Richard was moving out. He already hadn’t been living at home for some time, not for the weeks he had been living with Amy. But now, now that he was welcome to return if he wanted to, Richard intended to never see the house again.
Moriah probably wanted to stop him. She’d been fuming up and down the mansion for the better part of a day, as soon as she realized what he was doing. But he was an adult now, a citizen of Alexandria as much as anyone else. Her power might be tremendous but trying to force him was a crime.
She wasn’t vindictive about it. Richard had heard horror stories from the ponies in Amy’s freakshow bar, of parents or other “loved ones” who had tried a scorched earth policy to retain control of the ponies in their lives. If Moriah tried to stop him from taking what little possessions he had, he probably would’ve had to go to his father for help.
Well, he was anyway. But Moriah wasn’t being like that. No—that would’ve given Richard the excuse of more righteous anger to make the transition easier. Instead—once she calmed down—Moriah started following him. She didn’t interfere as he packed things away—camping supplies, mostly, or anything he thought might have some value in trade. Instead, she tried to persuade him.
“I know this seems awful now, but it will get better.” Didn’t have much impact on him. Though some of the other things she said almost persuaded him. “If Amy really cared about you, she wouldn’t expect you to change for her,” and “I know exactly what it feels like. But you shouldn’t change so much about yourself for something as fleeting as a relationship. You’re young, Richard. You don’t understand how short these things last. What would’ve happened six months from now when Amy moved on to some other girl? Same exact thing. I just made it easier, that’s all. Before the bones in your mind could all set improperly and need to be broken again.”
Richard was not persuaded. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, when his saddlebags were packed with everything of wealth or practical value he owned. “But this is it. Probably goodbye. Maybe forever, I don’t know. I’m leaving Alexandria.”
“It won’t be—” Moriah cut herself off. She stared at him for a long moment, apparently considering his words. Then she sighed, and hugged him. He tensed visibly, expecting some violence, but there was none there. “Be safe, son. I don’t know what you think, but you’ll always have a place here. No matter what happens out there.”
She sounded sincere, but Richard didn’t believe her. He left.
His father hadn’t even been there for any of that adventure—Joseph spent most of his time in the university these days, attending to increasingly esoteric magical concerns. The last time he’d been meaningfully interested in Richard’s life, at least in his mind, was when Richard had managed to get into an advanced spellcasting course he was teaching. But he didn’t have the same talent for the arcane his father did, and that was obvious. He hadn’t passed the class.
And by the end, he hadn’t wanted to.
Mystic Rune was easy to find—his laboratory was the place with the most “no access” signs, most of which penned by Joseph himself with poor grammar or punctuation. The school didn’t have guards, or anything else that might actually enforce the ban, so Richard just followed the signs to their source.
He could feel the magic seething around the former chemistry lab. There was so much of it in places that bits of wall or table had gone clear and crystalline, calcified into something Richard knew was called ‘Tass.’ Mystic Rune himself appeared to be tinkering with a chunk of quartz crystal wrapped in copper wire, which he’d suspended with lots of plastic arms and was yelling at like it was one of his students.
He didn’t notice Richard enter. He stayed back at first, wary of spells that might go flying in a lab like this if he wasn’t careful. They weren’t likely to be the subtle, mocking kind that poison joke might perform on you, but the “smoldering corpse” sort. Strange how big Mystic Rune had seemed while Richard was growing up. Now he realized he was taller than his father, who didn’t look any older. Was that strange? Nopony in Alexandria really looked older. Twenty years just wasn’t enough time when compared to the lifespan of a pony.
“Dad,” he said, as soon as Mystic Rune fell silent and didn’t look like he was casting something. “I need to talk to you.”
The stallion spun around to face him, looking angry—but then he saw who had spoken, and only looked confused. “Richard. Can’t you read the signs? Nobody’s supposed to be in here, it’s dangerous.”
He ignored the question. Can’t you see what I’m wearing? But then, his father hadn’t reacted. He could see, he just couldn’t understand. “I need your help with something magical, Dad. There isn’t anyone in Alexandria better at this stuff than you are.”
“Okay.” Mystic Rune adjusted his tweed vest, straightened his bow tie, then sat down on his haunches. “What is it?”
“I need a permanent transformation spell,” he said, suddenly looking down at the ground. He couldn’t look Joseph in the face while talking about things like this. “The permanent part is important.”
“For an object, or something alive?” Joe asked. “The former is easy; the latter is almost impossible.”
“Why?” He hoped he didn’t sound too desperate, too angry. “Ponies are saying you’re the best wizard in the world! If Equestria changed you permanently, then surely you can change just one pony.”
“I did say almost.” Joseph turned away from him, crossing over to a huge sliding whiteboard. He slid it up, revealing several more covered with writing, until he found a layer that was clean. “An object’s pattern is fixed, but anything alive is always changing. That change erodes the spell over time, and eventually it collapses. Living things want to be what they are. Even if they’re too dumb to want anything, like a flower or a fish.”
Richard followed him carefully to the whiteboard, careful to step nowhere that his father didn’t walk first. There were so many machines in here, each of which buzzed with power. He couldn’t even imagine what each of them might do if triggered accidentally.
“I know how it’s done, academically,” his father went on. “You have to trick the pattern into thinking it was meant to be that way all along. Sort of like… getting vines to grow up a wall. Or something. Is that a good analogy?” He didn’t wait for a response. “That kind of magic is difficult, though. It’s called the practice of Dynamics. I haven’t figured it out. I only know one pony who has.”
He levitated something off the shelf—an old almanac. He spun through the pages until he settled on a map of the southern part of the planet, pointing at a particular spot on it. “Right there. That’s where she is.”
“That’s… Antarctica,” Richard muttered. “Sky said penguins lived there when I was in kindergarten. I don’t think I’ve thought about that place since.”
Joe shrugged. “Maybe penguins do live there. But there’s an Alicorn down there. A… a powerful magical being, who knows the art better than I do. For now. She hasn’t moved from about there ever since I set up my thaumic seismograph.”
“How do you know who it is? If she’s never moved, she can’t have visited you…”
Joe shrugged. “I just know it’s a she because Alicorns always seem to be. In Equestria, anyway. The men with the ambition always seemed to roll over and let them take what they wanted. So, it’s probably a she.”
“And she could change me?” Richard asked, voice low. “Permanently? Not just for a few hours.”
“More than that, Dynamics isn’t really that hard… yes, though. What are you trying to change?”
Richard didn’t answer. Instead, he embraced his father, perhaps for the last time. “Can I take your map?” He didn’t wait for permission, just ripped those two pages right out of the book as he left. “Goodbye, Dad. Thanks for everything.”
He wasn’t all that surprised that Mystic Rune was too stunned to reply.
He made his way through the streets, conscious all the time of the stares he got, particularly around the university. His little adventure with Amy had been a minor scandal in Alexandria, at least once word got out of what he’d done. Nonstandard relationships weren’t terribly controversial in a world where everyone had been transformed into aliens—but using magic to do it was more extreme than most were willing to go. Poison Joke in particular had a bad reputation.
I won’t care about any of you for much longer. Richard pretended not to hear them, ignored their talk about his dramatic capture and Moriah’s “treatment” not long after.
Eventually he reached the lower-end apartments, where he’d been living with Amy for their weeks together. She wouldn’t be at work today. This was Richard’s last chance to convince her.
Richard knocked loudly, though a week ago he would’ve just let himself in. But Amy had been as hurt by this as anyone, and probably wouldn’t be happy about that anymore.
She opened the door after a few seconds of persistence, emerging with a bedraggled mane and bags under her eyes. In less than a second, she was more discerning than his father. “Threw you out?”
“No,” he said. “I left.”
“Richard…” She was the first one to look away from him. “Richard, you know I’m not… we can’t keep going the way we were. I wish we could, but—”
He silenced her with a gesture. “I know. But there’s another way. Mystic Rune told me about it. I can fix this.”
“Come in,” she gestured. “You can tell me about it.”
And he did. Amy was much less impressed than he’d been expecting. “Richard—” She pointed at the map. “That’s the south pole. Do you have any idea how far that is?”
He shrugged. “I dunno, maybe… three times the distance to St. Louis? Maybe four times?”
“No.” She removed a pencil from the table, laying it across the map. “At this scale, St. Louis is about… a centimeter away. This pencil doesn’t even reach that far. It’s so far away that even before the Event our powerful ancestors with their machines and wisdom barely ever went there.” She pointed again. “Most of this map is ocean. You can’t even swim!”
He shrugged. “So what? Ships go in and out of New York. I’ll… I’ll go there! I’ll pay for a ride down… it can’t be that hard.”
“It’s impossible,” Amy argued. “Look, Rich. I wish it wasn’t true. I wish there was a way to get to that magical… whoever’s down there. But there’s not. There’s a reason ponies like your mom didn’t get to change back. We are what we are. Eventually… we just have to accept that.”
“Yeah?” Richard rose, puffing out his chest. “What happens when I do it? What happens when I prove you wrong? I’m going to go to the end of the world for you, Amy! It’ll be just like one of those stories you like. Your handsome prince, returning with tales of glory.”
“Well, handsome princess,” Amy corrected. “But… those are just stories, Richard. They’re for fun. I know they didn’t really happen.”
“I hope you’ll wait for me,” Richard said, shoving back from the table and heaving his pack back onto his shoulders. “I’ll be back, one day. I’ll prove everyone wrong.” He left, hiding his tears all the way out.
It was a long journey—more difficult than anything Richard could’ve imagined. His younger self could not possibly have conceived of the dangers he would face. The walk down to St. Louis nearly killed him, as did the year he worked in a warehouse to pay for passage to New York.
He learned many things in the next few decades. He learned his mother had been right—but she’d been wrong too. He learned that he was stronger than he thought.
He had many adventures—made new friends and knew them as he had never bothered to know his old ones. He forgot the reason for his quest—or maybe it had never been a good reason to begin with.
A little over a century after leaving Alexandria, Richard’s ship the Enduring Favor went down just south of New Zealand, and no more was heard of him again.
Many, many years later, a strange creature walked through the streets of Alexandria. He had arrived by train, though no one would say from where. He looked strange—a little like a unicorn, but with slick skin instead of fur, and a fishlike tail. He brought more magic with him than common ponies, and whenever he spoke he seemed to sing, too.
He looked old—lean and withdrawn. But he looked so strange, nopony could tell what he was, much less how old he might be. Nopony asked.
The creature made only three stops. First—to the Alexandria department of public records, where he looked up a few old newspapers and obituaries. Then to a flower shop, where he bought a few bouquets of white flowers. Finally, he reached the graveyard.
The strange creature visited only two graves that day—or rather, one grave and one monument. One was located in a prominent section of the city’s graveyard, with many statues and lots of flowers.
The specific marker he had come to visit had none, though. He knew why—she had no children and had lived most of her life away from her extended family. The message carved into the stone had been cut there by hoofwriting he recognized well—Alex’s.
She was loved by all who met her. The sweetest things end the soonest, but their memory endures forever.
The stranger swept the monument with magic, and left it overflowing with flowers. “You were right. I never did make it. I guess you found your princess closer to home.”
The second monument was tucked further away, without a husband and with only a single child’s memorial nearby. There were a few offerings here, dried from a recent festival. The stranger replaced them with fresh flowers, and spent a few hours humming the words of a mournful tune.
No one dared speak with him.
When the morning came, the stranger boarded the express train for St. Louis, never to return.