened a wing, sweeping it upwards as she stepped further forwards. “Go ahead and ask your ‘Diarchs’ to move the moon right now, put it in the sky above beside the sun, for all to witness! If they can, that is.”

Hope glowed anew in Emberglow’s chest at Rarity’s idea. As if the two of them would actually answer. Then the Saints would be discredited in front of the entire city for real this time. Then they might be able to halt the proliferation of these amulets before it begins!

As the crowd speculated one way or the other, the two Saints shared a look, as if conferring silently, before Saint Applejack bored her gaze into Rarity. “Do you seriously expect the Diarchs would disrupt the order of the sky for everypony in the world simply to prove a point? For a creature who claims to have known them, you clearly don’t understand them.”

“Aha!” the batpony mare declared, pointing a hoof dramatically. “Did you hear that? She deflected!”

“She certainly did,” Rarity proudly confirmed. “And that’s hardly what I would call ‘understanding.’ That’s a logical inference at best. I knew Celestia and Luna personally, as ponies.”

She spun to face the crowd, raising her voice. “Did you know that Princess Celestia was a terrible actress, or that she was deathly afraid of chickens? Did you know that Princess Luna had a pet opossum named Tiberius, or that she would eat pineapples whole? I could share dozens of such personal anecdotes, if requested. If you truly knew them as well, you, too, could share stories of them not found in the Book.”

Her Saint counterpart narrowed her eyes, her tail flicking. “Even if we did, there’s no way to prove whose stories were true and whose were fabrications.”

Fresh murmurs began to percolate through the crowd, while others applauded Rarity or cried out objections. But even those who had been effectively calling for Rarity’s horn before were beginning to hesitate.

The emotional whiplash was straining Emberglow near to breaking, and surely others were feeling it too. Nonetheless, she pressed further. “That’s two for two now on times you’ve evaded our requests,” she said, smiling triumphantly. “Shall we go on, or are you ready to admit your true motives here? You’ve made your points and shared the existence of these amulets, yes, but you likely won’t accomplish anything more here today.”

“That’s right! Leave our city!”

“Keep this stuff in your churches!”

Even Emberglow had to admit that was a bit of a reach. Still, to the credit of everyone present, this did not devolve into another frenzied shouting match.

Or worse. Yet.

Instead, they simply waited to hear how the Saints would reply. But naked hostility lingered in many pairs of eyes. Some even looked ready to throw punches at the drop of a pin. Each of the Knights, and the Paladin below, were prepared to intervene should that happen, firm and alert.

“Perhaps we should return to the topic at hoof,” suggested Ambrosia, who held herself with practiced dignity. “I’m gleaning that you didn’t come here just to entreat yourselves to us before making this announcement; you wished to ask the Knights here to help distribute the amulets,” she deduced.

“That’s correct,” Saint Rarity confirmed. “We would like for all six of our orders, Radiant and Angelic included, to oversee this holy mission. As wise as we are, we don’t yet know the names and faces of everypony in the Diarchy, or their individual needs. Nor are there that many of us. That’s why we are entreating you to assist us, alongside the High General, Grand Master Magenta Mirror, and the others.”

“Better us doing it than these Paladins, at least,” Astrolabe said, her tail swishing behind her with anxious energy as she pointed at Silent Sorrow. “As with any prescribed remedy, the amulets won’t work for everypony, and could easily cause harm in the wrong conditions.

“If this is going to happen either way, I believe we should be the ones taking care of it,” added one of Ambrosia’s escorts. “What do you think, Grand Master?”

She took a long moment to mull this over. The creatures hanging on her response instantly quieted as she eventually resumed speaking. “I will need more time to ensure these nullifying amulets are passed along freely and responsibly. And to meet with the other Grand Masters.”

Touching the single amulet still around her neck, she continued. “You can leave this one here with me. And I would also request samples be distributed to the Orders. But know that I would have appreciated being briefed about this in advance. Saints or otherwise, making a public spectacle of a new innovation to entreat favor for your own aggrandizement isn’t how professionals operate.”

“All that we do, we do to reinforce the unity the Diarchs require,” Saint Applejack rebuked, even as some of the crowd began to protest on their behalf. “But I understand, and we will take your feedback into consideration. Saint Twilight can pause the distribution to all outside our Orders for now.”

Emberglow sighed in relief, the remaining adrenaline leaving her body. She now found herself emotionally exhausted. “Are you finished?” she asked. “As delicate and important this issue is, I imagine you, and many creatures here, have other responsibilities to return to.”

The Saints didn’t speak for a long moment.

“Say something!”

“Lady Emberglow here is correct in that we’ve said all we needed to,” Saint Rarity eventually said.

“Then I suppose this is goodbye?” Emberglow posed. “The residents of Old Canterlot can take it from here.”

Only after having another wordless exchange did Saint Applejack clear her throat. “Yes, it seems our visit today is at its end. We trust you to evaluate the amulets and begin their distribution shortly, Grand Master Ambrosia. This will cement the Diarchs’ satisfaction with you.”

“Come along, Paladins. Yes, you as well, Shockwave.”

Instantly, a shape descended from above. A second Paladin had been hidden behind the steeple of one of the churches, standing on the roof! After landing in an empty spot beside Silent Sorrow with effortless ease, Shockwave inclined their covered head, marked with a three.

Saint Rarity gestured with a foreleg, and the nearby ponies stood from their spots on the benches and shuffled off to the sides to make a wider aisle up the tiered rows for the four of them to leave single-file. The Saints climbed up with their heads held high, saying nothing as their robes scintillated in the light.

Paladin Shockwave, following behind them, whipped their covered head around to study the shorter creatures around him. “Did you find meaning in the words of the Saints?” they posed. “To find greater meaning in one’s existence… there is no greater pursuit.”

On that, at least, Emberglow could agree. She wondered what meaning the Paladins themselves got out of all this.

“Please disperse peacefully, all of you,” Saint Rarity added. “Return to your normal routines. Saint Applejack and I have other places to visit our wisdom upon. Safe travels and a blessed day to you all.”

The four of them soon vanished completely beyond the crowd.Upon their departure, the oppressive weight of the impending maelstrom abated, for now. Loyalists dispersed from the semicircular arrangement and melted into little cliques, departing for their own homes or other destinations. Others departed one after another now that the spectacle had run its course, many going right back inside houses of worship on the Row itself to gossip about the fallout of this fresh development.

The rest waited, forming a line in front of Ambrosia, asking what tests she would perform, or if they could try the amulet out for a bit. The Knights Angelic were watching very carefully to make sure nobody on either side made trouble.

Only now did the tension begin to bleed out of Emberglow’s body. One wrong move, and the assembled creatures could have coalesced into a violent mob, crashing through the city in an avalanche. Emberglow counted her lucky stars that the Saints had only made requests, not demands.

She huddled close to Rarity. Just leaning into her helped settle Emberglow’s nerves, but more words, even calming ones, wouldn’t come. Rarity, too, was silent, stiff apart from her wandering eyes.

Rarity was trying to hide it, but Emberglow could tell when her wife was afraid.

Emberglow looked away, eyes roving about for a distraction. The hateful crone was slowly hobbling away on old joints, spitting phlegm onto the stones over her shoulder in contempt in Emberglow and Rarity’s direction.

Other couples and families of all kinds held each other much as they were, sheltering from the past and future in each other’s hooves. Her wings tensed involuntarily as Emberglow made eye contact with her parents, who watched them with undisguised shame and pity.

Sighing, Emberglow turned to Rarity. There wasn’t anything left to be done, here. If those Saints, or any others, returned in their absence, she could trust her many allies here to act as opposition in their stead.

“Should we follow them, you think?” Emberglow asked.

“No,” Rarity replied, tiny cracks of her own mental exhaustion only Emberglow could recognise peeking into view. “We’re bound to run into them again eventually, so long as we all seek to change the Diarchy.”

Emberglow flexed, cracking her spine. “Then let’s go. Heartwing and Terminus will need to hear about all this.”

Rising Flames

by Thought Prism

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4