The clang of steel against steel rang out in the crisp air outside of Titus’ manor as Pontius exchanged blows with his sparring partner. Their hooves danced back and forth across the dirt of the practice yard, kicking up little puffs of dust with every step that drifted in the breeze. Sometimes one pegasus would leap into the air, straining his wings to pull off aerobatic dodges or feints, and the dust cloud would grow thicker when he fell back to the ground. Rarity couldn’t help but lean away every time they did so, but it made little difference. She had been sure to seat herself upwind.
She had never been a mare particularly interested in martial arts. They were barbaric practices from barbaric times, and it was more than unbecoming for a lady such as herself to partake in them. When Whitehorn had suggested coming out to watch Pontius training, her first reaction had been one of disgust. She wanted nothing to do with Titus, his son, or such a display.
But he had insisted. She couldn’t shut herself away in her rooms all day. There were still ponies who needed her, and she had to get back into motion. They needed to talk about their next steps. Good arguments, all. She had relented, but brought a book with her. She was still carrying Crazy Rich’s copy of The Count of Mareti Cristo, and it would serve as a pleasant distraction if needed.
Whitehorn sighed as he settled in next to her, reclining in the shade of the orange cloth canopy they were sharing. “Fine weather, don’t you think? It was nice of the Duke to give the workers the day off.”
Rarity pursed her lips. “I doubt niceness has anything to do with it, frankly.”
Whitehorn chuckled. “You don’t give him enough credit, Countess. He nearly died in that battle, you know.”
“And he nearly killed my friend!” Rarity snapped, turning sharply to face the other unicorn. He had foregone his vest today, perhaps because of the heat of the sun, and was wearing only a white shirt. “Did you bring me here so you could try to change my opinion on the bastard that’s trapped me here? No offense to you, darling, but I’m not fond of having my time wasted like that.”
He arched a brow at that. “My Lady, you do realize that the Duke is our ally, correct?”
“Ally?” Rarity curled her lip as she spat the word. “I want nothing to do with him, and neither should you! I would have thought you were better than this.”
“And I know you’re smarter than this.” She shot him a disbelieving look, and he raised a hoof to ward off her rebuttal. “Rarity, please listen to me. The Duke isn’t normally the sort of person that ponies like us would associate with, true. He is hard, selfish, and lacking in empathy.”
“And grace, and decorum, and even a sliver of fashion sense!”
Whitehorn dipped his head. “Yes, and those. But what he does have is power and influence, something that we need. He may be doing it for the wrong reasons, but ultimately he’s still helping to make the world a better place. That makes him our ally, and someone you should treat with respect.”
Rarity clenched her jaw, staring him down with ears back against her head. Was it immature for her to hold a grudge like this when it couldn’t do anything but harm her? Titus was despicable in nature, but fate had seen fit to align their interests, and it would be foalish of her to continue jeopardizing his continued aid as long as that remained true.
She tossed her mane. “I don’t like it.”
“I’ve had to work with many ponies who I don’t like in the past,” Whitehorn said. “Sometimes even after they wronged me. It feels dirty at first, but once it’s all said and done and you’re finally able to cast them aside and move on to greater things—well, it’s all worth it in the end.” He smiled. “I’m not asking you to like him, or even to enjoy working with him, but I am asking you to show him the respect he doesn’t show you, at least until we don’t need him anymore. Do it for Equestria.”
Rarity’s tail flicked side to side as she heaved a sigh. Of course he was right. She closed her eyes and thought of the soot-stained ponies of Heighton, the refugees drowning in Fellis, and the tired villagers that had worn their best threadbare clothes to her wedding. She could draw strength from that. If it was what they needed, and it was, then she could give Titus a cooperative partner. At least for now.
“How long?” Rarity asked. “Until we don’t need him?”
Whitehorn let out a thoughtful hum. “No more than a couple months, thankfully. Once we get the Altalusian vote in Parliament, his part of the bargain is over. You can treat him how you will after that.”
“His part?” Rarity asked. Her ears twitched at the sound of the two pegasi stomping back and forth in the dirt. “What did you promise him in return?”
“The Altalusian prefecture,” Whitehorn said. “Someone has to manage the Gifted at the local level, and I promised him the title once we get the Table put into place. He imagines he’ll be establishing a new dynasty of Altalusian kings.”
Rarity opened her eyes, turning to frown at him. “The title would pass to Pontius? It sounds like you actually are promising him a kingdom.” She fidgeted in place. “Would that really make life any better here for the common pony, darling?”
Whitehorn answered with an apologetic smile. “At first perhaps not, but Altalusia’s sacrifice will give ponies across Equestria an old harmony that they don’t even remember missing. Once we have that base, we can work to spread that harmony everywhere.”
“I see.” Rarity frowned as she watched Pontius exchange blows with his tutor. The blades attached to their wings were dulled with strips of rubber to prevent injury. The tutor ducked backwards, egging Pontius on, and laughed as the colt pressed the attack. A grin flickered on Pontius’ face for just a moment, breaking through his mask of concentration. “And I think I see how I can make sure it happens here sooner rather than later.”
Whether it was coltish infatuation or chivalrous ideals, Pontius wanted to impress her. With some careful guidance and encouragement, she could turn him from the path of his father and mold him into a shining paragon of nobility. By the time the brute Titus finally passed away—and good riddance to him—a kind lord would be ready to take the reins.
And when I let the Duke’s line end with no heir, all of his efforts will be for naught. Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the thought. As much as she may like to imagine raising a beautiful family with her true love, she had no intent of bearing grandfoals for the stallion who had trapped her. She would take his son and turn him to her side, and he would regret the day he thought to own her.
“I’m glad you convinced me to come out here, Whitehorn.” She stood up and tossed her mane, giving her companion a warm smile. “With the two of us working together, there’s no force that can prevent the creation of a better Equestria. What’s our next move?”
Whitehorn grinned up at her. “It’s good to see the dour expression that’s been haunting your beautiful face for the past few days replaced with your usual gusto, my Lady. Parliament will be convening at Harvest soon, and we have to be sure that the island is united enough to send a delegate that will support us. Titus has called a meeting with several other nobles for tomorrow.”
“Exquisite.” Rarity turned to the training ring and saw that the two pegasi had settled down in the shade of the manor for a break. “I’ll be sure to attend. For now, I think it’s best I begin to apply myself to the situation at hoof. Ta ta for now, my sweet.”
She strutted out from under the canopy, allowing the sunlight to glitter against the white gown she had adorned before leaving her rooms. Pontius looked up at the movement, and she caught his eye with a toss of her mane and a gentle smile. He blushed, looking away and dipping his head into the trough of water he and his mentor were leaning on.
The mentor followed his gaze to Rarity and let out a deep belly laugh as she approached. “Chin up, lad! How do ye expect t’ keep troops in line at battle when ye turn tail at th’ first sight of yer own mare?”
Pontius shook his wet mane as he pulled his head out of the trough and took in a deep breath. “I don’t know what yer talking about, Master! Ye always tell me to be careful about overheating, so I’m being careful!”
“Ah, course ye are.” The older stallion stood up and greeted Rarity with a nod as she reached the duo. “Sir Aetius. Th’ lad’s talked much of ye today.”
Rarity dipped into a prim curtsey. She had been expecting a far rougher countenance from a murder instructor. “Countess Rarity. I certainly hope it’s all good things.”
Aetius grinned. He was wearing a padded orange vest with a brown cloth shirt beneath, and the burnt red fur on his face was marred by multiple scars. “I certainly ain’t th’ kind of stallion that would betray his nephew even if he didn’t.”
“Oh, you’re related?” Rarity looked between them, seeing the similarity now that she was up close.
“Aye. Titus knows I won’t go easy on th’ lad just t’ keep pay flowing,” Aetius said. “And he knows he ain’t got half my experience when it comes t’ teachin’ th’ young ‘n eager t’ defend ‘emselves.”
Rarity turned to Pontius with an encouraging smile, hoping to make up for some of her previous attitude, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Perhaps a more direct approach? “So this is the pony responsible for teaching you how to defend me, then?”
He seemed to straighten up some at that, but he kept his gaze to the side. “A-aye, my Lady.”
“Then I owe you thanks, my Lord.” Rarity dipped into a low bow towards Aetius. “Sir Pontius has proven himself to be a stalwart guardian since I arrived on Altalusia.”
Aetius arched a brow. He didn’t bother to hide the skepticism in his voice. “Uh huh.” He turned and nudged the blushing colt with a hoof. “Break time’s over, stalwart guardian. Let’s show ‘er some more of yer moves.”
The two stallions stretched their wings as they trotted back onto the tramped down dirt. Pontius glanced back her way, and Rarity fluttered her eyelashes at him, causing him to stumble over his own hooves.
By the time she settled back into her seat, they were in the middle of another bout. Aetius called out taunting tidbits of advice between blows, and Rarity smirked when she realized that Pontius was putting in more effort than before. No doubt he was trying to impress her.
Rarity glanced towards her book, but didn’t pick it up. Even if she wasn’t interested in the martial arts, there was still much she could learn from watching.
“We need a plan.” Twilight paced back and forth across the little ruined kitchen that had become her base of operations. “We have to get back into motion.”
“Oh, taking the initiative at last?” Midnight paused long enough to sink its teeth into the changeling steak before it. “Perhaps I’m finally rubbing off on you.”
“Not too much, I hope.” Midnight’s only answer was a low, amused chuckle.
Twilight started another lap around the room, idly licking the greasy flavor from her lips. She was finally beginning to feel like she had her hooves under her once more, and with that feeling returned the steadily growing sense that she was wasting precious time. What had she done since arriving in Canterlot aside from bouncing between anger, despair, and self-loathing? Equestria still needed her, and she didn’t even know how long she had spent feeling sorry for herself in the pits of its gravestone. Six wakings? Seven? She had neglected to pay attention after eating the first steak, and time had slipped by unnoticed as she had watched Midnight gorge themselves on the rest of the changeling, pausing only to fetch more books from the Archives or prepare the next meal while the previous one digested.
The kitchen had grown clogged with books, leaving only narrow pathways between the rubble and stacked texts. She had raided the Archives for books on magic theory, time travel, changelings, mythology, exotic monsters, mental maledictions and so much more, but to no avail. She had then turned to the court logs, stepping gingerly through the narrow corridors that once housed the castle bureaucrats, and confirmed her fears: the city had been abandoned on the day of the royal wedding, or soon after. There were no records of anything after that.
Now she had run out of food, and it was clear that the Royal Archives held no answers for her. She bit her lip at the thought of all the knowledge that must have been left behind. Would things have turned out differently had the researchers in the Golden Oaks Library had access to all that accumulated knowledge? Perhaps she and her friends could have saved the city, and those texts could have saved the land. Another straw of guilt settled onto her back.
She couldn’t sit still any longer. The very thought of rest was enough to stir a breathy nausea in the back of her throat, but what did she do now?
She closed her eyes, poring through her last memories from the past. Even now it was still a blurry, jumbled mess, brief flashes of emotion and moments all tangled together.
“Princess Celestia!”
Twilight gasped, eyes snapping open as a brief spark of memory returned to her. She turned to see Midnight watching her curiously. It arched a brow.
“I remembered something,” Twilight said. Her horn glowed as she approached one of the collapsed walls, and the heavy stones twinkled under the embrace of her magic. Forming a temporary path through the rubble was a simple task now that she was properly fed.
Midnight was already waiting when Twilight stepped out into the hall. “Care to share, little flower?”
Twilight started down the hall at a brisk trot. She lit the way ahead with a glowing ball of lavender light that cast its glow over the cracked stones and rotten carpet, while a steady series of pings assured her of no danger ahead. Still, she kept her voice low. “The Hall of Unions. That’s where the wedding was being held.”
“And?” Midnight didn’t walk alongside Twilight, instead preferring to simply appear out of the darkness in front of her. Its voice echoed faintly in the distance. “Are you expecting to find something there?”
“I don’t know,” Twilight whispered back. “But it’s all I have.”
“Oh, you know that isn’t true, my dear blossom,” Midnight cooed. “You always have me.”
Twilight rolled her eyes, but otherwise didn’t justify the honeyed words with a response.
It was obvious to any visitor from a glance that Canterlot Castle was a truly massive feat of architecture and engineering, but Twilight had never truly appreciated its size until years into her tutelage there. It was easy to look up at its towering spires and glittering windows in awe, but only the servants, soldiers, and staff ever grew to understand just how expansive it really was. It had taken years for Twilight to memorize the layout, and even the oldest servants could get lost in the abandoned levels deep below.
The Hall of Unions was on the eastern side of the castle, facing the rising sun, and luckily close to the kitchen she had been staying in. It only took her a few minutes to reach it at her pace, and much of that was from backtracking out of blocked paths.
Memories of foalhood came to Twilight as she walked. Even without the bustle that once filled the halls, even with the world reduced to the little circle of lavender she carried with her, she could still recognize it. There was the dining hall where the griffon delegates had been entertained, and there the servant quarters where she had hid from her brother the last time they played hide and seek. But they were dead memories, and not the ones she was looking for, and so she pressed on.
The double doors of the Hall of Unions hung wide open, inviting her in. She sent her orblight before her and it rose up into the arched ceiling, spreading its dim light over the room.
Twilight gasped, raising a hoof to her muzzle.
“Oh, my,” Midnight chuckled. “And I was beginning to wonder whether anyone had ever died in this pitiful castle.”
Pony skeletons, their last hanging strips of flesh hidden behind dented Royal Guard armor and congealed changeling goo, rested side-by-side with the empty, cracked husks of dead changelings. The torn remains of streamers hung alongside gaping changeling pods, their open bellies drooping with age. Black scorch marks stained the walls and floor like arcs of lightning, all converging in a jagged circle next to a tarnished golden tiara adorned with a pale magenta gem.
“Princess Celestia!”
Twilight nearly tripped as she remembered watching her mentor crash to the ground. She remembered the look of triumph on Chrysalis’ face, the sneer in her voice as she crowed her victory over the Princess. She remembered rushing to Celestia’s side, and shivering at the feebleness of her voice.
“The Elements of Harmony. You must get to them.”
Twilight slumped to the floor next to the tiara. She reached out a hoof, but stopped just short of it. Celestia had fallen here, in this very place, just a thousand years ago. She could almost see it still, back when the sun still shone in through the windows and the tiles had been freshly polished
She almost couldn’t bring herself to touch it. It belonged to the Princess. She must have left it behind for a reason.
But no, Celestia wouldn’t have dropped it on the floor to rest askew for a thousand years. Perhaps she was missing it. Looking around, Twilight tore a strip of fabric from an old streamer and wrapped it around the tiara. She pulled it as tight as she dared before forming the cloth into a simple sash and slipping it over her head. The weight of the gold against her chest was oddly comforting.
“Oh, you are just disgusting,” Midnight hissed. “Are we done here?”
Twilight sighed, climbing back to her hooves and glaring at her other half. “We’re going to find the Elements of Harmony. They could still be in the city.”
“You think your ponies would have left their most powerful artifacts behind?” Midnight let the question hang for a few seconds before continuing with a wicked grin. “Well, I suppose maybe if they’re as foolish as you, then perhaps.”
“Do you really have to insult me with every word?” Twilight growled as she turned for the door. She paused to take a closer look at one of the changeling bodies, and noted the lack of monstrous mutations.
“No, but I do so enjoy it,” Midnight said sweetly. “What are friends for, after all?”
Stepping out into the hall, Twilight checked her surroundings before picking a direction. The tiara bounced against her chest with every step. “You’re not my friend. Friends are there to support each other.”
“Ah, yes, and we know that I never do that, do I?” Midnight hovered on the edges of Twilight’s vision, whispering into her ears. “No, for I am the villain! I protect us when we’re in danger, and strike down those who would do us harm, and prevent us from wasting away into bone and fur. No good friend would commit such acts.”
“You take over my body and hurt others against my will,” Twilight countered. If the Elements were still in Canterlot, then they should be stored in the Hall of Relics, which was a separate tower on the Royal Grounds. She would have to brave the open ground outside the castle.
“Tell me, little flower, but what is a good friend to do when they see you on the brink of death?” Midnight snorted, sending a chill down Twilight’s spine as if she had just walked through some phantom wind. “Would a good friend have left you to die to that winged flame, drowning in your own delusions?”
“A good friend wouldn’t have killed Philomena!” Twilight snapped. She stiffened as her sudden outburst echoed through the cavernous chambers of the castle, and for a moment she imagined some ghostly filly running through the corridors, chasing after the phoenix during a study break. Twilight took a deep breath, keeping her voice under control. “A good friend wouldn’t force me to kill.”
“Mm, one day you’ll understand. You’ll thank me for all the times I’ve kept us alive.”
They reached a tall rectangular window, and Twilight paused. She knew that this window would lead her out onto the battlements, and from there she could cross to the tower which held the Hall of Relics, but that would mean going out into the open. She would have to snuff out her light and navigate the wall by feel if she wanted to avoid getting spotted, but then she might fall off.
Midnight’s cackling laughter rang in her ears. “Us, fear the darkness? I could put an end to that foolishness.”
Twilight stiffened, glancing around nervously. She could feel its dark nature tickling at her eyelids. “What are you talking about?”
“Let me make us better, as I have before,” Midnight whispered. “We shouldn’t be lurking in the shadows like prey.”
“No.” Twilight kept her voice firm. “I don’t want you making anymore changes.”
“For now, maybe.”
Flicking her tail in annoyance, Twilight released the magic of her light and plunged herself into total darkness.
For a moment, Twilight felt herself back within the grip of a changeling pod, her limbs swathed in dark resin and her muzzle submerged in the freezing goo. She shook her head, and the sensation passed.
Taking a deep breath, Twilight pushed the window open and crept over the threshold. She was completely deprived of sight without her horn to see by, and so she was forced to slide forwards inch by inch, testing every step for solid ground before taking it. She crouched low at the sound of a dragon roaring in the distance, which was joined seconds later by a chorus of changeling shrieks. A gout of green flame flared up over the rooftops, giving Twilight a brief glimpse of the ruined city silhouetted against its glare before she was forced to tear her eyes, sensitive to light after so long in the dim, away. Spike.
She waited for a few seconds, giving her eyes time to adjust before cracking them open once more. Lashes of flickering green fire cast the city in a harsh light, silhouetting the crooked towers as if against a sickly sunrise. She crouched low, keeping herself hidden behind the crenellations in case any changelings were able to pick her out with the light, and crawled further down the wall. Another dragon roar rocked the city, causing a loose stone dislodge itself somewhere nearby before falling to the ground with a loud crack.
As much as she would have denied it if asked, it was true that she had largely forgotten about Spike since leaving Canterlot. Perhaps forgotten wasn’t the best word, but she’d been so caught up in other things, in the fate of Equestria and her other friends, that she had never found the time to consider him. Now that she was here, however, she had an opportunity.
Whatever affliction had affected the Equestrians before the apocalypse, Spike seemed to have fallen victim to it as well, and with all the advanced magic books in Canterlot, surely she could find some way to cure him. She had books, time, and a robust understanding of the scientific method; no problem could withstand her for long.
The corner of her lips curved up into a little smile at the thought of speaking with her number one assistant again. No doubt he would be distraught at first, but together they could overcome. She could help him come to terms with his new body, and he could tell her everything he knew about what had happened in her absence. Was the tunnel out of Canterlot big enough to fit an adult dragon?
“Getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” Midnight asked. It let out a dramatic sigh. “You don’t even know if you can save him.”
“Of course I can save him,” Twilight whispered back. “I have to.”
The tower that stood guard above the Hall of Relics loomed before her, and she slipped through the door and back into the darkness with a sigh of relief. She lit her horn, finding herself in what she recognized as a break room for guards on patrol. An empty weapon rack lined one wall, and a single armored skeleton rested among the splinters of a broken table and a scattered deck of faded cards. Twilight grimaced as she stepped past it and made for the stairs.
The tower was still mostly whole, and surprisingly so. The stones of the stairwell were spiderwebbed with a lattice of chips and cracks from which sprouted growths of purple algae that crawled over the walls like congealed blood. The growth grew thicker as she descended, and soon Twilight found the solid clopping of her hoofsteps being replaced by the soft squelching of her weight pressing down into the thick mass.
She came to a wooden door, barely recognizable behind the curtain of algae that sealed it shut. She glanced backwards, meeting Midnight’s judging gaze, and brought a spell to mind. It seemed like forever since she had needed to think of her weed-clearing spell, and it took her a few tries to get the shape of it right. A small smile graced her lips as the purple algae dried out, lost its color, and crumbled into a thin dust at her hooves.
“Careful, little flower. This could be the first step on your murderous rampage.”
Twilight snorted. She grabbed the doorknob in her magic, grunting as it resisted her. She narrowed her eyes and applied more pressure, and the door gave with a sound of something damp peeling away. Thick spirals of dust fell in its wake, and Twilight gave them a few seconds to settle before stepping through.
She was in a long hallway, lined with doors on her right side and completely covered in algae. The doors would take her to curtained booths overlooking the Hall, but they were all sealed shut by thick layers of growth.
Twilight felt a wet, wriggling motion around her hooves, and she bit back a startled yelp as she danced backwards, putting more power into her light. She watched, open-mouthed, as the mat of algae slithered forward, reclaiming the ground around the open door.
“What is this?” Twilight asked, taking a calming breath. The algae reached the door, extending tiny tendrils up to grab at it and snail up its surface. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Midnight placed a chilling hoof under her chin, pushing Twilight’s gaze towards the end of the hall. “Perhaps there is the source?”
Twilight frowned. Dispelling her light, she confirmed that there was a purple glow blooming up from what she knew to be the curving staircase that would take her down to the floor of the Hall of Relics. She shot a glare towards Midnight. “Is that you?”
Midnight chuckled, letting out a mirthful sigh. “Surely by now you can tell when I’m touching our magic? No, that glow comes from neither of us.”
Twilight held the glare a second longer, but she knew that it was right. She turned back to the strange light, watching it strengthen and fade almost like some fey heartbeat, and sent a series of pings in its direction. They returned to her distorted, a jumbled mess of meaningless magic, and some didn’t return to her at all.
Twilight grimaced. She shivered at the almost imperceptible sound of the algae growing further up the open door behind her. “What do you think we should do?”
“Ah, looking to me for input now?” Midnight asked, feigning surprise. “Need you even ask? We press onwards. Or would you let a stray firefly keep you from our goals?”
“It could be dangerous.”
“Fret not, little flower. I shall protect us, whether you like it or not.” Midnight took a few steps ahead of her, looking back expectantly. “Are you done quailing at strange lights, or must I drag you to victory myself?”
With a low growl, Twilight pushed her stiff limbs into motion. The algae writhed in complaint underhoof, and she could hear the quiet, slick whispering as it grew over the little scuffs and scrapes she left with every step. A pungent, sickeningly sweet scent drifted into her nostrils, and she had to pause to hold a hoof to her mouth and hold down bile. She cast a simple spell to dampen her sense of smell, frowning at the unexpected difficulty, and carried on. Magic was hanging heavy in the air, thick enough that it was smothering any attempts she made to cast it herself.
A low humming became apparent as she reached the top of the stairwell, throbbing in time with the light. Cautiously, Twilight poked her head around the corner and squinted into the light.
For a moment, Twilight thought the Hall of Relics had somehow come to life. What was once a vast open space of pristine tile and stone was now clogged with tall stalks of rotten wood and writhing vines. She knew the hall consisted of seven vaults, three on each side holding powerful relics of magic history and the one on the far side containing the Elements of Harmony, but they were impossible to see past the dead forest before her. Only one vault was still visible, the massive stones of its walls cracked and collapsed, the source of the brilliant, pale purple glow that filtered through the trees.
She didn’t need carefully trained arcane senses to pinpoint it as the source of the ambient magic. Twilight watched with wide eyes as thick, thorny vines crept out from the compromised vault, the fibrous flesh a pale, translucent white that seemed to catch the purple glow and channel it as a vein carries blood. The vines drooped down beneath the exposed roots of the trees and spread out across the floor of the hall, visible among the shadows only due to the arcane light they carried.
“This is impossible,” Twilight whispered. She could see the trees growing, the pale white saplings pushing through the blanket of detritus, hardening into flaky trunks of wood, and then growing still. The groan of cracking wood filled the room as one of the dead spires began to topple, the weak wood shattering to splinters as it collided with its closest neighbors. “How does all this grow without any sunlight or nutrients?”
“In a place such as this, ‘possible’ takes on strange meaning,” Midnight said. “Let us fetch our trinkets and begone from here. This magic grates against me.”
Twilight looked to Midnight curiously, cocking her head at the strained expression on its face. “Are you okay?”
Midnight bared its fangs at her, but failed to hide its discomfort. “You would regret insulting me further! Return to the matter at hoof.”
Rolling her eyes at the petulant behavior, Twilight turned her attention back to the hall, her eyes scanning every corner in search of danger. The glow of the pale vines stretched out across the room, but drew up just short of the stairways that flanked the main entrance. She watched, mesmerized, as the glowing tendrils slowly danced side to side, arcing out into new directions before fading away like the echo of lightning.
She would have liked to grab a notebook and perched herself there for hours, studying their motions, but Midnight’s impatience picked at her hooves, a palpable force urging her into motion. She came fully around the stairs, descending to the level of the roots, and tested one with a hoof. It crumbled to pieces, staining her fur with its damp remains.
Twilight went to gather her magic, angling herself towards the back of the room for a teleport, but the oppressive aura of the room denied her. Frowning, she eyed the roots nearest her. Some appeared younger, firmer, and there were places where several overlapped into a gnarled, nearly solid mass. If she was careful, it might be enough to hold her weight.
She raised a hoof, tentatively placing it on the nearest such spot, and pressed down. The wood was spongy and soft, but it pushed back instead of falling away. She added another hoof, and then a third. As she raised her last leg off the stone of the stairs, her full weight came to bear, and she screamed as the wood cracked, plunging her into the depths below.
Twilight was drowning. Her whole body was held in place by the wet grip of the changeling pod. She sucked in a breath of air, desperate to fill her lungs before—
Her hooves hit solid ground. The glowing vines crawled along the floor around her, silhouetting the network of roots above. A layer of damp refuse clung to her fur all the way up to her knees, but she was safe.
Behind her, she heard Midnight’s laughter. Her cheeks grew hot, and she rounded on her doppelganger with a righteous fury even as violent shivers wracked her body. “S-shut up! I could have died!”
Midnight smirked back at her. “And yet we remain alive. A thrill, isn’t it?”
Twilight clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from clattering. She turned away from her laughing shadow with a frustrated groan and, hoping to be back on solid stone as soon as possible, began to slosh forwards.
The muck fought back, tugging at her hooves with such force that she was only barely able to catch herself from toppling forwards and splashing face first through the silvery sheen of its surface. With a grunt of exertion she threw her weight forwards, tearing a hoof free with a wet pop.
“Oh, a step. Only a few dozen more and we might get somewhere.”
“I’m not—ungh—enjoying this any more—agh—than you are!” The ground was treacherous, and as much of an ordeal as it was to raise her legs, Twilight then had to deal with finding something solid to stand on without being able to see. She grimaced as she put her weight onto what she had taken for a small rock only to have it crumble underhoof. She hated that she was able to recognize the sensation of crushing a skull beneath her, and hated that she was able to keep going so easily.
She kept an eye on the writhing vines, doing her best to avoid them, but her progress was slow and the glowing tendrils sometimes grew towards her faster than she could get out of the way. They would wrap around her legs with what Twilight imagined to be curiosity, their feeble grip barely noticeable compared to the strength of the tar. The energy channeled through them was enough to make her vision blur and make Midnight hiss with annoyance, but she would power through, setting her jaw and ploughing forwards until her sight cleared once more.
She didn’t know how long it took to reach the back of the hall, but at last Twilight emerged from the roots and looked up to see the towering doors of the Vault of the Elements, the golden designs engraved into the enchanted metal barely visible behind a splotchy layer of purple algae and the brittle grey vines that crawled up its sides even in death. Twilight took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment’s respite after the grueling journey across the hall.
“Now what?” Midnight asked. It stood beside her, regarding the door with idle curiosity.
“The door’s enchanted to only open to Princess Celestia’s touch,” Twilight said. “But after so long, after who knows what’s happened, I might be able to find a way through.”
It was a long shot, for sure. The Princess’ magic had always been far beyond her own, and she could barely even feel anything past the thick arcane fog that filled the room. She lifted a black-coated hoof and went to press it to where she knew the horn-shaped keyhole should be, only for it to pass through the layer of algae without any resistance.
She frowned. “Huh?” She swept her hoof across the door, peeling the algae away and revealing open space where the keyhole should be. She brought her other hoof up, scratching at the door in earnest as her pulse quickened. “Oh, no. No, no, no!”
As she exposed more and more of the door, she began to make out more details. A wide hole, about as wide as she was and three times as tall, had been made through the center. The metal drooped and sagged around its edges as if it had been melted, leaving the Elements exposed to the world at large.
Twilight strained against the muck, pulling herself up through the hole and entering the vault. A stone pedestal waited in the center of the room. Where there should have been a golden box containing the most powerful magic known to ponykind, there was only open space.
Twilight’s legs went weak, and she collapsed back against the half-melted vault door. “The Elements...”
Midnight stepped past her, examining the empty pedestal with disdain. “As if we needed them anyways. Let us leave this place.”
“No!” Twilight shook herself and climbed back to her hooves. She gnashed her teeth, shutting her eyes and drawing on her magic. It resisted her, the magic only just trickling past the thickness that hung around her, but she refused to give in. “Help me!”
Even with her eyes closed, she could clearly see Midnight arching a brow. “So demanding. Where is the meek little flower I’ve come to know?”
Twilight forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Nrgh! I don’t have the energy to spare on your games right now! Please, just help!”
“Well, since you’ve asked so nicely.”
The darkness surged inside her, and Twilight gasped in pain as she finally forced the magic past the barrier surrounding her. Her horn burst into light, allowing her to see even the furthest corners of the raided vault. Squinting through the pain, Twilight saw a second hole in the room, this one bored high up on the far wall. The pain spiked as she poured more power into her horn, focusing her light into a powerful beam aimed straight through the hole.
A path had been melted straight through the back of the room and out into the stuffy air of Canterlot, framing the top of a nearby tower that Twilight immediately recognized. It was the old tower she had stayed in before moving to Ponyville.
Twilight released her magic, gasping as the sharp pain turned into a pulsing ache just behind the base of her horn. She fell to her knees, breathing hard.
She looked up to see Midnight crouching in front of her, its head cocked to the side. “I suppose you want to go there next?”
Twilight managed a shaky nod. “Whoever took the Elements, they must have taken them to my old tower.”
“So it would seem.” Midnight extended a hoof, and Twilight took it, straightening back up with its help. Its fanged smile didn’t reach its eyes. “I’m ready to help, if you require it.”
Twilight huffed as she turned back to the Hall of Relics and the rotten forest. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
Rainbow followed Applejack into the submarine, reached an armored hoof, and closed the hatch behind her. The sound rang through the hull with a sense of finality as she climbed down the ladder and put all four hooves on the gently rocking floor beneath. She raised her voice, turning towards the cockpit. “Hatch shut!”
Star Trails shouted back. “Clamps off!”
The hull lurched from side to side and Rainbow lowered her stance to keep her poise. Sea Sabre’s powerful voice carried easily as she yelled, “Engines!”
There was a burst of steam, and slow ticking sounds began to fill the air. They sped up, overlapping into the same staccato hum to which Rainbow had grown used to falling asleep during the past weeks. The drone of the hull served to calm her nerves as the floor shifted beneath her; they had begun their dive to Canterlot.
Flint stepped in from the little hatch that led to the bridge. Sometimes Rainbow wondered how he even fit. He beckoned towards Applejack as he squeezed past, towards the torpedo room. “Give me a hoof, will ye, Jackie?”
“Sure thing, Flint.” Applejack gave Rainbow a smile and nod before following the larger stallion to the rear of the sub.
Rainbow offered up a weak smile of her own, watching them go before wordlessly turning the opposite direction. Jackie? When had Flint started calling her that?
She had no knowledge concerning the workings of the submarine, and she wasn’t particularly looking for a task to busy herself anyways, so she made for the front compartment, the relatively open space between the control room and the airlock where supplies and equipment could be stored. Closets and cabinets competed for wall space with dials and machinery, the rattling of their contents sometimes interrupted by the sound of venting steam. A pair of thin cloth beds were folded up against the walls, and for a moment Rainbow considered pulling one out to sit on, but decided against it. She’d spent a lot of time in her dive suit in the past few days, and she’d since learned that everything from beds to rocks to trees felt just as hard when her flanks were covered in metal. On the bright side, the custom suits came with a layer of cushioning that kept the discomfort to a minimum as she settled into a corner to wait.
How long had it been since she’d had a moment like this, just herself and her thoughts and the time to indulge them? Most of her time in this future had been defined by a sense of helplessness, and the agitation it spawned when she was made to sit and watch while her friends risked their lives to discover what had happened to their world. She didn’t bother trying to hide her grimace as she thought of all the times she’d paced back and forth in the sub as she listened to Twilight nearly dying at the bottom of the ocean, or being unable to help when monsters threatened the submarine itself.
She remembered the emptiness she’d felt as Gava had carried her around like a sack of hay. The wooden planks of the griffon’s ship were still clear in her mind, the image muddied only by the blurry redness that had clogged her vision back then. She lifted a hoof and tugged at her mane, pulling her rainbow bangs to hang over her eyepatch. Or she hoped they did, at least. It was difficult to tell without a mirror.
She’d been so angry since then, but as she felt the sub dive ever deeper towards the ruins where she hoped to find her lost friend, all she felt was an uneasy trepidation. Her days had been filled with rigorous training ever since the meeting with Crazy Rich, and even at night she was called to assist with the preparations for the second expedition to Canterlot. What little time she’d had to herself was spent eating the custom-ordered meals cooked by the estate chefs before she passed out into deep, dreamless sleep, only to be roused the next dawn by Sea Sabre and marched out to do it all over again.
They had practiced with their dive suits on, submerged in Crazy’s private pools. They had run dozens of laps around his gardens, both armored and not. At the end of each training session, when Rainbow’s whole body ached and she struggled to keep her thoughts together, Sabre had confronted her with new challenges. Rainbow shrugged her shoulders as she felt the bruises sustained when she was made to fight an armored Flintlock with her wings bound to her sides. He had really seemed to enjoy himself that day.
Sometimes she had wondered whether it was punishment for getting Crazy to send Sabre’s team back into the ruins where they had nearly died, but she didn’t dare ask. Maybe it really was just Sabre preparing her for the dive as she’d said. It seemed unlike the stern pegasus to hold a grudge like that, but then Rainbow had only known her for a few weeks.
Now at last Rainbow was free to think, and even with the mental exhaustion she’d accumulated she couldn’t bring herself to relax. If it came to it, could she take Twilight down? It wasn’t a question of ability—she was Rainbow Dash, after all—but of heart. Was it more loyal to end a friend who had lost herself to the corruption that had taken Equestria, or to let oneself be struck down trying to redeem her? There was a part of Rainbow that hoped that she would never find Twilight, that she’d never have to confront the question. Her wings twitched within their armored shells, and she wondered how much longer it would be.
She looked up as Applejack stepped into the compartment. The cowpony cocked her head. “Ya feelin’ alright, RD?”
Rainbow snorted, forcing a grin. “Pfft, of course! Why, you nervous?”
Applejack sat down next to her with a concerned frown. “Rainbow, y'all know I can tell when there’s somethin’ botherin’ ya, right?”
Rainbow rolled her eye and looked away. “I’m fine, AJ. Just a little tired is all.”
“Uh huh.”
Seconds passed, and Applejack said nothing. Rainbow kept her gaze on the opposite wall, knowing that the truth would be out if she met her friend’s eyes, and tried to look bored. She pursed her lips as she felt a feather out of place, and she realized she wouldn’t be able to fix it until she got out of her suit. After just a few minutes, she could already feel her defenses cracking.
Applejack cleared her throat as if to say something, but Rainbow couldn’t hold herself back any longer. “Do you think we’ll have to kill Twilight?”
After a few seconds, Applejack spoke. Her voice was soft. “Now why would you be thinkin’ some wild thing like that, sugar cube?”
“Twilight had to kill Owloysius,” Rainbow said, still looking away. “Philomena, too. Spike tried to kill us. It just seems like—y’know.” She bit her lip. “Like there’s only one way out.”
Applejack sighed, leaning over to comfort Rainbow with her weight. “Rainbow, Twilight’s a clever filly. She wouldn’t let somethin’ like that happen.”
“She wouldn’t let it, no.” Rainbow’s voice cracked as she leaned into her friend. “But what if she doesn’t get a choice?”
Silence. Hesitantly, Rainbow turned to face Applejack, and saw that she wasn’t the only one with redness in her eyes. Applejack gave a small, lopsided smile. “She’s always got a choice.”
Rainbow sniffled, giving a little nod. “Yeah.”
“Hey, you guys ready?”
Rainbow jumped, her heart skipping a beat as Star Trails’ voice suddenly came from her blind side. She turned sharply to face the unicorn. “Wh-what?”
“Oh, hay, my bad.” Trails offered an apologetic smile before continuing. “Helmets on in ten. We’ve reached the tunnel.”
Rainbow stood up, meeting Applejack’s gaze with a deep breath. “We’ll be ready.”
“Right on,” Trails said. Her hooves clanged against the floor as she stepped out of the room.
Rainbow held out a hoof, and Applejack took it. The two mares shared a clunky hug.
We’re coming, Twilight.