I got about as much sleep as I could've got the day before, yet my dreams were illuminating. I'd set an early alarm; the sun was still out by the time I woke up. I wolfed down my breakfast in record time, rushed out the door and took to the skies before the crack of dusk.

School didn’t start properly until half past nine, but adjacent to the building was a small Lunar temple providing the students a place to pray and worship before a night of learning. It wouldn’t have surprised me if this place was next on the EEA’s chopping block.

The temple interior itself was a broad, open space, absent of any ostentatious decoration with simple and elegant utilitarianism given priority. Plain purple walls, comfortable prayer mats and seating cushions in neat rows on the floor, and empty holes on the ceiling that once held bars for tail-hanging. Fading sunlight reached through the thin, tall windows. A lectern, typically used by the currently absent Moonspeaker, stood before a shrine at the far end of the temple. Such designs often seemed drab, but in the early nights of Lunarism as a distinct faith, our ancestors had few materials to work with. An austere aesthetic became the norm, and quickly solidified itself as tradition.

Yet not even this place was free of Celestial interference, and EEA regulations forbade any overt symbols of reverence towards the Nightmare. For the shrine atop the altar it was common for devout Lunarists to place portraits or statuettes of Nightmare Moon, but we had to settle for a representation of Her lesser form, Princess Luna. Though, a large wooden relief of the crescent moon with thestral wings on the wall behind the shrine worked well enough as a representation of the Nightmare. It hadn't been sussed out yet.

There were about twenty-five ponies in the room. Most were students, some were staff. Most were in deep bows, some were sitting still. Most worshipped in silence, some whispered their prayers. Most were thestrals, some were of other tribes. But crucially, there was a single common characteristic that everypony shared, owing to the fact that they were in this temple at this time. They were all devout Lunarists.

On the left half of the room, I saw my friend Chocolate Honeycomb kneeling in prayer with her leathery wings tightly tucked on her sides. Jasmine coloured-coat, glossy brown mane, and an immaculate uniform. Her mane was fairly long, but you wouldn’t notice its length given it had been tied into an impossibly tight bun at the back. I’d known her for years as we’d been to primary school together and her mother shared my mother’s religious enthusiasm, plus her impressive knowledge of obscure points of Lunarist theology puts most Moonspeakers to shame.

I settled down on the mat next to her, after a few silent moments I lightly nudged her. “Psst, Choc.”

Her head bolted up. “Selenite? Can’t you see I’m praying?”

“Look,” I passed her a small hoof-written note. She took it, stared, then unfolded it and read what I’d written.

I need everypony’s attention. The EEA is planning on moving us to daytime classes.

I saw the note fall out of her hooves, her face frozen with her mouth hung open. “You’re joking,” she whispered, turning to me.

“I wish,” I whispered back. “Get the others, we’ve got to do something.”

I could see her looking at me and back at the note, until she gave an understanding nod. We stood up and went around the temple getting ponies attention as politely as possible and assembling them before the altar. With everypony assembled, they all displayed bemused looks on their faces, some literally scratching their heads. I recognised most of the ponies, friends and familiar faces at Lunarist gatherings, but two that stood out most were teachers. My old math teacher Mrs Mason Jarr and a science teacher named Copper Wire, both of whom were thestrals.

“What's this about, Selenite?” one pony asked.

“I'm sure you know that already,” I said, pointing to the space on the ceiling where the bars used to be. “But I'm afraid things might be about to get a whole lot worse unless we act quickly. I’m speaking to you here because you are all faithful Lunarists and I trust you, and I ask that you give me the same trust.”

The gathered ponies were looking at each other with expressions of fear, confusion, and worry. They followed with various rumbles of assent. Some, especially the teachers and older students, threw skeptical looks my way. “Go on then,” Mrs Jarr said.

“I have been informed by somepony responsible for school administration, who prefers to remain anonymous, that the EEA isn't going to stop at banning tail hanging,” I paused for emphasis, “but is also planning to move us all to daytime classes.”

At least eight ponies gasped at once.

“I'm sorry, what?” Mrs Jarr coughed. “Selenite, this sounds like an unfounded rumour, there’s no way-”

“Who told you about that?” Mr Wire asked, stepping forwards.

“Wait, it’s actually happening?” Mrs Jarr flinched, flabbergasted. “Why were you told and not me?”

“I wasn’t!” Mr Wire retorted. “I overheard Mind grumbling about it earlier this evening!”

“Woah woah, so they’re actually gonna do it?” a young student squealed.

“Ohh, stars,” a younger thestral groaned. “This is a damn sunstroke.”

The volume of the din was accelerating as chattering and gossiping turned to panicked shrieks and rumour peddling. “Ponies! Please!” I shouted. I'd quickly realised how much the situation had gotten out of hoof, which shouldn't have surprised me as my reaction to the news was much like theirs. Fortunately, my shout had caught their attention. “To panic now would be the doom of us all! Right now we need to assess the situation calmly and rationally, and think of a plan.”

“Plan?” Mrs Jarr winced with a hint of condescension in her voice. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I'm serious!” I asserted.

Choc leaned up to Mrs Jarr. “She's deadly serious,” she confirmed.

I continued speaking. “To begin, we need to share what we all know. About the EEA, about planned policies, about anything. Now, the same source I heard about the planned change from also told me that Superintendent Neighsay of the EEA, a detestable bigot who masterminded these policies, will be visiting Fledermaus High this Frinight at 10pm to ensure that his plans have been put into effect. Can you confirm this, Mr Wire or Mrs Jarr?”

A nod came from Mr Wire, followed by a groan from Mrs Jarr.

“Alright, what else do you know about it?” I said.

Mrs Jarr loudly sighed. “You know I can’t tell a student-”

“We’ve been told that Neighsay’s visit this Frinight will involve him and at least three other EEA ponies,” Mr Wire stepped forwards, speaking in his loud teaching voice. “The only classes they’ll be entering are ones where most students are secular, hoping to avoid disruptions and give Neighsay a good impression. He’ll meet with Principal Electric in his office first. You, Selenite, were considered to help show him around the school due to your student council position and exceptional grades but it was decided that he’d only be shown around by non-thestral staff, knowing his bigotries and your religious zeal. Authorities haven’t completely disposed of the ceiling bars, they’re being kept in school storage.”

“Copper!?” Mrs Jarr jumped.

“Look, Mason, she’s right, we need to do something about this, the EEA’s after all of us,” he said. “You think they're going to care about whether we're adults or foals?”

Mrs Jarr stared at Mr Wire silently for a few seconds, then she turned towards me with an exasperated sigh. “Well, I’ve been told that if any member of staff tries to protest against the changes or fails to enforce the policy in their classes, they risk being fired.”

“Told by who?” I asked.

Mrs Jarr was quiet. “The Principal,” she finally confirmed.

“Right. Does anypony have anything else to share?” I asked. Nothing but silence followed. “Okay, good. Then we’re all on the same page.”

“All on the same page of being completely screwed,” one older colt remarked. A whole barrage of comments ranging from sincere to snide in tone came from the assembled ponies.

“What are we gonna do?” a young filly trembled.

“Yeah Selenite,” sompony stepped forwards. “What do you actually want to do about all this?”

I waited for the hubbub to die down, then gave my answer. “I think it’s worth mentioning this before I go any further. Last day, I dreamt of myself amongst hundreds of thestrals, all of them thestrals I recognise from this school, most of you were there too. All of us were tail hanging and surrounding Superintendent Neighsay. He ordered us to get down, ordered us to act like real ponies, but not one of us obeyed. None of us even flinched. I don’t know if She was speaking to me directly or if this was a simple manifestation of the dreamscape, but I can’t help but feel that it’s a sign-”

“Ooh! Ooh!” a young colt perked up and waved. “I dreamed the same thing!”

An older filly waved. “Uh, I had that dream too? Is that normal?”

Mrs Jarr put a hoof to her mouth, eyebrows narrowing. “I think I had the same dream as well,” she murmured.

I smirked. “Then perhaps She is guiding us. In any case, I felt inspired by this dream. Like the way forward had been revealed to me, though perhaps it was revealed to all of us.”

“Where's this going?” somepony said with a tilt of the head.

“Bear with me,” I said, hoping to preempt a negative reaction. “This coming Frinight, when Neighsay shows up, we will have a chance to make a strong, resolute sign of protest and defiance, to announce to his face that the ponies of Fledermaus High won’t submit to his orders. How? When he arrives, every class stops. Everypony drops their work. Every thestral takes to the ceiling and tail hangs, student and staff alike! If there aren’t enough bars to hang from, take flight! Every non-thestral strikes in solidarity! Demonstrate beyond any shadow of a doubt that his repression isn’t welcome in Fledermaus, and continue to not hold a single class until the policy is reversed! Tell them firmly and clearly that all of Fledermaus High rejects their backwards bigotries, and that school will stop until they give in!”

I hadn’t noticed I’d dramatically raised my voice, but the stunned silent faces all before me certainly had.

“Selenite, I respect your enthusiasm,” Mrs Jarr finally spoke up. “But you’re asking us to all go on strike by the end of the week. We can’t do that on such short notice and especially not on the request of a student.”

“I’m speaking to you not as a student to a teacher, but as one faithful Lunarist to another!” I pronounced, dramatically flaring my wings. Mrs Jarr stepped back a bit in reaction, but I quickly calmed myself before I resumed speaking. “Besides you have a union, don’t you? You have a network behind you to support a strike, even if you don’t go through the union to initiate the strike, they’ll have no choice but to support a collective act from their members. They'd completely lose your trust otherwise, and a union is nothing without trust from its members.”

“Every thestral, though?” a different student said. “How are we gonna get them all on board before Frinight? Doesn’t this school have like, over a thousand kids?”

“By working our flanks off!” I asserted. “But right now we need each other's trust, even if we don’t adopt my framework. We need to use the time we have to come together and make a stand. Because either we fight back now, or we languish under their boot in the most important years of our lives.”

I’d finished, finally letting my voice rest. No cacophony of questions followed, just two-dozen pairs of eyes silently staring at me. I could hear my every breath as I eagerly anticipated a response. The thought of saying something else to top my speech off came to mind, but I worried that adding anything more may have devalued the finality of my last sentence.

“So, let me get this straight,” Choc stepped up to me. “You want to organise nearly the whole student body and enough of the teaching staff into a single coordinated protest action that will put the staff's jobs and the students' academic prospects at risk, while ensuring that we involve everypony who's sympathetic, convince enough ponies who are on the fence, and keep everypony opposed to us in the dark. You want that, and all done flawlessly in three nights.”

I swallowed. “Yes,” I affirmed.

Choc smirked at me with a chuckle. “Alright, I'm in.”

“Me too!” another filly chirped.

“We're with you, General Selenite!” an older colt leapt up and saluted. I didn’t know why at the time but being referred to as ‘General’ felt naturally right.

Mrs Jarr grumbled. “I can’t believe I’m being led by a student… I’m in.”

“I wouldn't rather be led by anypony else!” Mr Wire smiled at Mrs Jarr. “You bet I'm in.”

More cries of support followed, either by ponies raising their hooves, cheering, or simply saying that they were in. Not a single pony present dissented. Thus the first meeting of the All-School Organising Committee of Fledermaus High formally began.

On top of a normal school night and all the work that involved, I was tirelessly working between and during periods on reaching out to expand our ranks and ensure maximum participation in our protest.

The meeting of the All-School Organising Committee - my choice of name - that followed was fairly brief, as we only had so much time before school began later in the evening. We all agreed on my plan to “welcome” Neighsay with a striking school of tail hanging thestrals on Frinight, and we all agreed on what we should all do over the course of Tuesnight. Primarily what we’d be saying and to who in order to recruit as many ponies as possible.

Right after our meeting was adjourned, I went to seek the help of my friend Timetable. Mandys pink coat, palatinate purple mane, unicorn bat pony hybrid, and completely adorkable. She was never much of a Lunarist and had a broadly secular upbringing, but she had an unrivalled eye for detail, propensity for facts and figures, and was all too happy to help. When the committee convened again after school, I brought her along. Others brought their friends along too.

Choc was a member of the school’s music club, so it was her responsibility to get the students of the music club on board with our plan. By all reports she succeeded. That was the general framework for everyone on the committee, go to whoever they knew and trusted and convince them to join in.

In my case, I spent that night’s meeting with the school's history club, informing the members I trusted with what we had planned, successfully bringing the whole club on board. History obsessives tend to jump at the thought of making history themselves, so it wasn’t hard to convince them. Even the few non-thestral members of the club were enthusiastic.

When I told Mom about the plan that evening, she was ecstatic. She practically jumped into the air when I told her about all the progress we’d made in little more than a night, and she was more than happy to get more ponies on board and to spread the word amongst the staff who’d potentially help. I have to say, OPSEC is considerably easier when the organisational conversations and discussions aren't happening at the place we’re planning to protest against.

Even outside of school hours, we were doing what little bits of organisation we could. Stopping off at after school clubs, going to places that schoolkids frequently patronised, writing letters and brainstorming rhetoric. I could probably count the hours of sleep I got each day on my hooves.

I of course told Pocarona, moreso out of courtesy than out of an expectation for him to contribute. He wasn’t a terribly social pony and certainly not one for agitation or organisation. But, to my suprise, he'd gotten a whole ten ponies on board. Ten I hadn't even thought to reach out to until later, given their usual apathy. I couldn't even recall what Poca told me he told his acquaintances, it was incoherent and made heavy use of the words “based” and “cringe”, but hey, it worked!

Mr Wire spoke directly to his students, sure of their loyalty, about what we planned to do. He reported that most of them were on board, with only a few apathetic, and none dissenting. For the uninterested a strike meant a few extra days off school. Mrs Wire reported much the same result after Mr Wire convinced her to speak to her classes directly.

There was also an effort to reach out to the school’s maintenance staff. Groundskeepers, janitors, lunch staff and such. With knowledge of where the removed ceiling bars were being kept, their job was to reinstall as many bars as they could on the night of the strike, a task as simple as screwing them back into place. Fortunately, they were tremendously sympathetic to our cause as basically all of them were devout Lunarists and thestrals themselves. Another crucial recruitment successful.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly by the time of our meeting at the end of the school night. However, Mr Wire had raised a major problem.

There was a kid at our school named Green Pasture. A thestral colt, around my age, colours were about what you’d expect for a pony with that name, and quite frankly I did not know what his deal was. I still don’t know what his deal was. He was a thestral, his parents were thestrals and Lunarists, but somehow he ended up as a diehard worshipper of Celestia!

“Equestrian society will never accept us if we cling to some old hated usurper!” his argument went. “If thestrals want respect they should start acting like proper ponies!” and such. It stunned me how a thestral could find themselves echoing the rhetoric of a monster like Neighsay! Someone had asked him if he wanted in on the strike and he went to report it to the staff. By some stroke of luck the teacher he reported to was Mr Wire, who told him that he’d sort it out and that Green should keep quiet until then.

It served as a stark reminder that we needed to be more careful about security and discipline. If word got to the wrong ponies the whole thing could come crashing down. The students, including myself, faced being suspended and the teachers faced losing their jobs unless the whole thing went off without a hitch. We were in the paradoxical position where we needed to be loud to get the message out but be quiet to stop the wrong ponies hearing it.

I’m not proud of what we did next. Okay, maybe a little proud.

Obviously, a teacher couldn’t threaten disciplinary action against a student for following school rules and reporting a planned act of disruption and disobedience. What we proposed instead was a parallel structure of enforcement and, to put it bluntly, intimidation to ensure no leaks and discipline amongst our ranks.

I found some tough, older kids who were all big fans of the sort of heavy music my Dad used to make and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse: Be our enforcers and you can have all the signed merchandise from any member of his band that you’d ever want. I came prepared with some signed posters as a welcoming bonus of sorts. They were already in on the plan as far as I knew, one of them was in the music club with Choc and they’d managed to tacitly recruit the rest, but this well and truly brought them from potential protestors to enthusiastic enforcers.

We also needed a list of every student who might potentially be a leaker or a snitch. Blacklist them so nobody on our committee would reveal a morsel of information to them. Thank Nightmare I was the queen of collecting lists and already knew who in the school couldn’t be trusted with the details of the plan. Green Pasture was just one of many. In the span of one meeting, every potential troublemaker was known and named, and I had the honour of delivering that list to the enforcers.

To tell the truth, I don’t know what exactly the enforcers did to keep the potential snitches in check. The only explicit instruction I gave them was to subtly suggest that teachers deep within the plan, such as Mr Wire, could be turned to for help as to ensure any reports would wind up in the hooves of our committee. The few times I saw the potential snitches, Green Pasture included, they seemed physically unharmed but terribly frightened. I felt guilty in a way, but if enabling a small amount of personal bullying was necessary to stop the EEA’s plan for institutional bullying, then the choice was obvious. These means were absolutely justified by the end, I was certain of it.

As for ensuring discipline amongst ourselves, we double-checked each other’s progress over the course of the three nights, making sure that no one pony was ever the only source of affirmation. In fact, we made sure we didn't break any of the new rules to keep suspicion as low as possible. The only ponies who underperformed were students in their last year of school, the sort of ponies currently hyper-focused on studying for their final exams who wouldn’t have to endure daytime classes themselves. It was understandable that they didn’t commit that much time or effort to the plan, but that just meant the rest of us had to work extra hard to ensure adherence to the plan amongst those ponies.

Broadly, we made astonishing progress over three nights. We didn’t bring every last pony on board with the plan, but a supermajority of both students and staff were in. The committee met one last time Frinight evening, around an hour before Neighsay's arrival. We went over every last detail of the plan and made absolutely certain that the ponies each of us we were responsible for were going to join in.

The stage was set, and the play could begin.

Equestrian Class had begun as normal at half nine, everything in school was supposed to appear exactly as it should’ve been until the moment of action, lest we raise undue suspicion. The vast majority of students in the class including our teacher, Ms Goodall, were in on the plan with the rest either unaware or apathetic. Both Timetable and Choc were in this class too. We were supposed to spend the lesson continuing our reading and literary analysis of Lord Of The Horseflies, but from the moment everypony sat down it was obvious where our minds were.

“Alright, my little ponies,” Ms Goodall said to open the lesson. Her eyes moved around the classroom, but they frequently settled on me specifically. "I'm sure we all know what's happening at ten, and we're all very eager and probably a bit anxious, but we still have a lesson to do until then. Get your workbooks out and open your copy of Lord Of The Horseflies to page eighty-nine.”

Despite her assurances, she couldn't stop herself from constantly looking up at the clock as the hooves slowly drew closer to ten. Everypony noticed it, and everypony matched it. I continued to do my schoolwork, most were probably only pretending to do it, just in case anypony from the outside entered. It was far too late to slip up.

Five to ten. Any pretence of the lesson that was supposed to be happening had been dropped. I heard small snippets of conversation from the few ponies who weren’t in the loop asking what was going on to nopony in particular. Somepony whispered that school stops at ten and they should stay calm until then. A marvellously vague assurance, but it seemed to work.

Two to ten. I was going over what I wanted to say to Neighsay in my head, muttering little pieces of it under my breath.

One to ten. All eyes on the clock. The classroom, no, the whole school was silent. Only the ticking of the clock and the occasional shuddering breath could be heard. All of us were frozen in place, ready to leap into action

Ten o’clock. The silence was banished so quickly I didn’t even hear the clock tick.

“To the Principal's office, everypony, now!” I barked.

Before I'd even finished speaking, everypony was out of their seats and rushing to the exit. Ms Goodall herself leapt into action to hold the door open, imploring us to move quickly yet carefully and exit one at a time. But nothing could've slowed the veritable stampede of more than two dozen galloping fillies thundering through the doors and corridors. Already the halls were overflowing with ponies flooding out of classrooms and to their places, some already leaping to the ceiling and finding things to hang off of. Such avid eagerness was commendable.

“Ohh it’s happening!” I heard one colt shout over the noise. “Oh Moon it’s happening!”

It wasn’t long until we were in the hall outside Mr Electric’s office. A few other ponies not from our class were there, Mr Wire and the school’s Janitor Mrs Wishy Washy among them. We’d already figured out where everypony would hang. Timetable lacked wings and was thus groundbound; she and around a dozen non-thestrals nonetheless participated by protesting from the ground.

“Well Mind, you are an odd fellow,” we heard Neighsay's voice approaching from the reception. Everypony turned towards the door. His hoofsteps got nearer with every second. I subconsciously held my breath.

The doors to the hall opened. Mr Electric entered, Neighsay and his entourage in tow. “But I have to say, you st- SWEET CELESTIA!”

Neighsay nearly fell over. Mr Electric froze. His entourage, three ponies all dressed in EEA robes, gasped. Yet the lot of us were motionless, our eyes fiercely staring down on the old, white unicorn stallion and the other ponies around him.

“Electric!” Neighsay barked. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I-I-I don't understand, Superintendent,” Mr Electric stammered. “They're supposed to be in class-”

“Superintendent Neighsay! Ponies of the EEA!” I cut him off with a yell, as much force in my voice as I could muster. “We the students and staff of Fledermaus High reject your bigoted new policies and demand their immediate reversal!”

“Try as you might, you will never be able to prohibit what makes a thestral a thestral!” Mrs Washy announced. “Instead, we defy your rules in protest! All throughout the school you will find the same thing!”

“As long as these rules remain on the books, not a single class will be held in this school!” shouted Ms Goodall. “Students and staff alike, we are now on strike!”

“The choice is now yours!” Choc declared. “Allow the rains of justice and harmony to fall where they may, or be swept away in an unstoppable tsunami of rebellion!”

The EEA ponies stood still, their jaws hanging low and eyes staring wide. “Do you honestly expect us to be moved by this?” Neighsay chortled.

Then, somepony yelled “EEA, go away!”

I don't even remember who it was, I didn't recognise their voice at the time and couldn’t recall it since. Then somepony else shouted the same thing. Then another pony. Then Choc. Then the Janitor. Then me. Then everypony in the hall was chanting in unison, “EEA, go away! EEA, go away! EEA, go away!”

“Who is the ringleader of this? Tell me!” Neighsay ordered, stomping a hoof into the ground.

“EEA, go away!”

“Do you want this school to lose EEA accreditation?” Neighsay shouted.

“EEA, go away!”

“Stop it!” Neighsay cried, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“EEA, go away!”

“Neighsay!” Mr Electric grabbed Neighsay and pulled him to the side, “into my office, quickly.”

With Mr Electric in the lead, the five ponies carefully but swiftly rushed through the hall and towards Mr Electric’s office, avoiding bumping into any of us. We kept chanting, not wavering in volume or in unity, with the EEA ponies flinching with every chant. Mr Electric pulled his office door open, ushered the EEA ponies through, then slammed it shut as he entered.

Then Mr Electric roared. “Don’t you get it now you stupid fucking bastard?” he shouted, presumably at Neighsay. Most of us stopped chanting, stunned by the shock of hearing him curse so loud. Already the centre of noise had moved from the hall to the office, as a shouting match commenced between Mr Electric and Neighsay.

Owing to my thestral hearing, I could make out the louder bursts of their argument.

First some light rumbling, then Neighsay’s voice boomed. “This is exactly why we need a firm hoof to civilise these creatures!”

“What do you expect me to do, Superintendent?” Mr Electric countered. “Do you want me to drag them down by force?"

“Are you talking back to me, Principal?” Neighsay spat.

“Don't talk to me like I'm a foal, Superintendent!” Mr Electric shouted. “You and I both know these policies won't work! All you’re doing is antagonising them! What do you even want out of this?”

“What I want is an Equestria cleansed of the stain of Nightmarism before it's too late!” Neighsay yelled. I heard him stomp to punctuate.

“And you think treating every thestral under your jurisdiction like an animal is going to help?” Mr Electric countered.

I didn’t hear a word out of Neighsay.

“Well? Do you?” Mr Electric said. Several moments of , broken only by a resigned groan from Neighsay.

The door flew open and out came Neighsay, averting his eyes from the lot of us. We resumed chanting, loud as we could, stoking fear into the EEA ponies. Mr Electric did his best to follow them, making little motions with his hooves signalling for us to quiet down. Few of us paid him any heed, and our chants continued.

Once the EEA ponies were through the door into the reception, Mr Electric turned to us. “As long as I’m in charge none of you will be punished for this. Good night,” he said hastily, somehow rising over the sound of the continuing chants. He then followed Neighsay through to the reception and out of the school.

Through sheer momentum the chant continued, until it became clear that there was nobody to chant to, and we slowly quieted down. I was full of energy, like , it wasn’t until a moment had passed for my mind to clear that I felt something different about my flank, an arcane presence had made itself known. My eyes snapped around and I looked at my behind. I gasped and nearly fell from the ceiling as I saw what was there.

A cutie mark. My cutie mark. A light teal square beneath a crossed purple pencil, and a pitch black crescent moon at the centre. The personal achievement elated me, but my mind was abuzz for what this meant for the school ponies as a whole. Whatever divine influence gave ponies their cutie marks had noticed our struggle, and given us this sign of success, of true meaning.

“Selly, what happened?” Timetable galloped up to me, her eyes wide and a smile growing on her lips.

I turned to her, wide smile splitting my countenance as I barely held back a euphoric laugh.

“I think we won.”

“Turns out, we had. Word spread to other thestral schools in the district and there was talk of similar demonstrations happening at those schools. Rather than fight a protracted battle with teachers and students alike, the EEA gave in after a few nights and the policy was finally reversed. Spent the rest of my school years as anyone should. My humble side tells me that the announcement of the teachers’ strike had more to do with it than student protests, but, hey! Getting the cutie mark had to mean something!” Selenite finished with a giggle.

As if on cue, the door swung open again. “We’re back!” Carte announced, prancing into the room.

“We’re so back!” a sweat-drenched Poca followed up, an impossibly wide grin on his face.

Her eyes wide as dishplates and ears on end, Rarity spun around to the new entrants. “Carte Blanche!?” she squealed.

“Miss Rarity, darling,” Carte flirted with a wink and a smirk.

“We should probably get going, now,” Rarity hastily whispered to Sweetie Belle.

“Ah, Mr. Blanche. My office at twenty-to,” Selenite said abruptly.

Carte flicked his hair back. “Of course, darling Warmaster,” he said.

“And… Poca?” Selenite said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, hi, I’m here,” Poca mumbled. “Look, uh, I got some work here over the coming nights, need a place to crash, that fine with you?”

“Uhh, okay?” Selenite said. “You really don’t need to ask me for that, government employees are entitled to local lodging, just go to a clerk and they’ll set you up with a place.

“Pft, yeah, well,” Poca looked from side to side whilst shuffling on his hooves. “Just, rather ask you directly, y’know, bureaucracy’s confusing, and stuff.”

“Hey, I got a flat here! You can stay at mine!” Moonatik waved, reminding everyone he was there. Poca returned a thankful smile.

Scootaloo glanced around the room. “Hey, everypony’s here! Except Polar, hmm. Wonder where she got to.”

“Hey, you know, I’ve sorta picked up on something tonight,” Sweetie said, catching everyone’s notice. “The cutie marks themselves weren’t really what was important to most of your stories. Carte and Polar said they didn’t even notice they’d got them when they did. What really mattered was what you did and what you learned about yourselves in the process of getting them!”

“Heh,” Sol smirked. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Carte shrugged. “Sure, something like that.”

“I guess you're just happy that the last story had nopony getting hurt, ey Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo remarked.

“Say,” Apple Bloom coughed, “Selenite,” she waved to Selenite. “Great story and all, mighty, hmm, inspirin’. But, uh, what happened to that Superintendent Neighsay feller? Did he just leave?”

“Oh, yeah, him,” Selenite said. She glanced at Carte who returned a devious smirk, then she looked back to Apple Bloom. “Neighsay's dead.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped. “...what!?”

“Became Chancellor of the EEA a year or two after the Thestral strike happened, during the Lunar Revolution he fled to Puerto Caballo with all the other Solarist cowards and became a member of the ruling junta. But just a few weeks into our operation to retake the islands, he was confirmed KIA whilst trying to escape abroad,” Selenite said. Her lips were curling upwards slightly, but she quickly straightened her lips and eyebrows. “It’s kind of a shame he wasn’t captured alive and never faced trial for his-”

“Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me!?” Apple Bloom exploded. “What is wrong with y’all? Every single story has had somepony gettin’ hurt or killed or been told in the most hog wild way possible! Y’all ain’t just messed up, y’all are horseshoe slingin’ psychos!”

Rarity frantically made gestures at Apple Bloom, begging her to quiet down, noticing the assembled ponies had been stunned into silence. “Now really isn’t the time for this darling,” she said, sweating bullets.

“And this, this goes for all’a y’all! Y’all are murderers! At the absolute best accomplices to murderers!” Apple Bloom accused. She put a hoof to her forehead. “I swear to Celestia what has Equestria come to-”

“OH Apple Bloom, you’re such a joker!” Rarity yelled, magically seizing all three fillies by the tail and dragging them to the nearest open door, ignoring their protests. “It was lovely to chat but oh my goodness look at the time got to go bye!” and she slammed the door behind her.

Everypony stood in silence for a few moments. Carte then snorted. “Well, she seemed raring to go.”