//------------------------------// // Red Sky of Morning 2: The Storm and the Siren // Story: Odyssey of a Thief // by Carapace //------------------------------// Of all the things Twilight could have done without, she was quite certain watching a seasick dragon in the throws of agony was among them. Poor Hadhkûna hadn’t been joking when she said she’d never been sailing before, and she was running the full gauntlet on every last bit of the joys of its symptoms. The opulent white scales on her face and muzzle had lost their color, then tinged a dull greenish gray. Those splendorous purple curls hung limp and lifeless, falling over her mane like a veil even as she bowed her head and covered her eyes, moaning like a filly with the flu for the first time. Then again, that was probably about how she felt. The waves made the ship pitch and yawn like a foal splashing about in a tub, the wind whistling and playing through the sails with such force the edges flapped and snapped against the lines. Perhaps the only solace it brought was a cool tracing along Twilight’s coat. For Hadhkûna, however, it was torture. The great she dragon shivered and curled in on herself, her fangs chattering together. “I-I-I’ve n-n-never been so cold!” she complained. She didn’t whine, heavens no. Twilight had been corrected on that several moments prior.  A true dragon never whined, as her lover claimed. Right before she let out a sudden retch, then quickly laid her head upon the deck and clutched her belly. Twilight prayed Hadhkûna kept whatever poor creatures she’d eaten before their trip down—for multiple reasons, really. The last thing she needed was to see what that deer she’d caught her lover eating looked like after she’d swallowed it. Watching it the first time had been quite enough for the Princess of Thieves. “This is the worst!” Hadhkûna tried to curl herself tighter, like a foal on a winter night. “The worst possible thing!” Skittershy chewed on her bottom lip, seemingly at a loss for what to do to alleviate Hadhkûna’s suffering. She’d thrown her nice, fluffy blanket across her old friend’s neck, but that had been about as much use as draping a napkin across a full grown stallioon’s in the midst of a storm.  Speaking of which … To the south, Twilight could see the distant shoreline had long since faded from view, but she knew it to extend out like a sort of barrier against the tumultuous southern sea. A small boon they’d soon lose once they made their way farther out, save for a few chain islands. To the north, however, lay the danger. Those purple clouds lining the horizon rolled through the sky toward them like a black shroud. Deep within the darkness, Twilight could see lightning flashing and brine blow across the surface of the sea as those winds tried to carve off a share of the water. Even as she looked out, The Skylark lurched to its port side and a wave came crashing down against the side, spraying cold water across the deck. Hadhkûna let out a muffled shriek as soon as it splattered upon her scales and spines. “Twi-liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!” she most certainly didn’t whine. “You didn’t tell me seafare would be like this!” “I also never said it couldn’t get like this,” Twilight retorted before she could catch herself. The baleful look her words earned drew a sheepish smile. She scooted closer, nuzzling Hadhkûna’s wrist. “Sorry,” the mare murmured, dotting a kiss upon those scales. The cold, clammy feeling nearly drew a frown. Her lover truly wasn’t well. When had she even been in such a similar state in her life? “Is there anything I can do to help?” “Destroy all ships,” came the piteous reply. “And every stupid sea in this world. We’ll fly next time—Hurk!” Skittershy swiftly snared an empty barrel with her webbing and tugged it over, then stuck it under her friend’s snout with a flat look. “If you’re going to be sick, at least do it in a barrel and not all over the deck, if you don’t mind.” Wrinkling her snout, she added, “Just try to ignore the smell of that preserved meat.” “Oh heavens, why did you remind me! That meat was disgusting!” Her ears burning, Twilight ducked her head and made to cover herself with her wings. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know preserved meat tasted terrible to predators used to eating it straight off the bone. Or those who preferred to drink vital fluids. Neither had been particularly enthused when Twilight’s big reveal that they wouldn’t have to fish or pluck an unfortunate sailor from the crew involved eating, in their minds, spoiled goods. Hadhkûna had been caught eying a few up and mumbling, “Surely, they wouldn’t miss one or two.” Though, to be honest, that had been somewhat expected. When Skittershy started to sneak over to a couple with fangs bared, though, Twilight made sure to put herself between the crew and the hungry spider mare, and went straight for the proverbial low blow. “I don’t think those foals in Port Sommerset would’ve found that a welcome look,” she’d muttered. To her relief, Skittershy snapped right out of it, albeit with a flash of pain across her features. The spider mare had since made herself content by doting on Angel and Hadhkûna, largely staying silent and refusing to meet Twilight’s gaze otherwise. That would certainly be a delightful conversation to have once they made it to Trottingham. Twilight was looking forward to that about as much as she was seeing that nosey little nag, Sunset, upon her return to Canterlot. A flash of lightning threw their shadows across the deck, then came a crash of thunder with such force Twilight could feel it upon her skin. Her coat stood on end and feathers bristled, she looked up, grimacing at those near-black clouds that had slowly blocked out the sun’s light and heralded them into an ominous darkness. There was no drizzle or tepid droplets to offer warning of what was to come. The storm hit like a freight train at full speed, a heavy shower descended upon them with a rush of water and constant drumming upon the deck, and a howl of raging winds.  With a yelp, Twilight threw up a hoof to try to shield her face, stumbling into Hadhkûna’s chest as the ship began to pitch and roll dangerously onto its starbord side. She saw Hadhkûna open her mouth to shriek again as she gripped the deck with her mighty claws, the sound blocked out by another roar of thunder. Splinters of wood flew up and stung her chest. Another wave loomed over the ship before crashing down upon the bow and spraying everyone aboard with cold seafoam. The crew of pegasi, having forgone their acrobatics, scrambled about, frantically trying to tie everything down. “Tie it down!” Headwind called. “Tie it down and get below!” His eyes found Twilight’s, she could see fear written across his face. He opened his mouth to call out an order, but a sudden wave and lurch of his ship sent him sprawling across the deck and into the mast. He fell in a crumpled heap, groaning even as a pair of crew ponies helped him up. It was chaos. Twilight could do little but watch in horror as pegasi, proud masters of weather, were thrown about, scattering and struggling against the very force of this storm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the crew ponies clinging to the base of the mast for dear life, his eyes clenched shut and mouth muttering something as if pleading to the heavens. Or, perhaps, pleading to one in particular for deliverance. All that yelling, the roar of thunder and drumming of rain, and startled squeaks and timid growls from spider mare and she dragon alike filled Twilight’s ears like some sort of macabre orchestra. Her own heartbeat hammering within her breast served to keep the time. But above it all, she could hear something else. A voice, ethereal and enchantingly beautiful, floating through those howling winds and wrapped itself around Twilight like a warm blanket and filled her ears with a song so sweet, so enchanting she froze in place, her eyes wide and ears perked to listen. That voice sang in a language vaguely familiar, but far older than any pony ears had heard in recent centuries. It held a strange mix of the tongues of those nations surrounding the Mare Nostrum—or the Mesogeios Thalassaddle before the rise of Roam, back when the city-states of Hellas stood tall and mighty—languages only the scholarly or those who walked the land during that time knew. And yet, far older. As if the singer had walked before ponies, gryphons, diamond dogs, and even the great serpents had begun to crawl. And that melody! Twilight felt her heart skip a beat. That voice! That song! Even as it rose, seemingly with the might of that terrible storm and sudden arc of jagged light that hit the water just a few lengths from the bow, she found her breath hitched. Slowly, she rose and slipped out from Hadhkûna’s grasp and began to walk toward the railing, the corners of her eyes stung with unshed tears, a bright smile tugging at her lips.  She had to get closer somehow. She had to hear this beautiful singing from the source! A hoof grabbed her by the tail and tugged her back before she’d taken three steps from the little group. Pain shot up her spine, snapping her out of her stupor. Twilight shook herself and turned a questioning look upon Skittershy. Her friend’s eyes shone with horror. “What are you thinking?” she cried over the howling winds. “If you get close to the railings, you’ll be thrown over!” “But that voice!” Twilight replied, casting a fervent look out over the waters as if she expected to see some gorgeous pegasus gliding along. She looked back at Skittershy, her breath catching. “Tell me you heard that singing! It was so beautiful!” “I can barely hear you! Let alone singing!” Any offense taken by Twilight’s words forgotten, the spider mare reeled her in by her tail until she was tucked safely away beneath one of her hooves. Angel Bunny seized the chance to dart down Skittershy’s hoof and slip into his old hiding space in Twilight’s bottomless pouch.  Skittershy, meanwhile, bodily lifted Twilight off the deck, then hurried over to prod Hadhkûna’s shoulder and shout, “We need to get below! Into where they put all the cargo!” The great she dragon shivered and moaned, shaking her head. “Not a chance!” Hadhkûna buried her face in her claws. “I’m not sitting with the cargo like some pauper!” Another wave crashing upon the deck sent Skittershy staggering. With a grunt, she drifted closer to her friend once more. “If we don’t move, we might get thrown over, you great ridiculous dragon!” Leveling her with a stern glare, Skittershy leaned in close and yelled, “Put your pride aside and get below! We need to get to safety!” Even as Hadhkûna complained and shifted like a little filly trying to resist being called to rise, the spider mare refused to relent. It was that persistence, all those years spent nursing a family of mischievous bunnies that served Skittershy well as she looped a hoof around her friend’s claw and actually pried it off her face and managed to pull it forward. At last, Hadhkûna rose with a groan and a most ungraceful lurch. “Oh, fine!” she grumbled. “But I don’t like it one bit!” Whether or not Skittershy cared for her opinion, Twilight didn’t know. She managed to wriggle free of the spider mare’s grasp, offering a smile and silent vow to help as she darted around to nuzzle just beneath Hadhkûna’s jawline and whisper encouragement as she lumbered forward until she came to an open square cut out of the deck so the crew could lift up crates and safely lower them into the cargo hold.  The great she dragon peered into the depths with a frown. “No staircase? You can’t expect me to simply hurl myself—eek! Now, see here!” Skittershy withdrew her fangs from Hadhkûna’s flank and glared. “Get in there now!” she cried as she delivered a sharp shove that sent her friend tumbling head over tail into the dark depths of the cargo hold, where she landed with a dull thud and a flurry of old curses. Then, the spider mare turned her gaze upon Twilight.  “I’ll be right behind you,” Twilight said with a gesture into the hold.  Those sky blue eyes narrowed. “No tricks?”  “No tricks. I don’t play around with storms on the sea. Just get yourself in and tell me when you’re ready for me.” The little frown that marred Skittershy’s face betrayed her discontent. She’d already seen Twilight get into trouble after such a promise once, no doubt, she wondered if she shouldn’t just pick her up and carry her down. Fortunately, she granted the mare a sense of dignity this time. Skittershy turned and hopped over the edge, spreading her legs wide for a graceful landing. Twilight didn’t even hear a sound when she hit bottom until she cried out, “Aim for the center so you don’t hit a crate! Things have shifted about in here and I’m going to have to web them in place!” “No thanks to you throwing me down here headfirst!” “Complain later, help me move this now so Twilight and Angel don’t get crushed!” Oh, good. Shifting cargo. Casting a look back at the crew, then a glance down at her pouch, Twilight unfurled her wings, ready to ease her landing. But first, she delivered a little prod to the side. “Angel, I’m going to jump down You okay in there?” A series of chattering squeaks came in reply. The pouch began to shift as he struggled to reach the top, then he pushed the flap open and stuck his head out and pointed into the depths of the pouch. Twilight’s world ground to a screeching halt, the storm, the sailor’s cries, even that beautiful singing faded into the background as she took note of the colors tinging his snowy white fur a strange blend of purple, amethyst, and pink. It clicked. She held out a hoof to pluck him from the pouch, then snaked a few tendrils of magic inside to retrieve her gemstones. Sure enough, the instant they were free of her pouch, Twilight was met with a wondrous sight—all three of her gemstones glowing bright as miniature suns deep within the darkness of this terrible storm, all pulsating together in perfect harmony. Her breath caught in her throat. Twilight reached out with a trembling hoof to touch the edge of that amethyst starburst Hadhkûna had given her just a few short days prior. It seemed brighter than the others somehow, like whatever sparked it within was older, deeper. More powerful. Then, it happened. The amethyst starburst suddenly sparked and shone pure white, followed by its two sisters. There was a crack, a rush of wind as a lance of amethyst, purple, and pink shot through the storm, piercing into its very heart and spreading through those black clouds like all those textbooks depicting medicines killing an infection she once read. Once spent, the gemstones lost their light and seemed to dim, each clouding over as if the power within had gone into some sort of slumber. Twilight could only gape in muted shock as she floated the gemstones closer so she could inspect them once more, as if seeing them for the first time. “What,” she whispered, “in the name of Celestia and Luna are you?” All around her, she could hear the sailors stirring, each of them rising from where they’d fallen and gazing up at the sky in wonder.  “What was that light?” “Where did it come from?” “How could it overpower one of the storm sirens’ songs?” Unease crept into her chest. While the crew cast their gazes skyward, she swiftly slipped her gemstones into the confines of her bottomless pouch once more and tried her level best to look innocent. She even feigned interest in the slowly dying storm just as they. “Twilight!” Skittershy’s voice jolted her out of her act. The mare turned to peer into the dark depths of the cargo hold to find each of Skittershy’s eight baby blue eyes narrowed in a stern glare. “You get down here! What are you up to up there?” “Nothing! I just—the storm—it’s died down!” “What? That’s—how could a storm like that just die?” From somewhere nearby, Hadhkûna groaned and added, “Does this mean the world will stop spinning?” “I don’t—I have no idea!” Twilight glanced back at her pouch, then down at Skitershy and gestured at it. “The gems! I don’t know what happened, but they did something! I couldn’t explain it if I tried!”  A cool breath of wind blew across the back of her neck. Twilight took another quick look over her shoulder as if to confirm the storm was gone, silly, she knew. It was indeed, all it afforded her was a glimpse of a mare garbed in a flowing white dress among the crew, and little more. She blinked. That mare hadn’t been on the ship before. Slowly, Twilight began to turn, her eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open. Her ears began to splay. The newcomer was gorgeous, stunning in every sense of the word. Her coat was the same shade of blue as a clear, open sky, with a cloud and tricolored lightning bolt emblazoned on her flanks. Her mane and tail shone all the colors of the rainbow, and her eyes were a deep, vibrant reddish-purple. Cerise, if she were right. Each stallion gaped in open shock, backing away from this newcomer until she had nearly three full pony lengths between her and the nearest among them. Her lips were curved into a snarl, she gave her wings a confident rustle, then unfurled them just slightly in open challenge. “Who among you dares insult me?” she asked. “Who among you dares disrupt the storm I sang?” Silence fell over the ship. Twilight felt her heart sink into the very pit of her stomach. The storm she sang? By Celestia’s grace, the storm sirens were real. Thinking quickly, she cast a quick barrier spell over the cargo hold, adding an obscurant haze almost as an afterthought.  “Twilight!” Skittershy hissed. “What’s going on up there? What are you—” The Princess of Thieves added a one-way silencing spell on top of it and cast a meaningful glance into the cargo hold, and made a placating “wait” gesture. The last thing she needed was this mare, this storm siren and daughter of Ouránio Toxo, getting into a fight with Skittershy and Hadhkûna while on the ship. Hadhkûna alone would be more than enough to put it under. She returned her gaze to the storm siren just in time to watch her begin to make a slow circuit around the deck, those haunting, keen eyes of hers surveying each stallion in turn. “Who is it?” she asked once more. “Who would be so bold to levy their power against one of Ouránio Toxo’s daughters? Come now.” The storm siren stopped and brought herself nose to nose with a burly stallion who made a face like he longed to shrink into the woodwork. “Which of you would challenge Melodía Kataigídas, eldest daughter of the goddess of thunder and storms?” Oh, spiffing. We’ve graduated from pissing off monsters and deposed kings to angering literal demi-goddesses. Twilight wondered idly if storm sirens could see through invisibility spells. Or if she’d just rip apart the ship the instant she noticed a missing pony. Headwind managed to shrug off the stallions helping him and stepped forward, sweeping the cap off his head. “M-Miss Melodía, please,” he stammered. “I-I don’t know who would have disrupted your storm, none of my crew have such power! It must have been some other  creature!” Melodía turned to level him with a critical stare. With a derisive sniff, she flicked her tail and said, “Do you take me for a fool, Captain Headwind? I know this ship and its crew, and this ship was fated to be tested by my storm.” “I understand, but please have mercy!” Headwind dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “We’ve been faithful, respectful of your mother all our lives! Please have mercy on us!” “You have been faithful, that much is true.” Melodía raised her brows, then brought a hoof up to stroke his mane in a rather mocking gesture. “That’s why you were fated to be tested, silly mortal, not sunk outright. My mother wished to see just how able your crew was, and dispatched her most powerful and able daughter to see it done. Should I return to her side and report that some other interrupted her, I wager she will be most …” she trailed off, her eyes wandering across the deck, lingering on each pony in turn until they met Twilight’s. Time stood still. Twilight could feel her heart leap into her throat and choke her airway. Slowly, comprehension began to dawn upon the storm siren’s face and, with it, a smirk. Melodía stepped away from Headwind and swaggered toward Twilight, her hips swaying and tail swishing in a slow, sensuous motion that spurred memories of a few trips to those exotic clubs and parties in far off lands when her silver tongue won entry. This, however, was all that and more.  Enough to make her mouth to dry and wings itch to fluff and display her feathers. Melodía Kalaigías came to a stop, her nose a mere hair’s breadth from Twilight’s. “You,” she murmured, her lips almost tickling against Twilight’s in a way that made her back go rigid. “You aren’t of this crew, little mare.” Blinking, Twilight eyed the storm siren for a moment, noting the stark difference in their height. She decided in that instant that pointing out it was she who looked down at Melodía probably wasn’t in the best interest of anyone present. She felt a sudden, sharp impact against her barrier. Twilight winced and forced a smile. “Me?” “You.”  “Ah. Well, no, I’m just a traveling mare. You certainly caught me.” A bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. Was it too late to jump over the side and try flying for it? “What ever gave me away?” Melodía’s eyes flashed. “You’re new to these waters, these lands. Your accent, your clothes, the way you carry yourself, even the way you smell is foreign. And an alicorn! Here, of all places!” A single brow arched, her voice dropped an octave. “Well, isn’t this just my lucky day?” Twilight fought to maintain her smile. “Lucky? Like, lucky as in you get a free sundae at the next storm siren gathering lucky? “Witty as well! Oh, I think I like you more and more.” Fixing Twilight with a heated gaze, she purred, “Why did I ever bother with those little minnows when the big fish was standing so graciously in view the whole time? You must be that Sun Princess’s rival in strength to weaken my storm.” “I-I wouldn’t really say—” “You’ll do just fine.” Melodía turned away and strode to the center of The Skylark’s deck, then stopped and pointed to Twilight. “You will sail to Thunder Bay Harbor and dock. This mare will meet me atop the north tower overlooking the Fountain of Astrapí, alone, and answer my challenge in repayment for disrupting my storm. If I see you deviate from that path …” She turned and locked eyes with Twilight, flashing a winning grin. Then she took a deep breath and sang a low, haunting note. A bolt of lightning struck missed The Skylark by mere inches. The water hissed and boiled angrily. The storm siren unfurled her wings. “Then I send this ship and all aboard to the depths of my uncle’s sea, and tell my mother that Fate was right when he voiced his doubts about its crew.” With her piece said, Melodía pumped her wings once, and shot into the sky with a crack and crash of thunder echoing through the air.  Once Twilight was certain she was gone, she let out a groan and slumped to the deck, her horn flashing as she dropped the barrier to allow her friend to rise at last from their hiding place and level her with a furious glare. She held up a hoof in defense. “I just wanted to keep things calm so she wouldn’t do anything while she was on the ship.” “I heard,” Skittershy replied, pursing her lips. “And now she’s spoiling for a fight—a storm siren, Twilight.” “Yeah.” Twilight sighed and shook her head. “I don’t have a choice this time. And if she sees any creature other than me …” A low groan made her ears twitch. Hadhkûna at last poked her head through the opening, her scales still tinged a sickly green even as she tried her best to look menacing. “Oh, to Tartarus with that arrogant thing!” she hissed. “Just get close enough to Thunder Bay and I’ll fly over and burn her to nothing in a—a—ohheavens! Hurk!” The she dragon quickly ducked into the cargo hold and retched, drawing a grimace from all present. “If she didn’t use that barrel, I swear,” Skittershy mumbled. Shaking her head, she looked down at Twilight. Her shoulders seemed to slump.  The spider mare sighed and came over to sit by Twilight, pulling her into a hug and laying her head atop the smaller mare’s. The tips of her fangs teased into Twilight’s scalp as she murmured, “Why do you always have to find your way into trouble?” Twilight didn’t try to fight or wriggle free. Everything felt weak, her muscles so tired. She just leaned against Skittershy and buried her face in her friend’s chest. “I wish I knew.” They stayed together throughout the trip to Thunder Bay Harbor, joined a short while later by a sickly she dragon who was content to curl herself up around her lover and friend and drape a wing over them. The only thing she could do to try and offer protection in her state. Even in sickness, even in anger, Hadhkûna loved her and Skittershy held her close. Somewhere in the depths of her bottomless pouch, those three gemstones began to glow anew. At first glance, Twilight would’ve almost dared to imagine Thunder Bay Harbor and the little port town had seen better days. Then she took a second glance and noticed that the entire blasted place had so clearly been beaten, battered, and beset by terrible storms for as long as it stood. The rocks ringing the bay had been scared and carved by lances of lightning and mighty waves, and the town itself had been fashioned out of dull gray stone. Perhaps the only way they could assure their homes wouldn’t be ripped apart by a strong gust.  The waters swirled and churned as the wind whistled through the harbor, blowing her mane this way and that. She could hear Headwind barking orders and curses as The Skylark’s crew tried to wrestle the ship into docking position. Quite a feat, especially with how quickly they set about tying off to avoid plowing into the dock itself. She felt Hadhkûna give a discontented rumble and Skittershy’s hooves squeeze her tight. They didn’t want her to leave the ship, even if it meant saving the rest.  Truth be told, neither did she. But the lessons learned from two princesses weighed heavily on her mind—Celestia and Luna both would have died before they allowed others to suffer in their stead, and nearly had many times. So, too, would Twilight. She leaned up to nuzzle beneath Skittershy’s chin, then planted a soft kiss upon Hadhkûna’s nose. “I have to go,” she whispered. Her lover’s massive wing all but pinned her to the deck. “No, you don’t,” the she dragon grumbled, her voice strained with pain. Sea sickness had been unkind to her, the one enemy she couldn’t simply burn. “Give me time to recover. I’ll burn that so-called storm siren to cinders in an instant! See if I don’t!” Twilight smiled and kissed her lips. “I think we all know we don’t have the luxury of time to wait for you to feel better,” she replied, adding another kiss for good measure. “She’s watching us. The instant she thinks we’re taking too long or you start for that tower, she’ll bring down everything she has upon us. And probably the town, too.” The grumble that came in reply only made her smile grow. Twilight nuzzled a slow circle around her snout and whispered, “Don’t I get a lick for luck, honey?” “Honey?” Hadhkûna’s cheeks flushed pink. “That’s the first time you’ve called me such a name.” “I’m your gemstone, aren’t I?” The little mare beamed. “You’re big and sweet. Can’t you be my honey?” “Perhaps if you return to me whole and unspoiled.” Wrinkling her snout, Hadhkûna sighed and raised her wing, withdrawing her head from Twilight’s reach. “I think it best if I didn’t with how sick I’ve been, darling.” Those sapphire eyes glinted with just a hint of mischief. “Though, if you need affection, I’m sure Skittershy would be delighted to give you a—” Skittershy shrieked and batted at her friend’s chest. “You big! Troublesome! Dragon! That’s the last time I tell you anything!” As Hadhkûna drew back, chuckling despite the mood, the spider mare gave a sad sigh and turned to Twilight. She swept the little mare into  her embrace without hesitation, all but squeezing the breath from her lungs. “Ack! My ribs!” Twilight tapped her friend’s shoulder. “Skittershy, my ribs!” “Don’t be such a foal, I know how tight I can squeeze without breaking them,” she scolded softly. The spider mare held  her at hoof’s length for a moment, those baby blue eyes brimming with fear and something she couldn’t quite place. With a sigh, she set Twilight down on the deck and stepped back, closer to Hadhkûna. “I know it sounds odd given how things went, but … well, do a better job outwitting her.” Sputtering, Twilight leveled her with a scandalized look. “Hey!” “Seconded,” Hadhkûna put in, arching a scaled brow. “Little miss over hill and rivers.” “Har-de-har. Won’t you two be surprised. I already have a plan.”  The pair raised their brows. “Oh?” Hadhkûna asked. “And what, pray tell, is that?” “Tell you if it works.” And once I actually figure one out. With a flick of her tail, Twilight turned and strode toward the gangplank, sparing a little nod to Headwind and the crew as she passed.  She did her level best to keep her hooves moving on that long trot down the dock and into town despite the cold shiver running down her spine, her mind conjuring visions of Melodía Kalaigías’s deep cerise eyes every step of the way.  Even in her own mental picture, she felt it. There was something off with those eyes. Something deeper, more powerful than she knew. More importantly, though, was the realization that brought another shiver to the Princess of Thieves: When Melodía’s eyes met hers, they held a bit too much glee for comfort.