//------------------------------//
// The Dæmons 
// Story: Ruler of Everything 
// by Sixes_And_Sevens 
//------------------------------//

Deep beneath the planet’s surface, Button and Sweetie wandered through the dark tunnels. Their giggles had faded as the weight of the situation pressed on them and the darkness closed in. Now they walked in silence side by side, so close that they kept bumping flanks.
“You think we’ll be there soon?” Sweetie asked.
“Probably,” Button said. “These walls look familiar.”
There was a long pause. “Button, all the tunnels are identical.”
“Well… yeah,” Button admitted. “But at least we’re out of the caves, right?”
“True,” Sweetie said.
There was another long silence. “Hey… Sweetie?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Do you, uh…”
“What?”
“Well… I’m starting to get a little creeped out by all this, and I thought maybe if you could sing a little, it wouldn’t be quite so bad.”
“Oh!”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just wondered --”
“No, no, I think that’s a really great idea, honestly. What kind of music were you thinking?”
“Uh, I dunno. Something happy.”
“Something happy, huh? Hmm… What about something like this?” She threw her head back and started singing a wordless aria that flowed and swelled into high peaks and wild flights of fancy. It wasn't very loud, but it echoed off the corridors, bouncing around and reflecting back on itself to give the illusion of many voices, all singing the same wordless melody.
Button grinned. “Yeah… yeah, just like that,” he said.
They walked a little farther. Slowly, their pace fell into line with the rhythm of the music. “Bum-bump,” Button sang, putting the beat to melody. “Ba-bump.”
Not to be outdone, Sweetie started to dance a little, the clack of her hooves on the stone creating a syncopated rhythm. Both ponies were smiling widely, and a heartsong seemed on the verge of breaking out when the tune was suddenly cut off by a high howl from farther ahead in the tunnel.
Sweetie Belle and Button both stopped dead in their tracks. “So,” Button said. “It occurs to me that maybe we didn’t actually defeat all the creatures that might live in these tunnels.”
“Defeat?” Sweetie Belle repeated. “I think we mostly just outran them.”
There was another howl, closer this time. “So we did,” Button said, backing away. “Well, why mess with a winning formula?”
“You know, Button old buddy old pal, you took the words right out of my mouth.”
The howling had stopped, but they could hear raspy breaths in the darkness, then a growl.
Sweetie screamed, and both ponies took off running down the hallway.





The Nightmare stared at the hole where the Doctor had been sitting as the stone steps slowly reformed to cover the void. Stepping around it, the mechanical god walked up to Rassilon’s sarcophagus and studied each of the petrified faces intently. Celestia, Cadance, Sunset Shimmer, Luna, Discord, Twilight Sparkle, and -- irritatingly -- Big Macintosh all stared back, stone eyes unseeing, faces locked in the same expressions they had worn when they were captured, be it shock, fury, or simple, weary acceptance.
Reaching up, the Nightmare touched each of their foreheads in turn, causing scenes and images to spark in its mind.
Celestia’s mind was cold -- full of white marble and frozen hearts.

Every morning, right on time, the Princess would raise the sun. Her eyes glowed pink when the sun was in the sky, and this was how ponies knew that it was morning. The ponies had to depend on this system, for they could not see the sun for themselves, not in these endless rooms of polished white marble. The size of the City -- which had no name, for there could be no other -- was unknown, unexplored. You could walk in any direction you chose, and you would always end up back where you started.
	When the sun was in the sky, court was in session -- petitions, criminal cases, laws to be passed -- all these would pass before the eyes of the Princess. Of course, given that the Princess herself was a solid marble statue, her will had to be interpreted through various means, too arcane for any but the most exalted members of the court to understand.
	A unicorn with lustrous violet curls entreated the Princess for the grant of a set of rooms, so that she could sell her beautiful dresses and suits from them.
	Of course you may, thought the Princess. Your beauty and talent deserve to be known.
	“The Princess denies your request,” sneered the Hierophant, who held a monopoly in cloth and fabrics for miles around.
	A pegasus, as blue as the long-forgotten sky, was on trial for breaking a stained-glass window.
	Show her mercy, thought the Princess. I always hated that ugly thing.
	“The Princess orders ten years’ indentured servitude,” whined the Vizir, who had trodden in a pile of the glass.
	An earth pony with a brilliant smile proposed a new holiday in honor of pastries.
	Yes, thought the Princess. Yes yes yes, I would very much like a day celebrating cake, and donuts, and cookies too. And it’s mandatory to give a little slice to the Princess.
	“Ridiculous,” snorted the Prime Minister, who had grown fat off of crooked deals and never sharing so much as a crust of bread. “The Princess disapproves of such frivolity, and tells you to eat your vegetables.”
	Every evening, the Sun would set. The ponies knew this because the Princess’s eyes would dim and fade.The ponies had to depend on this system, for they could not see the sun for themselves. Not in these endless rooms of polished white marble.

Cadance’s mind was damp and grey.

She dressed in black veils, and she carried colorful roses.
	She walked through the graveyard in the early morning, while the grass was still soaked with dew. Every stone she passed bore a name. Every name bore a face. Every face bore a story.
	Shining Armor. Twilight Velvet. Flurry Heart.
	At each grave, she lay a rose -- red for the lover, peach for the mother, white for the daughter.
	She passed the stones, read the names. The faces flew past, the stories all blending into one another.
	Applejack. Fluttershy. Spike.
	Orange for the stalwart, pink for the sweet, yellow for the baby brother.
	The graves grew older, and the Mourner grew wearier. Which colors symbolized what? It hardly mattered -- the graves were worn. The names were faded, the faces were obscured, the stories half-imagined.
	Who had Purple Heart been? Lover? Friend? Parent?
	She lay down a blue rose, for the unattainable memory. She spared a glance back. In the cold dawn light, all the roses looked blue. She turned back and continued to walk.

Sunset’s mind was chilly and disarrayed.

She drew into herself a little tighter as she squeezed past a group of students, all staring at their phones. All of them were typing, reading, laughing, all of their voices harsh and cruel. The school had been twisted around Anon-a-Miss’s finger. Relationships were shattered, twisted every hour from friends since kindergarten to enemies 'til the grave.
	The nasty little red and gold icon, combined with the reputation Sunset thought she had shed, had focused the ire of the entire school squarely on her shoulders. All her friends had fallen away in the space of a day, and now she walked alone and unprotected.
	She came to her locker, spun the combination. The locker opened by itself, and a pile of red and yellow paper spilled out -- crude memes, hate-mail written in crayon, horribly edited photos -- all an attack on her.
	She sank to her knees and wept.

Luna’s mind was dark and oppressive.

The moon hung in the sky like a luminous eye, watching the dying land below. Nightmare Moon watched from the highest parapet of the former Everfree Castle, now renamed Eclipse Castle in her dishonor. It was also because the Everfree Forest had been mostly razed by the final battle with Celestia, and the few remaining trees were withered and dying.
	Nightmare Moon smiled, showing her gleaming white fangs. Underneath that, Luna was trying to scream, but black ooze filled her mouth, nose, eyes, lungs, stifling her body and mind. She could not control her actions. She could not control her voice. As time went on, she could barely differentiate the difference between the Nightmare’s thoughts and her own. 
She could no longer feel her hooves. Perhaps they had been dissolved, or absorbed utterly. Perhaps she had simply gone numb. She wasn’t sure which option would be worse.
The Night that Would Last Forever wrapped around her and swallowed her alive.

Discord’s mind talked back.

“Naturally. You must think I’m some kind of idiot. I know you, Nightmare, how you feed on fear and hatred. You dump suffering on the world. I often wonder… is it a fetish? You can tell me if it is.”
...
	“... Your silence speaks volumes. Alright then, where’s my worst fear, then? I must confess, I’m curious to know what it is. Perhaps Fluttershy dying? Or finding my diary? Or getting married to somepony else?”
...
	“...Jeez, tough crowd.”
...
	“Well? Are you going to say something? Do something? I can’t wait around forever, you know…”
	Oh, said the Nightmare. But you can. And you will.
	“Wait. What? No! No, you can’t do this to me! You can’t! You--

The Nightmare severed the connection, then turned, scowling, to the final panel on the tomb. Twilight Sparkle and Big Macintosh shared space. With trepidation, it reached out to the panel. There was a twist --

“Hello?” Twilight called.
	Mac glanced around. “We’re back in Ponyville?”
	“It… looks that way…” Twilight said, dubious. “I don’t know about this…”
	“Look, there’s Pinkie Pie over there,” Mac said, pointing down the street. “Maybe we can ask her what’s goin’ on.”
	“Good idea. Pinkie! Pinkie, hey!”
	Pinkie stopped and looked at them for a long minute, tilting her head. Then she bounced over. “Hi there! Welcome to Ponyville? How did you know my name? What are your names? Do you like parties? What’s your favorite flavor of cake? What is the meaning of liff?”
	Twilight blinked several times, taken aback. Mac recovered a little more quickly. “Pinkie… are y’all sayin’ you don’t know who we are?”
	Pinkie scrutinized first her, then Twilight, before shaking her head. “Mm, nope! But like Granny Pie always said, a stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet!”
	Mac frowned. Twilight leaned in a little closer. “Pinkie… we’ve been friends for years. Mac is Applejack’s older sister. Something’s wrong with your memory.”
	Pinkie’s eyes went vague and fuzzy for a moment. Then they brightened again. “Oh! You’re part of the Apple Family! I should’ve guessed, ‘cause of the apple and all. Well, Sweet Apple Acres is up that way, about a mile outside town. I’ll be sure to see you later at your Welcome to Ponyville Party!”
	She turned and bounced away. Twilight turned to Mac, her face pale. “Pinkie forgot us. How -- Pinkie never forgets anything!”
	Mac set her jaw. “Somethin’s real wrong ‘round here.”
	“Yeah! Ya think?” She winced immediately. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have snapped. This… this is really bad.”
	Mac nodded. “Won’t get nothin’ done out here, though. We best get to th’ Acres.”
	“But… Mac, if ponies don’t remember us… I mean, your family…”
	Mac grimaced. She clearly hadn’t considered this. “Apples is still Apples. Whether they remember me or not, we’ll have a place t’ bed down fer a few days while we work this out.”
	“Alright. Why not?” Twilight started trotting toward the orchard. “Funny, though. You’d think that even Pinkie would have some kind of reaction to meeting a new alicorn…”
	“Oh,” Mac said. “Er…”
	Twilight screwed up her face and glanced back. Her wings were still there. “Oh, thank goodness.”
	“Ah.” Mac reached up and tapped Twilight’s forehead, right where her horn ought to have been.
	Twilight crossed her eyes in an effort to look up, and she scowled. “Well, tits.”

The Nightmare took its hoof off the panel, frowning. That could have been progressing better. The stabilizing agent could be removed, of course, but not without freeing the other prisoners. That would be annoying, and enable them to refresh their mental defenses before being put back in.
For now, it would just have to wait and observe. If things recovered too much, intervention might become necessary. For now, though, five out of six was acceptable.
Slowly, it began to smile as it studied the shifting features at the top of the sarcophagus. A sculpture of an earth pony lay there, as though sleeping. His necktie lay flat across his chest, unlike how its crooked real-life counterpart behaved.
Make that six out of seven.





The Doctor stumbled through the back alleys of Lowtown, trying to navigate a path he had raced his friends down every fortnight, with the Chancellery Guard in hot pursuit. If he could find his way back to the Prydon Academy, he stood a good chance of fortifying himself against his pursuers.
Unfortunately, he was trying to rely on muscle memory, and those particular muscles hadn’t existed for lifetimes. As he stared up at the third dead end he’d encountered in ten minutes, he wondered if it was possible someone might be playing at silly buggers. It would certainly explain why so many walls had the message ‘No More’ blasted into them.
As he pondered this, the Doctor heard noises coming toward him -- hooves on the street, and quiet, arguing voices. He quickly hid in a doorway, pressing himself as flat as he could, and strained to listen. 
“--Look, I’m telling you, C’rizz,” a plummy female voice said. “I haven’t the faintest idea how we got here, either, but I’m sure that the Doctor will be able to figure it out.”
There was an indistinct muttering from C’rizz. “Yes, of course they'll be around here somewhere,” the first voice said, laced with indignation. “All we need to do is look for an enormous hullabaloo, and that’s where they’ll be.”
There was more indistinct muttering, but the Doctor had stopped paying attention. C’rizz -- and the other voice was unmistakably Charlotte Pollard. Two of his old friends and companions -- on Gallifrey?
Confusion warred with delight, but in the end, guilt was the deciding factor. Charley and C’rizz had suffered terrible ends, and that was down to him. He could make things right -- apologize -- at least see his old friends one more time. He stumbled from the doorway and raced up the dead end back to the main alley, skidding as he looked around frantically.
There -- a pink pegasus and a tall dragon. That had to be them. “Charley! C’rizz!” he hollered. “Oi up! I’m back here!”
They both stopped. Charley glanced at C’rizz without turning around. “You see? I knew that would ferret them out.”
“Y̸̢̛̩̬̮̳̬̹̠̿̀̑̈ě̶̻̜̽̈́̿̀͘s̷̜̼̮̞͈̻̝̠̋̏͑̿͂̃̃͑͐̈́̉͜͝͝,̵̨̢͉̦̣̀́͗̓͛̈́͌͆͠ ̸̙͙͚̓́̅͝y̵̖̞͖̻̖̙̿͛ě̴̡̡͍̞̣̫͔̳̪̙̗̈̽͜s̵̳̟̼̘̲̠̘̱̗̝̘̾͐́̌̑̅̓̕̕.̷̛͓̪̻̠̲͙̑̔́̍́͐́̃̃͠” C’rizz said in many voices at once. ̷͚̰̲͑̊́͛̈͊͛̀͆̇”Y̴̧̹̜͙̦̤̣̠̣̞̹̲̑̇͛̎̿͗͊ͅǫ̸̡̮̗̪̗̰͓̉̏̇͂̍̏͆̾̚͝u̸̢̮̞̺̜͇͓̪͇͍͖͓͒̋͊͒͌͊̌'̴̪̪̦͍̳͖͇̘̻̙͒͛̄͋̆̈́͋̏͘͝ͅṙ̸̢̢̝̞̥̘̫̆ê̵̢̢̛̲̝͚̺͐͛͊̽̕̚ ̴̦͈͈̘̔̓̂͗̑͗̀͊̀͜͝v̶̛̱̬͇̰͖̻͛̔̂͋̑̆͋͘͘ȅ̴̛̙̤̤̊̒̇̓͝͝r̴̨̘̝̞͉͖̮͇͉̱͊́͐̐̿̍̾͒̈́̀̆ͅy̶̛͓͓̟͈͕̅̈́̀̋͐̈́̽͝ ̴̡͔̱͔̥̪̈ć̷̩̆̎̃l̷̘͛̀͊̾͋̌̉̍̑͝ę̵̥͈̹̰̺̞͖̤̹̐͌͊̆̉̓̈́́͌͝v̷̪͙͙͚̝̰͂̂́̀͑̿̑̀̇̐͘̕ͅe̶̡̻̲͙̫̝͎̘̯̮̣͒r̴̦͎̯̞͈̪̳͔͙͈͙̤̐̀̔͝,̷̫͐͜”
The Doctor took a step back. For the first time, he noticed some very strange things about his friends. C’rizz’s scales were flushed a deep crimson, and his head was crowned with devilish horns. Charley seemed… oddly insubstantial, almost like a ghost.
Then they turned, and the Doctor saw their faces. Charley was burnt and covered in soot. She wore the same outfit she had worn when the Doctor rescued her from the crash of the R101, but it was ripped and burned. C’rizz was ashen as well, and was looking distressingly Satanic. Charley grinned. “Hello, Doctor,” she said. “Did you miss us?”
The Doctor took a nervous step back. “Who are you?”
“D̸̳̙̩̼͆o̷̘͈͓̽̅͋n̶̨̘͍̪̖̩͊̿̄̽’̸̗̳̗̃̔̀̾̔t̴̳̮͍͊̏̈́̚ ̷̢̟̈y̵͔͉̿̍ọ̷͕̰͇͈̺̋̔̊̓͝͝ü̵̢͈̬̳̅̉̔̈ ̸͎̏r̷͕̫͂́̽̉ẽ̵̛̖͚̪͎͖c̵̬̦͐́̓̿ơ̴̳̘̩͇̟̭͑̅̋̚g̶̨̘̝̮̹̖̀n̴̢̤̦̗̈́̌i̶̺͔͓̰͕̔ẕ̵̢̢̰͕͊e̸̝͆̃̈́͗̕͠ ̴̝̣͚̯̎ų̵̗̯̖͠s̶̪̈̋?̵̪̮̐̔͛” C’rizz demanded. “Í̴͔̻̲̭̒̔͛̾ ̶̳̏̈́̓̾͝ț̴̔͛̍h̷͖͋͗͝ỏ̵̡̗͖̖̟̭̀̑ǘ̷̫̝̽̓̓͆̾ģ̷̘̯̣̫͖̒̀̽̌̂͘ḩ̸͚̘̫̀͜͝t̷̡̗̥̫͍̖͊̑ ̸̦̯̔̎͊w̷̤͈̘͂͌e̷̼̎͊̚ͅ ̵̢̱̫̻̺̲̓͝w̶̦͉͊̅͑̆̑̚e̵̦̒̈r̷̢̖͈͔̓̐̃̌̈́e̵̥̦̹̦͝ ̶̖̬̜̀̽̀͐͘‘̸̞͍̠͛̔̽͘ḟ̴̖̘̞̊̇r̷͎̰͎̪̙̫̄î̸̠̼̗̖̑̉ȇ̵̡͚̐̈́n̶̤̽d̸̙̘̬͂̓͂s̴͕̝͖͗͆͊̈́’̶̹͕͙͂͒.̶̘̲̳̘͑̏̈́̒͠”
“Oh, don’t be mean to the Doctor,” Charley scolded lightly. “They’ve had lots of old friends that have met sticky ends. I’m not surprised he forgets a few every now and again.”
“You’re not the real Charley and C’rizz,” the Doctor said. “You can’t be.”
“Can’t we?” Charley wondered, trotting toward him. “Whyever not?”
“Because -- because you hardly even look like them!”
“Ẅ̷͈́͑̇̒͐͐e̷̳̰͂̈́́̋̕͝l̷̞̪͑̑̀l̶̛̼̞̝͚̤͌́͆͝,̸̛̳͙̪̌͐́̊͜ ̴̨̄͋̀̽͒ţ̴̨̖̜͇̩̕h̷̭͍̥̼̖͆̉̈́́̐͜͝ă̶̘̊͋̄̈́̀ͅt̶͚̫̅’̸̠͕̹̬́͗́͛̋̚s̷͉̯̭͙̦̀̈́͜ ̶̨̠͔̻̥̄͆ạ̸͓̲̞̽͝ ̶̧̫̯̲̯̩͌͒l̵̡̪̠̯͓͓͐̈́͑́͘i̶̙̱͕͔̟͛̓̀̚͠ę̴̎̅,̷̺̩͇̈” C’rizz said. “Ẅ̶̪͚́ḙ̶̩̆́̑̕ ̵̱̣̓̎f̵̨͚͕̪̒o̶̢̯̝͓͎͒͐̕͝o̶̱̭͖̬̎͛̚l̶̗͔͉̗͌ȩ̶̹͕̗̪̲̌̄͌̌̌͠d̷̨̗̮͂͗̉́͜͝ ̸̨̰̞͈͕͌̊̈́̍ý̷̢̤͇͐̃o̴̪̹͖̦̦͗͗͊̎̑̓u̵͙̠̙̩̟̒́ͅ ̶̰̼̯̥̎̑̔̕͝l̷̳̼̘̂̄́̎̐̓ǒ̶̫̘̼͍̩̫̅̌n̴̞͔͙͋̽͂͌̕͠g̴̡̖̜̤̽̆͋͗̈́͜ ̸̢̖̮̤̃̇̏̕͠e̷̔̓̓͜n̷͈̲͉̼͍̕͠͠o̷̦̣̿ư̴̤͇̪͕̯̾̅̌͝g̸̨̡̢͔͖͊̂ͅḣ̶̲̩̻̱̈́̋͑̐͝,̶̬͈̞͎̊̍̌͝ ̸̨̘̥̞͖̙͑d̵͚͐̆͌̈́i̵̢̞͑́̉͋̚d̶̤̦̬̼̊͂ń̴̨̦̭͖͓͍̓͝’̴̝̬̣͓̫͚̃͌̔̒̃t̴̡͂ ̸̦̏w̷̼͚̾͗̓͒e̷̬̳̝̋̀́̓̕?̷̬͙̀͑”
“You’re right, of course,” Charley added, stopping just in front of the Doctor. “We’re not really real. None of this is, obviously.”
“Ṯ̶̱̹̯̓̄̓͘ͅh̴̞͔̬̘̟̯̑̅ị̴̪̜̰̗͔̄ṡ̷̢̛̯͋͛͝͠ͅ ̵̟̫̆̈́̍͂̚i̵͈̘̘̇͛s̸̨̼̽̕ ̷̡̘̖̩̫͆͗̓̐̽͗h̵̘̰͇͔̞͘o̵̩̤͍̓͗̒ŵ̷̙̺̀͒ ̷̲̙̖̙̤̯̃͋̀̎͐́y̸̮͓̬̟̆o̵̻̼͖̤̪̅̇́̀͗͐u̴̮͕͔͍̗̔̓̎̑͜͝ ̸͎͔̺̫̣̌̆̌s̸̞̦̈́ȩ̶̦̯̩̗̾͋̍̅͝e̶̹̠̤͍̼͋ ̷̺͆u̶̡̱̍̐s̷̤̟͓͈̺̈́̏,̷̢̡̙̙̦̲̃̅” C’rizz said, stepping forward to stand beside Charley. “Ḿ̶̻̪̘ẹ̶̮̺̐̅ ̸̺̱̼̐̀̒̇ä̶̖̙̘͖́̍̂͌͗s̷̢̬̩̳̀̀̊͘ ̵̰͙͇͈̞̈̑ͅà̷̢͔̠̲͈̎ ̶̡̹͒̓̊w̷̩͕̅̄̽͜a̵̡̜̝̭͋r̴͔̞̬̽̇̅͜p̴̣̪͕̪͐̈̒̿͝͝ȇ̸̙̙d̴̡͚̩́̅̾̔͝ͅ ̶̼̜̜̣̄̈̔d̷͔̥͎͎͓͌e̸̡͇̦͒̀m̸̬̘̎̅́̌̕͠ͅo̸͕̥̊͂͑̈́͠n̵̡̻͚̻͈̯͒̐͝i̶̧̛̭̒̀͝c̵̮̄̑ ̶̞̲̤͚̠̾̚v̴̫̘̈́͜͝e̵͈̝̰̎̿̈́̎͝s̴̲̯̤̼̥̩̀͂̀s̸̰̮̦̭̖̈́͆́̾͝ě̷͉̺͖̍̏̈͠ͅl̶͈̹͚̘̗̊̔͗̒,̴̙̃̎͗ ̴̡̙͎͍̀͑h̷̹͉̔̃͋̃e̵̞͋̿̈́̍́͝r̷̡̨͍̜̪̘̓ ̵͉̞̝̲̙̾a̸͉͒̓̈́͊͌s̵͍̈̀ͅ ̴̭̗̱̲͆͛̓̐̒͝a̵̹̫̥̋͝ ̵̥͇̩͍̏͊̀̓͆S̶̛̤̩̠c̷̠̤̙̰̉͆̎̈h̵͕̚͜r̸̩͙̰̼̫̆̿̅͘̕o̵̱̫͉͌̑̽̕͝d̵̝̘͌̾͋͆̀͋ĩ̴̹͚̻̓́̑̍͝n̶̺̅̈̏̅̕͝g̶͖̅̓ẻ̶̜̻́̓͊͑r̵̨̫̠̰͑́̀ͅ’̴̨͛̀͊s̸̮͈͔̥͂̀ ̷̙̯͛C̵͖̊͂̓á̷̬̗̟͍͍͚̈́̿̅̀t̷̨͉͐͂̀̓͗̑ ̸͚̺͕̻̍̃̂̎͜í̴̡͑̐̍n̸̯̈ ̶̯͔̭͑̄͊h̴̰́̆̐̓͑͋ǘ̷̬͝ṁ̷̛͍̮̤̞͚̼̿̐ä̶͉̚͝n̴͔͇̬̝̂̊̆̽̀͜͝ ̶̗̣̋̉͂f̴̥̫̱͍̦̬̈́̒̋͘ȏ̴͕̎͑͠ȑ̵̺͈͉͚̖͒̅ͅm̸̦̺͉̿̑̿̽̃;̴̹̦̘̆̆̇ ̴̮̻̓̋̔̓̕̚a̵̻̖̘̘͍͉̽͐͠ ̶̮͆̀̈́̔͗́w̷͇͗̾̎̂̉a̷̙̞͆̈́͐͗̃ͅl̸͍̑̐́̚k̶̛̠̲̖̒͗͊̐ͅì̴͔̾̇̊̉ͅn̵̠̲̉ͅͅg̵̱̝̦̓̑͋̓̑͂ͅ ̸̢͍̻͇̀͗͝p̵̫̎́a̵̙͚̫͙̝̎r̵̘̗̥͗̅a̵̛͔̭̙͕̞̞̋͘d̶̨̺͖̈́͐̒͌ò̶̠̪͙͂́̓̐͝x̵̤̘̘̰̬̖̓.̴̢͖̘̗̼͊̏”
“That’s the way you remember us,” Charley continued. “That’s the way you made us.”
“No,” said the Doctor. “Go away. You’re figments of my imagination.”
Charley arched an eyebrow. “Go away? Oh, dear, Doctor. Hadn’t you worked it out yet? We’re all mad, here.”
C’rizz reached out and ran a claw along the Doctor’s throat -- not hard enough to draw blood, but more than enough to make it clear how easily that could change. “A̵̻̫̓͂̑n̷̩̙͇̏͘d̶̢̞̹̳̻̅̀͂̐̂̕ ̸̻̙̺͍̙̊̆̀͌̌̐ͅw̵͚͐̆e̷͈͖̼͍̣̽̎̒’̸̼̗̔̂̽͒͝r̶̜̥̰̤̪̞͗͑͊̀ę̷͍̫͔͍̅̎̒̈́ ̸̗͐͌̽́̐ŗ̶̻̤̼̠̎e̷̘̗̠̓a̵̼̐̍̅̿̆̕l̶̢̢͎̼̪̐͛́͛̕ ̸̡̮̗̤̲͛̀e̵̺̖̠̪͉͌́͐̎͘ṅ̶̪̳̤̥̪̐̔͝͝ͅo̵͕̐͋̔͗͐ũ̶̟̦̝g̶̨̰͍̩͒̂͋̃͊h̶̨̦̬̬̔͝ ̵̨̖͖̙͗͂͛͜ẗ̸̛̲̯̤͎̙̜́̈̍̋̓ô̷̞̩̲̤͒ ̶̘̩̠̈̈́̾̀͜h̸͍͙̗̲͔̃̆̏̊͐͠u̸̧̦̮͖̫̎̀̀̌r̸̥͙̥͋́t̵̛̛̜̋̆̀͘,” he said grimly.
“And, we’re far from the only ones,” Charley said brightly. “Oh, and did I mention, we’re all hunting you. But, just to be sporting, C’rizz and I will give you a thirty-second head start.”
“Ţ̴̖̯̔̓̆w̸̨͗ẽ̴̗͗̔n̶͓͈͎͈̍ͅt̴͉̱̾y̴͕͐̽̍̎͋͘-̸̱͙̣͕͙̓̐n̸͙̒͌̋̈́̅̚ĭ̸̼́͛̈́̊̕ͅn̴̢͕̂́e̴̮̬͙̰̟͙͊̎,̸̩͑̓̎̓͘” C’rizz said, crossing his arms.
“But -- Charley, C’rizz --”
“Twenty-six,” Charley said. “Run along, Doctor. We’ll catch up with you soon enough.”
“Please…”
“Twenty-five.”
The Doctor pushed past them and broke into a gallop down the twisting, treacherous alleyways of Lowtown.





Apple Bloom was not having the best time. For all her confidence in her abilities, the problem of connecting the circuits was more complex than she had anticipated. Every time she clicked one into position, another one changed position in response. She was starting to see the pattern, but the storm was closing in all too quickly.
Up above, Rumble wasn’t having any more luck corralling the storm clouds. Not only were they moving against the wind, they simply dispersed whenever he attacked them directly, and reformed a few seconds after he’d passed through. This wasn’t the way that clouds were meant to behave at all, and Rumble was beginning to suspect interference on the part of the Nightmare.
He tried every method he knew for cloud dispersal -- just kicking them wasn’t working, so he tried to create a gust of wind that ought to have ripped any thunderhead into pieces. After that, he tried simply redirecting them, then bouncing on them to release their rain and lightning before they could reach the tower. No luck. The clouds growled and crackled with electricity, and they positively sagged with precipitation, but not a hint of the tempest was let loose. If anything, the storm seemed to be growing more violent with every prod. He gave up and flew back to Apple Bloom.
She barely glanced up from her work. “If that’s what y’all call weather patrolin’ Ah might have t’ send in an application of mah own.”
“This isn’t a normal storm,” Rumble said. “I could barely move the clouds, and they all just kept coming back…”
Bloom nodded. “Alright. Alright. Ah reckon Ah nearly got this thing finished. We’ll be home an’ dry as soon as Ah do… this.”
The last of the circuits snapped into place.
“...Okay,” said Rumble. “And?”
Apple Bloom looked astonished. “Ah don’t get it, that shoulda worked! Ah connected both th’ terminals, th’ power source oughta be…” she trailed off. “Rumble?”
“Yeah?”
“This thing ain’t got no power supply.”
“And you’re only noticing this now?”
“Listen, this thing’s got a whole lotta movin’ parts! Ah got distracted, okay?”
Rumble rubbed his forehead and nodded. “If one of us was a unicorn,” he muttered. “A little magic would get this going. The only source of energy we have up here is the lightning, and that’s not exactly tame…”
Apple Bloom blinked. She looked up at the tall, gold sculpture next to the panel. “Rumble,” she said, reaching up to untie her braids. “You trust me, dontcha?”
“I don’t like where this is going, but yes.”
Bloom took the copper wire from her mane and wrapped it around the base of the sculpture. “Ah need a bolt of lightnin’ to strike this here metal thing an’ channel it into the circuits.”
“Well, I mean, that’s going to happen no matter what. This is the tallest thing for miles around. But without a resistor, won’t that just fry the thing?”
Apple Bloom chewed her lower lip. “Pegasi are… resistant to lightnin’ strikes, ain’t they?”
Rumble looked between the wire and the circuits and put two and two together. “Oh, no. No. You can’t be serious.”
“Ah wouldn’t be askin’ if there was another way,” Bloom pleaded. “If Ah can’t do this, we’re sittin’ ducks!”
Rumble groaned. “...Fine. Gimme the wires.”
A few seconds later, Rumble sat between the sculpture and the circuit box, clutching a wire in each hoof. “If I die, I’m going to haunt you forever. You know that, right?”
“You ain’t gonna die.”
Rumble growled. “How do you know?”
“Ain’t gonna let you. You ain’t allowed to die.”
Oddly enough, that was rather comforting. The storm grumbled overhead and Rumble shut his eyes tight.
The stink of ozone filled the air as a bolt of lightning lanced down and struck the spire true. Rumble arched his back and howled as electricity coursed over, around, and through his body. A few meters away, a section of the roof depressed and slid away with a mechanical hum. “You did it!” Bloom shouted, “Alright, Rumble, you kin let go now.” A pause. “Rumble?”
Rumble was lost to the world. Electricity was all there was or could ever be. “Shit,” said Bloom, and she tackled him.
She was promptly thrown back as built-up electricity struck her, but she did manage to shove Rumble out of the current.
Bloom stumbled to her hooves. There was a mechanical humming. The door was closing again.
On uncertain hooves, she staggered over to the panel and shoved herself between door and jamb, keeping the door from shutting. “Rumble!” she shouted. “Git yer flank over here ‘fore Ah get crushed!”
Dazed and charred, Rumble roused himself back to consciousness. He stared at Bloom blearily for several seconds. Then, finally registering the situation, his eyes went wide and he scrambled over to her side, running and tripping over his numbed hooves. Together, they were able to force the mechanism open wide enough for both of them to slide through, where they fell, sore, panting, and rain-soaked, to the floor. 
Above them, the panel hummed back into position and clicked neatly into place, disguising it completely. After a few minutes, Apple Bloom raised her head. “So. Did we get our electricity-conductin’ cutie marks?”
Rumble let out a pained wheeze of laughter and rolled onto his back. For a moment, they lay there, two friends laughing through the pain.
Then Apple Bloom rose, stretching her back and wincing at the way it cracked. “Tarnation,” she said.
Rumble got to his hooves as well, shaking the pins and needles from each hoof in turn. “C’mon. Let’s not keep the others waiting.”
Leaning on one another for support, the two aching friends navigated their way toward a spiral staircase at the end of the hall. To Apple Bloom’s relief and Rumble’s trepidation, this one did, at the very least, have walls on both sides.