With a minimum amount of fuss, we convinced Lyra the signal wasn’t needed. There was only one more hurdle to reaching the Everfree Hive. It wasn’t a problem per se, but it was a rather annoying condition to our journey.
“You can’t seriously expect us to agree to this.” I stared at the flickering portal in front of us.
“It’s just a shortcut.” Third Eye arched an eyebrow.
I shivered, glancing away from the abomination. It was a thing of dreams and nightmares. The center was a void so complete as to be absolute. Light bent away from it such that it seemed to burn from not-quite flames of shadow and starlight. It's colors shifted through all the murky hues of a dark rainbow—colors shared by the aura around Third Eye’s horn.
It wasn’t natural for a horn’s aura to shift like that.
Rainbow’s feathers quivered in anticipation of flight and fight, while Rarity’s muzzle scrunched, evaluating the situation. The slight rearing of her head keyed me in to where her thoughts were headed. Morpheus had hidden each of his eyes behind its respective haw, muttering to himself. The bits won from his bet were currently on the ground before him, forgotten.
“A shortcut that we can’t see the exit to,” I declared. “It could be a trap for all we know.”
“Chill, Twi. You’re acting like we’re out to get you.” Lyra’s legato flowed oddly in her changeling form. It was a soothing drone, like a massage for the ears.
She was still twitching from her entrance, having burst onto the scene as the pegasus from earlier and shedding her disguise almost violently. She was tuning her lyre with her magic now. The sound was an inconsistent mix of highs and lows at various tempos and stretches. Twice a string had been plucked so hard as to snap, and she had dutifully replaced it.
Clearly, the idea of hypocrisy was lost on her right now. That was okay, though. We could stress out together.
“I’m not—” Wait. That would be a lie. Lying was bad. Morpheus made that clear. “It’s just…” My muzzle scrunched as I tried to find the words, and everypony looking at me did not help. “Just look at it!” I threw my hoof out. “Would you jump in a portal that looked like that?”
Thank you, mouth. You truly are the most eloquent of orifices.
“Ah, so that’s the issue then.” Third Eye shook his head. “Easy enough to solve, ve suppose. You’ve seen the some of the subtypes of the second and third iterations of changeling metamorphosis, but you’ve yet to see the fourth iteration.”
He bit his lip. “It comes with… alterations would be putting it mildly…. Mutations? Regardless, one of my more appreciable traits is the ability to shift my horn’s aura to disguise myself better.” He kicked the ground. “It starts to misbehave with higher level spells. I’d rather not show you the rest of me until we’re at the Hive, though. It’s not exactly a subtle form.”
I pouted, lowering my freshly conjured notebook.
“Dude, we’re in the middle of the Everfree forest.” Rainbow snickered. “Pretty sure that’s as low-key as Equestria gets.”
“His stance is… understandable… if he’s telling the truth.” Morpheus spoke hesitantly—a soft, almost reverent, aspect to his echo. “Anypony who saw him would be likelyto run for the hills.”
I chuckled nervously. “You make it sound like they are out to get us.”
“An unimportant facet of the truth,” the prince droned, eyes glassing over for a second. “Regardless of their actual intentions, our perception of their intentions may shift to a more negative outlook with such a reveal. Running would be a very appropriate response for us.”
“Even you?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Especially us….” He frowned at the ground.
“Well, we may as well take the leap, darling.” Rarity was taking a sketch of the portal. I had no idea how she could possibly think something so fundamentally wrong with the world could translate to fashion. Then again, maybe it was for a Nightmare Night costume.
Still, I supposed we had little option. Gritting my teeth, I gestured to the others. “Come on then.”
Third Eye held out a hoof just before I entered. “A warning, if you’d care to listen. Portals were never my strong suit. I can force the spell nowadays, but the result is… turbulent. This is still the most efficient way to the Hive, and protocol demands we ensure you lack a path to trace, but...” He waved airily in that way nobles do when suggesting a loophole without actually suggesting a loophole. “...if you really wish to avoid it, we can simply tell the rest of the Hive that there was a little too much turbulence for your tastes.”
He was offering an out, but I was committed at this point. I smiled gratefully, yet shook my head. “Thanks, but we are kind of late as it is.”
Light and darkness.
Life and death.
Quesadillas and persimmons.
All of these and many other things flashed before my eyes, and through my mind, and in my skin—crawling and wriggling and scuttling in a million different ways that they should not be able to. Cheese quesadillas, maybe, but light doesn’t burrow through flesh naturally.
Turbulence my flank. This was chaos. It was like somepony turned the normal discomfort of teleporting up to eleven, then squared the result to get one hundred and twenty-one.
Whatever was in my stomach must have been left behind, because I hit the ground dry heaving. “Sweet Cel—” I hurled again. “—estia, that was awful.” Rainbow took no issue in joining me as she exited. Rarity, thankfully, somehow held her composure, although it looked like she really wanted to join us.
“Oh my stars! I don’t know whether to squeal in delight or disgust—” Yes, Rarity was the epitome of tact when it mattered most. Thank Celestia, she could handle the diplomacy as I negotiated with my stomach to stop holding my mouth hostage. “—I can’t even begin to describe it. Twilight, darling, look.”
My head was tilted upwards in her aura, and time just seemed to stop. Perhaps I died. It was hard to tell. All I knew was I stopped heaving—stopped breathing—and nothing mattered but the view. I had seen pieces of what we were saving—bits of changeling culture—yet the whole was more than the sum of its parts, and I was suddenly being slapped in the face with an entire society. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy and slightly disturbed inside.
The shape is what struck me first. It was a tree, kind of. I used to live in a tree—still kind of do—and it seems they did, too. It wasn’t a plant, though. It was a… a hulking, black, chitinous thing, and we were deep enough in the forest for the trees to scrape the sky. Plates as big as the old Golden Oaks thunked and clunked slowly as it imitated swaying in a wind only it could feel.
Was the Hive wriggling contentedly? Part of me wanted to say that, but I didn’t have much experience with wriggly not-trees.
It glowed a soft green—still that sickly shade I knew all too well, and yet somehow different. If I had to describe it, I’d say the timbre was different, but colors don’t have timbre. Perhaps it was the texture, but, no, light doesn’t have texture. All I knew was that it was soft and welcoming and just the tiniest bit terrifying, even if I couldn’t say why it was terrifying. It just was. Some small part of me quivered in irrational fear that had no source.
But it was alright because the light just shimmered with hospitality.
And the root system was enormous, even snaking in and around other actual trees – never quite strangling them. They were dotted with cavities and pockets and caverns to who knew where, and I could faintly see the veins pulsing and beating and throbbing with life inside the chitinous not-bark of the root we’d appeared on.
It made me giggle like a madmare, and I reconjured my quill and notebook so I could record every little detail.
Enormous jagged spikes I could only call barnacles scuttled about the surface on far too many legs for comfort, crawling at the speed of extra-sticky sap. Their backs were dotted with the familiar hollow hole motif, but it was only as a changeling flew out of a cavity—darting back in only to reemerge with a briefcase of all things—that I understood I was looking at houses, homes, buildings, and more.
I felt like an idiot for not even imagining the possibility of living buildings. Of course, they had living buildings. They performed regular biomancy just to reproduce and keep the species going. Why not also build biological buildings? What else did they make— create— birth? No, birth was something to celebrate. This was more practical. Spawn? Yes, spawn.
They spawned things they needed instead of just building them with natural resources. I couldn’t wait to watch and take notes.
Wait.
Morpheus already claimed a general squeamishness towards changeling reproduction was the norm. Would it be taboo to watch? It’s not like they’re mating or anything. It should just be businesslike and professional—like how Fluttershy pays for maintaining the chicken coop by selling the infertile eggs. If a bunch of chickens didn’t mind me watching for a paper on pony-animal interactions, changelings couldn’t possibly mind. They’d understand the scientific drive way more than Elizabeak ever did.
I’d have to ask Morpheus sometime, when it wouldn’t cause a scene.
“Oh my gosh! Look at the web!” Yes, mouth, my eyes were just getting there. No need to spoil the moment.
“How many kinds of silk do you make? Do you naturally have spinnerets, or did you learn to shapeshift them in? How much energy does it take to weave? Do you eat your webs daily to recoup the energy loss like some other spiders? If you had to pick one type of insect or arachnid, what would changelings…”
Too late. On and on my mouth ran, getting the geek out of my system. Still, my eyes drank in the view as my quill automatically recorded whatever answers I received but couldn’t bother to hear. Every iota of attention was on that web of glowing, green not-quite-goo. Strands hung between the not-branches as the not-tree—hive—swayed in the wind that didn’t exist. Not-tree? Hive? Surely, there was a better name. I couldn’t even safely claim it was the hive.
Hives don’t usually look like that.
Wait.
This was that lips versus chops thing all over again. I had more important thoughts to ponder. I should just go with not-tree with not-branches for now. The web deserved my attention. It shimmered and shined and radiated that glow with its slick, supple, strands. It was fluid yet solid, stretching in the not-wind the not-tree was swaying to.
Sweet Celestia, I wanted a proper name system.
But, no, focus on the web. I could kind of categorize the web. No, strike that. There were thousands of cocoons hanging from every strand. This was like nothing I’d ever read about. I could barely make out the tiny black dots that were changelings scurrying over it to crawl into and out of them: doing something within. My wings ached and twitched with the desire to fly up and find out what.
“—broke her.” My ear flicked, catching the tail end of Rainbow saying something. The others were talking. Was it worth breaking my concentration to listen? I mean, surely they’d understand that I needed to study the wonder before me. They were my friends after all.
I paused, taking a second look at my current train of thought. It kind of looked like I was the tiniest bit obsessed right now.
Deep breathe.
Not. A. Mad. Scientist.
That way lies friendship problems—making friendship problems.
Wrenching myself from bliss— Shaking myself from my stupor, I found myself the subject of everypony’s smirks. The changelings’ were quickly replaced with sickly grimaces as I blushed redder than that time I walked in on ‘Red Gala’ having a tea party with Smarty Pants. Oh gosh, that just made things worse. I still got embarrassed just thinking about it, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I got more embarrassed and that made me even more embarrassed, because they could taste it. They could taste me like I was a boiled rubber boot or some other absurd rubber delicacy, and it was really awkward to not be able to stop, and I was rambling, and panicking—
And they were hugging me?
Yep, I was subject to a mass hug session. One the changelings started. All of it was so overwhelming. I didn’t think culture shock was supposed to be this... shocking.
“So…” I finally managed to break the awkwardness of everything.
“So, indeed…” Third Eye chuckled. “Welcome to the Everfree Hive. I’d offer something to drink, but I can still hear your stomach churning.”
Stupid, extra sensitive hearing. “I’d love to retort with some witty comment on butterflies in my stomach, but someling probably left them behind.”
It was his turn to blush. “I told you there would be turbulence.”
“That was way more than turbulence…. Can we get going please?” That was the first time I’d heard Bon Bon speak today. I’d thought she’d be ecstatic, but so far she had been unusually subdued. It was like she didn’t want to get noticed, but I supposed we were kind of a third wheel.
Just one giant over-sized wheel that saved the nation on a regular basis and had the power to sentence her fiancé’s species to extinction.
“So, did you enjoy your homework?” Third Eye asked as he led us through a tunnel. It was warm and moist, and I’m pretty sure the breeze I felt was the Hive breathing on me. The walls rippled with tiny plates click-clacking. Chitinous pistons, gears, and gizmos pounded, spun, and whirred.
Buzzing whirs. Chirping whirs. Whistling whirs. All kinds of whirs that I really couldn’t describe.
Little bugs skittered through the giant living machine, biting here, regurgitating there: doing things I could only guess the purpose of.
Maybe it was maintenance?
They chirped and buzzed and whistled in response to their host, communicating in ways I would probably never understand. Fluttershy would probably be in love or absolutely terrified.
Probably both.
It was just so fascinating to watch, I could—
A poke from the unusually silent Morpheus reminded me I had a question to answer. I looked at him worriedly for a second. He had retreated behind his haws, leaving his face almost completely unreadable.
Giving him a nod of thanks and a reassuring smile, I turned back to Third Eye so I could answer him. “Yes, actually, although I have to question how much they actually had to do with changelings.”
“But you at least read them, even if you didn’t understand?” He inquired.
“Geez, she already said yes.” Rainbow huffed.
“I couldn’t get through all of them with preparing for the trip, but I read a number of them.” I answered more diplomatically.
Lyra murmured something to Bon Bon, and the confectioner giggled, whispering in return. Lyra chittered in response, and Third Eye and Morpheus snorted in amusement. We continued on in a silence somewhere between comfortable and awkward depending on who was involved.
Lyra and Bon Bon continued whispering, and I was glad to see them both relaxing again.
Rarity was sketching like crazy, which was odd since this was the exact sort of place I wouldn’t expect her inspiration to strike. The Hive was amazing— incredible— beautiful, but it wasn’t what I’d expect Rarity to behold as such.
Rainbow’s wings twitched with the desire to fly, but Third Eye had asked that she refrain even from hovering until they were sure the not-scarabs crawling about wouldn’t spook.
He had given a name, but it wasn’t in Equish, and I couldn’t pronounce the clicks and whistles right. There might have been hoof gestures included—maybe even wing gestures since his back twitched—but I couldn’t be sure. They looked like those bit-things Morpheus had spawned, and I was just dying to know how they were related, or if they were the same, and any number of questions kept jumping to my lips, but I was polite enough to hold them back for now.
“Did you at least read the book on the origin of Hearts and Hooves Day?” Our host asked after a while.
I bit my lip. “No…. I’d read some books on it before, so I focused on other books first.”
It had been an old book. I hadn’t realized there were accounts that old, but I figured it would be more of the same.
“That is…” he sighed, “...unfortunate. I twisted the truth to begin with. I had to so I could avoid some very unwanted attention, and the newer works twist it even further. It’s been at least two centuries since any of them mentioned Ichorous by name. They keep things to the incredibly vague prince and princess nowadays.”
He scoffed. “I swear, sometimes Celestia’s more changeling than I am.”
“Umm…” More context would have been nice right then. I really didn’t know how to respond.
“Ah! Here we are!” The tunnel opened up onto a small balcony. Stretching beneath us was row after row of terraces holding changelings. It was a veritable army of so many shapes and sizes – perfectly still and silent in the musty, dusty air. Tendrils rose from the ground and slid from the wall, binding them in place as they stared forward with blank, haw-covered eyes. My breath came in a thin hiss at the sight, and I winced as it broke the silence, echoing through the chamber, yet the stillness below remained unbroken.
“Welcome to the mausoleum!”
I sneezed. Celestia, I wanted to die in embarrassment at the timing.
“Oh my…” Rarity murmured. “They’re all—”
“Dead as the day they passed the Azure Veil.” Morpheus droned, eyes hidden. “Yet ve preserve them: make them one with the Hivemind. It strengthens it, giving us more memories and space. Eventually, you get more buildings devoted to the dead than the living.” He gave a deep shuddering breath. “Sometimes I wonder if they left more than memories. I used to go to my family’s tomb when ve needed to look through their memories for advice. There’s just something… different about being with them.”
“Totally not creepy,” Rainbow stage whispered.
Third Eye tilted his head. “You could feel them? The echoes?” Morpheus nodded and Third Eye smiled. “Then perhaps there’s hope for the Hive of the First Father after all. They were silent when I left. I wasn’t able to hear the ancestors until Father… well... let’s just say the first time I heard them I was very close to the family tree.”
He waved to the legion below us. “Time moved on, others traversed the Veil, yet they always leave an echo—something just beyond the realm of thought. These are the lings that know our story. I knew it too once—lived it—but it has been so long for me that I have forgotten much of it.”
He sighed, voice beginning to buzz, air beginning to thrum. “I can’t even remember my own name without them sometimes. The hive today simply calls me Third Eye. To the changelings below, ve were known as Father Arachne—much like my Father before us.” He looked over the throngs of corpses. “There was so much lost in exodus, but we pieced a lot of the puzzle back together. We discovered where everything went wrong, and the changelings entombed here make sure the Hive never forgets again.”
Our host stepped to the edge of the balcony, away from us. As he turned back to look back at us, his eyes and horn burned a million shades of blue, and every head below us turned with eerie synchronicity.
“To know the truth is to live the truth.”
Our host exploded in a wave of shadows and azure fire. It burst outwards, singing us yet drawing back as it felt us—as if it were alive—and the behemoth that emerged was straight out of a Beloved Craft story.
Ironic, I know.
It towered over me, plates clicking and clacking and skittering. They shifted and swam with each lumbering breathe in ways chitin wasn’t supposed to move. It was as if his body was in a constant state of flux, which I supposed it very well could be.
“If you wish to know our story, you will find it cannot simply be told like some tall tale.”
There were not four, but six legs stamped into the floor. The ground trembled with each step, leg cavities clenching open and shut in the same way Morpheus did when nervous. I would have laughed at the sight if I hadn’t heard them cleanly slicing through the air. As it was, I wondered if I’d end up decapitated poking a head in those holes.
“And so you must choose to live it.”
His horn was an enormous arching curve, and I honestly had to wonder if he looked down on me because he couldn’t lift his head. I would have giggled madly at the thought he might be compensating for something, but this really wasn’t the time for that.
“You must join with us—temporarily, we assure you—in a way few ponies have had the privilege of.”
Massive gossamer wings billowed from his back. I’d compare them to a butterfly’s, but these shimmering veils made me feel like I could step into their embrace and be lost to time and space. Butterflies don’t do that last I checked.
“You must choose to trust us, fully and absolutely.”
He bowed, fetlock cavities still clenching and unclenching, and I was acutely aware of just how large he had to be for him to still tower far above me or even Celestia. The leg holes large enough for decapitation really should have clued me in, but I admit this really wasn’t what I was expecting.
“Ve are aware of the implications of such an action—of the vulnerability it places you in.”
Tendrils rose to bind him like those below, and they hooked into him, melding into his chitin. From the ceiling several cocoons dropped, and I finally understood what he was asking us.
“Forgive us, yet know the choice is yours and yours alone.”
I stared….
And stared….
And stared some more….
“How the buck did you pass yourself off as a unicorn when you’re as big as a house?” I silently thanked Rainbow for addressing the elephant-sized elephant in the room. I wasn’t sure I’d be talking anytime soon.
A booming thrum came in reply. I could feel my bones vibrating in a way only Celestia’s ‘To The Sun’ voice had managed, and the azure eyes returned to normal for just a moment. “Let’s say I end up with a really thick skull.”
Sweet Celestia, he was joking. I had no idea how he could manage it right now.
And so I continued to stare.
Leg holes clenched and unclenched. “Please don’t run?” A normal pony would have squeaked an octave higher. Starswirl— No, Third Eye— No, Father Arachne rumbled an octave higher. I looked to Morpheus for guidance only to find him fully prostrated, still as the corpses below.
It was Lyra who broke the tension with her chittering titters. “And I thought I had it bad going all pegasi. Gramps, you’re shivering like a nymph going incognito for their first time. How can you not like the real you? You’re a total badass!”
“I’ll say!” Rainbow flew up to him—a fly in his eye. “Seriously, this is awesome!” She looked to me. “This is like, prime monster fighting material. We could have so much fun staging an attack on Ponyville. I’m telling you right now. Best. Prank. Ever.”
“Rainbow!” Rarity scolded,taking the excuse to recompose herself. “Must you be so rude to our host. He’s clearly insecure with his appearance. We should be drawing out his inner beauty, not making him up to be some savage beast.” She tilted her head back, looking almost straight up. “I might need more fabric though.”
I managed a smile. “Guys, never change.”
Looking to them both, we all nodded in unspoken agreement. Lyra was already helping Bon Bon in her pod. I turned to our host to voice our decision in my most official sounding voice.
“I can’t really say we can give you the kind of trust you’re asking for, but it would be wrong not to have faith in our friends. We know they’ll come to help us should the worst come to pass, so we choose to extend some of that faith—that friendship—to you.”
It was the corpses turn to stare—not that they didn’t always stare.
Probably.
“You ponies always have such very pony answers.” Thousands of chitters and titters and chuckling thrums threatened to bring the tomb crashing on our heads.
