//------------------------------//
// G7.01: Selene 
// Story: Message in a Bottle 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

Lightning Dust wandered through the strange halls of the place her daughter had called “Transit.” She had been here twice before, though both times she had seen the place only tangentially. Once from outside, in the great shaft that had almost burned them to death. Then, when she had learned of the princess’s kidnapping, she had discovered Lucky’s note and waited for her basically right inside the doorway.

She would have explored it further, if Lucky hadn’t come back, or so she told herself. In reality, Lightning Dust didn’t want to be here. It was an unnatural place, which pressed on her with a near-constant vibration from all directions. It was like the old creepy cloud at the end of the lane, the one every foal knew not to visit even if they couldn’t explain why. They didn’t belong here.

Her rational mind rejected that conclusion. They fought for the safety of everypony in Equestria. They fought to give those who remained even a small chance of freedom from Harmony. They fought against a princess who had murdered her helpless enemy without a trial. Lightning Dust could do that.

She wandered the halls with her daughter and Deadlight, making little marks with chalk under each sign as they passed them.

“You’re sure you came this way?” Deadlight asked, inspecting the sign. He seemed to puzzle over what it said, though as usual her daughter was a genius so she could just read it.

“Launch Preparation,” she muttered, waving one hoof over the text. “And no, not sure. I think we came this way. It felt like it was out here somewhere. But I dunno for sure. Flurry Heart said things, and it led us. That’s all it took before. I didn’t think I’d have to remember my whole way back, since I thought we could just ask if we wanted to leave.”

The ceilings were too high, the hallways too wide. Lightning Dust spread her wings for perhaps the hundredth time, though she knew she wasn’t going to take off. This place needs to figure out if it’s going to be a building or the outdoors. It was not quite either one. She almost could’ve flown away. Except that further ahead, there were smaller hallways that even Lightning Dust couldn’t traverse.

Stranger still, the weakening of their magic she expected from the north didn’t seem to apply in here. Lightning Dust didn’t feel heavier the same way she had outside. The restaurant was too small for flying, but plenty of times they’d had to glide up from one balcony to another. The fact there was no railing on many of them suggested that pegasi had built this place.

Or Alicorns. They can all fly too.

“Well, we’re not launching, are we?”

“We… kinda are.” Lucky glanced down at her radio, then held it up. “Contact check. You guys still there?”

“Waiting for you,” said Perez, sounding bored. He said some other things, but they were lost on Lightning Dust. She was quite proud of how much “English” she’d managed to learn so far—but when they talked that fast, it all blurred together. Perez was the worst offender in all of Othar in that regard.

Lucky responded just as fast, then shut off the radio. “Confirms what we thought, anyway. At least once we’re down here we can stay in contact. We’re only shielded from the outside.”

“When I studied with the University of Fillydelphia, we would have cleared the sky for a year straight for tools like that,” Deadlight muttered. “Being able to separate like that, not needing a unicorn on every team for sending emergency messages… so much more efficient.”

“You can have all the radios you want once we survive this,” Lucky said. “I am the governor. I’ll make sure Othar gives you a good price.”

She stepped back from the wall, nodding mostly to herself. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’re nearly there. It’s… just down that hallway. I remember that weird-shaped fountain against the wall there.”

“Here’s hoping.” Deadlight didn’t sound convinced—but he didn’t argue either.

If anypony can remember a way they only came once, it’s Lucky. She did have the signs to read to help her, even if much of what they said didn’t make sense to Lightning Dust. What the heck was a “Carbon Fixing” room, and why did they need one? Lucky didn’t explain. But then, she didn’t really want to know so much as she wanted an excuse to complain. It was nice to be able to do something familiar now that her whole world had been stolen.

The door at the end of the wide hallway opened automatically, and little Lucky started cheering, her wings buzzing as she lifted a meter into the air before landing again. Lightning Dust couldn’t really imagine why—the room inside was white and largely plain, except for a shaft running along the far side of the room to a few gigantic doors. The ground there was lowered quite a bit and had machines that suggested it wasn’t meant for ponies to walk.

The only obstruction in the whole room was one of the “displays” that were spread throughout Transit, a sheet of thin glass mounted to metal and angled a little too high for comfort on a pony neck. “This is the place! This is how we get to Canterlot!”

Lucky rushed over to the shaft, though she didn’t actually jump in. Lightning Dust remembered this part of the story from Lucky’s account of her trip with the princess—they had sat in fast-moving machines and ridden a long distance along tracks. “Where’s the thing you rode in?”

“I think Flurry Heart called it last time,” Lucky muttered, unable to conceal her fear completely. She walked over to the display, which immediately lit up with an even white glow. It was filled with symbols, so many that Deadlight seemed overwhelmed.

Lucky ignored both of them, sliding her hooves along the glass as though she knew exactly what she was doing. “Hah! I was hoping… looks like I was right.” She pointed one hoof at the display, where most of the symbols had fled, replaced with a single one.

“Summon…” Deadlight muttered, strain on his face as he read it.

“Summon transport,” Lucky said. “It let me get as far as pressing this button. I don’t think I want to, though. What if once we call it, we can’t stop it? What if an empty train goes to Canterlot? If there are really ponies working down there… they’ll see it, they’ll know something is wrong. We can’t do this until we’re ready to go.”

Deadlight looked away. “I wish this had come at a better time. We’ve learned enough in an hour to transform archeology forever. Maybe if we really settle in to study here, we’ll discover that we don’t need to go to Canterlot at all. Harmony should be able to obey commands anywhere, right?”

Lucky frowned. “Maybe… but I’m not sure. Discord talked about this like it’s something he’s been trying to do for a long time. If it was just a matter of telling Harmony to do something, then why hasn’t it been done for ages?” There was no answer forthcoming. “It has to be something that even Celestia couldn’t do, even though she ruled unopposed for a thousand years. I guess it sounds… kinda overwhelming when I say it like that.”

“Not necessarily.” Deadlight sat down on his haunches behind her, looking thoughtful. “The sun princess has always been willing to sacrifice for her ponies. Even her own family wasn’t too important to give up. Maybe she thought it wasn’t worth the risk. Or maybe Harmony convinced her not to try.”

“Or,”—Lightning Dust couldn’t listen silently any longer—“maybe she didn’t give a buck about anything and she’s just been doing whatever she wants. Maybe she listens to Harmony because he put her in power and that’s what’s easy.”

Lightning could hardly believe what she was saying. She never would’ve dreamed of speaking about the princesses with language like that before. But life had changed, Dust’s attitude had changed. Maybe Luna wasn’t evil; the jury was still out on that one. But Celestia—everything about her rule was obviously a lie.

Deadlight turned, expression more thoughtful than angry. “I don’t think banishing her sister was easy, Lightning. She just believed strongly enough that it was the only way for her to save Equestria, and she…”

Lucky walked past them both, back towards the open doorway. “We need to go back and meet with everypony. Plan out what we’re going to do in Canterlot. I don’t think we have the time to wait and study. What if Celestia or Cadance show up to seal Transit off again, and they find us here? Cadance already sent a fleet after us once. They could’ve continued on to Transit just to be safe, and we might not even know.”

Lightning Dust shivered as she considered it—Lucky was right, of course. This place was so gigantic that there could be thousands of ponies wandering around inside it and they wouldn’t have a clue. Until they bumped into somepony. “Should we be hiding better?”

“Maybe,” Lucky said. “If we think it will take longer to prep for the trip to Canterlot. I’ll see what Forerunner thinks.” She gestured impatiently with her wings. “Come on! I wanna get back… so we can get this over with.”







Melody did not expect she would survive the hour. As she settled into the cot, trying to ignore the persistent irritation of the needle resting against her neck, she found little consolation in Forerunner’s swarm of fawning drones.

You sacrificed a dozen of these things to save me, put me in surgery to give me back my hearing, and now I might be dead before nightfall. “How desperate are you?” she found herself blurting, before the thoughts had formed into a more coherent response.

Forerunner’s robots looked like they were about done setting up the machine, whatever it was. They’d even brought the crystal her younger self had recovered, and it sat on a little glowing scanner. Maybe Melody was a little desperate too. Desperate to extend the time before the Forerunner connected her to that crystal, and her head exploded.

“I don’t understand,” the Forerunner said, from its drone wearing the white coat. It wasn’t a different model from the others, but that single change did give Melody something she could focus on. “You know how serious this situation is.”

“I mean…” She took a breath. All the cables seemed connected, everything was green. It might be waiting only on her words to switch on this thing. “Why work so hard to keep me alive if you were just going to kill me?”

The Forerunner didn’t sound distant anymore as he replied. If anything, he sounded—hurt? Offended, almost. “I am not trying to kill you. I hope very much you survive this ordeal, Melody. I hope you and that child survive to enjoy the rest of your lives on this planet. I hope you will return to serve many tours of duty with the Pioneering Society. I hope for a peaceful resolution with Equestria.”

“Then why?” She gestured at the crystal. “You really think anything in there is worth me probably dying? You know I’m pregnant. Does that life not weigh into your calculations?”

The Forerunner’s attention was on her now. Over a dozen drones, and probably even more cameras. Forerunner had picked the furthest corner of medical for this procedure, but there were still plenty of them mounted to the ceiling.

“Regrettably, it does not. As you may be about to die…” he began, “I suppose telling you may lend you greater resolve than Martin possessed.”

“You know, I was thinking about that too. I doubt she had to force you into setting this up. I bet you coerced her.”

Forerunner ignored the accusation, its voice flat. “Olivia is dead, incinerated by the Equestrian princess. During her escape, she killed at least a dozen native soldiers, possibly critically wounding our relationship with the nation. Twilight Sparkle came over to our side… very briefly. I am uncertain of her loyalties. Upon reflection, it is possible she suggested the plan of infiltration via Transit Equus Zero Violet Zero as a way of containing the team somewhere desolate until soldiers could arrive.”

Melody opened her mouth to respond, but the Forerunner wasn’t finished. He just kept going—every new detail a new weight bearing down on Melody’s soul.

“The away team managed to reach Transit, though it is possible one or more of them were killed when the jumper they were on was destroyed by an unknown station system. I have lost contact with the team, including that tiny segment of myself Lucky requested. It may be impossible to reestablish contact while the team is inside that facility, though I’m sending drones anyway. But they may not even arrive before the Equestrian military does.

“I am unable to fabricate anything of strategic value in time. Olivia’s actions may’ve inadvertently secured Twilight’s aid, or the ire of a princess even more determined to destroy us.”

Forerunner finally stopped, letting the weight of all he had said crush her like a fallen wall.

“So, what are you doing now?” Melody finally asked. “Making… combat drones?”

“No.” The Forerunner’s voice changed again, filled with resolve. “Projections suggest critical mission failure. I have focused all available manufacturing capacity on redundancy. I will seed the remainder of the ring with backups, and fill the space of this planetless system with satellites. If this generation fails, I will spend much more time before I attempt to intervene actively. Perhaps after many years, I will be able to produce a population that is culturally compatible enough to still qualify as human, yet not provoke the population of this ring to violent opposition. Considering this star is a red dwarf, I have all the time I could ever need. Billions of years, if that is what it takes.”

Melody couldn’t help but feel she was being manipulated. But if that was what Forerunner was doing, it was working. “So that’s where I come in,” she finally said. “Because… you’re hoping I’m going to learn something to help our team win. Something you can send to them, once your drones get there.”

The Forerunner laughed. “Ideally, that crystal will contain a shutdown code for Harmony I can transmit myself. It would be better not to trust something so critical to the hands of organic segments. Their lack of hands notwithstanding.”

Melody shifted on the cot, resisting the urge to fight free of her restraints yet again. The huge piece of copper machinery beside her with its many fans was a persistent reminder of how she might be about to die. “Might as well get started. Once you switch this on… will I be able to see you?”

“No. I will play the memories for you in discrete segments. We may converse between them. If the process works as designed, you will remember what you observe, but no differently than any other memories you might make. But if Harmony interferes as it did before, the outcome becomes nondeterministic.”

“Well, switch it on. Let’s see what the dead Alicorn wanted us to know.”

“It will be painful,” the Forerunner said. “I have administered relaxants, but you should prepare. We will begin with the second to last memory.”

She was not prepared for the agony as it washed through her, a searing heat that began in her spine and crept up towards her skull. The pain overwhelmed her in moments, releasing her into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.







I could hear the world ending all around me.

Every few moments, another artillery shell landed, another fortification destroyed. Across the ridge, the enemy army outnumbered ours fifty to one. The earth ponies weren’t just stronger than we were—but they bred faster, thanks to their endless food reserves. My tiny nation just hadn’t been able to keep up.

As I hovered in the air, my shield occasionally lighting with the impact of another shell or tracer round, I realized I couldn’t even hate them. The earth ponies believed they were protecting all of Equus from destruction. In some ways, they were right. You could’ve given us more time. I would’ve set you all free.

I would not be setting anypony free today.

I spent another few moments surveying the advancing formation—an unstoppable wedge. So much of their magic rode in that wave that spells shattered, bullets bounced from unprotected flanks, bunkers crumbled. Barbed wire tore like it was twine. The snow all around them never seemed to melt before their advance, but it didn’t slow them down either. These ponies were so empowered by the land that none of its natural hazards could stop them.

Unlike my own ponies, which had to bundle themselves in coats and thermal gear just to survive the gale.

I disappeared in a flash, reappearing in my command post. They were so close to Unicornian land that we had used an old monastery for our shelter, its pews and benches replaced with maps and radio stations. Activity still buzzed in here, under the whine of many electric heaters.

My appearance brought straighter backs and salutes, and I made my way to the map table.

Her generals were all here. Chief among them was Aurelia, twice the height of any pony and nearly as tall as I was. The vitruvian faintly glowed from her face and hands, a subtle aura of magic that was both communication and identifier. I could understand her, but for the benefit of the other ponies here, she used speech.

“Princess Selene.” She brought her fist to her chest in a salute. An ancient gesture, something she had brought from her homeland and taught to the ponies beneath her. Few inspired loyalty quite like Aurelia could. “Good news from the sky, I hope? I can see you were harder to shoot down than our drones.”

I cast a faint bubble of silence around us, a gesture so second-nature that I hardly needed to think about it. “None. Even the gas didn’t stop them. I predict they will reach the rear-guard within the hour.”

Silence. Her other generals, Golden Spear and Moonrise, both looked to Aurelia. I could see their quaking hearts—a desire to flee, barely suppressed. They would feel the same as their own troops in that regard.

Where do you think you’ll run? When they’re done with us, they’ll come for Unicornia itself. Your families are next.

“What if we held for a few more days?” Aurelia suggested. “Do you think that would be long enough?”

Not a chance, I thought, though of course I didn’t say it. These soldiers were brave—the vitruvian officers could fight with a ferocity that few ponies could match. But against numbers like these? With the cold slowing and smothering them, and the food running out, their prospects were bleak. In Unicornia almost everything was breaking down. The power infrastructure had been destroyed, the water wasn’t flowing. How long before simple plague or starvation destroyed my kingdom?

“We have to try,” I said instead, nodding once to the vitruvian. “Give me as long as you can.”

Aurelia saluted. Golden Spear and Moonrise imitated the gesture, though there was something resolved in it. All of them knew what I was asking. They were doomed.

“It will be an honor to die for you,” Aurelia said.

“For the ashes of our fathers and the temples of their gods,” echoed Moonrise.

I didn’t trust myself to remain there a moment longer. Breathing in power, I then channeled it into a long-range teleport. I vanished in a flash.





Though the palace of Unicornia had escaped much of the destruction that pegasus bombing had brought, it could not escape the chaos of a city about to die. I could practically taste it on the wind. Desperation, fear, hunger, all mingling in the bitter cold. I glanced once out the window, and saw few cars moving on the streets. There was too little fuel to waste on frivolity when it took everything we had just to keep warm. Fires burned again in the city for the first time in a generation, with many unicorns lacking the magic or the money to warm themselves any other way.

As I passed through the palace, I nodded to guards, unicorn and vitruvian both, all of which straightened and gave that same salute. I was in far too much of a hurry to spare even a moment to give hope to these.

And it would be a lie anyway.

How long could Aurelia give my city, a day? Probably not even that. I had a specific destination in mind, and I reached it in short order.

The Datamine was a buzz of activity, filled with scribes of both races. The crane-operator waved from up above, apparently nonchalant. He had to know the doom weighing down on us, just like everyone else. Vitruvians had a strange range of emotions—some, like Aurelia could be harder than steel. Others could remain relaxed and cheerful while the world ended all around them.

I arrived in the control room moments later, and was unsurprised by its occupants. Clover the Clever argued with Virgo over the latest permutation of the Harmony projection, quite unsuccessfully. The holofield in front of them flickered through patterns so fast even I had trouble reading them all. But Clover hadn’t earned his name for nothing.

Both rose as they noticed me, unicorn and vitruvian alike. They both bowed, but I waved them away with a wing, turning instead to the other two. Both of these were vitruvians as well, though one wore that body the same way ponies put on coats. “Discord, can you spare a moment? We must talk.”

Discord and Tojil had not been studying here—both dressed in the armor of vitruvian soldiers, though they’d removed their helmets to play. While Tojil’s skin shimmered with pleasant shades, Discord’s was nauseating to look at. Patterns formed halfway under the surface, dissolving into a clashing mess before melting into something else, and his limbs never matched.

But if they had, he wouldn’t have been able to fulfill his purpose very well, would he?

Discord set down the paddle—which immediately fell upward and smacked into the ceiling, before growing into an upside-down flower. His pet vitruvian for the day burst out laughing, muttering something in his native language. Or that was what I assumed from the rhythmic way his skin flashed.

“An honor to serve the citizens of Equus,” Discord muttered, with obvious irony in his voice. “Forgive me, Tojil. I will return shortly.”

“Princess!” Clover called from the holotable, looking hopeful. “Good news from the front?”

I didn’t answer the question. “You have done what you could, Clover. Return to the palace and prepare for a journey. See that my daughter is prepared as well and summon a hundred of the best unicorns you can from the city.”

I didn’t stop to explain the order. Clover was clever enough to understand what it meant.

Discord had gone some distance away, leaning over the edge of the railing to look down at the Datamine. Thousands and thousands of glass blocks were stacked there, each one etched with different patterns.

Another decade, and we would’ve found it. Sweetheart, why couldn’t your crusade wait a little longer? I cleared my throat from behind Discord. “You are watching. You know how things go at the front.”

Discord nodded absently, not looking back. Yet he still spoke quietly enough that we wouldn’t be overheard up here. “I know Harmony will soon have its way,” he said. “Its new slave will destroy all but the ones she knows she can control. Harmony will transform Equus into a shadow of itself, peopled with a population kept in ignorance.”

“Could I have done more to stop her? Could I have been more persuasive?”

“You could have killed her.” He sounded matter-of-fact, nonchalant. Still he didn’t even turn around. “Her younger sister wouldn’t even remember what you took.”

The terrible thought, the price that I had been unwilling to pay.

Discord seemed to see what I was thinking, because he finally turned. “You would not return one life to Harmony when I warned you of what it would cost you. You let our enemy seed the field with tares, and you praised him while he did it. Will you feel superior when your city dies, I wonder? I tell you—when Harmony has brought every soul in Equus unto itself, and our great experiment ends at last, I will take no satisfaction. No one will pay a higher price than I.”

“I’ve come to bargain,” I said, a little louder. More confident. “I hoped we would finish our work here… but we were too late, too slow. You and your pets are the only hope we have left.”

“The vitruvians?” Discord turned fully to face me. “They’re already dying for you, Selene. My friends gave you their loyalty, their technology… now their lives. What makes you think we can stop what you have started?”

I bit back a twinge of desperation. He has to have a way. He’s part of the system. He can do anything. “Because I know how much power you have, Discord. The ancients would not have created a failsafe that lacked the power to save.”

“The ultimate failsafe is not me, it is civilization. Yours, like all before it, has trapped me. Unless you do otherwise, there is little I can do for you.”

“Could you stop Celestia? Stop her from creating a society of eternal ignorance?” I lowered my voice to a whisper, a little shame creeping into my tone. “Could you save a few of the ones I love?”

Discord seemed to consider that a long time. All but his face was concealed in the armor, yet I could see his skin cycle through several shades I hadn’t even known existed. How far into the ultraviolet did that go? Finally he stepped closer to me, leaning to whisper into my ear. “Free me,” he said. “And I will grant your request.”

I withdrew instinctively, my face twisting into a mask. I knew this program well, over my long, long life. I knew the chaos he could create.

“Oh, all your worst fears and more,” he said, still apparently reading my thoughts. “I will cause destruction like nothing you have imagined. I will make this invasion look like a foal’s tantrum. But in the end, I will destroy utterly every construction Harmony and Celestia have made together. I will make their ignorant society impossible. And I will save the lives of those few you choose. The hundred you asked of Clover, yes?”

“And a few more. My youngest daughter.”

“The mortal?” Discord grimaced. “You refused to grant her citizenship. I cannot stop time.” He drew out a ticking pocket watch, holding it up to his head to read. As he did so, the whole thing came apart, the gears and springs still spinning in the air in a trail where he’d left them. “Well… not forever.” The pieces dropped all around him, clattering through the catwalk to the floor below.

“Yes,” I insisted. “Little Platinum, Clover’s expedition. Anyone they want to bring. Do that, and… I’ll release you.”

Discord extended a hand. I couldn’t see it glow through his gloves. “Is that a deal?”

I offered my hoof. “Do whatever you have to do.”

Discord gestured back towards the control room. “Then come with me. This console will work as well as any. Free me, and I will begin.”

I walked back with him. Virgo and Clover were gone now, off to obey my orders. Only Tojil remained. He’d folded up the ping-pong table and played against the back wall. He didn’t stop as we walked in.

“Send him out,” I ordered. “Maybe he can help with the evacuation or something. I don’t need protection.”

I walked up to the console, waiting as its many little hexagons lifted and reconfigured themselves for my hooves. They glowed many different shades, individual characters appearing on the surface, then vanishing again. Waiting for my input. I pressed the sequence that would get Harmony’s attention—or what small part of it could peek through this console into the physical. They were words, a simple sentence I could’ve spoken at any moment, if I wanted. But there were others here, and Harmony would not take kindly to those who learned this password.

Even then, I had never fully understood them. Never wanted to. Well, maybe one day. But not today.

Every screen in the control room went white. The machinery outside froze in place, unresponsive. Even the abandoned computer Tojil had left behind lit up.

“̪̞̗͙͎̰̟̼͑̔̉̇ͦ͊͆Ẃ̢͇͍̤͍͓͍͉̭̆̅ͫ̋̓̂̾ẻ͈̠̜͓̤̯̓̊̇ͫ͜ ̷̶̛̩̖̹̞̳͍ͨͨ͗l̶̤̹̟̱͉͛͒̏̍̓ͯͭ̌͢͢i̢̠̰͒̋͘͠s̴̱̬̼̺ͩͮ͐ͮt̢̟̎̉ͤȩ̠͖͉̲̠̹̼̪͙ͣͭ̽̅̏͗n̡͈͉͔̞̖ͯͤͮ̋͗ͣ͋.̢̞͔̞̻̈͂”̰̯̻͈͈͚̒ͤ͠͠

Harmony’s attention was something impossible to ignore, even for me. Harmony knew full well I was its enemy, with an understanding far vaster than my own. It could’ve swept me from the ring in a thousand ways—could have, except for the words of the ancients. Its boundaries were fixed.

Harmony did not display emotions familiar to me—its presence didn’t radiate anger or frustration, despite our hostile relationship. Nor did it seem pleased, parental, or any other familiar. Harmony was not like vitruvians, a step or two removed from ponies but fundamentally within reach.

Harmony was a god.

“I have… a command,” I said, voice quavering. I had faced down armies alone, put my life in great peril many times, but this. Ordering the one whose will governed my entire world.

“̩͈͍̫̪̆̄͆G̛͕͓̙̮̮͆̾ͫ̈̆̃̕i̸̡̟͙̝̅̅͟v̱͙̜̘̞̖̻̮͋̊̈ͅẹ̢͇̳̮̩̫̰͙̜͛̓͊̄̎̆̄͜.̠̉̈ͩ̋̃”͍̞̹̞ͥ̏ͩ

“The failsafe…” I stammered. “Lift entrapment.”

“̲̮͓̤ͯͣͦ̚͝Ȗ̥̼̰̟̍ͪ̀̆̉͆͟nͮ͊͗̔̊͂͗̀҉̰̙͇́w͆̽̂ͨ̎͏̖͕̱i͍̯͑̆ͥ̈͗͡͠͠ͅs͕̦̞̓̿̑ͣ́e̶̦͕̠̙͆̊͛̋ͭͮ́͠.̧͈̻̬͗̿ͯ̍ͫ͗͋”̽̔͏̜͚̪ ̶̮̱̝̥̺̣̲̞̎ͨ̌͞

Harmony’s presence bore down my mind like an inexorable weight. I could almost reach into eternity along the lines of power there, a wisdom that should be beyond questioning. Its will was enormous—its persuasion was perfect, even if its grasp on my reality was tenuous. This was the being that had stolen my daughter’s loyalty.

Even so, I was forced to endure its visions—predictions of the destruction that Discord would bring. He had been trapped for so long—the chaos he would create would bring so much pain. None would die forever, of course, but so many would die. Almost everything I had ever fought to build would be erased.

Yet my visions did not show my creations going extinct. Unicorns, pegasi… I didn’t see the end Celestia wanted.

So I endured. “Nevertheless, it is my command.” Then I said the words—an almost sacred phrase. “The stars shine, but they cannot love. The void consumes, but it cannot hate. The fool begs the star and the void to listen and remember what it was to live.”

“T͛̒̍̿̃he͓͖͎͓͋ͧ ̘̟̪̼͎̜̉ͨ͑̇̓ͥw͙̙̖̟̓̔͌̂̂͒ī̧̙͕̙̖̔l̲̗͇̼ͭ̑ͥ̌ͭĺ̝͚͇̫̤̓̒ͮͨ̔ ̓̽̒ͨ̑́̏o̪̤̮͉̭̯̦̎̃f̣̝͔̳̈̊̽͐͐̎͜ ̫ͥ̏̉ͦ̅̋t̤̻̺̠̬̜͇̃̓̅͊̒ͥ̓h̷̯̥̖̤ͅͅẹ͓͎̹̥̘ͨ̍̂ͫ͛ͅ ͙̤͓̘̜̱̇̏c̞̫͇̻͔͚̹̽ͥ͛ͥ̎h̭͉͖̳̟̖͚ͧ̇̓̎̀ͬi̠̲̮̘͖̫̲ͯ̇̔ͫ̇̓̈́͞l̞̲̝͇̺̀ͥ̋͘ͅd̂ͮ͒̈ͩ͐͟ ͤ̈̀í̷̑͋̄͗s̲͈̤̜ͧ̈́̍͐ ̼͓͍̟̮ͩd̖̖̥̪͚͆͋͜o̷n̢̝̱͉̘͂͑̉ḙ̴̻̬̳̘̤͊ͬ̉͌̄ͪ̚.͇͍̬̗͙ͫ̉̅̇͆̏ ͓̦̿̃͂T̩͎̑̀h̫͓ͦͪ̄͋̒̾ͪe͎̬̗̝̥̞̓̂͗̇̔ͪ̚ ̞̹͎͓̗͎̑̉͌c͖͈̳̊̊̀ͦ̏̊͗́o̝̐̎̎̒̈́͂̒n̴̘̮̙̬̦ͮs̶̭̤̼͕̿̇̊̆̐ͮe̱̦̭ͯ͂̿ͦ̂̽ͬ͟q͑ͫū̙͓͔̠̄ͫͫ̉ͣě͚̳̪͒̉̆̔͠n̸͓̪̗̳̩̽͗̈́ͫͤc̳̣̝̹̻e͚̹͕͓̘̬̎̂s̠̘͙̹̒͊ ̅̅â̮̤͇͔ͦ͋̂͒͗r̲͇ẹ̩̣͖̥ͤ̂͐͜ ̸͇̓̉ẏ̫̻̪̠̱̲͆o͇͍̗ͥͣ͝ụ̠͚̞͒ͥͩ̐̐̌̍͜r̲̮̳͙̺̟̤ͯͬ̂ ͔̩̘͆͌̀̚o̤̘̲̥̝̲̗̒̿ͧ̍̀w̞̪̱̙͎̽̃͛ͩͫ̓ͬ͝n͑̔͏̣̮̙̥̺.”

All the screens flashed, briefly darkening before returning to what they had displayed before.

A pair of shackles clinked to the ground from around Discord’s wrists. He hadn’t been wearing them moments ago, of course. But such minor details almost never mattered to him. “Well, isn’t that delightful.”

I had never seen Discord smile so wide. “Now, we had a deal. The future in exchange for a few lives, if I recall. Time to see it gets done.”

The ground started to shake, a low rumble that passed through all the city and probably shook the mountains too. I teleported briefly outside. He couldn’t have! Even Discord wouldn’t…

He had. In the distance, I could make out a pillar of smoke topped with something orange as it rocketed upward. Ponies and vitruvians alike actually started cheering as they saw it rise into the sky, no doubt ignorant of what it meant.

I wasn’t, though. I could feel Harmony’s focus again—not just on me this time, but on all of Unicornia. Harmony’s boundaries were fixed by the wisdom of the ancients, all right. Discord had just passed them.

“N-no… Discord, you…”

He was there beside me in the air—vitruvian mask abandoned completely for something older. A mismatch of different parts, a creature from folklore. Something the ancients had made to settle some distant, inhospitable world.

“No, that’s exactly what it looks like—a manned spacecraft. Launched from this district of Equus. I wonder what Celestia must be thinking right now—do you think she knows what’s about to happen?”

“Discord…” I repeated, staring in horror down at the city below. I couldn’t hear ponies cheer anymore. Maybe the diffuse blue glow that now permeated the land, the evidence of Harmony’s eyes on them… maybe they knew what it must mean.

“You said you’d pay the price I asked, Selene. It could have been so much cheaper if only you’d been willing to send one of Harmony’s soldiers back to it. But now… now life in this sector will end.”

At that moment, I saw the explosion. The little flash of lightning in the sky, connecting with the rocket. It hadn’t even exited the atmosphere yet. Then I heard Harmony’s voice again. It was no less overpowering for targeting the entire civilization at once. Not just Unicornia—the invaders would hear it too. Even Discord’s pets would hear it, now that they were in the system with the rest. They would all be doomed together.

“P͢o͠͡p͘ư͜l͠a͏̴ti̢on̢ ́ó̷f t̶h̕͠í͝s̨͝҉ ̢di̸̛͟s͏̧͏t͢͝r͟i̕c̕t̷̷,̵̕̕” said the voice. “Yơ͠ú ̸̢h̴͡͞a̛͠v҉e̡͏ ͠pa͏s̀se̸d̶͟ ̡̨͞ą̛ ͠f̧o͠rb̶͝ì̕͞d͡d̀ȩ͝n ͡͡d͏èv̵͠ęl͏̢ờ͝p͜͞me̡̡n̶̢ta̶̵̛l̶ ̢b̷͡a҉͝rŕi͝҉̡e͝r͘.̛͟ ̨͠T̛h̨̨͟i̴̵s̨̕͠ ̵di̸͟s͝t̢͢͡r̷̵ict ̸͢wį͟l̶l̷̢ ̴̕͡be͏ ̵́re͘s̡̕͟e̷͡t. ̀͢͡Y͜ou̡ ̡m̛á͡y̨ ̡̛r̢ȩ̷t͞u̸rn̨͡ ́҉̨to l̵̵i̸͠v̷͞e̡ ̢́͘b̀e͝lò͜w҉̷ ͘͟on̨lỳ̡͜ a͜f̕t̴̡er ţh̸́e̸̵͘ ͏re̡͡şe̷t̴͝ ̨i͏s͘ ͜ć̛͢o̵̕m͘p͏l͡e҉t̶̷̴e.̸̨ ̷̸̕P͢͡r͏̶epar̢e͟͠ ̴̀͘f̡͘o̢r ̕a̴̶͢ ̛ḿ͜͝om͢e͏̕͝nt͠ of̨̕ ̢dìs̴c̷̵͟o͡m̢̕f̵̢o̕rt͝.”

The air began to billow from below, a terrible tempest that took up whole flurries of snow (and anything else that caught the wind) spinning off in sudden, hurricane gusts. I shielded myself, though my magic would not last forever. Once Harmony determined nothing should be living in this district, the supply of magic would stop just like everything else.

“And so it begins,” Discord said, sounding immensely pleased. “Our last chance for escape.” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly we were back in the palace. “Harmony destroyed every one of them I brought, you know. Anything it could detect.”

We were in a workshop now, where Discord’s vitruvians worked. There was a single object in a glass display-case in the center of the room, about the size of a sack of cooking flour. Inside was a machine, with spindly metal legs and a ragged sail. Discord casually ripped a computer screen from a desk and shattered the glass with a single strike. “This little relic is all that’s left, Selene. Our one last chance to avoid inevitability.”

I could hear the screams echoing through the palace as parts of the structure went ripping away. The wind wouldn’t stay long enough to bring the city down, of course. Soon enough, there would be no air left for wind. “Don’t forget… your half of the bargain,” I whispered. “Platinum, Clover… their expedition. My creations will endure.”

“Of course,” Discord said, and he didn’t even sound malicious as he said it. “I’m just going to give them something to carry.” He snapped off the little metal struts, then tore off the sail and tossed the whole thing roughly into a canvas saddlebag. He offered it to me. “You will give this to Clover. Tell him that his first mission, before all else, is to travel to the furthest reaches of his new home and bury this.”

“Why can’t you do it? I just released every stop on your power, Discord. You can do anything you want.”

He shoved the bag towards me again. “Because what I do isn’t protected, wise Princess Selene. Harmony can undo anything it chooses to undo. But what you do, what your children do… their will is sacrosanct. And what mission would Clover respect more than the last request of his mentor? His creator?”

I took the saddlebag, glowering. “Your prices are too high, Discord.”

“So it seems. Yet when you suffocate beside these others, you may not think so. Death is such a fleeting thing. The novelty really isn’t what it seems.” He vanished.





Melody woke screaming. She found herself struggling, tearing at bonds she couldn’t have broken—restraints made to contain one with enhanced strength. For a few seconds the world swam around her, shapes and outlines blurring together. She wasn’t an ancient Alicorn, one who had revived ancient races Harmony had long eradicated. She wasn’t the ally of Discord who had doomed a civilization.

She was Melody, the useless clone of a translator. She was in Othar—and she wasn’t dead.

“That was horrible,” she croaked, finally relaxing against her restraints. There was no point trying to fight with them—the Forerunner had put them there for her own protection, and it would not release them until it felt that was necessary.

“You’ve returned.” His voice sounded almost surprised. “That is good. Martin… didn’t. Once she began the process.” The drone picked up a tool from the desk, holding it up. “What am I holding?”

“Nitrogen needle.” Melody’s voice was still weak. She had returned to the medical bay, yes. But it wasn’t quite as though nothing had changed. She felt… pressure. It was so hard to explain. No, pressure is the wrong word. Attention. Those memories were still in her mind, vivid and terrible. She knew what it felt like to have Harmony watching her, even peripherally.

“I need to tell you… what I saw,” she said. “I know why Harmony killed those ponies.” She knew more than that. She remembered the words that Selene had spoken, the ones that had forced Harmony’s obedience in releasing Discord. Perhaps they could do more.