Spectrum

by Sledge115

Act I ~ Chapter Three ~ They Are Us

“If aliens visit us, the outcome would be much as when Columbus landed in America, which didn’t turn out well for the Native Americans. We only have to look at ourselves to see how intelligent life might develop into something we wouldn’t want to meet.”
— Stephen Hawking, from Into the Universe With Stephen Hawking

“Do to others as you would have them do to you.”
— Luke 6:31, the ‘Golden Rule’

~ The Crystal Realm, Northern Domain of Equestria ~ Second Day of the Month of Rophon, Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae ~

Deep within the Crystal Citadel, nexus of the Crystal Realm, there was a beating Heart.

A heart made of crystal, mind you. It radiated life-sustaining energy through veins, much like a living creature’s heart. But in this case, the veins were crystalline and mineral, all running through the Realm like roots from a tree or capillaries in a body.

In ages past, before the reign of Lord Discord, before the rise of the Alicorn Princesses, yet not long after the Truce of the Three Tribes was struck on the first Hearthswarming Eve, the Equestrian founders had decreed the memory of a lifelong struggle in sunless days ought to be preserved, a lesson for the future that never again should their people be divided by petty differences. 

Hence this city, a green oasis in the midst of endless ice and snow. Of which, contrary to the accursed Winter of hearts gone cold, it was foretold thaw would only come on that dread morrow when the Sun engulfed the world.

Once the domain of the family of the Moon, it had been taken over by a despotic unicorn named King Sombra, and been banished into the future for thousands of years. But, through the efforts of the Elements of Harmony and Spike the Dragon, the Crystal Realm and its Heart flourished once more. In its thousand-year absence, the land had been frost-bitten tundra that none would touch, with only a small population of Royal Guards to keep watch. And now, it was a lush, almost tropical oasis in the middle of the frozen wastes.

Simply put, the magic sustained the land, drenching it in thaums. Much of the time, the ponies who lived here took no more notice of it than the air they breathed, even as the ever-present force wove around them, lending them their distinct crystalline sheen.

But it was duly felt by the young alicorn overlooking her city in the dawn light, akin to a tingle which suffused her every hairtip, setting feathers and fur on end.

The feeling scared Princess Cadance as much as it amazed her. 

“Alright, Candy… just… breathe…” the young alicorn whispered to herself, nervously tapping her golden regalia and ruffling her wings as the morning breeze tickled her mane. “Think back to what Aunt Celestia said… spread your wings, and let instinct guide you…”

Cautiously, the Princess of Love, newly come into her birthright as both alicorn and regent, trotted to the balustrade and rested her forelegs, hooves dangling over the void. Again, she tentatively fluttered her wings, pausing to glance over her shoulder at their powerful build and wide spread, then turning to gaze back at the drop. Not two months ago, aided by her husband, she had taken a leap of faith from this very balcony, to strike a killing blow at the spectral Dark King who’d once enslaved the Crystal Realm, and would have done so again.

How, then, could the simple prospect of an early morning flight make her so anxious?

For much too long, Cadance had felt loathe to fly. Like the earthponies who found her, a little pegasus orphan, and raised her as well as they could, she’d been content to keep all four hooves on solid ground. That is, outside of a few, unwelcome occasions when she couldn’t do otherwise. Her wings had been small and stunted at childhood, ‘til ascension granted her both flight and magical prowess.

Yet now she had a realm of her own to rule over. In a word, the Princess of Love had to rise to the challenge.

‘And, darnit, I must be the only alicorn to have ever had vertigo!’

Seething, Cadance stomped a hoof several times in frustration. Prior to King Sombra’s vanquishing, the one time she’d truly flown was when Queen Chrysalis had, to put it mildly, crashed her wedding. Although it was just a brief glide, soaring through the air had brought forth a longing inside her for the sky, to claim her birthright as a creature of the heavens.

‘But then again,’ a small, treacherous voice whispered in her ear, ‘how often will you be called to flight, seated on the throne of the Crystal Realm?’

This city was more than an oasis. It was a giant vivarium, a patch of fertile land shielded from the biting winds under an ethereal dome. Chances were good she’d never need use her wings, safe as a queen ant at the heart of her colony in a glass jar, her flightlessness compensated by her subjects’ boundless devotion... 

Cadance shook her head, seeking to rid herself of that thought.

More than anything, she felt like scrubbing herself clean. Against all odds, Chrysalis must have succeeded in planting the seeds of certain distasteful ideas in her head, during those two awful weeks of captivity. In fact, wouldn’t she be worse than Chrysalis, if she started reasoning like this? Even the wicked Changeling Queen had seen fit to lead by example, placing herself in the line of fire as she stole Cadance’s place, consuming her life and love, in more ways than one...

“Make Celestia proud, Cadance,” she muttered. “A full-fledged alicorn can touch the stars.”

“Stars? I’ve got ‘em dancing before my eyes right now,” a voice mumbled from behind her.

She looked around. “Good morning, Shining,” Cadance greeted her husband warmly.

But perhaps it wasn’t such a good morning. Never fond of rising bright and early, even with his experience as Captain of the Royal Guard, at this hour, Shining’s handsome face was a veritable bed-head with bloodshot eyes.

“Morning, love,” he echoed, not fully lucid yet. Shining trotted to take her side at the balustrade, following her lead in leaning upon the railing, but his forehooves slipped and he found himself teetering. “Got a call,” he groaned as he righted himself, blearily. “In my sleep.”

Cadance looked at him sideways. “A call?” she repeated, concern washing over her for both her husband and the ominous nature of this ‘call’.

Yet, slurred as his speech was, she could tell he was in his right mind. Promptly leafing through her mental library, drawing on what she’d learned of mysterious voices in the night, Cadance was quick to hit upon the most plausible explanation.

“You mean, Auntie Luna contacted you?”

Shining nodded, though he had to clutch his forehead.

“Yeah…” he muttered. “Said she was trying to reach you, actually, ‘cept you were already up ‘n out of bed,” he added, unable to keep a tinge of reproof out of his voice. “Asked me to pass on the message. She wants to hear from you, ASAP.”

Cadance drew in a breath. Without specially-enhanced letters, and with telegraph poles still in the process of installation, the Crystal Realm, for all of its magnificence, came with the downside of living in isolation from the rest of Equestria. Yet faith in the Pegasus Express held true, and rightfully so, as neither the very real snow nor gloom of night stayed these messengers from their duty in the North.

If Luna, seizing the fastest option until a better connection was established between the two palaces, had taken the shortcut of calling for her in the dreamscape, it could only herald a matter of great importance.

“Alright…” Cadance said, weighing her words. “In that case, I’ll… have to go back to sleep. I can’t say I’m feeling all that tired, though. A bit, yes, but not like I could fall asleep instantly.” She smiled wanly. “Looks like this time round, you get to sing the lullaby. Even if it’s you who was so rudely awoken.”

Though Shining returned her smile, it lacked the fullness of its luster, and it tugged her heart, to think how long it’d take for their sweet little tradition to regain its innocence, if ever it did. Blessed as they were to find rest in each other’s embrace on most evenings, there were those occasional nights when one of them would need to soothingly guide the other towards the land of dreams, because even Luna could only protect them from so much.

Even after his whispered reassurance into her ear on their wedding night, that Chrysalis, perhaps out of some minimal spark of decency, had not gone all the way in making him her ‘loving husband’, the image bore down on her heart. If since then, a single good thing could be claimed to have come from this, it was the reminder that she was Princess of Love for reasons more exalted than burning loins.

How much of that night had been spent, simply learning to touch each other again. With that in mind, she reached forward to caress his cheek.

“Then lead back to bed, Shiney,” Cadance teased him, nuzzling his snout. “Duty requests it.”

He chuckled. “Of course, Milady. As always, this stallion is your watchful guardian.”

Her mind electric with misgiving, Cadance turned her back on her city, and the dawn sun, to hear what the Night Princess had to say.

“Ugh... I see now why they call it the call,” Shining complained, rubbing his head as he followed her. “Princess Luna really goes all out on that Royal Canterlot Voice of hers.”

~ Ponyville, Equestria ~

For the last half-hour, Princess Celestia had quietly listened to the account given to her by a former student of her School. And for once, the student was not Twilight Sparkle. Ever the excitable young mare, Lyra Heartstrings had always been one to embellish a story, some might say exaggerate. But today, Celestia found her former student unusually subdued and restrained as she spoke, in words echoing with the ring of truth.

When the little green unicorn had reached the end of her tale, Celestia let it sink in. All seven ponies in the semi-circle of chairs facing her kept quiet, waiting on their Princess to speak.

“Well, Lyra,” Celestia said at last. “Your resolve is to be commended, spending all night by our mysterious visitor’s bedside.”

Despite residual tension, Lyra beamed at her. “Oh, no biggie, Highness,” she said brightly, with a trace of her usual demeanour. “If bedtime were a job description, I’d be employee of the month, every month. It drives Bonnie up the wall.”

‘Yes, I can believe that,’ Celestia thought to herself, ignoring Twilight’s snort. ‘One would’ve guessed you were a dreamweaver, the amount of naps you took in class! And yet, I really don’t think your academic achievements have much to do with Cadance, Twilight or Moondancer covering for you. Lyra... what have you been doing with your life?’

But the answer to that question, as it happened, lay unconscious in the bed next to them. Once more, whether by luck or by pluck, it seemed Lyra had got what she wanted, where others had to make do with hard labour and iron resolve.

Although, touching upon dreamweavers in her thoughts briefly made Celestia wonder to what use another of her former wards would put that skill, now Luna was three years back. As best she knew, Spell Nexus hadn’t really sought to get in touch with her sister.

‘No doubt my Headmaster shall be most intrigued by this discovery, though…’

That thought gave her a little smile, but she allowed herself to savour that flight of whimsy for only a heartbeat, before coming back to solid ground.

“Thank you, Lyra,” Celestia said, laying a forehoof on an armrest, “for your detailed, thoughtful account. Hopefully,” she continued addressing the whole of the semicircle, “it’ll help enlighten us as to the purpose, and the origins, of our human, if he is a human.”

Disparate mutterings and mumblings flew amongst the Element Bearers. At the far end, Pinkie, Dash and Fluttershy were whispering to each other, while opposite them, a frowning Applejack was arguing about something with Rarity. Only Twilight, seated between Lyra and Applejack, said nothing, hoof to her chin as she stared at the floor, lost in thought.

“Twilight,” Celestia said gently. “Anything you wish to share with us?”

“Hmm?” Twilight’s head shot up. The buzz died down. “Sorry, Princess. I… I’m not sure. I mean, I’ve read a few things about humans, but so far as I can remember, they only show up in the oldest, strangest myths and folktales.” 

“How old?” Rarity asked.

“Old,” Twilight said. “Before recorded history. Usually, they’re described as creatures from a distant land who come to help in times of need, except… well,” She hesitated, glancing at Lyra. “Well, a lot of the time, they’re said to be a lot of trouble themselves.”

“That isn’t how Howie Waggoner put it,” Lyra noted, somewhat smugly. “‘Not a tame primate’, that’s what he wrote in his book on the Dream Valley Expedition, I think. I took it to mean they must be a lot like your wild monkeys, only, y’know, not monkeys. Smart and ingenious, but fond of getting up to all kinds of mischief, and if you threaten–”

“I’m sorry, Lyra,” Twilight interrupted, and she did sound apologetic for cutting short a study. “But would you really use Waggoner and that expedition as a credible source?”

“Ummm, yeah?” Lyra replied, without guile. She gestured to the saddlebags at the foot of Twilight’s chair. “Isn’t that why you’ve got that library copy of his book stashed in your bags with all the rest?”

“How did you–?” Twilight began, but caught herself. Of course Lyra would have guessed. Too easy as it was to forget at times, Lyra wouldn’t have passed the application exam for Celestia’s School if she lacked intuition. “Fine, I do. But those few volumes are all the books I could find which mention humans, and I could’ve easily fit them into bags half as big.”

A snicker escaped Pinkie’s lips.

“Pinkie?” 

“S-sorry,” Pinkie giggled, holding a hoof to her mouth. “You said ‘half in the bag’.”

“No, no, I–” Twilight said, prior to thinking better of it. “Listen, Lyra, please don’t start with all that again. Doctor Waggoner was unfairly maligned by his peers, true, but there’s never been any evidence to lend credence to his theories. I mean, it’s not like magical transdimensional portals... pop into existence... every single... day…”

She trailed off, staring towards the bedridden stranger. Celestia understood this as an ideal opportunity to step back into the conversation.

“Actually, I’d been meaning to ask about that,” Celestia said. “Your foresight in bringing these books over does you justice, Twilight, and we will return to them. But for now, we should learn from what our eyes and ears can teach us. So, Lyra, if you don’t mind, I do have a couple more questions.”

Lyra shifted awkwardly in her hospital chair, at the sight of which, despite their situation, Celestia had to will herself not to burst into laughter – the little green unicorn’s insistence on her eccentric sitting position, even in the presence of royalty, made her look just so funny, with her legs dangling over the side like that.

Much to their credit, Twilight and her friends all managed to show the same restraint. 

“Okay,” Lyra said, placing both forehooves before her lap. She smiled nervously. “This… this isn’t going to be on the test sheet, right?”

Forced as the joke was, Celestia gave it a dutiful chuckle. “No, don’t worry,” she smiled back. “But I need you to answer carefully, spare no detail, as you never know what could turn out important later on.”

“I can do that, Your Highness,” Lyra said, shoulders visibly relaxing. “Spare no detail. Sure, yeah, I can do that! Just like in those stories where a mare the hero met at the very beginning is revealed to be their long-lost sister.”

Showing her gratitude, Celestia nodded. “You say you came across the human when he emerged from a portal close by mine and Luna’s old castle in the Forest.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Lyra nodded in return. “Although, um, I don’t know how exactly where. See, I never did get to the Castle. The bridge leading to it was broken,” she said, while Dash coughed awkwardly and turned away, “and so, I tried teleporting my way across.”

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Twilight said.

Lyra grinned. “I know, right? Wasn’t that just aweso–”

“No, I mean, I can’t believe you did that, because that was just so dangerous,” Twilight cut her off. “And illicit,” she added, scowling. “Lyra, you don’t even have a license.”

“Aw, c’mon, Twilight,” Lyra rolled her eyes, “why’d you have to be such a stick-in-the-mud?”

“I think you’re lucky mud’s the worst you landed into,” Twilight admonished her, “considering how you missed that jump and got stuck at the bottom of the chasm.”

Lyra shook her head. “Right, first of all, I didn’t get hurt or dirty, it was a perfect touchdown! And, second, I wasn’t stuck, I was simply looking for a way out. Besides, the only reason I missed the jump is, that’s the moment the magic chose to go all screwy cos’ of that tree.”

Even after having heard all this a few minutes ago, Celestia perked up at the word ‘tree’.

“This tree you mentioned,” Celestia said slowly. “How would you describe it?”

“Uh…” Lyra frowned, stroking her chin. There was a faraway look in her eyes. “It was… uh, crystalline, I think. Never heard of a tree made out of crystal before…” She glanced at Celestia, briefly, as her eyes clouded over. “I think... I think I remember thinking… what’s that doing so far South of the Crystal Realm? And here’s the weird part…” Hesitation. “I was too caught up in the human… in Alexander Reiner appearing, I didn’t notice it right away. Except, as I ran for help, I could’ve sworn I heard a whisper in my ear.”

She stopped there, as if daring anyone to tell her trees didn’t talk. But none did.

Dash coughed. “Gee. Between that and the Death Tree, there’s been some reaaally strange forest life in these parts.”

Privately, Princess Celestia filed away the words ‘Death Tree’ for future reference. She turned her gaze back at the human, squinting. “I wonder…”

Yet Celestia said no more, the weight of her uncertainty hanging over them all, her foremost.

“Twilight?”

Her student snapped to attention. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“I must beg Lyra’s pardon for the abrupt shift,” Celestia said, nodding to Lyra. “but there is a matter I must ask of you as well. It may be related. When you sent me your letter, you wrote in postscript that you were still researching the Alicorn Amulet.”

Twilight’s mouth fell open. “Oh, oh my. With everything else that’s been going on, I’d nearly forgotten about that!”

“Don’t you worry, Twilight,” Celestia said gently, an old hoof at Twilight’s anxiety attacks. “I can tell you’ve had a change of priorities since yesterday. All I need from you, is your opinion on whether or not the Amulet and our visitor’s arrival could be in any way related.” 

“No. I don’t think so.” The answer was unusually swift and unadorned for Twilight. “As far as I’ve been able to assess, while the Amulet is an incredibly powerful tool of magic, it doesn’t have the power to open a rift between worlds.”

“Even Discord would expend great energy on such a deed,” Celestia agreed, “though, knowing him, he’d easily do it on a whim. I’m sure he’d consider it a wonderful party trick. But did the Amulet recently display any behaviour that could be interpreted as a call, or beacon, which might have attracted the human?”

Twilight had to think about that one. “Not that I noticed, no,” she said. “The worst to happen is that it almost blew my house clean off its roots, and that was my fault. A result of experimental tampering.”

“Well, this is a theory we can lay to res– yes, Lyra?” Celestia finally said, unable to ignore the little green unicorn’s fidgeting and waving of her forehoof.

Lyra put down her hoof. “Excuse me, Princess, this is great stuff and all, but aren’t we likely to make more headway checking the books Twilight brought with her exactly so we could get our answers?”

Celestia smiled patiently. “I believe that if Twilight had an answer she deemed useful, she wouldn’t sit on it.”

“Yes, that’s why you need me,” Lyra said, sliding off her chair to reach for the saddlebags. “Twilight’s always about ‘useful’ things. How much paper, how much ink, how much time, you name it. Don’t let so much as a minute slip by, do you, Twi’? Let me show you what a real wasteful mare can do.”

“Lyra, what–” Twilight spluttered indignantly as Lyra picked out a book and began leafing through the pages.

“Aha, found it!” Lyra said triumphantly, pointing into the open book. “Gather round, everypony, for I have a tale to tell you all!”

As one with the others, even the ruffled-looking Twilight, Celestia inspected the title. Ponyland: Fact or Fable.

“This,” Lyra began, smugly holding up the page with the picture of an elder unicorn stallion printed inside, “was Doctor Howie Waggoner, the pony who led the LP-426 Party to a distant corner North-East of Griffonstone, a place called the Sunken Dream Valley.”
 
“A party!” Pinkie jumped up excitedly, only for Applejack to clamp her mouth shut with both forehooves.
 
“She means an eck-spedition, Pinkie, not candy and games.”

“Right,” Lyra said. “Now, based on stories passed around by griffon traders, they were searching for evidence of possible pony habitation, from refugees who might have fled Equestria during the Discordian Era. With me so far?”

Their silence was akin to a tacit nod, but Celestia knew that Lyra was in fact expecting one of them to answer. Well, not just anyone of them. One in particular. And Twilight, it seemed, was quick to understand that too.

“That’s correct and all part of recorded history, Lyra,” Twilight acknowledged. “But we know those same North-Eastern refugees, who preferred wandering into the Unknown rather than brave the icy wastes of the Far North to try reaching the Crystal Realm, or Adlaborn… or, Harmony forbid, ‘Yakyakistan’...” She shuddered. “Eventually, they settled down to create their own little kingdoms in the isles, like the Neighponese and their self-styled Empire of the Eastern Unicorns. None of them feature humans in their myths.”

“No, but they do make for some of the loveliest stories,” Rarity sighed beatifically. “Like Mage Meadowbrook’s journey to learn from the Eastern Unicorns, or Mistmane and Sable…”

‘A lovely story indeed. Oh, if only you knew, Rarity,’ Celestia mused, suppressing a tiny reminiscent smile. Indeed, the Lady Mistmane herself had been much more than a fairy-tale for her and especially Luna, for the old sorceress had taught Luna the art of gardening herself.

“That’s so,” Lyra nodded thoughtfully. “Tell me, Twilight, when was the last time you read this particular book?”

“Hm? Oh, ages ago, I guess.”

“What made you pick it off the shelf? It’s got more to do with old pony legends than humans, from the looks of it.”

“Well, I do take care to check the index, Lyra,” Twilight said, a little tartly. “And unless I’m much mistaken, you’re holding up one such page where humans are mentioned in passing.”

“Not just in passing,” Lyra grinned. “You gotta read between the lines.”

“Okay, if you say so…” Twilight replied with affected cheer. “Please continue, Lyra Heartstrings, full steam ahead!”

Lyra’s grin grew wider. “There’s a theory that the Dream Valley, being situated in an unusually warm location for somewhere to the North, due to the warm currents from a nearby hot spring, could once have been a place of settlement until it sunk.” Her hindlegs began to perform a little victory dance. “No-one’s sure just how it got sunk… the griffons like to point to an extinct volcano, which they call ‘Mount Gloom’, as the culprit…”

“Ah’ve heard of that,” said Applejack. “Some folks say it were the same volcano as in the legend of Rockhoof.”

“Wouldn’t count on it, but it’s possible. These legends grow muddled over time,” said Lyra. “Point is, Waggoner writes here that, while probing the depths via bathysphere, his expedition uncovered something pretty interesting. Buried beneath layers of ossified mud flows, and what he referred to as…”  Lyra squinted, her muzzle scrunching up slightly. “Smoozy substance…”

“I thought that was just a legend,” Dash interjected.

“Honestly, I’ve learned not to question this sort of thing,” Rarity added. “Most of the time, we only learn about ‘ancient legends’ when they’ve come right into the centre of Ponyville.”

“Why does it always have to be an ancient legend, anyhoo?” Pinkie asked. “Can’t it be a recent one from time to time?”

“‘Full steam ahead’, she said...” Lyra muttered. “Anyway, according to this, underneath it all was an empty, but perfectly preserved pony castle, done in the stylings of the old Kingdom of Unicornia. Now, that may not sound like much. We know the Kingdom had outposts pretty far North. But listen to this. Two things stand out.” She leaned forward, trying to adopt a spooky voice. “Based on the thaumon-dating they applied to samples of rock brought back to the surface, the castle ruins must have been over three-thousand years old.”

“Which is…” Twilight began.

“Supposed to be impossible, I know,” Lyra finished for her. “It doesn’t match anything else we’ve been taught about that style of architecture, and most historical accounts don’t go nearly that far back. Even more bizarrely, they found next-to-no traces of furniture. Sure, normally, wood will rot away in water over time, but remember, this building was encased in petrified bedrock, or something like that. Everything inside was well-preserved. But almost no furniture to speak of. Almost as if the inhabitants didn’t have the same trappings of ‘civilisation’ as ponies today...”

“Lyra, I realise what you’re saying,” Twilight said. “You’re suggesting there was a time when ponies lived not unlike the Reindeer of Adlaborn, with their habitations nestled between the branches of folding trees, and stone buildings only for protection during the Winter, or when under threat. It’s the popular image of ‘Ponyland’. Yet nothing in written history backs it up.”

“Except it does,” Lyra smiled, tracing a forehoof over the pages. “This does.”

“Hold the phone and the mayo!” Pinkie interrupted. “Can’t we just, I don’t know, ask the Princess to settle this debate?”

Both unicorn scholars stared at her. 

“I…” Twilight’s voice trailed off. “I mean, I guess we could…”

“It does seem obvious,” Pinkie said. “Celestia’s immortal, right? Wouldn’t she be able to give us the answer for that?”

“Yeah,” Dash added, agreeing with her best friend. “So, what can ya tell us, Princess?”

Celestia considered them. Wondering whether now was her time for certain revelations.

At last, she spoke.

“My little ponies,” Celestia said. “I’m flattered you’d turn to me for counsel, for all that I trust you to settle your disputes of your own wisdom. But there’s something you must understand. ‘Immortal’ does not mean I was never born. Or that I am all-knowing.” She paused. “I cannot tell you anything of my own experience from before three-thousand years. Thus, Lyra might be right. Maybe humans did visit our world at one time. I had been told as much, a long time ago, by an old pegasus. Her name was Firefly.”

“The one who… no, wait, that doesn’t make sense,” Dash scratched her head. “The ancient hero Commander Firefly was named after?”

“The very same,” Celestia said. “She lived in Adlaborn and claimed to have met a human.”

“Wait,” Twilight cut in. “You were in Adlaborn… three thousand years ago? Firefly was real?”

“She was very old,” Celestia said quietly. “Very old and very sad. One of my earliest memories is, how a little fresh joy alit her aged features, when she beheld my sister and I.” 

“Do you remember what she told you?!” Lyra asked excitedly.

“Not much. It was millennia ago, and I was but a newborn. I can’t remember every detail,” Celestia admitted. “Yet I’m curious. What draws you to the Waggoner Expedition?”

“I dunno,” Lyra admitted, “it just… always seemed to be this story that drew my attention. Like it was just this old legend in its own right that I couldn’t help but admire.” She sighed. “I used to dream about it. All sorts of stuff…” As her voiced lowered, her eyes were drawn back towards the book, gleaming. “Like this. Look at it.”

They did. She was now pointing at a black-and-white sketch, nestled on the upper-right corner of the dog-eared page.

“My goodness…” Twilight whispered. “What is it?”

A statuette, buried to the waistline in the sand, betwixt a cliff-face and crashing waves. Its figure was not equine, but something unknown to any of them… and yet, remarkably similar to the stranger in the bed. In its one upraised hand, it held a locket.

“This…” Lyra said reverentially, “is a sculpted pearl figurine. Waggoner named her ‘Harmony Enlightening the World’. He had a theory about that locket she’s holding. That it was the wellspring of the mythical Rainbow of Light.”

Silence fell again, a sober, reserved silence.

There was something oddly melancholic, Celestia thought to herself, about the image of the little statue, left alone to watch over an abandoned shore for centuries, perhaps millennia, until a traveller came by, searching for answers about the past of his world.

“Heh…” Dash chuckled, trying, as was her want, to break a heavy pause. “I always knew that I was named after greatness.”

Rarity looked up. “How do you know it’s a she, Lyra?”

Lyra shrugged. “That’s what Waggoner called her. I guessed he assumed longer manes must be the standard for human females as well.”

“Now, hold on a sec’,” Applejack interrupted. “Here’s what Ah don’t get. If this Waggoner fella found all this stuff, how come we ain’t never heard of it?”

“That’s the tragedy,” Lyra said sadly, closing the book. “An Act of Chance, they called it. Chance must’ve been in a real cruel mood if that’s true… but anyway, on the way back, the expedition’s ship, the Nellie, was caught in a storm, one of those wild storms they get up North. Most of the crew were fortunate to escape with their lives. Their cargo wasn’t so lucky. All they brought back with them was their word…” She tapped the lattice-bound cover. “And their notes and diaries. Doctor Waggoner would have gladly made a second trip, except he never could scrounge up the funding, and the LP-426 has fallen into disregard since, remembered only by a few intrepid souls…” She smiled brashly. “Such as yours truly.”

“And now, you’re face to face with a dream come true,” Celestia noted. “I’d advise you treasure that while you can.” But she was smiling as she said so. The tale Lyra told, if it was unfinished, perhaps still had much to offer. 

“For now, I suspect we must let the human, this Alexander Reiner, to rest. Twilight, the day is young, you and your friends should go home and do the same. Should this business brings with it more complications, we will need to all be at our best.”

“Could I stay?” Lyra asked, staring at the sleeping human. “I… feel like I should. Or that somepony should.”

“Yes, Lyra,” Celestia nodded, “best if you do.”

“Excuse me?” a voice asked from behind them. “Is the patient needing anything?”

Celestia turned, as one with her group of ponies, to find Nurse Redheart at the door.

~ The Mind of a Mighty Heart ~

The mind of a Princess of Love should be a harmonious contradiction, were the words Cadance remembered Celestia had told her. Love, one of the greatest forces in all the known world, a potent source of joy, healing and creation, matched only by what destruction it could wreak in its blindness, tearing the deepest ties and knitting them anew. Like the old Kirin symbol of balance, black-within-white, white-within-black, interlocked...

Cadance’s mind felt like a mass of contradictions. Not much of it harmonious. Practice made perfect, of course, and only rarely in what had been a very busy months did she manage to practice her dreamweaving abilities.

“Aunt Luna,” she greeted, spotting her ancestor, silhouetted against a source of light that was indistinct in this blank mindspace. ‘Aunt’ was not quite the right term for the Princess of the Night, owing to their true relations, but it felt right.

“Cadance,” Luna greeted. “It’s good to speak with you.”

“It’s good to speak to you as well,” Cadance said, trying to smile. “But… I don’t think we’re heading out to practice again, are we?”

They had indeed practiced recently, on a trip to her home village. Luna’s cool expression gave Cadance the answer. “It is not,” Luna answered quietly. “A situation has arisen that requires that you return to Canterlot with all due haste.”

“A situation?”

“An unknown creature has appeared,” Luna explained, “and though myself and Celestia will seek answers, I fear this will be no simple matter. The sooner yourself and Shining Armor can come to the capital, the sooner a plan of action can be undertaken.”

Cadance felt herself turn cold. “Is Twilight okay?”

“Twilight Sparkle is assisting in this matter,” Luna replied, smiling softly. “She is fine. She has the help of the other Bearers, and also of one Lyra Heartstrings. You needn’t fret overmuch.”

“Lyra?” Cadance repeated. “Little Lyra Heartstrings?”

“Yes,” Luna said. “You know her?”

“I did,” Cadance replied, a slow smile on her face. “She was a bit of a little terror when I knew her, though.”

Luna chuckled. “Ah, one of your charges. Well, I do not believe she is a ‘terror’ now, but she is involved.”

Cadance felt her mirth fade. “I hope it’s nothing too dangerous. Lyra was always… headstrong.”

“Celestia and I shall protect them,” Luna assured her. “You need only concern yourself with reaching us quickly. This scenario, as I said, may prove more difficult to deal with than we had first hoped. I must go myself to help Celestia deal with the issue.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Cadance said to her aunt. “I promise.”

“Good,” Luna said, before a cheeky grin found its way onto her face. “By the way, Cadance?”

“Yes?”

A framed wooden door, marked by the sign of a compass-rose, arose from inside a circle of light within the darkness.

Cadance stared at it, then back at Luna.

“You’ve got the in-born skills to wander this place, you know,” her aunt said. “At least for the time this shall take. So if you could ever be so kind to give word to Blueblood, I’d be grateful. Hope thou hast fun with that!”

Luna smiled, and promptly disappeared as blackness fell.

“Hello again, Nurse,” Twilight told Redheart. “You’re here early. It’s half past seven, I remember reading on the board that your shift didn’t start today until twelve.”

“That’s true, Miss Sparkle,” Redheart said amiably, “but I think you’ll agree that since our new ‘friend’ here isn’t an ordinary patient, today isn’t an ordinary day. How’s he doing?”

Twilight smiled warmly. “Don’t you worry, the human’s sleeping for now… Sorry, er, Alexander Reiner is sleeping now.”

Redheart stepped across the threshold.

“I see. So, he’s told you his name,” the nurse said, approaching and checking the chart. “That’s progress, I suppose. Now,” she added reflectively, “have we come any closer to learning if he’s tolerant of… pony medicine?”

With both Twilight and Bonbon to rein her in her fancies over the years, Lyra might have thought she’d only imagined Redheart’s hesitation, infinitesimal as it was, except that Pinkie was shooting her a glance as well.

“Uh, not at the moment, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “He… umm... well, he yelled more than he said anythin’ about medicine.”

“Of course he did,” Redheart muttered. She glanced up from the chart and smiled soothingly. “Nopony’s ever thinking about medication when they’re confused.”

Pinkie giggled softly. “Tell me about it. Why should a human be any better at taking medicine than a pony? Most medicine tastes really bad.”

“True enough, Miss Pie,” Redheart said with a chuckle, stepping away from the chart. “Still, we can’t keep on like this forever. At some point, if there’s to be any chance of the patient getting better, we’ll need an inkling of how he functions.” She paused, thinking. “I trust that the xeno-surgeon I left to work on him was adequate.”

Lyra coughed, remembering the amiable Sutra Cross. “Yeah,” she said, “yeah, they seemed nice enough, at least.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Redheart said, a curious look in her eye. Another pause for thought, a glance at Celestia, and a jump. Apparently, she’d just noticed the Princess. “Excuse me. If I may address Her Highness?”

“Uh,” Lyra began. “Go ahead.”

“Highness,” Redheart said, inclining her head. “Greetings, I was told you’d arrived at dawn. In the time since, what assessment have you and Miss Sparkle been able to pass of our unusual visitor? If there’s anything I can do, please, let me know.”

“Not much at present, Nurse Redheart,” Celestia said kindly. “As you’d expect, Twilight has been consulting the books, while I search through the long catalogue of my memories. But our Lyra’s the one who had the most to teach us all so far. Nonetheless, your vigilance remains appreciated.”

Redheart bowed respectfully. “As ever, I am at your service, Your Highness. Perhaps, then, before anything else, you’d hear a proposal of mine?”

“Certainly, Nurse.”

The nurse brought out a file from her saddlebags. “It says here that the patient attempted escape from this hospital, getting past the entrance doors, where he encountered you and the Element Bearers and, drawing upon the unknown magic of his runes, tried to… well, murder you all.” 

“There is no certainty this was his intent,” Celestia said diplomatically. “However, a hostility in his bearing cannot be denied. Yet I think it’s important to note that his aggression appeared focused only on me, not the girls, and definitely not Lyra. I’m sure you can agree that, overall, this reduces our cause for concern.”

“Not really,” Redheart said with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t wish to demean Your Highness’ capabilities, nor your wisdom, but specifically targeted violence is still violence. It is a cause for concern, no matter whom the target is.”

“You’re speaking like a Guard,” Celestia said. “It’s been five years, Redheart.”

“I’m not ashamed that old instincts die hard, ma’am,” Redheart replied with an inclination of the head. “And this… brings back memories. I was only going to suggest, there may be prudence in deploying a small contingent of the Guard to the entrances, one on each level. Not that I doubt the capacities of the two lads you brought along, but it’s a safety measure, you understand, in case our guest should go wandering again.”

“That puts their lives at risk,” Celestia told her. “If he is an aggressor, he may well consider them more favourable targets.”

“We exist to serve, risk and all,” Redheart said at once.

Celestia smiled. “Careful you don’t get too caught up in the old instincts. You just referred to yourself alongside the Guard, present tense.”

Redheart blushed. “I’m sorry. This… like I said, reminds me of the old days.”

“I’ll consider the proposal,” Celestia said. “Don’t worry, Redheart. We won’t let any pony, or human, be hurt without need.”

Redheart sighed. “At the very least, wouldn’t it be exercising simple caution to restrain him?”

This got Celestia to raise an eyebrow. “To what end, precisely?”

“The same, of course,” the nurse said. “We do have a precedent from just a few hours ago.”

Celestia rubbed her chin. “There is sense in what you say. Still, I’m willing to take the risk. Consider–”

“How is he supposed to trust us,” Lyra protested, unable to contain herself, “if he’s trussed up like a prisoner!”

Redheart glanced at her, and Lyra noticed the nurse looked quite taken aback that she’d interrupted Princess Celestia. But the surprise was quick to pass.

“And how are we supposed to trust him, Miss,” Redheart said calmly, “if he acts like a thug threatening to harm others? I’m thinking of ponies’ safety, the same safety he’s already indirectly threatened.”

Celestia held up a hoof.

“Yet Lyra speaks truth, if perhaps in a blunter fashion than I’d put it,” the Princess said. “Redheart, we should first try to have faith that this being can listen to reason. In spite of recent friction, he’s come to us, not just as a guest, but a traveller lost, injured and stranded. As far as I can discern, we are not enemies, and all beings deserve their chance.”

Redheart gave another bow. “As always, I defer to your wisdom, Highness. I trust you know what is best.”

“I trust you to make me aware of all alternatives,” Celestia replied, bobbing her own head. “As always, I value your input.”

“You’ve no idea how much I appreciate that,” Redheart said as she straightened up. “Now, if there is nothing else, I should return to my rounds.”

She turned and walked out, leaving the group alone. Pinkie gazed after the departing Redheart, a perplexed look on her face.

“Twilight, I must contact Luna,” Celestia said. “We shall convene back here in two hours, and then hopefully we’ll learn more of the truth.”

“We’ll be here when you return, Princess,” Twilight promised, speaking for them all.

“And I’ll be waiting with him,” Lyra added, “like we said.”

Celestia nodded regally. “Until then.”

Without another word, she strode out of the room, Rarity, Applejack and Rainbow Dash following her.

“Will you be alright, Lyra?” Fluttershy asked.

“Yeah,” Lyra answered with a slow smile. “I’ll be fine, Flutters.”

Twilight sighed. “If you need us, you know where we are. Don't hesitate to call.”

“I won’t. We’ll figure this out, Twilight.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said. “Just like old times.”

And then she, too, left together with Fluttershy, leaving only Pinkie. The pink party pony passed Lyra a small note.

“Could ya go over this and let me know if I oughta change anything? Thanks!” Pinkie whispered quickly, before she zoomed off.

With some apprehension, Lyra looked down at the note. A feeling which lifted once she realised, with some amusement, that it was a list of party supplies and invitees.

“That’s Pinkie for you,” Lyra said aloud. She looked at the human. “Well, Alexander Reiner. Guess you'll have a heck of a party waiting for you when you get better.”

‘I’d forgotten how peaceful it was back then.’

Some part of Redheart wanted to keep the other her in her hiding place and find as many reasons as possible just to be Redheart, the kindly town nurse. And why not? After military service, protecting Equestria from monster attacks and other dangers, her old nurse job at Ponyville had been a way to work in relative peace.

The promise of being simple Nurse Redheart once more was too enticing not to consider. Except–

‘No!’

Firstly, the Loyalty Guard would find out. Even if she had traveled back in time, or was in a parallel universe, they would have some way of knowing. They always did. Virtually no-one, other than the Elements of Harmony or Celestia, of course, was above suspicion for them. And they had eyes everywhere.

Secondly, the human was here. Whatever he would do to this Equestria had to be stopped as soon as possible. There was only so far you could stretch the excuse of “going undercover” for your inaction without getting results. And Reiner’s presence demanded results. Quickly. Efficiently.

Neither attribute easily attainable in this place.

‘Damnation, but this place is uncanny.’ 

She was sat at a bench outside the hospital. For the moment, she could relax. Her shift allowed for a short break. She took a swig of her hip-flask, wincing at the sour taste. To think, for a decade before the war, all the years that she’d been the simple nurse of Ponyville, she’d given up alcohol. And here she was, back on the bottle.

‘Stress of the time, Red, stress of the time,’ she thought wryly, her thoughts taking the voice of one of her old colleagues. ‘We all need something to get us through the day. Especially dealing with the Princess.’

Damnation, but that had nearly caught her off guard. She’d forgotten how patient and kind the Princess had been, before the stresses of war had taken their toll. She was only lucky that the thought of there being other versions of ponies had yet to occur to this Celestia, that the idea of spies had not crossed her mind.

‘But it will, soon,’ she thought grimly. ‘I can’t slip up again.’

And she was sure Heartstrings had tried to catch her out with the neutral pronoun. Redheart knew who she would normally have assigned to the xeno-surgeon position for a human – her old friend Sutra “Silk” Cross – but she’d deemed it prudent to not make the assumption that this ‘other’ Redheart was so similar as to make the same call. 

“Redheart?” she heard a voice ask. “Are you alright?”

Redheart blinked at the address. She looked up to see Sutra Cross sitting across from her, a sympathetic smile on her face, and for a moment she felt her heart skip.

“Uh, I’m fine,” she said, trying to ignore the sense of nausea when she saw her old friend. What had happened to Sutra Cross was a cautionary tale for the ages. “Why do you ask?”

“The drink,” Cross said, motioning to Redheart’s flask.

Redheart smiled wryly, glancing at the flask. “Just… nerves. This reminds me too much of military service.”

She remembered her spy training. ‘Half truths work better than outright lies.’

“Unknown creatures with unknown medical needs?” Sutra Cross asked. 

“Could say that,” Redheart chuckled.

“I get that feeling,” Cross said. “Never seen anything like him.”

“I’m sure you’ll acclimatise quickly,” Redheart said sincerely. ‘You did before, sweet naïve Silk.’ She almost winced at the bite she felt in her thoughts. ‘Look where that got you. But now at least I know you’re the surgeon ‘I’ assigned to the task.’

“I hope so,” Cross said. “I want to do the best I can for him.”

Redheart felt her mood turn sour. “How do you know he’s worth it?”

“What do you mean?” Cross asked.

“We don’t know anything about this species,” Redheart pointed out. (‘Or you don’t.’) “We don't know what they're like, what they believe. You saw his omnivore’s incisors, I take it? Carnivorous. And that’s not even starting on the violence.”

“I took note, yes,” Cross said with a nod. “But we’re healers and he's a patient. Even if it was the terrible Grogar himself sat in that bed, the words of our Hippocratic oath matter.” She took a breath. “I swear, by all the Princesses…”

“… In whatsoever place that I enter, I will enter to help the sick and heal the injured,” Redheart finished, nodding slowly. “And I will do no harm.”

“Whatsoever place, and whatsoever people, even these humans,” Cross finished. “Healing the sick isn't something that's just for ponies. It's for every creature. That’s why I’m here.” 

Redheart smiled. “Sutra, I wish I shared your idealism.”

“It’s easier than you think to hold onto idealism,” Cross said. “Just stop worrying about the things that could go wrong. Focus on what you hope to be, hope to do. Even if it goes wrong… you were true to yourself.”

Redheart’s smile wavered slightly. “That’s a... comforting notion.”

Sutra Cross smiled back, before looking at her watch. 

“I’d better go,” she said softly. “Still technically on shift for another half hour.”

She trotted off, leaving Redheart alone to contemplate her words.

‘I will do no harm.’ 

The sunshade was up at the café, but it had began to feel surplus to requirement, what with the number of grey clouds passing over the Sun every few minutes.

“So, what’s the score, girls,” Applejack said with a snort, setting her mug down on the table. “There’s a weird creature about, calls itself a human, hints o’ somethin’ less than pretty on the horizon… did I miss anythin’?”

Rarity tipped the rim of her glass. “The fact that Princess Celestia’s taken a personal interest,” she pointed out. “And that peculiar crystal tree Lyra mentioned.”

“Right,” Applejack drawled. She took a sip. “Well, this is gonna be all sorts o’ fun.”

“I’m still hoping it turns out just like last time,” Twilight said, looking tired and apprehensive, her third cup of coffee half-drained.

“Uh, what last time?” Applejack asked.

“You know,” Pinkie put in, raising her own mug, “the last time we saw somepony from the future appear, seemingly after a world-destroying event, and we all panicked and then it turned out to be nothing! Even if Twi’ looked awesome.”

“I was a mess,” Twilight chuckled.

“Yeah, a ragged, ‘tactical espionage chic’ mess!” Pinkie countered eagerly. 

“There’s a ‘tactical espionage chic’?” Twilight asked, rattling her cup. “Seriously?”

“Oh, you'd be surprised,” Rarity laughed. “Raggedy chic, distressed denims, anything ever a little subversive of mainline fashion. It’s all rather endearing, actually… Not that I’d ever be caught dead going punk, mind you!”

“Definitely sounds like the time Twilight went back in time,” Pinkie said with a chuckle.

Twilight sighed. “Alright, can we please stop reminding me of that. My eye hurt for weeks.”

“This entire scenario is unsettling, to be sure,” Rarity said quietly, setting down her own cup, “but I’m confident we shall be able to solve it.”

“Sure we will,” Applejack put in. “We solve everythin’ else, don’t we?”

“Yeah, well…” Rainbow Dash said ominously, her drink untouched. “Something tells me this one’ll be different. I still think that Death Tree was a sign.”

“Will you give your blasted ‘death tree’ nonsense a rest?” Rarity asked irritably. “It was just a tree. An ugly tree, granted, but a tree.”

“They have been known to appear at times of great upheaval,” Fluttershy said quietly, looking downcast. 

“Let’s try not to worry about it, okay?” Twilight asked. “We’ve got enough things in our plate without ‘Death Trees’.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Applejack said grimly.

Lyra was talking to the human in his sleep. It felt less stupid than it might have sounded, but that wasn’t much of a margin.

“So, uh…” she stumbled. “I’ll have a lot of questions for you, when you wake up. You, uh… well you’ve changed so much about what we understand, and we don’t understand, and… Sorry. I sound like an idiot. I mean, your name, for example. I don’t understand it. It doesn't seem to have any meaning. And yet you’re speaking perfect Equish. So are your names meaningless, or do names have special meanings? What...”

“Think you could keep it down?” a groaning voice spoke, and the human was staring at her. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Oh!” Lyra said, tilting backwards on her chair. “Sorry, I...”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said, waving a hand (‘Hands, Lyra!’). “Can sleep when I’m dead.” He smiled at her. “Honestly, I missed the babbling, as well. It’s the little things. Y’know?”

“You… you missed it,”

Alexander Reiner nodded. “Yeah…”

“Because… because I’m dead,” Lyra said softly. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at her. “Right.”

There was a long pause.

“So, uh… what do I call you?” Lyra asked.

Alexander Reiner looked at her, a frown on his face. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you said your name was ‘Alexander Reiner’, right?” Lyra said. “I mean, is that a name we use in full, or is it common to address you as…”

“Alex,” the human said softly. “You don’t have to ‘address’ me as anything. You can call me Alex.”

“Alex?” Lyra asked. “You mean I don’t have to call you by your long full name?”

Alexander – Alex – gave a weak chuckle. “No.”

“Huh. And… ‘Alex’ is the proper diminutive?”

“One of several you could use,” he said, shrugging. “I just always preferred it. My stepdad used to call me Xander. Fucked me right off.”

Lyra winced. “R-right.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just… the profanity is a little… profane.”

“Oh.” To her surprise, he started chuckling. “Y’know, that’s exactly what you said the first time we met.”

Lyra laughed a little, too. “Well, I’m, uh… glad to bring back positive memories?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, his smile fading. “Shame all of them weren’t as nice.”

Something caught his attention, and his frown deepened. Lyra wished he wouldn’t frown so. In fact, she realised he’d done almost nothing but that since she’d met him. The one time he hadn’t was when he’d first arrived. His look had been completely different then. A mixture of clashing emotions. But primarily a relief she wasn’t sure, now she thought of it, that she found much more comforting than his grim expression. And yet there was a kindness in his voice when he spoke to her...

He was staring at a small jar on his bedside table. Lyra recognised it as the jam Fluttershy had left.

“What the hell’s this?” he asked, holding up the jar with a dubious expression.

“Uh…” Lyra blinked, “it’s a jar of jam.”

Alex pursed his lips. “A jar. Of jam.”

“Yeah.”

“I see.” He looked at the jar. “And who left it here?”

“Fluttershy,” Lyra said softly. “She… uh, she thought it would be a nice gesture.”

Alex snickered as he put it down. “A nice gesture, for sure. And lemme guess, it doesn’t have any serum in it, right?”

“Serum?” Lyra parroted, chewing her lip. “It’s… as far as I know, just plain ol’ jam. No serum or potions of any kind.”

“Just jam,” Alex said. He sighed. “Jesus. Now I’ve seen everything. Three weeks ago, the yellow terror was leading attacks on towns in the Midwest. Now I’ve got jam.” He barked his laughter, a harsh and weary sound. “Tell me something, is this shit even real?”

“Uh… excuse me?” Lyra asked. “What… I mean…”

“Am I actually here, or am I drooling in a padded cell somewhere?” Alex asked, speaking in a clearer voice. “It’s not a trick question. Especially not when you’ve got an enemy who can play all manner of havoc with your mind.”

‘An enemy?’ Lyra thought, a chill running down her spine as she recalled Celestia’s words to Redheart. ‘So he really does have enemies?’

“I… think it’s real,” Lyra replied, smiling nervously. “I mean, I know I would say that, but…”

“Nah,” he said, “I figured it was. Just…” He sighed, running a hand over his short hair. “Let’s just say, there have been more than a few moments over the last few years that just sort of make you go ‘what the fucking hell’, y’know?”

Lyra nodded, though in truth she didn’t understand at all.

“Might almost be nice to have gone crazy,” Alex said, and something about the forced conversational tone made Lyra think of watching someone holding a scared dog by the tail. “Sure, mind’s gone, but at least I don’t have to think about all of the shit riding on my back.”

“I… I’m not sure that’s…” Lyra began, swallowing. “You… I don’t think you’re insane.”

“Nice to know,” Alex said, his voice bone-dry. “The dead mare doesn't think I’m crazy.”

“I’m not dead, or… not here, at least,” Lyra pointed out. “There's something… really weird going on, but you’re not crazy, I’m not dead, and… I dunno, maybe we’ll be able to help you.”

“‘Help’ me, sure,” Alex said with a snort. “This place looks like a hospital. A hospital in Equestria, run by Equestrians, and me a human. If it were anyone but you, I’d be cursing you for preparing to break me down. The rest of them…”

He trailed off.

“So,” Lyra said after a moment, hoping to break the silence. “I, uh... had a few questions.”

Alex sighed, but he managed a good-natured smile. It made her glad.

“You did before, too.” He yawned, covering his mouth, before smiling at her again. “Alright. Shoot.”

“Okay,” Lyra said, taking a breath. “How do you spell your name?”

Alex blinked, then he started laughing. 

A flash of blueish-purple light in the middle of a pathway would be startling to many. To Celestia, however, it heralded the arrival of her sister. She welcomed it, and still welcomed its novelty, prior to the day, she hoped, that it’d be safely familiar again. Two years of enjoying Luna’s company again were so little next to a thousand.

“Hello, Sister,” she greeted, smiling. “You took care of all the preliminaries?”

“I would say so,” Luna said, somewhat imperiously. “At least, Princess Cadance and, by proxy, Captain Armor should now be informed of the latest in our matters of state.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Only those two?”

“I, ah…” Luna rubbed the back of her head. “I made the request to Cadance that she pass the message on to Blueblood.”

“Not that I blame you, Luna,” Celestia said wryly, after having let the silence hang for a good few seconds. “But part of being a Princess of Equestria, is about taking on burdens so our ponies may be given space to breathe.”

“Yes, well,” Luna said, “before you know it, they’ll be calling that mollycoddling. Aren’t we entitled to catch our own breath, once in a while? Besides, Cadance is well suited for the job. Out of the Royal Family, she always did get along the best with him.”

A quick reflection convinced Celestia she didn’t need to point out that Luna only knew this from second-hand. 

“I’ll chalk that one up to judicious repartition of duty, then,” she joked. “But tell me. How did Cadance take the news?”

“With trepidation, as expected,” Luna said, “but she looked eager to step up to the plate. It helps that she retains a soft spot for Madame Heartstrings, having been her foalsitter. You didn’t tell me that, Tia.”

“The fact had slipped my mind, yes,” Celestia acknowledged. “Which should make what comes next all the more interesting. Cadance has told me that, of all the unicorns she used to look after, three stood out as fillies she expected to become personal students of mine. One was Lyra. Another, of course, was Twilight.”

Luna didn’t ask after the third filly, which came as no surprise to Celestia. Logically, she must have assumed it was Sunset Shimmer, the one Celestia took in, who’d actually preceded Twilight as a personal student, before ambition had overcome her and she’d vanished into an ether of her choosing. 

Given Luna’s own troubled history with her, small wonder her sister didn’t wish to dig too deep, not when Sunset Shimmer was a pony Celestia had come to call daughter.

What Luna couldn’t know was that Sunset hadn’t been a charge of Cadance’s. No, perhaps things might have turned out differently, otherwise, had Cadance never come to call Sunset her sister. That being said, Celestia still wondered if the third filly had fulfilled any of her dreams. Since Luna’s return, time and again, Celestia had entertained the notion that Moondancer could have been a good student to her sister. They had much in common.

‘I have known so many extraordinary little ponies, Celestia thought wistfully.

She and her sister spoke of many things. Not only the human, but the varied affairs of state. Of horseshoes and saddles, of trains and ships, of parchment and sealing-wax. The price of cabbages and the worth of kings. All the myriad concerns of crowned heads at any time, no matter what earth-shattering events may reveal themselves yet.

When the two hours were up, Celestia was still conversing with Luna outside the hospital as Twilight and her friends drew close.

“Greetings, everyone,” Luna said, smiling at them while they trotted up. Her gaze turned to Twilight, and that smile grew gentler. “Twilight Sparkle, so good to see you again. It has been a while.”

“Princess Luna,” Twilight answered, with a smile of her own. “I’m glad to see you too. I wish we could catch up, but… this situation, it’s a little beyond us.”

“Yes, indeed, and I wish we had better circumstances,” Luna assured her. “But do not worry, we will discover the truth of it together.”

“Meet us inside,” Celestia said, “and we will discuss this further, my friends.” 

Twilight and the others nodded, making their way inside the hospital, murmuring amongst themselves. A glance at Luna, whose stern expression upon arrival had long since melted away, got Celestia to suppress her own smile, for her sister’s excited recollection of Nightmare Night was still all too vivid in her mind.

“Luna,” Celestia whispered as the others walked in. “One other briefing, before we deal with this human business.”

Luna turned, her smile fading. “What?”

“Has there been any word yet from Discord?” Celestia asked. “He should have reported in some time ago.”

Her sister sighed. “A brief message three days ago, concerning carnivorous sawhorses haunting a village. He cited it as positive evidence that he was close to the lair which the Krampus has been working from.”

“We’re fortunate, then, that we were able to convince Discord to aid us in tracking the Krampus,” Celestia said quietly. “Still… this situation feels as though it will require his assistance sooner than I would like.”

“You think so?” Luna asked. “Do you anticipate this being… that bad?”

“All the evidence we gathered so far implies it could be, thus I must presume the worst,” Celestia told her simply. “I would rather be prepared for the worst than not. After all, it’s better to have a hammer and not need it…”

“... Than to presume, in your arrogance, that you don’t need the hammer, just to stub your hoof on the nail,” Luna finished the old Kirin proverb with a nod. “Agreed. Even so, to think this is so bad that it should require Discord’s aid…”

“Let us first discern what we can here. And then act accordingly.”

“Agreed,” Luna said quietly. She paused. “Do you think Discord can defeat him?”

“They’re kin, those two,” Celestia sighed. “If anything can defeat the Krampus, Discord can. And if he can’t… we’ll have to hope the Elements can contain him.”  

“Indeed,” Luna said quietly. After a moment, she spoke again. “Discord sounded confident in his message, if that helps.”

Celestia found this comment worthy of a snort. “Discord always does.” 

“So,” Lyra said, “What… what were those things you mentioned? Like, uh, the Hand-in-Hoof Riots, or the Disharmony Act, or The Crucible?”

“Believe me,” Alex said, “You’ll be happier not knowing.”

“You know, Alex, you keeping saying that,” Lyra said softly, “but I’m sure that there’s more to it than you’re saying. And we can’t help if–”

“You can’t help,” Alex cut her off. The harshness was renewed. “Period. And I don't really want your help.”

Lyra frowned. “But–”

“But, nothing,” Alex said. He sighed. “You got fucked up once before.” Lyra winced but he ignored it. “I won't watch you all get fucked up again.”

“But if you told us...” Lyra began.

Alex held up a hand. “I… I don't know. I still don’t know what's going on, whether this is the past, or another universe, or…” He chuckled. “Gonna be honest, I might have sorta got this shit, but my sci-fi knowledge isn’t exactly at ‘ultra technobabble level’.”

Lyra smiled sadly. “Well, I’m sure we can–”

Before she could finish, they heard the door to the room open.

She saw Alex tense up, and darted her head to where he was staring. Celestia stepped in. Except she was not alone. The Element Bearers and Princess Luna came in behind her. When Lyra looked back to Alex, his eyes had widened, his lips thinned. He said nothing.

“Alexander Reiner, I take it,” Princess Luna said quietly, inclining her head. “It is good that we may be permitted to speak in a quieter setting.”

Alex looked from Luna to Celestia, and back to Luna again, a scowl forming on his face.

“I’ve heard of you, Princess Luna,” Alex said quietly. “From what I’ve heard, you seemed more than trustworthy, I’ll grant you that, but I am still not comfortable with... this lot,” he said, gesturing towards Princess Celestia and Lyra’s friends from Ponyville. “As you can imagine, there’s a history between us...”

Celestia nodded slowly. “It is in search of answers that we’ve come, if you’ll permit it.”

Alex narrowed his eyes, hands clutching the sides of his bed. A hint of blue glow sparked upon his skin.

“You gonna interrogate me?”

“Nothing of the sort, sirrah,” Princess Luna stepped forth. “If you’ll permit, I shall conduct a mind-delve, with the Element Bearers as my witnesses. Inside your mind, we may hope to find the answers we seek, and ascertain your honesty.”

“A mind delve,” Alex repeated. “Forgive me if I'm wrong, since God knows this stuff isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but I've never heard good things about those.”

“A mind is far more resistant to foreign intrusion than you may think,” Luna explained. “Contrary to popular belief, casting a spell or enchantment to force another to one’s will is really the crudest, most brutish form of persuasion…”

Alex’s face had gone very pale.

“And thus, a mind-delve is potentially hazardous to those who make the journey,” Luna continued. “But only if they are not prepared, or perform the delve in an unsafe place. I would hope we are prepared, and this hospital is as safe a place as they come.”

He growled disdainfully. Lyra actually felt frightened of him then.

“You may think so, Princess Luna. I don’t.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“It really is,” Fluttershy said softly. 

Lyra held up a hoof, but Fluttershy ignored it, fear deserting her as it did whenever confronted by a strange creature. She approached him slowly.

“I know you’re hurting, but we really do just want to help.”

He glared at her. “Where have I heard that before.”

Fluttershy gave her sweetest smile. “I… I don’t know what happened to you… but I know I want to help. That we all want to help.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that?” Alex demanded, biting back the rage in his voice. “In my experience, most times a pony living under Celestia says they want to help, it means they’re going to destroy you, and treat you like ungrateful scum for not wanting it.”

Lyra backed away, concerned. She wasn’t the only one. The Bearers standing nearby wore looks of anger, horror, confusion, or some combination of all of the above.

“I know how it sounds,” Lyra said. “But… none of us have done what you’re talking about. I mean, you mentioned a mnemosurgery clinic, but I don’t even know what memo-whatsit is!”

“That’s a word for a memory-altering spell,” Twilight said. “Highly difficult. Highly illegal. And… I think it might be considered dark magic?”

“Not dark magic, Twilight, not technically,” Luna said, “Though it was too horrible not for us to consider it as such.”

“Then why did he mention a clinic?” Lyra asked. “Unless, it’s… no, having them as underground establishments wouldn’t make sense, they’re…”

Alex was breathing heavily, in and out, his back ramrod-straight while his hands squeezed both sides of the bed, turning his knuckles white. Another couple of blue sparks and a creak. Were Lyra’s eyes playing tricks on her, or did the frame bend a little under his grip?

“They’re available to everyone in Equestria, far as I know,” the human said. “If you ever feel bad about the things you do to us, then go there. They just take those little thoughts out.” He laughed again, the same humourless bark from earlier. “Appropriate, isn’t it? ‘How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot!’ An eternal sunshine of the spotless mind…” His glare fell upon one specific presence in the room. “Exactly what the Solar Tyrant has to offer us.”

Twilight looked at her mentor, horrified. “But that’s… that’s antithetical to any of the friendship lessons I’ve learned! That’s burying a problem instead of dealing with it!”

“It’s also what I know Equestria is like,” Alex hissed. “Billions...”

‘That number makes no sense,’ Lyra thought. ‘We… there aren’t that many of us in the whole wide world!

“Billions who ignore the little voice in their head that says maybe they could be wrong. The one that says we’re worth existing as much as any of them. The ones who took my friends, my family, my goddamned world, twisted them all into something unrecognisable. All in the name of friendship. Of helping us.”

“That ain’t us!” Applejack yelled. “Ah don’t know what you’ve heard of Equestria wherever you’re from, but we’d never be like that!”

If Alex meant to shout back, he restrained himself well.

His eyes met those of Lyra, who, unsure what else to do, tried smiling encouragingly. He did not seem to see her, however. Their gaze broke, his eyes were cast down, his grip loosened. One of his hands, with him looking like he didn’t know what the rest of his body was doing, went to the jam jar. He picked it up , holding it out to Fluttershy, still not looking at her.

“Here, take this,” he said quietly. “‘Preciate the thought, but I'm not that much of a jam fan.”

Fluttershy stepped forward hesitantly, before reaching a hoof to the jam.

The next moment was a blur. Alex was suddenly out of the bed, his arm wrapped around Fluttershy’s throat. His tattoos were glowing, dimly – like light filtering through dirty glass, the kind of subtle change in lighting you’d only really notice if you were looking for it. But Lyra noticed it, and more.

The jar fell to the floor, almost in slow motion, shattering on impact, the lid rolling away. A red fluid poured out.

Pinkie Pie gasped.

“Let Flutters go!” she yelled. “Let her go, right now!”

“Or what?” Alex seethed.

“Or we stop you,” Twilight said, her horn glowing. Besides her, so too did Rarity and Princess Luna’s.

“I’m sure that’ll be a great comfort to Fluttershy when I start squeezing tighter, the blood flow to her brain stops, and she asphyxiates,” Alex said, almost blankly, as though he were talking about a mundanity like locking a door. “And if you think the threat of you ‘stopping’ me is gonna scare me, you’re underestimating just how ready to die I am right now.”

The bold, bald and blunt statement caught everyone off guard. Pinkie’s mane twitched, seeming to deflate slightly, and Lyra felt her blood run cold.

‘He really is ready to die. How bad, how terrible, must it be, where he’s from?’

The glow in Twilight’s horn didn’t diminish, in fact it grew brighter, but now the blue glow emanating from the marks etched in Alex’s skin were brighter too.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned them. “You’re good, but whatever you think you’re gonna do, it won’t be fast enough to save her. I guarantee it.”

One after the other, Rarity and Luna let their horns dim, and Twilight dimmed hers last. Lyra gazed after them, ashamed, cursing her own inaction.

“So,” Alex said slowly, looking Princess Celestia dead in the eye. The one eye staring at him from beneath her flowing mane. “Answers, is it. I can live with answers. I want a few myself.”

Celestia’s neck muscles had tensed. “You will not get them by threatening my subject.”

“I’m already getting them,” Alex snapped. “The Celestia I know wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice a pawn to win the game, and all her subjects are pawns. I’d be dead the minute I tried to do a thing, even if that meant flash-frying this room and everything inside.” He took a deep breath, while Fluttershy still struggled to get hers. “But here we are… still talking. Something’s up with this little game of yours, something beyond the ordinary.”

“I won’t sacrifice my subjects on the altar of convenience,” Celestia said icily. “I could kill you, that’s true enough. But I believe that among the alternatives open to me, most of them would have you and your hostage come out of this alive. And I will not harm my ponies’ souls by having them bear witness to wanton brutality on my part, nor will I risk their lives when I can take action that won’t.”

“Funny, that,” Alex said, almost conversationally. “You’d think, after all the ponies you’ve already harmed–”

“It should be painfully obvious to you that I am not who you were expecting,” Celestia all but snapped. “I am willing to find answers with you. Not by force, but together, as equals. Violence isn’t necessary.”

Alex’s grip didn’t shift. “You’ll forgive me if I need more than your word on that.”

“Please…” Fluttershy whispered, choking under his grip. “Please… Why are you doing this?”

To those watching, something gleamed in his eye, and his grasp on her weakened. But only ever so much.

“Why?” Alex asked back, in a voice laced with a dark laugh. “Because there is nothing I could do, absolutely nothing, worse than what you have done to us.”

Fluttershy looked aghast. “You don’t have to. I wouldn’t, I promise you.”

“You know how many broken promises I’ve heard from your kind?” Alex asked. “Too damn many.”

Lyra had heard enough. With a glance at Twilight and Rarity, she stepped forward.

“Have I ever broken a promise to you?” Lyra asked, looking him in the eye. “Ever?”

Alex peered at her. “You… you’re not even her.”

“I am Lyra Heartstrings,” Lyra retorted. “Whether I'm the one you knew or not. Am I so different? Can't you put your faith in me, like you did before?”

Alex’s expression wavered. Finally, he averted his gaze from her, releasing Fluttershy, who broke away from him, gasping. Quickly, Dash, Pinkie and Rarity rushed to hold her up.

“In you... always,” he said quietly. 

And Lyra couldn’t help but smile, as much at that as her friends comforting Fluttershy.

“How can I trust them though?” Alex asked after a moment. His attention was firmly on the other six young mares. Even though he was in no condition to fight, if glares could kill, they would have been maimed a hundred times over.

“Because I do,” Lyra said. “I promise you they won’t hurt you.”

Alex looked uncertain. That was when Luna interceded.

“You said you and your people have heard of me before, Alexander Reiner,” the Princess of the Night declared. “Under what circumstances, I know not, but you said they found me ‘trustworthy’ enough.” She let that sink in. “Believe me, you could not have given me a higher compliment, when I still know not how much I trust myself.” 

“Alright…” Alex said. “Alright. There’s no point me saying ‘if this is a trick, I'm gonna kick all your asses’. If this is a trick, I’m fucked.” Lyra winced, but he didn’t notice. “But faith… faith is what held us together. Faith is what kept us fighting. Everyone knows that. Faith in righteousness, in ourselves, in our comrades.” He addressed Lyra. “Faith in you.”

Lyra looked away. “There's… nothing special about me.”

“There, you’re wrong.” He tried for a smile, crookedly. “After all, I’m about to trust this bunch. At least, enough to not start breaking heads. That, Lyra Heartstrings, is one hell of a good one.” Nonetheless, he fixed Celestia with a last, defiant glare. “You stay the fuck out of my head, got it?”

It was Luna that spoke up. “I am to enter with the Element Bearers, not my sister.”

Celestia motioned to Dash, Pinkie and Rarity that they should bring Fluttershy closer to her. All four came willingly, permitting Celestia to drape a comforting wing upon the winded pegasus’ nape and shoulders.

“I can tell a great wrong has been done to you, Alexander Reiner,” Celestia said coolly, “for beneath the hard edge to your words and deeds, I sense in you the heart of a civilised being. However, were you to have hurt this innocent, I would have considered you a criminal on par with Sombra, Chrysalis and Discord, and demanded restitution accordingly.”

“Good to know,” he said, his light words belying his hollow tone. 

He shifted his posture, almost huddling, with his knees pulled to his chest, arms across. Lyra noted the posture as being a defensive posture, most likely reflexive.

‘It’s always what we don’t say that really says everything.’

“I’m not going to apologise,” Alex said after a moment, looking at the trembling Fluttershy. “Not yet. You don’t know what I’ve seen. If you had, you’d understand why I don’t trust you. Even taking Lyra’s word is a leap of faith, like I said.”

“We’ll find out the reason for your distrust soon enough,” Celestia said softly.

“I guess you will,” Alex said. “If I’m not the best of men, Princess Celestia, I’ve fought alongside worse, to counter the very worst.”

Celestia frowned. “You’ll forgive me if I say you don’t sound overly happy about that.”

“Did I say I was?” Alex asked. He snorted. “I hope you know, if this whole thing is a trick and I wind up dead, I’m gonna haunt the shit out of you.”

Celestia exchanged a wry glance with Luna.

“Duly noted,” she said. “I place this in your hooves, Sister. For now, I shall stand watch over all of you, and our guest.”

“Hey, Bonbon. Bonbon!”

“Whu...?” Bonbon shook her head whoozily, staring at the customer.

“Sorry about that,” Sparkler told her, rapping a forehoof on the counter, “but you were kind of off in a trance. I thought you were the morning person in the household. Has Lyra been keeping you up all night again?”

“Huh, I wish,” Bonbon sighed, rummaging under the counter for the Whooves’ morning order. “She didn’t come home at all last night. All I got is a garbled message from Rarity, telling me Lyra was at the hospital. Not,” she added, catching Sparkler’s expression, “that she’s been injured or anything, thank Celestia. Said she and Twilight’s gang were watching over somepony.”

“Somepony?”

“Well, maybe ‘somepony’ isn’t the right word,” Bonbon said, pulling out today’s package. “Anyway, you and Dinky enjoy the crystallised candy?” she added, keen to change topics.

Sparkler did not look mollified, but indulged her. “Ah, you know Dinky. If I didn’t ply her with the sternest of intonations, she’d scoff down my jewelry components before I got a chance to refine them. Honestly, any worse and she’d be a dragon.”

“Yes, Spike does love his gems,” Bonbon agreed jocularly.

“Little guy musn’t have much else to do half the time, getting left behind like that while Twilight and her friends are off on a mission.”

Bonbon had to muffle a curse at this sign of Sparkler redirecting the conversation. She chose to get pre-emptive.

“Sparkler,” she said, pressing her hooves together, “is something the matter? You sound like there’s something you want to share.”

“Why, yes, actually,” Sparkler said softly, reaching for the package, “there is. Dad was in a funny mood the whole of yesterday evening.”

Bonbon frowned. “That so, huh? He okay?”

Sparkler shrugged. “Kept going on about having a headache. Said it meant some event with four-dimensional fallout was on its way.”

Bonbon snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not sure,” Sparkler admitted, “but it’s got us all on edge. Enough for Mom’s eyes to start staring dead ahead.” She shrugged again. “Maybe it’s nothing, though. He can get a little… twitchy, sometimes.”

Bonbon gave a small nod. “That, I totally get.”

“So,” Luna said. “We are all agreed to do this?”

Lyra was speaking softly with Alex, who looked dubious, even now Celestia had left and they’d been making preparations for the past quarter of an hour. But she seemed to have forestalled further issues. 

“Yes,” Twilight said quietly. “We’re ready.”

“Let’s just get on with it,” Rainbow Dash said impatiently. “I’m sick of all this waiting around.”

“While I’m not as impatient as Rainbow,” Rarity added, “I must say the prospect of answers to all the unpleasant questions this… human business has brought up… well, it’s gratifying to think we might know what it all means, soon.”

Luna nodded. “Very well. I say again, though, that you must all be sure you are up to do this, and prepared for the potential consequences.” She looked at each of them. “It is not beyond the realms of possibility that we’ll get lost in there.”

“That’s a risk for you, too,” Twilight reminded her.

“I appreciate your concern, Twilight,” Luna said, “but I can take it.”

“Well, so can we,” Applejack said boldly. “This stuff might be big. Seems to me we’re involved either which way, so let’s go all in.”

“A poker reference?” Rarity commented. “I didn’t know you played.”

“Not well,” Applejack said. “Big Mac cleaned me out three times in a row last week.”

“He’s got the bestest poker face ever,” Pinkie Pie agreed.

Luna chortled. “Well, if we are to go all in, let us begin.”

“I’d say good luck,” Alex quipped, “but I don’t care.” 

“You’re very helpful, Mister Alexander Reiner,” Rarity shot back sarcastically.

“I try, ma’am.”

“Hey,” Lyra said. “I’m going in there too.”

“Which is the sole reason I’m not shitting bricks right now,” Alex told her, smirking at the collective wince from the ponies. “Guess you can have fun in my fucked-up head–”

“Do you have to use words like that?” Rarity snapped.

“Have to? No,” Alex chuckled. “But they do make me feel better when a bunch of strangers I don’t trust are about to go rummaging in my head.”

“Enough,” Luna said, shooting them both a glare. Alex broke eye contac,t having the decency to look abashed, and Rarity sighed as Luna looked around the Element Bearers. “Centre yourselves, everypony.”

She closed her eyes, and the others followed suit. There was a sudden shine, and then–

~ Shattered Dreams of a Warrior ~

The seven young mares found themselves falling, downwards into what seemed an endless void. The next thing Lyra and her friends knew, their descent was slowing, stopping, their hooves touching… something.

“Apologies, all,” Luna said, horn aglow, gliding to meet them. “We were caught unaware by the state of the human’s mind.” 

She looked around, as her light revealed the area… 

They were standing in some old, worn street. All around them was devastation.

Massive buildings boxed them in on both sides, skyscrapers taller than those of Manehattan. None was without some sign of damage. One structure, a great crack snaking down its facade in the shape of a lightning-bolt, still stood despite the twisted remnants of what was once an airship buried in its foundations. Soot stains, old and faded from time, could be seen to coat the buildings, adding a darkened layer to the surroundings.

Whatever natural colour might be found here, though, it had been muted, the sky itself enveloped in a cheerless grey, with patches of harsh, blistering orange shining through.

“Stay close, and you won’t lose yourselves,” Luna ordered, taking the lead in front of the Bearers. “Unfamiliar as I am with the workings of this stranger’s mind, I ought to know my craft sufficiently well to navigate us. Remember, this is a reconnaissance, nothing more.”

Her horn shone brighter, effectively illuminating the street, almost as if to shield them from the dull colours of their surroundings.

Luna had chosen to cast a comforting yellow light, rather than her characteristic blue aura. But the effort was only halfway worthwhile. Although the other seven found comfort in standing within her pool of light, it cast eerie shadows in the space beyond.

None of them needed much prompting to stand behind Luna, and together, they moving out as a group. As they advanced, however, it became apparent that whatever place this had once been, it was now a boneyard.

No bodies were to be seen, but the piles of rubble and wrecked buildings, marked by the tell-tale scars of battle, were all the evidence required.

“Is this… a…” Fluttershy gulped. “A war?”

“The aftermath of a fight, probably,” Twilight commented saggingly.

‘... Pay for this… Make them pay… ‘

Twilight’s neck snapped around. “Fluttershy, did you say something?”

“Um, no, Twilight,” Fluttershy said, “but anyone else hear that?”

“Ah sure did,” Applejack said, looking up, as if hoping to find the speaker in the rooftops. “We all did.”

Luna stopped and faced them. “There is no-one here,” she said softly. “Nor does there have to be. Remember, the world works differently in dreams. But follow in my steps, and we may find signs of life… life of a sort.”

The air shimmered before them. 

They all stared as the shimmer coalesced, akin to a body-shaped patch of white in thin air, into a lifelike figure, its features now recognisable to them as one from the same species as Alexander Reiner. It was on its knees, shoved against the wall. Like its surroundings, the human figure was devoid of colour, almost a statue. It wore clothing, like Alex. Rarity’s guess must have been correct about that. But these were torn and burnt and hung by a thread...

“Fluttershy, any ideas?” Twilight asked, turning to the Bearer of Kindness, who began examining the figure closely.

“Softer features, long hair, different body structure.” Fluttershy observed, circling around. Although her eyes were dilated, she didn’t tremble. “This one’s female, I think.”

“It kinda does look like Alex,” Applejack drawled, “besides being a human, Ah mean. Nose looks sorta the same. And... the eyes, of course. Ya can tell a lot by the eyes…”

Colours filled the figure then. They saw blonde hair, and the whites of her eyes were red. She had been crying.

“Finally, we can get somewhere,” Dash said, a tremor in her voice belying her brash words. “Princess Luna, what’s this supposed to be?”

“A projection,” the Night Princess answered, looking out to the rest of the cityscape. “Whenever a mindscape has formed, it is usually populated by figures the host knows. People they’ve known in their lives…” She eyed the projection with a sad grimace, “and it is clear this one has suffered greatly.”

“Please, tell me they’re going to pay,” the projection said. “Promise me, Alex! Please! I’m owed that much!”

Twilight frowned. ‘Who needs to pay? What happened to her?’

Before anything else could happen, the projection disappeared right before their eyes. This was followed almost immediately by an earth-shattering, thunderous roar, coming from further up the street as one of the skyscrapers collapsed into itself, a walk of dark cloud tearing down the road towards them.

Thankfully, quicker than the monstrous cloud of dust, Princess Luna raised a shield around them all, a protective barrier of magic which broke the wave. They dug their hooves as best they could into the ground, cracks in the concrete offering them some merciful hold.

‘What’s happening?’ Twilight thought, the wind sweeping her mane and coat as the world beneath them shook, ‘Why is there an earthquake?’

Eventually, the cloud passed away, to reveal that much was changed.

Luna opened her eyes. When she spoke, she sounded haunted. “This… is a grim scene.” She took a breath, seeing what was around. “Steel yourselves. We are not done yet.”

They were no longer alone in a city of phantoms. In one fell swoop, it seemed, the collapse had levelled all other structures, casting them below the surface. The world had gone flat, a blank, nearly featureless expanse, marked only by a horizon to separate earth and sky, and a lone country road.

Hurrying down this road, there came two more of the colourless humans, shaking and stumbling and looking worse for the wear. One of them clutched a device in their hands, which Twilight, taking it in with her photographic memory, recognised as bearing similarities to a transistor.

They were screaming into it, but no sound answered their pleas.

The second human, who would turn back every so often in mid-run, carried some kind of metal item in their hands, pointed towards the encroaching mass of shadows actively pursuing them both. When the metal item, with a ghastly reverberation, shot streaks of fire at the shadows, Twilight knew it to be similar to a griffon’s flintlock. Except this had to be miles more powerful, at that. Yet the shadows paid it no heed.

One of the shadows struck forward.

At the last moment, the human with the firearm pushed their companion away, taking the blow to the chest. They tumbled to the ground, seething in pain. Their companion stopped their flight to look back.

The fallen human’s lips moved, and despite the silence, one word leapt out. Just one.

Run.

But the other human did not. Instead, they moved to the fallen one and tried to help them up. The both of them were beset by the shadows, then.

Time slowed to a crawl for the onlookers as they saw the haze clear up, details manifesting on the two humans and the shadows who surrounded them.

The fallen fighter was a male, with tanned brown skin and black hair. He wore a defiant look in his eyes, one which reached not only his tormentors, but the unseen onlookers.

The one beside him was female, her more bronzed skin offset by the great white mane atop her head. Her face was bruised, a sickly mix of red and blue, yet her eyes blazed as she reached into her belt to draw out a knife.

As for the shadows…

“Impossible,” Twilight whispered in shock.

“Twilight?” Lyra’s voice came from far away.

Two figures stepped out of the black, swirling mass. The former was dressed in a gold-tinted armour that, despite the apparent wear and tear, still proudly reflected some shine. She had wings, wings that looked muscular and fit for a raptor, despite adorning what should have been an unthreatening pink coat. She beamed…

“That isn’t a smile.” Pinkie spoke up, her voice gone grim, “I know smiles, and that isn’t right.”

… Beamed before the two captives. Then she stepped aside to allow for the other figure to come forth. The stallion wore a purple coloured armour, with a crest that proudly displayed a shield and star.

“No.”

The word came out as a whisper.

“Twilight?” Dash said, concerned.

The stallion’s coat was a very light grey. His mane was a very familiar sapphire blue, streaked with cerulean and azure.

“No,” she repeated, louder this time.

“Twilight, what’s wrong?” Rarity asked, on the edges of her consciousness.

His eyes were also cerulean, but they were strangely flat, and just so… cold. A harsh and unfriendly and alienating cold. So cold and cruel but he–

Twilight couldn’t bear to watch any longer and had to avert her eyes.

‘Please don’t speak. Please don’t speak. Pleas–’

“Well, what do we have here?” Hearing his voice was like sandpaper in her ears, but it couldn’t be mistaken. “Jerome and Lydia. How good that I found you.”

“You bastard,” the male snarled at him. “It just had to be you that decided to corner us. Couldn’t let us go free, could you? Had to come and– ”

“Save you?” he interrupted, giving a grim laugh that might or might not have been kindly disposed. “Don't forget, Jer. I’m your ‘buddy’ remember? And ‘buddies’ don’t leave each other behind. Of course it had to be me.”

It sounded so much like someone giving a performance of him.

Twilight couldn’t quite explain why she thought so. But the coldness she’d seen in his eyes, the condescension in his reassurance to ‘Jerome’ planted the idea in her. It was so unlike the real him, the person she’d grown up with. It was like he was reading lines from a script. 

But the emotion in his voice… She knew him, and this was not faked. The one other time she’d heard him speak like this was before the Wedding. He meant every second of what he was doing, and it was him. She was sure of it. 

She willed herself to look. His horn glowed a light rose colour. A shield appeared before him. 

“I’m afraid that knife,” he said, “won’t be much help, Lydia.”

The woman, standing in a defensive position despite impossible odds, raised an eyebrow. And, with no warning, she plunged her knife into Jerome’s throat. Judging by the copious gush of blood, Lydia had almost certainly hit an artery. The man collapsed to the ground, a red stream spraying out from around the blade.

Swiftly, the woman yanked the knife from Jerome’s throat, aiming for her own–

‘Why is she doing this,’ Twilight thought, her heart racing, ‘why is she doing this, there’s blood, and what is happening, what’s going on!’

“No! Stop!” the armoured stallion yelled. “You’re running away from help!”

He didn’t sound like he was performing, that time. He sounded genuinely distraught.

His horn glowed, and with it, a rose-coloured aura surrounded Lydia’s knife arm. As he telekinetically held her, Lydia’s arm twisted back, further and further. She scrabbled at the blade in her clenched fist with her free hand, trying to pull it out, to stop the merciless pull, but it was all for naught. Her forearm was moving of its own accord, straighter and straighter next to the upper arm, until–

Lydia screamed and fell to her knees, her forearm dangling bonelessly, at an angle that looked unnatural to Twilight. It bent in the opposite direction from her other arm, in fact.

“Come on,” the armoured stallion said, just like he would when he was encouraging Twilight, whenever she ran into the toughest of homeworks. With kindness. “You know it won’t hurt.”

“Stay away!” Lydia screamed. “Stay the fuck away!”

The pony reached into one of his saddlebags, pulling out a vial of bruise-purple liquid. The rose-coloured aura surrounded it, and it floated gently, weightlessly towards Lydia. She tried to scramble backwards with her good arm, but stumbled, and she was slow, too slow...

“You’re in pain,” the armoured stallion said. “You’ve got so much, so many old wounds that eat away at you. But we’re going to make them all better. Promise. And you’ll be happier at the end of it.”

“No, no, anything but that!” Lydia screeched. “By the Golden Lyre, please, no–”

The cork popped from the vial, and the pony’s telekinesis pressed the tip of the vial up to her lips. She tried to keep them closed, tried not to drink it…

But then there was a crack, her mouth opened, and the potion was forced down her throat.

Immediately, Lydia began to…

To…

Twilight couldn’t describe it. The woman’s body was deflating and melting and solidifying – “saponificating,” Twilight thought madly – all at once, running together like wax and shrinking. Her eyes grew too big for her sockets, fur burst out from under her peeling skin, and her ears lengthened into something like pony ears.

And all the while, two sounds dominated the memory. Wet, thudding, meaty cracking noises issued from her body constantly…

And she was screaming. The way she was changing, the way her head was stretching and shrinking all at once, Twilight could barely believe there was enough brain in the person’s body for her to be aware enough to scream.

But she was.

“Stop it!” Twilight screamed, tears falling from her eyes as her horn glowed brightly. “Leave her alone!”

But nothing happened. No shield materialised, no blast to stop the atrocity before them. Rainbow Dash flew, but in the crazed logic of this nightmarish wonderland, though she flew with all her might and Twilight did not move, never did the armoured stallion and the suffering woman come any closer. Despite her skills she couldn’t reach them…

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the woman was gone. In her place, there stood a little bronze earthpony mare with a blank flank, a happy smile on her face. But her eyes were big, unblinking, and glassy. The smile itself was too wide, enough to look like it’d split the face in half if it grew any bigger.

“That’s not a smile,” Pinkie said, looking nauseous, her own eyes wide as dinner plates. “That’s not a smile! What’d he do to her?!”

“Thanks, Shiney!” the new mare chirped, as if she hadn’t just been torn apart and put back together. “I had so many problems, but now they’ve all just floated away! I feel so happy and free now that I’m a pony!”

“No,” Applejack said. “That’s… this’s wrong, whatever the hay it is!”

“Oh no,” Rarity said. “The look on that pink mare’s face… and what happened to that pony…”

Her eyes grew wide.

“The pink mare used to be human, too!” she gasped.

“This is enough!” Luna shouted, her horn glowing. The area around them crackled, and then fractured away with six cries of surprise, and one in dismay.

For whatever enemy that the humans were fighting, Twilight’s brother was among them.

Alexander Reiner looked at them blandly.

“Fun trip?” he asked sarcastically, his arms folded.

“What was that!” Pinkie shrieked. Fluttershy was shaking like a leaf, hiding behind her and Rarity.

Luna scowled at his callous attitude but kept herself steady. “Never have I seen a mind this fragmented within one who is technically sane.”

“Sorry, ma’am, you still haven’t,” Alex said with a smirk. “Reckon we all passed ‘sane’ a while back. I usually settle for ‘not in a straitjacket yet’.”

“What… what was that?” Twilight shakenly asked. “That… that conflict we saw. You… what… What’d Shining…”

“What did he do to that human?” Applejack yelled. “That there just ain’t right!”

Alex laughed bitterly. “You’ll have to be more specific. Your kind did a lot to my people. Forced labour, blood magic, all kinds of experiments…” 

Twilight swallowed the lump in her throat.  “They… Shining changed her, changed her into…”

“Whatever happened to her, it wasn’t right!” Pinkie interrupted. “She just… it wasn’t a smile! There wasn’t… wasn’t anything in that pony!”

“I couldn’t do anything to help…” Dash whispered, eyes to the floor.

“Ah,” Alex said, nodding as his amused expression faded. “Yeah, that’s the truth. Not sure which time you saw–“

“This has happened more than once?” Twilight and Pinkie cried in unison.

“Well, yeah,” Alex said. “I’ve no way of telling exactly which of my memories you saw. But it happens very often… too often.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “It happens all the time, in fact.”

“I… I don’t understand…” Twilight stuttered.

“Alex,” Lyra said, her face gaunt and bloodless. “What the hay is happening on your world?”

He sucked in a breath. “We’re at war.”

“I am no stranger to war, but this...” Luna whispered, her gaze turned mournful, and Celestia draped a comforting wing over her. “Who are you fighting?”

“Equestria,” Alex remarked grimly. “Or rather, the Solar Empire. Queen Celestia and her Bearers of Harmony are leading an invasion of my home planet, Earth. Armies of Imperial Guards, supported by their allies in the Co-Harmony Sphere, and their ranks bolstered by the... ponies who used to be my people. Nobody calls them ponies, though. Not even the enemy. Those things you saw… those are the Newfoals. We’ve been under constant attack everyday for the past five years now.” 

“And… and I…” Lyra struggled to articulate her thoughts. 

Alex took a breath. “My friend, Ambassador Lyra Heartstrings, fought to oppose this. The forced conversions, the destruction and obliteration of the human race.” His expression darkened, teeth bared, and eyes full of murder turned to stare at Celestia, who had listened to all of this with a stoic, if mask-like, expression. “And you killed her. She died trying to save us from you.”