When the Everfree Burns

by SpiritDutch

Chapter 53: Cloud Curtain

The sun had been climbing its way into the sky for hours by the time its light finally crested the peaks of the Unicorn Range, to shine down on the quaint village nestled in the crux of a vale. The light dissolved the mist from the lips of the doors and away from the edges of the thatched roofs.

The villagers awoke to grim strangers standing in their modest plaza: Knights clad in full armor, with golden cloaks fluttering in the morning breeze.  Their weapons were drawn, a warning to the locals not to intervene.

Two carriages entered the vale from either side, clattering on the decaying cobble road. The carriages were simple, but well crafted, and in the place of the house sidgil which would adorn a noble’s coach there was a golden sun.
The carriages rolled into the village plaza and rolled to a stop on opposing ends. The ponies in the harnesses had the same shining armor as the knights. Simultaneously, the carriage doors opened, and a pony stepped from each.

From the east an ancient blue pegasus mare, with a withered and scarred face. From the west a middle-aged earth pony stallion, light green coat, gaunt, with his head shaved.  They both wore grey robes with delicate red trimming, and a brooch pinned at their shoulder.
They established eye contact across the plaza and, after a nod to their guards, they shuffled their aged bodies to the center.

“Master Prelate.” The pegasus mare bowed.

“Mistress Prelate.” The earth pony stallion bowed back.

Silence permeated the plaza. The prelates rarely saw each other, too busy or paranoid to put valuable and vulnerable Celestianist temple officials in the same place. Also, though the recent batch of prelates got along fine, infighting and feuding was not uncommon between them.  The more they kept out of each other’s way, the better it usually was for Equestria.
But these were most unusual times.

The Pegasus Prelate spoke first. “I know this is very difficult for you. I know you like to make your schedule months in advance.”

“Schedules are the least of my worries.” The Earth Pony Prelate laughed humorlessly. “All the long night, I was been running up and down the West Coast between Talltail and the delta, promising the laity that everything is allright. “

“Long night? More fitting name than what the ponies of the heartland have been calling it. ‘Eternal Night’ though it fails to capture its depth.” The Pegasus Prelate glanced away. “Ponies have suffered.”

The Earth Pony Prelate was dour. “I have received no news or messages from Canterlot because the dukes of Unicornia and Whitetail have locked down travel over the roads and rivers. Do the ponies in the North or East know what happened?”

The Pegasus prelate drew in a breath before starting her explanation. “Canterlot has suffered some manner of armed coup. The suspected leader is a minor noble, a certain Lady Twilight Velvet, who leads a very hostile provisional government ruling in the vacuum.
“Rumors abound: Princess Celestia is missing feared dead, the Household Guard has disappeared, and the provinces don’t know who is in charge. The capital has gone dark.”

“That does sound bad.” The Earth Pony Prelate said euphemistically. He paused, choosing the first out of many urgent questions. “You stayed in Cloudsdale all the night?”

“Yes.”

“Are you clued in to how the city will respond to Canterlot?”

“They already probed. There was a Wonderbolt squadron in Canterlot when the coup happened. We were hoping to reestablish the Pegasi Clique in the confusion after Vizier Fancy Pants’s death. When night fell they returned, abused and with the admiral mutilated. So in response the Admiralty sent an expedition, which severely rankled non-interventionists and even drew a protest resignation. I left shortly thereafter, but things are breaking down along the predictable factional lines.”  The Pegasus Prelate lamented. “We had a partnership with Lord Lightdowser of East Unicornia to help reform the clique, but some have accused him of abandoning us to the coup.”

“I see.” The Earth Pony Prelate frowned. “Other lords are moving?”

“Lord Lightdowser has gone south and we do not know why. A northern lord, Countless Glori Sabonord, is reported to have made a foray south to scout out Canterlot.  Unicornia is antagonistic as always. No news at all from the Riverpony Lands, Foal, or beyond.”

“If the Princess has truly perished…” The Earth Pony Prelate fell silent as he thought.  “With the severity of this crisis, so grave it is difficult to express, our concerns become more immediate. I am lucky so little information has gotten through to the West. If I properly deliver the news I may stop those who otherwise will exploit the situation to the hilt.”

“That’s all very well, but that ships has already sailed for me. As I see it uncertainty is the greatest threat at the moment.” The Pegasus Prelate asserted. “Action now can prevent further chaos. In the best case, the lords are passive without the coercive oversight of the empire, but that is far from likely. They may need to be ushered to passivity. The temple can preemptively-”

“Forget whatever you’re proposing. Preemptive is not in the Celestine Temple vocabulary.” The Earth Pony Prelate laughed. “Our best hope is to be an afterthought, draw mere apathy. You say uncertainty is a threat, then we will disarm it through patient observation. We can weather the unicorn lords or other troublemakers.”

“I fully acknowledge the unicorns are a great danger, yes...” The Pegasus Prelate paused. Displeased with her Earth Pony peer shooting down her idea before it was even heard, she stood silently for a minute, locked in a stare with him. “One among many dangers. Some Darker and more subversive than unicorns, and less easily seen.”
The knowing silence lingered, before the pegasus spoke again. “How you think inactivity should be our course baffles me. Did you not say you spent the accursed night jumping up and down the coast?”

“You are hinting at actions that drive beyond the temple’s scope.”

“The temple has always been politicized. We would not be in this situation were it not.”

“Then perhaps this is an opportunity to de-politicize the faith. More ponies may find their way to us that way.”

“You call tragedy and our princess’s death an opportunity? You are losing your way.” The Pegasus Prelate cast a long glance.  “If you tried to sit back and track every threat you would be left spinning.

“That does not mean we should not try. The alternative is untenable.”  The Earth Pony Prelate looked East in the direction of Canterlot, though it would have been too far to see even without the mountains. “Without a princess on the throne, the temple is the strongest force of cohesion in Equestria. Those who demand their freedom will attack us prevent a resurgence of a centralized power.”

“Without Princess Celestia, I strain to think of anypony with power willing to stand up for us. It falls to us to defend ourselves.”

The Earth Pony Prelate took a seat on the uneven paving of the plaza, wrinkling his robe. “If Princess Celestia is dead, and we are destined to follow, so be it.”

“Without the princess we are nothing. So we fight to be something.”

The Earth Pony Prelate scowled. “Fight?”

“Strive.” The Pegasus Prelate corrected sourly. “Do you really want to meet the same fate as our colleague the Unicorn Prelate? Who knows how comfortable she felt in the crowd of Speakers, up to the last moments. We will be cought similarly complacent.”

That gave the Earth Pony Prelate pause. “I struggle to believe it. Who would openly murder priests?! Shameful. Even revolutionaries would not stoop that low.”

“They would kill politicians, which we prelates very much are.”

The Earth Pony Prelate squinted at that point. “Again you loop it back to politics.”

"Unicorns and anarchists do not attack us because they’re atheists. They do it because we are symbols of authority. The princess is gone and the status of temple figurehead devolves to us. We DO NOT have the luxury to tally enemies: Those who draw our swords against us and those who combat us in other ways.” The Pegasus Prelate sighed.  “If you bar pre-emptive action, then only politics can avail us.  In Cloudsdale I have already started making promises I can’t keep to protect myself and my temples. There is only a cracked sort of unity among the Admirals now, and the temple could become a wedge issue. Civil strife within the city itself is possible.”

“You should consider yourself lucky. Dissent will be the least of my troubles.” The Earth Pony Prelate said. “Talltail and Vanhoover will not be able to protect themselves if the Whitetail and Unicornia dukes attack.”

“Exactly! You should be the one saying what I’m saying! And I say that we can prevent attacks by proving our mettle. NOT doing so makes you culpable for lives lost.” The Pegasus Prelate hissed.

The Earth Pony Prelate against shook his head. “Were the temple to stick its hoof in we would become exactly what we are accused of being. Better a few lives be lost than the innocence of the temple.”

The Pegasus Prelate closed her eyes. She was getting frustrated with the stubborn earth pony. “Fine. You want other ponies to stick their necks out for us.”

The Earth Pony Prelate nodded. “Yes. That is what ponies are for.”

That little comment irked the Pegasus Prelate. Her earth pony peer was being callous about pony lives. The ‘purity’ of the temple would mean nothing if they were all dead.  “Do you seek someone to submit to you, or the other way around? Because nopony would defend the temple and ceed their newfound sovereignty to a non-princess?”

“It is indeed unlikely.” The Earth Pony Prelate conceded.

“Extremely unlikely. At this stage ponies may reject a princess too. All trust has died.  Before the full picture was known  the Admiralty has imprisoned the imperial governess, then crafted charges of negotiating with Lady Velvet’s Canterlot regime. Then, I was forced to swear that I would never recognize a princess or prelate that was selected without pegasus acceptance.” The Pegasus Prelate bared her teeth. “They WANT to be at each other’s throats. Ours too.”

“Damn them! Do they want war? As if the unicorns weren’t enough!” The Earth Pony Prelate exclaimed.

“Ostensibly so.” The Pegasus Prelate grimaced. The other prelate had reacted the most to the idea of priests being attacked. If she could harp on that point…  “What will remain of us, pure or no, if every priest is coerced to swearing allegiance to whatever local warlord happens to pass through that day?””

But the Earth Pony Prelate remained unconvinced. “Let the sin be upon the head of whoever tries to extract such a pledge.”

The Pegasus Prelate stifled a sigh. She did not like talking for so long in her age.  After a moment of silence she shifted gears.  “I respect your decision for the temple, and even your stubbornness with me. Do you trust me?”

The Earth Pony Prelate looked offended. “What manner of question is that? Trust is irrelevant to our relationship. We trust in Destiny, not ponies.”

“I ask this not as a prelate, but as a pegasus. Because I detect a certain cynicism in your words, my fellow.” The Pegasus Prelate said cautiously.  “In the conflicts that follow, the fortunes of our respective tribes may rise or fall depending on what we decide.”

“I see.” The Earth Pony Prelate closed his eyes. “In that case, yes.  I trust you with the fortune of my tribe, as I hope for you to trust me with yours.”

“Thank you brother.” The Pegasus Prelate cleared her throat. She was taking a risk givine up secrets, but hopefully it would sway him.
“The Cloudsdale expedition I spoke of, the airship task force to blockade Canterlot…” She hesitated. “I am committing a grave indiscretion to tell you this, but early reports have come back that it was an unmitigated disaster. A whole task-force was destroyed. Hundreds of lives were lost.” She unclenched her teeth and sighed deeply. “I did not want to tell you lest you carry this information back to the unicorns and expose our weakness, but I feel now that we must work together no matter what. Every move we must make together, to keep the temple together against all threats!”

“My condolences to your tribe’s losses, sister prelate, but what am I supposed to do about a lost fleet? You wish me to staff another?” The Earth Pony Prelate asked darkly.

“I am saying blood has already been spilled. Earth ponies are under threat too. While you have been sequestered in the West, the East has gone neglected, and that is the region most susceptible to heresy.” The Pegasus Prelate lambasted. “Think about it. The oceanic trade networks connecting through the Free Cities exposes them to all manner of strange and unequestrian beliefs. If the East Coast moves from the Celestian Temple, it will never come back.”

“If is fated, then we will accept East is lost to us, and focus on the West and North.”

“You will accept it but not I.” The Pegasus Prelate said.

“If we overextend we lose everything.” The Earth Pony Prelate said cooly.

The Pegasus Prelate was getting properly angry. She had learned to be patient during her time as a provincial priest, but by this point in a conversation she would have made at least some progress. She sourly began to wish the Unicorn Prelate had survived and the Earth Pony died.  “Insufferable neigh-sayer! There could be decades of war!”

That silenced the Earth Pony Prelate for a few minutes. At the edges of the plaza, the knights of the respective prelates were getting ancy. They had come expecting a certain amount of disagreement but it was hard to tell if they would soon become hostile. The two elderly prelates could do little damage to each other, but things could easily get out of control between the armed and armored knights.

“Am I getting through to you? If you want a passive Celestine Temple, we NEED a strong ally. Somepony has to step into Princess Celestia’s role as a strong centralized force.” The Pegasus Prelate filled the earth pony’s silence.  “I am offering you input and you have been an ass. I could offer the temple’s loyalty to anypony, while you sit idly by as you’ve promised to do!”

“How altruistic of you to point that out.” The Earth Pony Prelate finally said. “But who would you offer it to.” His wrinkled face twisted into a look of mocking faux-innocence. “Lady Twilight Velvet?”

The Pegasus Prelate was ready to strike the stallion, if she didn’t think it would provoke his guards. She was tired of the arduous effort at cooperation, pretending they were equals.
She matched his look with one of exaggerated thought. “Lady Velvet, you say? Hmm! What an idea!  Her ladyship must be capable to take control of a politicking populace like Canterlot’s.”

“Don’t kid. You are belittling the legitimate choice to be neutral.”

“Why would I kid? The mare who destroyed Cloudsdale’s blockade fleet must be very formidable. Once I get back to Cloudsdale and hear more of the story, I may be completely won over.” The Pegasus Prelate sniffed. “A decisive ally who does not shy from trouble is what we need.”

“You’re mad. Not only has that mare killed of your tribe, by your own account she is the one who has most fed this crisis!” The Earth Pony Prelate took the bait.  “You would be rewarding murder, handing the loyalist flag to a usurper, and empowering a unicorn! DO YOU WANT A UNICORN EMPRESS?!”

“Better a unicorn empress than no empress. One is subservience, the other is destruction!” The Pegasus Prelate barked back. “Do you alternatives? An earth pony? A pegasus? Junior Princess Cadenza?!”

She only got a stare in response.

“Fine. Fine. I see you need time to think. We both do.” The Pegasus Prelate narrowed her gaze. “I have said everything I wanted to, and heard everything I needed to from you.  When next you meet, I expect you to be more open to suggestions.”

“When and where?” He said curtly.

“Northern plains, if that would work with you.” The Pegasus Prelate looked away. “We need to reconvene soon. Within a week I should have more information.”

The Earth Pony Prelate sighed in tired annoyance. “Take all the time you need.”

After a stiff bow, the Pegasus Prelate backed up and turned away. She slowly walked back to her coach, jaw clenched in indignant rage. She felt very disrespected.

“How did it go, mistress?” One of her retained knights asked, his voice muffled through his helmet.

“Better than expected.” She said as she climbed the step into the carriage. “Back to Cloudsdale.”

“We will be back at the airship soon enough mistress.” The knight bowed. Cautious of the Earth Pony Prelate’s knights on the other side of the plaza, the host withdrew to the road east.

“Stubborn mule.” The Pegasus Prelate mumbled to herself. The earth pony was doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. He didn’t see what was ‘right’ didn’t matter. “He knew about Canterlot and the princess from the start. He was just stringing me along.”
She was an old mare, and the talking had made her fairly tired. She rested her head against the back of the carriage, fading into a nap.

When she awoke she was in a soft chair in a ship cabin, moving with the familiar sway of an airship. One of her knights stood post at the door.

She cleared her throat. “What is our time to Cloudsdale?”

“Not long now Mistress Prelate. I would have to consult with the helm to know the exact-”

“Not necessary.” The Pegasus Prelate sat up and stretched.

The Celestianist Temple, despite or because of its no longer being imperially supported thus relying on its own budgeting, kept it operations austere. The temple retained a select few volunteer knights to protect the most important clerics and properties, plus a select few luxuries. The Pegasus Prelate made use of a retrofitted messenger airship, the Earth Pony Prelate kept a quick sloop, and the Unicorn Prelate (when living) served from Canterlot’s opulent cathedrals.  It was just enough to serve their needs.
“Any trouble clearing Unicornia?”

“Nay, Mistress Prelate. We have been clear of the mountains for hours with no sign of patrols, unicorn or pegasi. We should make it back to Cloudsdale undetected. Some commotion on the eastern approaches has them distracted.”

“Good.” The Pegasus Prelate folded her hooves. She had a good idea what that commotion was. “I would hate to have to explain this adventure to the Admiralty.”

Spitfire was one of the first to see them. Ragged, tattered, limping back with half their sails and overloaded with casualties. The expedition fleet sent to blockade Canterlot returned to Cloudsdale utterly vanquished.
Some of the once-mighty airships looked ready to split in half. Pilot boats rushed out to help the flagging crafts to dock.

“The idiots.” Spitfire shook her head. She didn’t have enough anger anymore to feel properly outraged. “If only they’d listened.”

She was sitting on one of the great cloud berms that contained the Nimbostratus District where she lived. At the very edge, with the layers and layers of cloudhomes at her back and nothing but open skies before her, she felt tempted to just fly away from her problems and become a rogue like Shining Armor and the Imperial Household Guard had done.
But she knew she could not. Her parents and her sister needed her, no matter what lay ahead.

“Soarin and Fleetfoot better have survived.” She grumbled as she pushed herself to her hooves. “I’m going to be pissed if the captaincy gets bumped down to Rapidfire or Misty Fly. Those undisciplined louts couldn’t hold a one-pony brigade together.”

She knew better than to try to find her Wonderbolt comrades as they arrived. It would be chaos on the docks as the surviving airships offloaded the wounded. The Admiralty would be scrambling to learn as much as they could about the disaster and the presence of a dishonorable recreant like her would only incite them. Spitfire would wait for somepony to come visit.

She was glad she hadn’t gone along with the foolish expedition, but she felt pangs of guilt for letting her loyal Bolts go out without her. They had gone into danger, and she had not been there for them. She had chosen to make an ineffectual political message rather than do her duty. Now she could only watch from afar.
She looked to the blue skies. Heaven was laughing at them all. Maybe she should have stayed behind in Canterlot with Rain Gnash and Fleetfoot: If she’d been mutilated like they’d been, she would have an excuse to feel so pitiful. Besides it had been her duty to protect them. Her failure was multilayered.

So, as awful as it was, hating others for their failings was a needed distraction.
“Gods damn the Admiralty.” She clenched her teeth.   “Without our princess, we have to protect each other now.”

There was not much else to see besides suffering.
Spitfire turned her back on the sky and lazily flew back home. There were a few neighbors outside but they ignored each other. They looked haunted. A shadow had settled over Cloudsdale, and Spitfire had seen it once before.
“Unlike Cloud Creche, we’re not going to get a royal visit out of this tragedy.” Spitfire muttered. But the last tragedy was a natural disaster. This time it was more like murder.

Do to a cold front passing near the city her house had shifted closer to the top of the district. More light was getting through and the air plant garden was looking vibrant. Seafire and the maid were in the garden watering.

“Hey.” Spitfire grunted. “Stay home for the next few day, okay?”

Seafire giggled. “Is you say so sis!”

Spitfire narrowed her eyes. “What are you giggling about.” She trotted to the front door. “Has anypony been by? One of the Bolts?”

Seafire grinned. “Sorry!” She singsonged. “I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise!”

Spitfire did not like the sound of that. Unless it was Seafire being silly, the Wonderbolts wouldn’t act like that in a grave situation.
She went into the foyer to hear the sound of clouds crunching underhoof directly above, in her room. She ran to the greater hall and looked looked up to the second-floor mezzanine. Her door was open.

“She let them into my room? What is going on here?” Spitfire whispered to herself.
She silently crept up the stairs, pausing beside her bedroom door. She pressed herself against the wall. Somepony inside was breathing.  “Who’s there?” She demanded.

“You should come in. We need to talk.” A mare’s voice replied from within the room. It was not Fleetfoot, or any of the Wonderbolts, or anypony’s voice that Spitfire could recognize.

Spitfire bristled. Something was very wrong. “Hey listen, I don’t want any trouble here. My sister and parents are none of your concern. Let’s take this someplace else.”

“Your sister’s a very nice little filly. I’m not going to hurt her. We can talk here.” The mare’s voice was stern. “Come in, please, Captain Spitfire.”

Spitfire was engulfed in a glowing gold magical aura and was yanked into her room.

“Hey motherbucker! Let me go!” Spitfire kicked out and the aura dispelled. Thinking fast she threw herself towards the shape of the intruder sitting on her bed, wagering she would win in close quarters.
They collided but Spitfire bounced away. She landed on the floor and was trapped in a magical aura again. She was pressed against the cloud floor, completely frozen this time and barely able to move her mouth. “W-What the buck?! Who are you!?”

“Does something have you on edge?” The intruder was a unicorn yellow with a short red and yellow streaked mane. She did not look healthy, being abnormally pale around the face and with sullen, uncannily glowing eyes. Despite this she had a cheery though arrogant smile, all too familiar to Spitfire as a tell of sly evil.
And finally, the unicorn wore a set of black lacquer armor that Spitfire recognized instantly. “I think you may know of me, slightly.” The unicorn said. “I’m going to let you go now. Please don’t attack again.”

The telekinetic aura faded and Spitfire sat up. “W- Where did you get that armor?! Did Lady Velvet send you?”

“Relax captain. Nopony sent me.” The unicorn said calmingly. “Take a minute, see if you don’t realize who I am.”

Spitfire quietly obliged. Her eyes wandered to the unicorn’s mark, a stylized sun. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Think back. It was eleven years ago, minus a few months, in the aftermath of Cloud Creche. There was a parade through the Cumulus District and none other than Princess Celestia herself was in attendance. She had a very modest delegation, but I wore my hair longer back then, and acted harmlessly awkward.”

“Eleven years ago…” Spitfire’s frown deepened. It was obvious this was a dangerous mare before her. Options ran through her head. She could attack again but that was a nonstarter: The aura of power that radiated off the unicorn was palpable, yet somehow felt at odds with the mare, like she had somepony else's magic.
Spitfire considered running, but chances were she would only be able to get Seafire away from the house, for as always their parents were locked away in their wing of the house, listlessly reading or gardening.
So, she thought back. She tried to picture the mentioned scene a decade past, and how the empress’s delegation looked. Brow furrowed she mined her memories for any standout impression.  After some minutes she faced the invader, holding in her mind her old curiosity to who the nervous unicorn mare behind Princess Celestia was.  Eleven years ago, a pony of infamy had been her highness’s élève premier.
“You…  You were the princess’s student back then. You’re the Traitor.”

“That’s me.” Sunset Shimmer smiled. “Last we met eyes you were still a squire, in the shadow of one of the beefy winged hussars at attention. You were wearing armor but your big bright tail was sticking out.” She continued. “Your knight was missing half of his feather cape. You must have been chewed out thoroughly for breaking it.”

“As a matter of fact it was his own damn fault it got ripped. Didn’t stop me from getting blamed. Story of my life.” Spitfire said grimly.  “And its mindful of that fact that I’m telling you to get the hell out of my house, right now. You’re endangering my family being here.”

“No one saw me arrive.”

Spitfire trotted to the window to look to where Seafire was whistling, blissfully ignorant. “I don’t care. I’m not harboring a Traitor.”

“I think you should get used to calling me by my name.” Sunset Shimmer said. “I’m in a bit of a pickle. I need help and I won’t, can’t, take no for an answer.”

“You think I’m going to help you?” Spitfire growled. “Even if you hold my family hostage you’ll never be able to trust me. First chance I get I’m going to plunge my sword into your back.”

“Stab me all you like. It would do very little. I’m protected by my dream, who will let me come to no harm.” Sunset thumped her chest with her hoof. The black armor sent off a little spark of energy where she’d struck it. “Beside, I think you will enjoy working with me.”

“Buck right off.” Spitfire sneered. She’d had her fill of snarky, cocky, and smug unicorns. “If you want help, go to the hospital or charity center. Poor knightly houses like mine don’t have spare rope for whatever bull you’re feeding out.”

“I grew up in the princess’s shadow. I know how to negotiate.” Sunset summoned a piece of parchment and ink quill. “You saw how Lady Velvet did business. She has her supporters, whose loyalty flows out of her irresistible authority. I’ve trended towards that way, but since my exile I’ve learned to prefer formality and forthright business.”

“Don’t compare yourself to Velvet. All you’ll do is come out looking stupid.” Spitfire eyed the unicorn as she jotted something down on the parchment. “But maybe you are stupid. I told you I’m not interested.”

“I understand you think your mind is made up.” Sunset levitated the parchment to Spitfire. “What I’m offering for what I need.”

After a minute of thought and sour looks, Spitfire snatched the parchment and read down the list.
For Spitfire’s help as a guide and making introductions, it claimed, Sunset Shimmer was to provide information: She was offering in-depth informational material about the Star's ritual, Twilight Velvet’s diabolical works in Canterlot, and data about new nightmare movements.
Nightmares? Spitfire had to reread that. What? “What is this?”

Sunset snorted. “You can read, right.”

“Buck off.” Spitfire rolled up the parchment. “I can read BS. I want to hear why you’d give all that to me.”

“I have to offer something.”

That was the thing with the smartass unicorns. One always had to keep asking the same question in different ways so they could get all their quips out. “Listen here bucker-”

“Please, not so harsh.” Sunset said calmingly. “I want to make the world a better place. I can’t go back to Canterlot, so here I am.”

“Yes, and why bother ME?”

“Because you survived Canterlot. You know just enough presently to allow you to function just as is needed from you; Needed both by your city and by me.”  Sunset Shimmer said. She stood up and began to pace in front of the bed as she explained.
“With the information I can feed you, you will become indispensable to the Admiralty as they ramp up Cloudsdale’s involvement in the South and East. The more they learn of the forgotten truths, the more they’ll want, the more they will want you.”

“You want me…” Spitfire felt a flash of faintness. Was this a fever dream? “To go to the Admiralty…”

“And lead however you want. Just as long as I’m kept safe, you will keep getting information.” Sunset rested on the bed again. “This is your chance to give your family the security they deserve.”

Spitfire’s eyes unconsciously darted in the direction of her parents’ wing of the house.

”And others too, captain. How are you going to keep the Wonderbolts safe if you’re wasting away here? With a voice among the Admiralty you can guide this city in a rational way. You can be your city’s Velvet, but a force for Light instead of Dark.”

Spitfire stared at Sunset. We wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or curse the traitor. “You are stupid. Or just insane.”

“You have no idea of the weight of that word.” Sunset said, perhaps jokingly, but certainly somewhat rankled by the accusation like it was mocking some great accomplishment. “Did the Admirals call you insane when you recounted the events of Canterlot to them? There are proper junctures to go insane, Captain Spitfire: This is not one of them.”

“Then just stupid, to think I’d more than laugh or argue with you!  Divide the Admiralty’s collective wits by twenty and they still wouldn’t bite at a raw bait like you’ve got, especially not relayed from me.” Spitfire lobbed the parchment back. “I’m not Lady Velvet. I don’t relish to deceive and outwit ponies.”

”You don’t have a very strong dream, it’s true. But perhaps that why you’re my best hope.” Sunset said. She licked her lips, and her ear flicked. For the briefest moment, Spitfire thought she heard a gurgled exhalation from somewhere between them, and that Sunset was straining to listen, but that impression instantly faded with Sunset’s rising voice.
“I have a dream worth rallying around. It’s the kind that breaths life into shy hopes that ponies shirk from in normal times. And the pegasi will be warmed by it, and will feel the drive for revenging themselves on Canterlot and a world at large that seeks them ill. That’s the environment you’ll carve a niche into: A bastion against crisis, and an interpreter of the strange feelings Cloudsdale will be awash with.”

“Another dream to follow.” Spitfire accused, lip curled. They both knew that would be a red flag for her. Lofty dreams had been Velvet’s banner, proved at the last to be a diversion from the sinister Dark motives. “This one leads to death too. You want to send Cloudsdale to war.”

“It wasn’t my first plan, but it is the best one considering the changing circumstances.” Sunset said. “I promise, this will save lives. If others besides us lead, war will still happen, but hurt the pegasus civilians more. My plan will keep the battles away from your soil and clouds.”

“If you have this all planned out, then what’s the final part? Where’s the dismount?” Spitfire demanded. “You can’t puppet them, us, forever.”

“When the Admiralty falls from grace, only a mare like you, estranged from the normal ties of loyalty, will survive.” Sunset said, leaving to the imagination how that fall from grace would happen. “Hopefully the world turns more sane by then.”

“A coup.” Spitfire clenched her jaw. “You smug piece of shite. How dare you come to me and try to make me part, no, CENTERPIECE of your conspiracy.”

Sunset wrinkled her nose, but would not be discouraged.  “It has to be this way.”

“Buck you, you aren't listening.” Spitfire said at a deadly whisper. “I’m not a liar.”

“I’m telling you to tell the truth! There’s nothing duplicitous about serving your city to lead it to salvation.” Sunset said. “Maybe it will take time to understand, but when mortals know horrible truths with inner peace-”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Spitfire barked. “I don’t care one bit. You wanna preach, do it outside in the Cloudsdale you claim to care so much about.”

“The springs are wound such that ponies won’t trust an alicorn to take control. I have to be patient.”

There was a long period of silence.
“Alicorn? What alicorn? Who is talking about alicorns?” Spitfire eyed the Blackhorn Armor. She remembered the grave manner it had been toted around Canterlot in the hours before the fatal ritual, but she’d departed before seeing it used. The fitful, incomplete accounts of Fleetfoot and Rain Gnash of Velvet’s spell placed it centrally. “Cloudsdale already has their alicorn. Maybe you’ve heard of her.”

“If you think you can fluster me bringing up Princess Celestia, you are in for a surprise. I can and will talk about her for hours.” Sunset chuckled. Through the arrogant smile and sinister gleam in her eyes, Spitfire thought she might have seen a hint of reverence when Sunset said the name. “As for Cloudsdale, you echo exactly what I’m saying, Mis Spitfire. This world had her, then rejected her, and so she rejected it.”

“Rejected?!” Spitfire protested. So Sunset had brought up alicorns to segway into the strange accusation. Spitfire was fuming so much the unicorn’s antics were starting to seem funny; Not laughably funny, but the kind of bad joke that caused gagging and whimpering.

“That the city didn’t collapse into chaos after her highness’s death proves they weren’t devoted enough. If we want our princess back to return we must forge new bonds of love and trust.”

Spitfire was ready to viciously argue over moving goalposts, but consciously picked what she felt would end the conversation fastest: Acting like she relenting to what the Traitor was saying.
“How do you intend to make a bond with a dead mare?”

“I’ve done the hard part.” Sunset said, explaining nothing. “Death needn’t be a barrier to love anyway.”

Spitfire shuddered.

“I would, like you offered, go out and foster the love between mortal and god myself, if it wouldn’t be misinterpreted because of who I am. Thus, I offer to you the opportunity of being known as the pegasus who returned this nation to its god.”

“I don’t give two shakes of my leg to being known for anything. I just want you out of my house. Any answer you have aren’t worth putting my family in danger.” Spitfire insisted. “That is, unless I have promises (useless as they are from a traitor) that I’m making them safer.”

Sunset shrugged, and her armor clacked. “To be frank, every pony in this city is already under threat of death. The question is whether you all find god before it’s over.”

“You’re seriously messed up.” Spitfire sighed. “Bucking fine. Fine. I’ll listen more, but not here. I already owe you a beatdown for talking to Seafire.”

“If we must.” Sunset stood up. “Let’s go for a walk. ”

“We are on final approach to Cloudsdale, Mistress Prelate. We will arrive at your private dock momentarily.” The captain reported.

“With not a single airship on defensive station on this vector.” The helmpony scratched her head with her wing in bafflement.

The Pegasus Prelate brooded over this. The expedition must have gone worse than the first reports suggested. It was going to be interesting to see if the commoners, and the ideological agitators who worked among them, would say. Perhaps the future was not so grim for the Celestian Temple.
“Take us in quickly. There will be many callers today that will need my careful hoof to turn away.”

“Turn away?” The captain and the crew were nonplussed. “Can you do that?”

“The steps of the righteous are guided by god, except when god’s not watching anymore.”

Spitfire could not believe what she was doing. Leading one of the more infamous ponies in recent history along the cloud-streets of Cloudsdale in broad daylight (though not really, as the Nimbostratus streets were shadowy at best) was not something she could have ever seen herself getting roped into. Yet there she was, just a few steps ahead of Sunset Shimmer trotting along the narrow cloudways between the districts.
Then again, she’d been right in the mix at Canterlot with Twilight Velvet, and she guessed history would be even harsher on that evil mare. Or not, being that myriad events were still unfolding.

“We’re in luck. The returning fleet has everybody’s attention.” Sunset Shimmer remarked. She had tucked a traveling cape and hood into the gorget collar of her armor to cover herself. “Lady Twilight Velvet set her alicorn upon them. They didn’t stand a chance. The larger carriers came apart quite spectacularly, and not without great protest. Any lesser foe and the sturdy pegasus engineering would have triumphed.”

“So many lives wasted.” Spitfire said acidly. One of the airships had caught fire as soon as it arrived at the skydock. Caustic black smoke curled up from the Stratus district in a lacy ribbon that mirrored the gleaming white of the Nimbus district.  “And for what?! To say we gave it a good try? Pride can’t repay the cost in lives.”

“There are occasions worthy of sacrifice.” Sunset said.

With most other ponies, Spitfire would have made accusations of tribalism for such dismissiveness, but Spitfire was certain Sunset would have grinned just the same if it had been unicorns who’d died. “Was it ‘worthy’ this time?”

“No.” Sunset confessed.

“You would have prefered to have gotten another alicorn out of it.” Spitfire spat.

Sunset answered only by way of a shrug.

The further towards the outer parts of the Nimbostratus district they went, the more there was an atmosphere of apprehension and fear. The honest ponies of the district had sent sons and daughters on that fleet. Over the next few days quaking and wailing would rise up from the old but tidy houses all around them, afterwards replaced with depression and resignation.

Spitfire felt a sudden, murderous urge. She imagined putting her hooves around Sunset Shimmer’s neck and throttling the life from her, if only because she was the closest living being. How badly did the Traitor want her alive? If Spitfire refused to stop attacking, would Sunset kill her? But maybe with a well-placed buck to the head at a surprise moment...
Spitfire let the tension out with a pained sigh. It was too risky. Sunset would face her comeuppance eventually.

“You’re angry.” Sunset remarked.

“My patience for taking orders has worn away.” Spitfire said, surprised at her own candor. “I wish I could move everypony I care about to a safe little cloud bank over a desert island or something. I can’t smile at strangers like I used to. I think about all the ways they could hurt me, or I could hurt them.”

“I know the feeling.” Sunset laughed, like she was talking about an in-joke among friends. “You should back off that kind of thought before it leads you where it led me.”

“Betraying my sovereign.” Spitfire muttered.

“Betraying who you love.” Sunset corrected.

Spitfire heavily relied on the fact that her friends could weather her moods to justify her behavior, acknowledging that a measure of stern cantankerousness was expected from a squadron captain and Wonderbolt both. But this was different. “It’s not my fault.”

“Whose fault is it? God’s?” Sunset said, slightly mocking.

“Some god.”

“How would it make you feel if the god you revered wanted to see you suffer no matter what? Would it push you to find a new god?” Sunset asked. “You don’t have to answer. ”

Spitfire hadn’t had anything to say about it either way. She was coming to think that a threshold had been crossed, and she would have to get used to ponies rummaging around in the divine as a fact of daily life. She played out the future conversations in her head where everyday ponies greeted each other by chatting about what unholy terrors they’d danced with in the dark.
“Ahh, that why you gush about how love Princess Celestia so much. You feel guilty for looking at the other mares.”

Sunset, however, did not bite. “Captain, what kind of world do you think we live in? All the morals, rules, and taboos we live by, are they mortal or divine contrivances? The temple tells you that all our morality is given by our god and her guidance.”

“I don't give a damn.” Spitfire said. “It’s not good enough that I’m leading you, you want to play psychologist with me.”

“You would have to make your mind before I could examine it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Never mind.” Sunset shrugged.

“Bucker. At least Velvet explained herself coherently.”

“I am regretting drawing the comparison to her, if it’s going to be brought up this often.”

“Then quit talking like her!”

Sunset cracked into a goofy smile. “I should. I really do come off looking stupid, but I’ve done that plenty.”

“Grand! So have plenty of ponies, including me. It’s part of life, and a lesson you’re supposed to learn when you’re a shite teen.” Spitfire sputtered. “You must have never learned, what with how you go around with your nose in the air acting like you’re the cleverest mare in Equestria.”

Sunset wrinkled her nose. “And you pegasi, so high and mighty, are any better? The hissy fit your tribe threw when Rain Gnash wasn’t made IHG captain…  What a riot! I heard all about the circumstances around Pegasi Clique leaving. The unicorns just laughed and laughed and laughed.  What a bunch of petulant children the pegasi are.”  She smiled knowingly.  “You though, you’ve gotten jaded to that bluster. You’re ready to be a pragmatist.”

“Get bent. Just because I’m not throwing my life away for pride doesn’t mean I’m renouncing my tribe.”

“Ponies are dismissive of what they lack.” Sunset winked.

“I’ve heard some roundabout insults before-”

“Can you deny the psychology of it though? We don’t want to think about loss, bereavement.” Sunset said. “I’m dismissive of a lot of things, for example.”

“Is this working up to some stupid explanation about how your betrayal of the princess was justified, I’m going to chuck you off the cloud berm.” Spitfire glared.

“It’s not.” Sunset giggled.

“Then what the hell are you going on about? Do you want pitty?”

“Why would I want pitty? I’m just trying to let you know.” Sunset said. “Know that I am dismissive of the divine.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.” Spitfire wasn’t making connections. Was Sunset implying she could not have the divine? Not that a madmare could be expected to keep her delusions consistent.

They went along in silence for a time. The cloud-street wound around the larger structures, branching off into clustered cloud-homes. It eventually connected into a larger, arching causeway bridging the Nimbostratus District to the Cumulus District.
Since they were leaving a quiet residential district for the open bustle of the public places, they began to see traffic, running towards or away from the Stratus skydock in varying levels of distress. Sunset Shimmer adjusted her hood to keep her horn from showing.

The edifices got larger and more austere as they passed government and fleet buildings. The causeway intersected the grand boulevard, lined with air plants. Off to their left the boulevard terminated at the grand square, where the Records Hall, Mayoral Palace, and Charter Bank were located.
At that moment emergency responders were pouring down from the other districts to help.

“Ha ha, just like the last time we were here together. It’s a veritable parade.” Sunset laughed.

“Why is everything you say so vile and callous?”

“What do you think is more worthy of mourning, avoidable or unavoidable death?” Sunset asked in return.

“I already said my piece about the expedition.”

“I’m not talking about the expedition. I mean all death. Because from certain points of view all forms of death are unavoidable, and from others all death is avoidable.”

“Holy Celestia, give me a straight answer!” Spitfire bristled. She was fully aware the yelling could draw somepony’s attention and so was Sunset.

Sunset gave the pegasus a sidelong look.
“For the last eight years, ninety percent of my conversations have been with one mare. It’s disorienting to come back to Equestria and explain things I’m used to being taken for granted. Things don't work like they did during my exile.”

“Welcome back.” Spitfire said sardonically.

“I would have stayed away for longer, if I could have.”

“Come to visit the family for the Summer Sun? I can only stand my family in short bursts too.”

“Heh, not exactly. It’s not for the sun I came, but the night. You can do all kinds of interesting things in the dark without being bothered.”

Spitfire's brow creased. “So, when god was distracted by the Eternal Night, you did your witchcraft.”

“Something like that. I have a sly feeling several groups used the opportunity to enact ceremonies or spells.”

That confirmed it for Spitfire: Sunset Shimmer had performed the ritual. Did she come to Cloudsdale to bask, or was she looking for a repeat performance? Had she even succeeded the first time?   Spitfire’s eyes roamed over the Blackhorn Armor.
“If you try to do your magic in Cloudsdale, I’ll turn you into paste.”

“Don’t worry captain, casting the ritual is the last thing I intend. I want to resume our princess’s work, nothing more.”

“I can’t pretend you’re making any sense to me. You’d make the most ponies happy by killing yourself. You’re never going to be a hero.”

Sunset’s smiling veneer cracked for a bare second. “I don’t have to be a hero, captain. I just have to be triumphant.”

“The kind of ponies who say that have no regard for laws of monarch or god. Lucky you, amoral despots aren’t rare in Cloudsdale. Most of them have uniforms and batons, and only a few have a black heart like yours.” Spitfire leveled. “But call me an idiot if I don’t recognize that history is filled with mares like you. Last time I faced one I survived despite my bungling. I won’t be blindsided again.”

“That’s ambitious. A mare striving for security in insecure times. Your optimism inspires me.” Sunset laughed a little.

“Do me a personal favor and shut your trap until we see Admiral Gnash.”

Cloudsdale Royal Hospital was overflowing with the wounded. Every few minutes a new wagon full of casualties from the docks arrived and offloaded. The top floor reserved for officers was packed to capacity.

Rain Gnash, stable as she was, had been bumped to a low priority and had been wheeled into the small flower garden on the roof. The garden was pleasant, with rows of planters bearing gently wilting trees, framed by trestles full of air plants and flowering orchids.  It was a pleasant, quiet place the likes of which one would spend their waning moments.
Rain Gnash did not want to think so fatalistically. It was a garden, nothing more.

With all her bandages removed it, Gnash was the shadow of the mare she once was. Her left leg and wing were stumps. Her right leg and her ears were completely gone. Her left eye was covered by an eyepatch and her muzzle was stitched partially back together.  Her torso was horrifically scarred from where her body fat had boiled off. Her fur was just starting to grow back on her head, but otherwise the skin was still pink and raw.

“Simple miracles, gentleponies. Simple miracles.”  Gnash hadn’t regained all use of her tongue or throat yet, leading to most of her sentences ending in a lisped whisper. “We can thank our lucky stars, our guardian angels, or our rabbit’s foot. Whatever you want. Just give thanks.”

“Not everypony will agree with you. I’m not sure I do.” Her lone visitor Soarin lay flat on the floor staring into the smoky sky. He’d been lucky to come back unscathed. He was supposed to be with the other Wonderbolts getting debriefed, but every twist of his gut drove him away from it. Every time one of the Bolts spoke visions of the burning carrier flashed over his vision. He heard screams and the phantom sound of tearing flesh. It made him want to run away and hide. “The longer this is going on, the more cynical I’m getting, which doesn’t feel good. Now who’s going to play off Captain Spitfire? We had great chemistry.”

“You kook.” Gnash gurgled. “Hang in there. I won’t let another Bolt fall. Trust me on that.”

“How are you going to stop the admiralty if they decide to send us back?” Soarin rubbed his temple. “I’d leave before that, following the Captain out the door.”  He sighed.  “The helplessness eats at me. We couldn’t do anything. Hundreds of ponies dead and we could only run away.”

“This is what I’d call an unmitigated disaster. The Admiralty has a lot to answer for. I…  I have to get stronger before I can get back in the mix.” Gnash laid her head back.
She closed her eyes. Through murky eyes she saw the a pony’s face, looking down at her. She felt Fleetfoot heartbeat and the slow rise and fall of that other pony’s chest as she breathed.
“Because we can’t let others drive our path.”

“Absolutely nopony. Nopony but ourselves.” Soarin agreed darkly.

They heard the sweep of wings and a clatter of hooves from nearby.

Soarin jerked his head up. Spitfire was looking around, making sure it was just them in the rooftop garden.
“Yo! Captain!” Soarin hollered. “Admiral, it’s Spitfire!”

“At buckin ease, soldier.” Spitfire said gruffly. “Admiral Gnash, you’re looking better.”

“Shove it, Captain.” Rain Gnash opened her eye. “You never come to visit.”

“You’d get sick of my company real quick.” Spitfire maneuvered around the planters and flower beds to sit on the ground by Soarin.  “Well… Let’s get this out of the way.  What happened in Canterlot?”

Soarin was having a hard time deciding where to look. “That glory hound Captain Hail Strom tried to attack the city. It went about as well as it looks. Hundreds dead.”

“Wonderbolts?”

“One MIA, officially.”

“Fleetfoot...” Spitfire looked to Rain Gnash.

“She is alive, in Canterlot.” Gnash croaked. “Nopony else knows that.”

“But she’s Lady Velvet’s care. The Admiral told me she got hurt badly.”

Gnash hung her head. “She almost died, and me with her. From the sporadic sensations I get I think she’s recovering, but it’s almost certain that Lady Velvet has her.”

Spitfire gave a reserved nod. “I was afraid she wasn’t going to make it back. I, uh, suspected she wanted to get herself killed. Before the expedition left she was looking real bad.”

“She’s not out of the pan. Lady Velvet has kept her alive, but that doesn’t guarantee anything.” Gnash said. “She’s a hostage to ensure our cooperation.”

Soarin whinnied in disapproval of the situation. “And what choice do we have?! We can’t let her die, or the admiral will die too.”

“NOT death. Something markedly less pleasant.” Gnash said. “Our souls are cursed now, from the touch of the demon.”

“It’s something we all might have to face soon.” Spitfire brooded. She looked around again, checking for interlopers, then leaned in. “What are the other squadrons saying? What did they see of Lady Velvet’s demon?”

“Nopony knows what to say. There’s a… collective denial, like they refuse to believe what they saw.” Soarin nibbled his lip.  “But there was more.”

Spitfire looked from Soarin to Gnash, who affected a weak, resigned shrug.

Soarin ventured to explain. “Somepony else…  something else…  Was in the skies when  we were attacked.” He hesitated, looking for Rain Gnash’s permission before continuing. “Nopony got a good and up close look except Fleetfoot.”

“Elaborate a bit for me.” Spitfire frowned.

“We just don’t know. Sure, the alicorn monster took out the airships, but she didn’t make that light. Just... this pillar of light.” Soarin whispered.  “See Fleetfoot went after the alicorn, but the alicorn was chasing after somepony too. They were leaving Canterlot the same time the assault started. Fleetfoot got between them and got messed up. That’s what the Admiral says.  Right after, while we were retreating...” He swallowed. “This huge pillar of light came down, like those sun beams just before the Eternal Night!  A scout investigated, and said that the hill it hit was turned into glass. Everything within a klick was charred to dust.”

“An alicorn-esk power, but not from Velvet’s alicorn.” Spitfire clicked her tongue.

“We thought it was Princess Celestia returning to cast away the night, but there was something about the light that was so repellant, so…” Soaring flailed for proper adjectives.  “Ghastly! Terrible! It felt like death.”

“I felt a burst of sensation right before Fleetfoot passed out.” Rain Gnash licked scabbed lips. “It might be another alicorn.”

Spitfire slouched. “Damn.”
She didn’t want to get her comrades involved. She really didn’t. But she felt a pair of eyes on her from a concealed location, making sure she didn’t do anything rash.  Sunset Shimmer had doubtlessly been the other creature in skies over Canterlot, and her power was not in question.  Should that rogue cast the sun beam in Cloudsdale the loss of life would be tremendous.

There was no finagling out of it. Spitfire could only minimize the damage. “Damn it. DAMN IT!” She lept up and kicked at a planter, cracking it apart and spilling the soil.  “Isn’t there a way out for us?!  What do we have to do to escape this mess! Die, apparently. Even then, we face a terrible curse!”

Ever-wary Gnash detected more than the average desperation in Spitfire’s actions.  “Captain, what’s wrong?”

“I-” Spitfire clenched her jaw. Here was the plunge. “I- I’m sorry admiral. We’ve been wrapped up in something bad. Trouble’s after us like a starving wolf.”

Gnash sucked her lip in. Suddenly she too was aware of the vague feeling of being watched.  “I understand captain. There is no shame to be upset about problems out of your control. When the time comes, we have to be ready to account for them.”

Spitfire, swallowing a sigh, put a secure hoof on Soarin’s shoulder. She ignored his confused look.  “The time is now, and forever.”

With a deafening crack that made everypony jump, a new pony teleported into the garden. “Konichiwa, pegasi. My ears were burning like they only do when somepony’s talking about me.”  Sunset Shimmer let the hood slide back. “Rain Gnash! It’s been too long.”

“Sunset Shimmer.” Rain Gnash growled. “Welcome back to Equestria.”

“Admiral! Captain!” Soarin leapt to his hooves and drew his sword, but Spitfire’s hoof kept him in place. “Stay back, Traitor!”

“Get too close to me with a conductive material like that sword and see what happens.” Sunset Shimmer chortled. “Come on, try it. I’m genuinely curious.”

“Captain…” Soarin’s voice trembled. “Please run and get help.”

“Soarin, she was in Canterlot.” Spitfire said. “She cast that pillar of light.”

“You were impressed by that paltry ray? There are much more wondrous powers at my disposal than that now.” Sunset pulled down the neck of her cloak, revealing the Blackhorn armor. “Would you like to see what I can do in a populated place like this?”

“Cool it Shimmer. We’re cooperating.” Spitfire barked.

Gnash struggled to lean forward in her wheelchair. “How long have you been here, Shimmer?”

“Is that any way to address an old friend?” Sunset pouted. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you while you were suffering Twilight Velvet and her alicorn.  I didn’t, and still don’t, want to get mixed up with them. Astral nearly got me.”

“Oh I understand, Shimmer.” Gnash scowled, making the bare skin of her face wrinkle horribly, like the last week had aged her eighty years.  “And I asked you how long you’ve been here.”

“Just arrived. I come as I am: Broke, penniless, with my song and soul as my only wealth.” Sunset Shimmer kicked at the worn edges of her cloak.  “Oh! I also have a metric kilo-buckton of magic bound up in this armor, pardon my prench.”

Gnash cast her eyes over the black lacquer armor Sunset wore. Even more than Spitfire she knew the heinous things it was capable of. She remembered, amongst sensations that defied descriptions and the sound of her own screams, the sight of that armor consuming the fake Seacrest Blackhorn. Oh, how his flesh had bubbled, deformed, twisted around itself, until at last it had erupted to assume the form of Astral Nacre!
So Sunset had endeavored to do something similar, but it was for her alone to know the fully cost and result.
“You want to talk with me.”

“That’s right.” Sunset confirmed the non-question.

“Then leave them out of it.” Gnash raised a hoof towards Spitfire and Soarin.  “I don’t want them to see me suffer.”

“Sure sure.” Sunset nodded.  She grabbed Spitfire and Soarin in her telekinesis and pushed them to the edge of the roof.  Soarin made to rush back in but Spitfire tightened her grip on him. They would have to be observers.

Sunset loomed over Gnash’s wheelchair, grinning like some mad-murderous jester. “Admiral Rain Gnash. You deserve it, the promotion I mean. You always were a go-getter.  Heh. I’ve been asking this a lot today, but do you remember when we met?”

“Not much.” Rain Gnash maintained an even tone, but hatred was simmering in her eyes. “Just that you were doing some dumb crap that needed calling out.”

Spitfire whispered in Soarin’s ear. “They entered the palace the same year, Admiral Gnash with the IHG, Shimmer as her highness’s student.”

“A lot has happened since I’ve been away. I was sorry to hear about you and Hauseway falling out, but he always did take things too far. You two made a great team.” Sunset said. “The years of separation changed both of you for the worse.”

“He died an awful death, and I replay that moment in my head to reassure myself there’s still a scrap of justice in this world.” Gnash said, steely. “You know I deserved the captaincy. I was my father’s shadow since I could hold a sword, and I didn’t endure his abuse and impossible expectations just for that shithead Hauseway to bump me out when it was finally time for me to get what I earned.”

Sunset looked down her nose at the cripple. “How glib.”

“Said the mare who sees the phrase ‘brevity is the soul of wit’ and tries her damndest to be as un-witty as possible.” Gnash met her look.

“Being talkative is equal to celebrating death, you say. Okay, I’ll keep that for future reference.” Sunset upturned a flower pot and used it as a stool. “You don’t have to act tough with me, Rain. I was watching you in Canterlot.”

Rain Gnash scowled, running over all her memories in Canterlot to try to pick out any sign of the Traitor.

“I wasn’t out in the open, obviously. I was underground most of the time. I did however enjoy a bird’s eye view of Velvet’s blasphemous ritual in the Canterlot Castle throne room. I was on the South Watchtower with a binocular and a scroll to take notes.” Sunset recalled. “I saw what happened with you and Mis Fleetfoot.”

Rain Gnash sighed and laid back in her wheelchair. “Glad it amused you so much.”

“Amuse me? No no no. It was sickening, but now you have become an intriguing artifact. You and her share the same dreams, right? You can hear her thoughts, and she hears yours, right? How can I not marvel at that! It’s the essence of Harmony, and Harmony brings us closer to the divine.  Yes, it is a horrible trauma to one’s mind to intertwine it with another, but...” Sunset smiled. “But we can save this digression for later. Sometimes I get all wrapped up in ideas for the future.”

“Don’t we all.” Gnash said flatly.

“Hah ha! We’re a race of dreamers! But let’s get to the point.” Sunset pulled off her cape and hood. “Rain, do you recognize this armor I’m wearing.”

Gnash, threatened again by the awful visions of Seacrest burning in his skin, twisted her healing leg in a painful leg, so she could relish in the head-clearing pain that lanced through her. She was long in answering.  “You know I do. I’m not that far gone.”

“Once long ago there were ancient alicorns who spurned the sight of us mortals. Having fallen, the gods that survived were made into platinum orbs, trinkets, other fanciful things.  This armor was made housed the soul of one such Deava.”
Sunset thumped her chest.  Spitfire, standing off the side, was itching to know what that motion meant.
“We ask ourselves, why do those divine creatures from beyond our earth allow us to make mockeries of them with our attempts at divinity? It’s unknown, and there is no way of knowing either, except to push the boundaries yet further and invite Darkness to the Bright World. So we toil, vindicated by the cosmos’s apathy, to reach upward to the gods and share in their secrets.”
Sunset turned her head curiously. “Gnash, have you heard of the Tower of the Bard?”

“No.” Gnash said. She wished Sunset would skip past the flowery introduction and get to the point. “But I can guess. Ponies being dumbass and overreaching their boundaries.”

“Isn’t that what they gods want?!  Isn’t that why they came to us, first as the ancient alicorns, then as the Celestiaan?!  They want to be with us! They want us to brush against them. Why would a divine thing take a form that can be seen, touched, adored, and loved, unless it was to draw those things out of us mortals?” Sunset insisted.  “They want us, we want them. Doesn’t that make sense?”

“When ponies ask that question, the answer is always a definite no.”

“I want to hear your opinion.”

“I’m a cripple in a chair, not a god. I have no opinion on apotheosis.” Gnash said. She struggled to shift in her wheelchair to a more comfortable position, matched by shifting the conversation. “Why did you come to Cloudsdale?

“I tried to cast the ritual but I made a slight mistake. I refined the ritual to up absolute, to make it the most perfect it could ever be. But I went too far, made it too perfect, too close to a pure alicorn soul. Consequently, the alicorn soul rejected the corporeal world and stayed inside the armor.”

“Tough.” Rain Gnash spit.

“Very tough, yes. Years of calculations, hoping and praying to fulfill the work of my predecessors, to come to this. Contrary to proving that mortal and divine are meant to be together, I proved the opposite.” Sunset’s brow creased, and she looked away as though her attention was drawn to some far off place.  “So in the end, the answer to my question was a definite no. Equestria’s best hope of getting its princess back has failed, for now.”

“We’re not dogs here to pick at the scraps of your work.” Spitfire shouted from the sidelines.

Gnash was silent in thought for many minutes.  She had to conscience the idea that Spitfire, who the Traitor had first gone to, had already made a clandestine arrangement.
To confront what she would be willing to do to protect Cloudsdale, she would have to confront the unpleasant, near-maddening feelings she held towards Velvet and her alicorn creation. Gnash of course hated Velvet for what she’d done, the cost in lives and suffering she was still incurring. Yet Gnash shivered to think about how, unconscious and barely clinging to life she had been at the time, Astral Nacre had attempted to heal her.
If Gnash hated them utterly, then she would have to hate herself. If she did not hate them unconditionally, she would be drawn to question their (and her own) meaning in the context of the new world dawning.
Was it not natural that a milenium should draw not more than a little progress from the natures of ponykind? Technologically the pony races had made great strides, especially in the recent years of gunpowder, printing presses, and expanding oceanic travel.  Yet in terms of wisdom, mortals were stilted, still stultifying, and would have remained like ignorant if not for Lady Twilight Velvet’s actions.

So, question was posed: Was the new world better than the old?

Rain Gnash shifted in her chair. “Shimmer, what did you offer Captain Spitfire?”

Sunset Shimmer, who over the long period of silence had begun to polish her armor with her magic, looked up. “I want to help her, and you, into positions of power in the Admiralty. I have very detailed notes and theorems to give you.”

“Theorems? Are you here to start a university?” Soarin mocked.

“Hush Soarin.” Spitfire bumped his shoulder. “After what you saw over Canterlot, can you really say that Cloudsdale can survive without help?”

“You would survive, but in a squirming, slavish way.” Sunset Shimmer said. “With me you’ll have knowledge which will prove indispensable in combating the otherworldly threats coming your way. I wrote up a little contract.”

“A contract? You babbling moron! Don’t you know what it’s called?!” Gnash croaked, her numb lip flapping from the excitement with which she spoke.  “A COVENANT!  When you wager our sins and virtues against the laws of gods, we call it a COVENANT.”

Sunset Shimmer was taken aback by the ferocity of Gnash’s words and the newfound enmity in the maimed pegasus’s expression. “I wouldn’t presume to-”

“To hell with your presumptions! Your thoughts and plans and bunk!  There should be only one thing to talk about to convince us. Everything else flows out of there.” Gnash spit. “You know what I’m talking about, right?!  That thing, that terrible and glorious thing, that can enrapture the inferior minds.”

Sunset was gravely silent.

Evoking comparisons to miracles of the Classical Age, Gnash pushed herself off the wheelchair, and wobbled precariously on two hooves. “Your dream, you duplicitous dog. Tell us of your dream.” She stroked her chest with her wing, as though comforting her own heart. But her balance was thrown off and she fell on her face. “Your dream…  What did you try to bring to life?! Tell me about the thing you raised out of the ritual!”

Sunset stood stolid, unmoved by Gnash’s passion, at least outwardly. “I’m sorry admiral, that’s not something I can’t show you yet.”

Rain Gnash sneered. Her scabbed lip was beginning to crack and bleed anew. “Then get out of here until you’re ready.”

Amazingly, Sunset obliged, trotting to Spitfire and Soarin. Spitfire had to conclude that Sunset was offput by Gnash’s demands for the same reason she was flustered when asked about heroics: Sunset wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing.
Spitfire held back a triumphal cry at that thought. She would have to devise clever ways to steer Sunset by twisting on that insecurity, but avoid being steered herself.
“Looks like she wants more than you’re willing to give.”

“I’ll be back, tomorrow or the day after.” Sunset promised, glancing back to Gnash. “Then you’ll see.”

Gnash, with Soarin’s help, clambered weakly back in the chair. “I’m looking forward to it.” She said coldly, like a boss stating expectations for an underperforming employee.

“Captain, admiral, this is treason.” Soarin teetered on his hooves anxiously. “This mare betrayed the princess.”

“The princess is dead.” Spitfire said. “We’re all traitors now.”

Soarin looked pained. “Captain…”

Spitfire watched Sunset don her cloak and hood, so she was once more concealed from the eyes of mortals. “Gods help me, I’m going to save this city, Soarin. I won’t let another Wonderbolt fall.” She leaned over and draped a wing over Soarin’s hip, where his sword was waiting. “Like we agreed in Canterlot, Soarin: Stab me in the back if you think I’m going down the wrong path.”

Soarin mutely considered Gnash and Sunset. He was a follower. It was not his place to judge right and wrong.  But minutes ago he had been passing judgement on the vaunted Admiralty, had he not?  Something had to change.
“We’re still alive, aren’t we?” He laughed awkwardly. “But the Bolts will have to know about this eventually.”

“Talk with them, discretely. They need to know.” Spitfire agreed. “Introduce the idea that Admiral Gnash and I are working on a way to keep Cloudsdale safe, forever.”

Soarin was uncertain. “Admiral…  You agree we going along with this?”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right. I have so, so many doubts.” Gnash said quietly. “But unlike with Lady Velvet, we have the upper hoof. It’s our duty to make absolutely sure of everything before we commit.” She eyed Sunset. “Which is why I want to see her dream. I have to know for certain what we are piling behind.”

Sunset responded in a whisper. “You have your suspicions. They’re probably correct.”

“I have to know for certain.” Gnash repeated.

Sunset turned to Spitfire. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s been productive.” She nodded to Gash. “See you tomorrow, admiral.” Then to Soarin. “Sir.”

“If I never show up again, mark a spot as my grave saying ‘She died being a damn fool.’ “ Spitfire whispered to Soarin.

“It was always going to be that.” Soarin laughed silently.

Bidding further farewell with little jabs, Spitfire broke away from Soarin. She passed Gnash on her way to Sunset, received and herself reciprocated with acknowledging nods. Nothing more needed be said until later.

Sunset waited at the edge of the fragrant garden. Down in the Stratus district the fires on the airships were just being brought under control. “How are you feeling?”

“What?” Spitfire found the question absurd. “I feel alright, I guess. Are you done here.”

“I am, for now.” Sunset confirmed.

"Are you going to have what Admiral Gnash wants tomorrow?" Spitfire asked, expecting a confident platitude.

But Sunset surprised her. "She cought me off guard asking about the dream. And that talk of covinents was nothing I was expecting. Rain has always been a needy mare."

Spitfire didn't want to swell on that implication. "Let's get on."

“If I can propose a change in the literary, I’d like to visit someplace before we make our next call.”

“Shure thang.” Spitfire drawled sardonically. “Yur tha chief, boss mare.”

Sunset pursed her lips. “Don’t think I’m deterred by Rain’s stubbornness, captain. We will still be going to see the prelate.”

“Suddenly feeling humorless, Mis Shimmer?”

“See if the humor keeps with you. We’re going down.” Sunset waved a hoof off the edge of the roof. By down, she indicated all the way down, to the valley floor.  “Please meet me on the roof of the Skyroof village customs office. We can proceed on hoof from there.”

Skyroof was one of Cloudsdale’s earthly suburbs, where caravans could send goods up to the city in the daily airship ferry. “That’s how you got up to the city?”

“No. I teleported.” Sunset said. “I promise it’s exhausting to teleport that far, so get a head start and maybe we’ll arrive at the same time.”

Spitfire didn’t imagine she would be rid of Sunset if she just flew off. Besides, with what Soarin had said about sky-rending beams of solar fire…   “Fine.” She paused.  “Mis Shimmer, we can be gentlemarely about all this, right? If I help you to the end, you’re not going to terminate the relationship by turning me to orange goo, right?”

Sunset hiccuped a strange laugh. “Yes captain, we can be. We can agree to mutual respect and good faith.”

Spitfire nodded curtly. “Good, I guess…  Drama tires me out.” She flapped her wings to hover off the side off the roof.  “But don’t you know I’m not the Wonderbolt captain anymore? You don’t have to call me that.”

“But your pegasi comrades call you captain.” Sunset considered the point for a moment, then shrugged. “Oh whatever. You should get going to Skyroof. There’s more to do today.”

A kilometer above them, hanging off the side of a buoy cloud, a sextet of eyes observed the hospital roof.
“Admiral Gnash appears to have turned her away.” A pegasus stallion in a black gendarme uniform said lowered a spyglass from his eye. Another, a small mare, was dressed similarly.

“I see. We can extract the details of the conversation when it becomes necessary.” A grey-suited officer mare mused. “Keep on her. Report to me when she goes home, but keep the house surveyed in shifts. I will investigate the identity of the unicorn when I have time.”

“Any red lines?” The stallion asked.

“No. The Admirals want Spitfire watched for subversion. Don’t get inventive with orders.” The officer said sternly. “Thank you for alerting me about the unicorn, but don’t send for me again unless she contacts known dissidents. I have more pressing cases right now.”

“Yes ma’am.” The stallion saluted as the officer departed. He nudged his partner. “I told you she was going to be an ass about it.”

“I wasn’t disputing that. Agent Skyrivers has no off switch.” The little mare looked over her shoulder to make sure the officer, Skyrivers had flown out of sight. “Who knows though. Ten bits says we’re bumped to counter-terrorism in Cirrus because of that noise from Stratus. Fire follows smoke around here.”

“Yeah.” The stallion brought the spyglass up to his eye again. “Spitfire’s leaving the unicorn to head to the valley floor. Should we follow or wait for her to come back up?”

“If we want to file a case on her before we’re bumped, we’d have to do it today.” The mare shrugged. “I’m not saying we make something up, but if she’s being subversive, we find it now or never.”

“Then we go. Hug Nimbus South, I’ll hug Cumulus. Rejoin me on the ground.”

“Yes sir.” The mare nodded.

The two gendarmes swooped off the cloud and took separate paths, but both keeping careful watch on their quarry.

An hour later

The rolling green plain was dotted by ugly grey boulders and unkempt shrubs. There were signs of some grazing and fires, where a nomad tribe of goats or sheep had passed by. One one of the hills, jutting from a rocky outcropping, was a squat black obelisk with an inscription on one side.

The other sides of the obelisk listed names of victims.

“Your little sister would have been about the right age. How did she escape?” Sunset asked.

“Seafire was getting bullied at the Creche, so my parents kept her home. She lost many of her friends. A couple girlfriends of mine lost their little sisters.” Spitfire said somberly.  She didn’t like those hills, where the ash had fallen so thickly after the Cloud Creche disaster.

She had been among the first responding to the disaster, along with Soarin, Fleetfoot, and other squires training in the vicinity. By some miracle or twist of fate, everypony had been looking the other direction when the disaster transpired. What a great mercy it was, because there were others nearby who had been looking, and for months after the incident had suffered from depression and paranoia, gibbering in twilight hours about how the rainbow was coming for them.

They were a dozen kilometers east of Cloudsdale, with the rising foothills of the Unicorn Range to the south and hills flattening into open plains to the north.   Cloudsdale had been closer to the spot, but was pushed west after the incident. Not far enough to disrupt trade routes, but enough to get the palpable aura of death out of the air.

“Ten years ago, when you visited with the princess’s entourage…” Spitfire trailed off because something pulled her attention.
She spotted movement on the next hill over, some two-hundred meters away. They were not as alone as they’d thought.

“What?” Sunset asked after the dropped question.

“There’s somepony over there.” Spitfire said at a whisper, even though there was no chance of being heard at the distance. “No, not some pony…” She shaded her eyes with her wing. “That’s a griffin!”

Sunset cocked her head. “A griffin, this far from the coast? Unless something’s changed in the last few years-”

“No, it’s still highly unusual. They stick to the coast or the Embankment.”  Spitfire was off-put by the unlikely visitor. In normal times it would be a curiosity, but in these times anything unusual could be a threat.

The griffin noticed them too, and was looking in their direction every few seconds as it went about its business.

“Should we say hello?” Sunset wondered.

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious.” Sunset said. “And because she might be here for the same reason we are.”

Gilda had found the hills a very peaceful, lonely place. The pegasi actively avoided the haunted monument, which meant her modest camp under a walnut tree had gone completely unbothered even when she was away hunting.

But waking up that day, the skin around her anklet itched terribly. When she listened to the rustle of the grass in the wind, she heard little strange melodies and indecipherable whispers. Something important was going to happen.
It was not that unexpected then when a pair of ponies appeared on the monument hill, nor when they started heading her direction.

“A pegasus and a unicorn.” She whispered to herself. The unicorn had a loose fitting robe on so it was unclear if she was armed. As they grew closer, and the understated aura of power radiating off the unicorn became more apparent, the more tense Gilda became.
“That’s close enough!” She yelled when the reached the base of the hill she was on.

“Are you okay?” The orange pegasus yelled back. “We don’t see your kind around here often.”

“I’m peachy.” Gilda said. “I’m just keeping the place safe.”

“Safe?” The yellow unicorn queried.

Gilda felt a tingle at the edge of her senses. There were more ponies keeping out of sight, beyond the crest of a nearby hill. Her skin under her anklet was itching terribly.
“Safe from ponies like you.”

The unicorn whispered something to her companion and climbed up the hill. Gilda stood still, letting the pony come face to face. “Hi." Looking past Gilda, the unicorn spotted the tent and campsite under the walnut tree. "You live here?"

"For now."

The unicorn scrutinized her for a long moment. "You’re from Gottrakt, aren’t you. I’ve never heard of one of you this far afield.”

“Go play anywhere else in Equestria, not here.” Gilda said gruffly. “Using magic here will disturb the dead’s slumber.”

“What’s your name? I’m Sunset Shimmer, late of worlds abroad, later of Canterlot.” Sunset bowed.

“Go away. I’m not interested in any of your games.” Gilda said with increasing harshness. Did this unicorn really think she could make friends just by exchanging formalities? It didn't work that way between magicians. “Whatever your political or magical ambitions, I’m telling you to erase this place from your maps.”

Sunset was having a very difficult reading the aura of the strange griffin. She hid her magical aura very well. “Do you ever visit the city?”

“I find plenty to do here.” The griffin said.

“I was just thinking, if you really are from Gottrakt, I’d like to talk some time.” Sunset said, giddy and nervous at the same time. She knew very little about the Stars living in foreign lands, what little she did know coming out of Celestia’s old notes.
Though thinking back on it, during their stay under the Mountain Entanglement Theory had invested a lot of research into Black Bell and her school at Gottrakt, secreting books and asking Phyte during the infrequent meetings. Perhaps she’d had an inkling of their involvement in the sequence and the ritual, somehow. “Are you a graduate? What’s your specialty?”

Suddenly Sunset felt it deep in her bones: A churning change to the way reality was operating.  The rustle of the wind dwindled and died, and the air got much warmer. Sunset found it hard to breath.
The griffin blinked, languidly, waiting for Sunset to mirror the action before speaking. “You talk like an amature, but you’ve apparently grown eyes for Phantom Time.” She scratched at a metal band on her right foreleg. "You're operating in Cloudsdale?"

"That's my plan, yes. I just arrived but I don't plan on making any waves, beyond helping a few new friends of mine."

The griffin considered this. "Laying low then?"

"Much like yourself." Sunset smirked. "Is controlling Phantom Time something they teach in Gottrakt or did you teach yourself? Must come in handy for avoiding trouble."

"It comes in handy all the time." The griffin shifted her stance. “My name is Gilda.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Let me make it clear right here, I couldn’t care less about what you do. I’m not one for the feuds and plots of the elder siblings.” Gilda said. “But if you’re operating in Canterlot, you’re going to be my neighbor, and I want to make sure you won’t cause too much trouble.”

“You want to make sure I won’t cause a repeat of Cloud Creche.” Sunset joked.

Gilda did not find that funny at all. “I want to make sure I’m not going to have to kill you.”

“If that need arises it will be very interesting which of us will triumph.” Sunset grinned. “If you’ll excuse me, I actually came to pay respects to the victims before I go.”

Gilda stared in silence. Sound and life returned to the world around them. Sunset’s skin under the Blackhorn Armor was feeling numb: The energy in the armor was very uncomfortable in Phantom Time.

Spitfire waited for Sunset to climb back down the hill. “Well?”

“She’s a mystic. A pretty powerful one too. Fortunately she’s seems more interested in camping out here than meddling in the political climate. She doesn’t have an accent at all.” Sunset said. “She said she might tag along.”

“Tag along? What the hell for?” Spitfire groaned.

“Just to see what I’m up to. Maybe we’ll have an opportunity to talk shop.” Sunset shrugged. “Oop, here she comes.”

The griffin glided down to them,  meeting Spitfire’s sceptical looks with an expression of half-lidded contempt. “Hello Mis.”

“Hi, I’m Spitfire.” Spitfire offered her hoof for a shake.

“Gilda.” Gilda said, ignoring the hoof. “Are you the same Spitfire that led the government forces during the Snow Factory Riots?”

Sunset arched a brow. “That’s a pretty obscure bit of trivia.”

“Shimmer here doesn’t have the Admiralty’s backing, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Spitfire said. “I’m on furlough pending review of my resignation.”

“Yeah, I don’t care.” Gilda said flatly. “I asked because my friend’s uncle was arrested during the riots and died in prison. That’s how I heard your name.”

Spitfire didn’t have a response to that.

Gilda clacked her beak. “Not going to offer a token apology?”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Spitfire glared.

“Wasn’t my uncle.” Gilda shrugged.

Spitfire groaned internally. Was there something about deep magical secrets that turned creatures callous, or did it take that kind of attitude to search in the first place? “Fair enough.”

“Where are you going after this?” Gilda asked.

“The abandoned sky redoubt east of the Stratus District, then on to the ecclesiastical palace in the Cirrus District.” Sunset reported. “I can tell you’re impatient.”

“Great.” Gilda grunted. “Say your empty prayers and get moving. I have to be back here by nightfall.”

“Why are you concerned? You have unlimited time.” Sunset chuckled. “Oh whatever. I’m done here. Captain, you and Mis Gilda can go directly, I will be going back through Skyroof.”

“Don’t keep us waiting.” Gilda said. She leaned in. “It’s just the two of you, right?”

“For now.” Sunset said with a smarmy smile.

Gilda nodded. “Just checking.” She launched into the air towards Cloudsdale.

Spitfire lingered for a second. “You didn’t plan this, did you?”

“I had a feeling we’d find something interesting here.” Sunset said. “I didn’t know what it would be, but places like this attract creatures like her.”

“And you.” Spitfire quipped.

“S it seems.” Sunset laughed. “Meet you at the cloud redoubt.”

The cloud redoubt was an ancient structure, resting on a thick bank of clouds overgrown with air plants. Its oldest cloud-brick foundations were built in the pre-classical age by the hero of the great migration, Grand Admiral Hurricane. In the years of feuding and wars before the unification, the redoubt had withstood countless sieges, been destroyed multiple times, but was always rebuilt. After the unification, it had served as a prison for a short time, then fallen into disuse. Wherever Cloudsdale migrated, the redoubt drifted close behind, a haunting statement that seemed to tell all that beheld it that the glory of war was but a rainbow, marvelous but transient.

Gilda and Spitfire touched down on the south side of the crumbling fortress. Like the Cloud Creche memorial, the pegasi avoided the redoubt out of vague superstition. Thousands of ponies had died there throughout the ages in battle, and hundreds more had perished in the dank confines of the prison. Legend told that ghosts haunted it.

“This brings me back.” Gilda remarked. “Ten years back I squatted here.”

“Where are you from?” Spitfire asked.

“A little island in the seas north of Griffany, but I moved here when I was young.” Gilda hopped off the collapsed bastion into the overgrown courtyard. “I bumbled around Cloudsdale for about a year. I had a shack in Cirrus for half that time.”

“That’s when you met your friend with the dead uncle.” Spitfire guessed.

“Yeah.”

While most of the structure was collapsed and unusable, several connected casements were intact. Spitfire poked her head inside. She saw by the dim light filtering in somepony, she guessed Sunset, had laid out a bedroll and a pack full of supplies resting on a makeshift table. A bag of scrolls occupied another corner.

“What did you do while you were here, Mis GIlda?”

“It’s just Gilda. Sometimes Lady Gilda.” Gilda informed.

“Oh, sorry.” Spitfire apologized. Was it just pretentiousness or was she actually a noble?

“It’s fine.” Gilda found a comfortable place on a lichen-covered stone block to sit down.  “I was a thief. Sometimes I ran contraband from the docks into Cirrus, which is how I afforded the shack.”

“So what they say about immigrants bringing crime and drugs is true.” Spitfire said wryly.

“Yeah, I did a lot of opium in those days.” Gilda clacked her beak. “It’s how I met my friend with the dead uncle.”

Spitfire pursed her lips. “Well then.”

“Relax, I’m only joking.” Gilda laughed.

Spitfire sat on the ground. “I’m glad to know you have a sense of humor.”

“I become a bit of a prissy bitch when it comes to magic and stuff, but I’m generally pretty relaxed.” Gilda said, but the way she said it wasn’t very convincing. “And I’m happiest when I’m flying or talking about history.”

“Oh, her ladyship is a nerd.” Spitfire cackled.

Gilda grinned. “I said flying too.”

“I’ve never met a creature with wings that didn’t like flying.” Spitfire said.

Gilda idly scratched at her anklet. “I should have said racing, then.”

Spitfire was starting to feel relaxed. She’d missed having casual conversations. Everything with the Wonderbolts was crisis and looming disaster, and Sunset was insufferably cryptic.
“Racing eh? That’s a whole different boat.” She leaned forward. “How fast are we talking here?”

“I’ve held pace with Wonderbolts material.” Gilda boasted. “I’ve outflown changeling swarms and dodged bullets. I could make your head spin.”

“Sure kid. Try me and we’ll see that cocky grin disappeared.” Spitfire flapped her wings. “But some other time. I know where to call on you.”

“Some other time.” Gilda agreed.

That ended the conversation, so they sat in silence among the whistles of wind gusts and buzzing of bugs among the air plants.  A few minutes later a crack and a burst of light announced the arrival of Sunset Shimmer atop the broken bastion.

“Took you long enough.” Spitfire yawned.

Sunset jumped down to them. “I thought I was being followed. I had to be sure.”

“I’ve been on-and-off under surveillance since I submitted my resignation.” Spitfire said.

Sunset’s expression darkened. “And you never thought to mention this?”

Spitfire shrugged. “They stopped showing up a few days ago. They were pretty obvious. We’d know.”

“Perhaps we do.” Sunset said, scowling. “There’s no helping it now. I might have to move camp.”

“You weren’t coming to grab your things?” GIlda queried.

“Yes I came to check on them, but I also thought this would be a convenient rendezvous before going up to Cirrus.” Sunset said.

Gilda must have detected a lie in that claim. “Did you leave something here?”

“No, no I…” Sunset bit her lip. “I just wanted to stop for a moment, check my notes. I didn’t intend to take this long to get here.”

Spitfire stood up. “Is there something I need to know?”

“Am I not explaining myself well? We’re leaving.” Sunset said, her assertion muddied among a wavering voice. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting but we have to go.”

Wordlessly, Gilda hopped up and walked into the casement. Sunset whined between bared teeth, torn between moving to stop the griffin and letting it happen.

Gilda passed through the first casement, where the bedroll and pack were, to the adjoining partially collapsed casement.  A dead pegasus was slouched in the corner.

Gilda knelt by the corpse. His fur had been singed off and his body was like a dry raisin. Even his eyes had dried up. Yet his undecayed state and fresh smell told Gilda this was a recent death. There were little signs he'd lived a hard life: Chipped hooves, old scars around his neck and shoulders, and several missing teeth.

Gilda stood up and turned to Sunset and Spitfire, paused at the entry portal. “This bum was living here when you arrived, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to kill him.” Sunset vowed. “He was welcoming, gentlecoltly. But I let him try on the armor and…” She sighed.  “There was a flash. When my sight returned, he was a husk, still alive but blind and deaf. The things he was screaming about... I had to put him out of his misery.”

“So you did mean to kill him.” Gilda leveled.

“Fuck you.” Sunset bit. Curse rang in the room until she gathered the breath to continue. “This armor is my burden! I can’t defuse it and I can’t destroy it!”

Gilda paced to the window. Its iron bars were rusted to nubs. “My original assessment was right. You’re just an amature, and you’ve shackled yourself to powers beyond your feeble comprehension. Thanks to you, our world has another god to tiptoe around.”

“I made a mistake that I’m trying to fix. I can’t feel bad about it forever.” Sunset said weakly. “I tried to resurrect my princess and that’s still my plan. Maybe you can help me-”

“I have zero interest in your plans. My advice to you is to throw that armor in the ocean and go on with your life.” Gilda growled. “A thousand years from now somepony might discover it and have their life ruined, but you won’t care because you’ll be long dead.”

Gilda’s cruel words washed over Sunset. At first she looked distraught, then angry, then irate. “You don’t understand at all. Ponykind can have their princess back.”

“You scatterbrained hornhead. You don’t really know, do you?” Gilda’s stare was intense. “You must have had your eyes closed, or had someone else do it! Flash of light, bah! You haven’t seen what the divine is really like!”

“I’ve been yelled at a lot today, and it’s starting to wear at me.” Sunset stomped her hoof. The desiccated corpse fell forward into its own lap. “I’m doing the right thing right now. I’m helping the pegasus survive the troubles to come.”

“Did they ask for your help? I think you’re not helping anypony but yourself.” Gilda brought her right leg up to her chest, clenching and unclenching her claw experimentally. The strange anklet was vibrating slightly. “You say you can’t destroy the armor…   You haven't even tried.”

Spitfire didn’t even see Gilda move. One moment she was by the window, half in shadow half in light, the next she was grappling Sunset against the wall, grunting and gasping.  A testament to the griffin’s strength, she pinned the unicorn up with only her right claw, while the other fended off Sunset’s desperate flails and kicks.  Sunset was trying to push Gilda off without using magic but the larger creature wouldn’t budge.
“Spitfire get her off me!”

Spitfire was motionless. With an encouraging word, maybe GIlda could solve her problems right there. But why was Sunset holding back?  Wasn’t it all a little convenient? Was it a test?  “Hey, break it up!”

“This idiot is going to destroy your city if you let her.” Gilda growled. “Stupid little ponies don’t deserve the kind of power she’s stolen.”

“Then the laugh will be on me.” Spitfire said. “Put her down.”

Gilda’s face was strained. “You ponies. Tss...  You really want to suffer.”
With a twirl she launched Sunset into the far wall. Sunset bounced off, tried to stand up, and collapsed.

Sunset was in a familiar place, the bridge of the cargo airship she and Entanglement Theory had stolen. Everything was dim, hazy. She saw her purple-coated friend, and the glint of the moonlight on the frame of her glasses, hunched over the wheel.

“You’re back, but…” Sunset swallowed. “I thought you left for good! You said you’d never be able to come back once you went back!”

Entanglement Theory’s ear twitched, but she didn’t otherwise react.

“Entanglement…” Sunset began, but that didn’t sound right. It wasn’t right. She grit her teeth, building courage. “Twilight…”

Shapes moved at the edges of the small cockpit. Heads with empty eyes turned her way. The experiments, the lobotomized and mutilated ponies, let their presence be known to their creator.

“I-” Sunset began hyperventilating. Why were they looking at her that way? She wasn’t sure who to address now, her hunched friend or the strangely alert lobotomites. “Am I supposed to apologize? Did I do something wrong?”  She asked the air.

A creak behind her and Sunset whipped around. One of the lobotomites was laying on a rack, its hooves ties down. Wait, she was outside now! Yes she was on the prow, with the wind screaming around them! The pony on the rack was babbling something, and Sunset realized it had both wings and a horn.
Entanglement Theory was beside her, head lowered as she whispered something too, but it was lost to the wind. The purple unicorn had the sacrifice dagger in her hoof.

“Twilight!” Sunset yelled but she could not outscream the wind. “We don’t have to do this! We can turn back!”
Entanglement Theory was looking at the alicorn, so Sunset did too. It looked…  beautiful. Not cosmically radiant like Celestia, but perfectly handsome in a nearly unnatural way. Though he was dazed and confused Sunset could see the spark of life and intelligence in his eyes. He could have been the kind of pony you talked with at the park, or sat down by at the bar.

Entanglement Theory considered the lethal dagger in her hoof, admiring its heinously sharp edge. When she turned it in the wind it cut the air with an agonized shriek.

Sunset took a step back. It was a horrible tool! She looked around, and more things horrified her further: The trio of lifeless pony bodies around the new alicorn, the mess of wires and cables strewn about like the exposed veins of a huge beast, and most of all the look in Entanglement Theory’s eye as she plunged the dagger into the alicorn’s breast.

“TWILIGHT!”

Sunset lept up so fast she smacked her head on Spitfire’s who had been standing over her. “OWCH! Mother Bucker!”

“I told you to stand back.” Gilda said.

Sunset Slumped back against the floor. She was overwhelmed by pain, disorientation, and nausea. “I- I’m still in the redoubt.”

“Of course you are you nonce.” Spitfire nursed her forehead. “Stupid unicorn can’t even take a concussion.”

“I was…” Sunset sat up slowly. The movement reminded her of the weight of the Blackhorn Armor. She stroked it for comfort. “I was on the airship again.”

“Above Canterlot, huh? You were calling out for Twilight. Must have been begging her to recall her demon.” Spitfire said.

Sunset sighed and shook her head. There was no good way to explain it, and judging by Gilda’s stares if she did explain it she’d only earn amore grilling and ridicule.  “No, another Twilight. Her, um…  Basically her daughter, I guess. We were friends. Somewhat.”

Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Can you stand?”

“Uph, let’s find out.” Sunset pushed herself up but immediately regretted it. Her vision swam with darkness and color, and her sense of weight was overwhelmed. She felt like she was in freefall, and a second later she was as she fell against the dessicated corpse.
Visions exploded over Sunset’s mind. She saw a hundred leering lobotomized experiments, peeking out of every crack and corner.
She screamed. “Nooo!” She trashed and batted the corpse around in her scramble to get away. “You’re dead!!

“Well observed.” Gilda said.

“T- This isn’t supposed to be here! This isn’t supposed to be here!” Sunset screamed, scrambling back to the door. “Gone! GONE!  INCINERATED!” She waved her hooves wildly, but her voice descended into guttural muttering. “I saw the crash site. Nothing survived. Nothing could have crawled its way out of there! I burned the bones. I BURNED THE BONES!”

Spitfire scrunched her face up in exasperation. “She was lightly salted nuts before, but now she’s off her rocker!”

“She’s just having a psychotic episode. Happens all the time with mortals who cavort with divine power.” GIlda said. “Yes, its happened to me too.”

“What are we supposed to do with her?” Spitfire asked.

“Wait.” Gilda followed Sunset’s crawl. The unicorn made it back to her bedroll and twisted herself up in it in the fetal position. She was shivering and mumbling things to the dark shadows of the room. “You should go home. I’ll watch over her.”

“Watch over her?” Spitfire repeated. “You’re not going to hurt her, right?”

Gilda was gravely silent for a moment. “No. I’m not very hungry.”

“Funny.” Spitfire frowned. “Listen, Sunset Shimmer is a pompous jackass, but I think there’s a chance that cooperating with her will make Cloudsdale safer. She knows she made a mistake and is trying to repent for it here.”

“Repent? Didn’t you hear the words out of her mouth, ‘I can’t feel bad about it forever’ ? She’s using you.”  Gilda emphasized. “I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved, so this is just advice, but I’m telling you clearly that no good can come of this. Facing god with hubris in your heart will cast you to depths worse than death.”

Spitfire thought of Rain Gnash and what she’d said about her curse. “So you suggest we let Twilight Velvet and her demon consume us?”

Gilda was again silent.  It was after noon and not much sun was getting through the thin casement windows.  “I would suggest you do everything you can to avoid facing the divine. You may have to make many sacrifices, but the alternative…” She pointed a talon to Sunset, shivering on the floor.  “In the wake of the Eternal Night the barrier between the dreamscape and reality is weakening, and forces of evil are encroaching into our world.” Gilda summed up with a throaty growl. “Weak ponies will touch great powers, and there will be destruction. The earth will whisper the names of profaned stars for many nights to come.”

“You sure are a poetical bird.” Spitfire said.

“You ponies are ignorant of what you really need. You think you can find meaning in the stars, as though their love and attention will fulfill your wildest dreams.” Gilda trod to the table and swept it clean so she could sit down. “Blind. You’re all blind. You want your god-empress back to lick calming platitudes into your ear.”

Spitfire cringed. “Thanks for the horrifying mental image.”

“Thanks for being a sheep to evil forces, pony.” Gilda closed her eyes. “Go home, come back tomorrow.”

Spitfire hung her head. “Fine, I'm going.”

“I won’t kill her.” Gilda promised. “I won’t even touch her.”

“I believe you.” Spitfire nodded. “I’ll be back early tomorrow, or early as I can be after checking on some necessary things. Meantime, you keep an eye out. Maybe we were being watched.”

Gilda was silent.

“Okay…” Spitfire fidgeted. She wasn’t good at goodbyes. “See ya.”

“Wait.” Gilda commanded. “I have a favor to ask you.”

Spitfire arched a brow. "What’s up?”

Gilda glanced away. “Because I’m away from my camp, there’s a chance somepony might pass it and I won’t be there. Please, if you see a rainbow-maned pegasus mare, tell her to wait for me there.”

“A rainbow-maned mare.” Spitfire repeated. She remembered seeing a rainbow-maned stallion in Upper Nimbus before, but not a mare. “Care to attach a name to that, so I’m sure I have the right mare?”

Gilda shook her head. “My name will be enough.”

Spitfire trotted to the exit to the overgrown courtyard. “I’ll keep an eye out. You take care.”

“You too ma’am.” Gilda said quietly.

Spitfire jumped into the sky and angled towards home. She felt tired and hungry, and certainly was feeling the soreness of anxiety, but at the same time she was giddy about the prospects of tomorrow. It felt like a race, but against who or what she could only guess.
A race against the unknown…  Spitfire figured that it was all she could do to gun it as hard as she could and pray the dark opposition couldn’t beat her best. But maybe it could, because a slow trot could beat a gallop made in the wrong direction.

Gilda, sitting in the casement, cast an eye to Sunset Shimmer's pile of scrolls.

The Pegasus Prelate was dining in her study when one of the servants leaned in.
"Mistress, a letter under the door is requesting a audience tomorrow."

The Pegasus Prelate put her fork down. "I'm not taking audiences for the next week at least. I told you that. We wait to gauge the reaction to the blockade fiasco."

"Yes mistress but I thought you would want to see this." The servant offered the letter. It was in barely legible wing writing but halfway through switched to a much prettier cursive with dotted hearts.
But under the usual formality and written prostration, was the simple request.

The Pegasus Prelate set the letter down, then pushed it to the far end of the desk like it would bite her. "Not that's interesting. Very interesting..."

"Yes mistress. Should I keep the schedule open?"

The Pegasus Prelate folded her hooves. "I suspect... That would be for the best." She turned back to her plate of fruit. "I suspect that audience will happen whether I want it or not. Keep the guards on alert."

"Yes mistress." The servant bowed and backed out of the study, leaving the prelate to wonder if she had just been served a huge complication or the answer to all her problems.