//------------------------------// // Epilogue: Flows // Story: FiO: Homebrew // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Arcane knew where she was going, if only through rumors and whispers. But she probably could’ve found her way there just by judging the reactions of the ponies watching them. The high-and-dry was practically newborn compared to the sunken city, but some of the creatures here looked less agreeable than any of the ancient watchers on the sunken tomb. Conversations stilled as they passed on street corners, mares held their foals closer, and even sweet old ponies crossed the street to walk away from them. With each step, she felt her headfin folding flatter. She could even hear whispers, in the songless, mechanical way that land creatures spoke. “Who do they think they are?” “This isn’t the dock; do they think they can be here?” “Somepony should really do something about them.” Cascade crowded closer to her, his hummed murmurs increasingly frustrated. “Is this really what we want?” “Someone has to do something,” she whispered back. “Nothing’s going to change otherwise. We’ve got a better melody than this.” They passed through more dark streets, with more angry eyes on them every moment. Eventually they crossed away from the stone houses into a dense alley of makeshift wooden ones. Suddenly the angry whispers stopped, replaced with faint moans of fear and desperation. The smell of cooking food was replaced with waste and rotting meat, and instead of songs there was only a steady drip of rainwater on old tile rooves. The ponies she saw barely even seemed to look at her, darting nervously between open doorways and rarely making eye contact. Cascade’s voice dropped even lower. “Are you sure this is the right way? This looks like the kind of place a fish never swims out of.” “Shh, don’t slouch like a victim. That’s how you get them to treat you like one.” She squared her shoulders, finally noticing their destination. A sign hung outside a shop, depicting a crown broken in half. There was no door, just a length of dirty cloth. Arcane gritted her teeth, then pushed through. At this rate, her little bubble of water would be too dirty to breathe within hours instead of days. The interior wasn’t much better, a pony bar filled with some kind of near-intangible fluid. Or… smoke, that’s what that was! She remembered smoke now. What little smell got through into her suit was awful, making her wish she could plug her nose. She didn’t, instead striding right up to the head of the bar. A griffon stood behind it, with feathers missing from her body in oozing wounds. One eye was covered with a patch, and her wing on that side of her body was just gone. “Couple of hatchlings got lost,” she grunted, glaring down at them. “This isn’t the place for you. Fly back to your nest.” Cascade’s watery wings twitched, and he turned, apparently expecting her to obey. She caught him with a jerk, dragging him back with magic before looking to the barkeep. “We’ve got an appointment. Tell the witch she’s got her blacksmith.” The griffon remained silent another moment, looking between them again. “You two, really?” She laughed, claws digging into the wood as she spun away. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you. Follow me.” Cascade touched his forehead briefly to the side of her suit, humming through the contact of water between them. “This is crazy, Arcane. They’re going to find our bodies in fish food.” She glared at him. “It’s the right place, Cascade. I’m pretty sure that’s never even happened. It’s just another story to make us hate each other more.” She pulled away, hurrying down the steps and after the barkeep’s retreating back. The stone was surprisingly soft beneath Wintercrest—something she knew well, but was a frightening shock to many of the creatures who lived here. In the ancient days of the Lady, teams of skilled engineers had seen to the foundations, buttressing the damage and fighting off infestations of frightening creatures that dwelt there. It was clear as they climbed further that those teams were long gone. Arcane heard crushing waves and roaring water far in the distance as they emerged from a set of steps into a vast, underground expanse, with uneven sheets of stone forming little grottos and raised paths. The water didn’t reach them here, but even so the moisture felt nice on her exposed tail and face. Maybe they didn’t need an aboveground apartment if there was somewhere this damp willing to have them. Just below the surface, somepony had set up another bar, though this one was much more exciting than the one on the surface. The furniture was made from whatever scrap could be found, and the creatures here seemed far more energetic. Many carried weapons, or at least had places for them on their belts. There were no walls to separate the bar from the rest of the vast underground. Only some empty crates with lanterns, and beyond them a vast black space with more lights further out.  Some seemed friendly, but most did not. “Wait here,” the griffon said, pointing at an empty table. “I’ll tell her. Maybe she shows, maybe she has us throw you back into the ocean where you belong.” Arcane sat down, forcing a confident grin. But these waters were made for her, far more than timid Cascade. “If she doesn’t throw us out, bring us something to drink. We’ve come a long way to meet her.” The bird laughed, and a few creatures at nearby tables joined in. “Bold for a little fish, aren’t you?” She didn’t actually acknowledge the request, slipping behind an empty stage and vanishing into the gloom. “You didn’t say we’d be in this much danger! You could’ve mentioned what we’d be doing!” She glanced back at Cascade from across the table, and at least she could muster a little embarrassment. “I wasn’t even sure we’d make it this far. But you heard her—they’ll just throw us out if they don’t want to talk to us. So we’ll let that decide.” “Who is ‘she’ anyway?” He scooted a little closer to her, humming a familiar childhood melody to himself. Maybe for comfort, or maybe just out of habit. But then again, everything they said was its own kind of song. Even with the strange medium of air between them, that stopped the music from having most of its power. “You never talked about any special fish before. Since when are you keeping secrets?” Since I was a guppy. Distant memories and distant scars, but she’d never quite given it up. “I didn’t know if it was going to work out,” she admitted. “Passing notes back and forth, you don’t know if the fish you’re sending songs to is really who she claims.” Someone was coming. The room fell suddenly quiet, and eyes turned in their direction. The barkeep was heading back, with another creature in tow. The pink of her mane sure seemed familiar to her. If it weren’t for the poor lightning, it might look too similar to her fins. She felt a stab of secondhand guilt, and pushed away from her seat just a little. All because the chair was uncomfortable for a fish, obviously. Nothing to do with the creature coming towards her. “Rise for the true Lady of Wintercrest, its rightful ruler, Cinder Moon,” the griffon said. She no longer sounded casual, but uncompromising as iron. Her steely-eyed glare seemed to dare them to defy it.  Arcane didn’t. She rose, lowering her head politely towards the pony behind her. “An honor and a privilege.” She leaned sideways, jabbing Cascade before he could drop into a bow of his own. They couldn’t look weak. The land pony studied them from across the table, looking down on them with skepticism. Arcane felt a brief moment of temporal vertigo, as the true strangeness of their situation hit her. She was older than the two of them, but not a wizened old nag. Somehow this pony was still a daring young mare, even though her twin ruled the city as a powerful stallion. She had her own version of royal regalia, though the cloth was black instead of the family’s peach and yellow. She wore only a tiny piece of a crown on her head, like the one on the sign outside. Her mane was short and boyish, the fur around her mouth faintly dark in the same way her brother was light. “Not many fish would travel so far from the sea,” she said. “Who are the fish that swam so far from home on such a daring mission?” “Cascade,” he said, still looking a little sour at being interrupted. “And my partner, A—” “Song!” Arcane corrected, cutting him off. “Up from the court of Princess Stormwater herself.” That was almost true, in the sense that the princess had encouraged them to try. They weren’t royal envoys… but it was probably best not to volunteer that. “Song and Cascade,” Cinder said. “My brother would probably have you flayed if he knew you’d be conspiring with rebels. What would you say to that?” Cascade clearly had nothing to say, his wings tucking and his ears flattening. He twitched like he was going to run, but at least he was brave enough not to do that. “You’re the rebel,” Arcane said evenly. “And I think we both want the same thing. A change for Wintercrest.” Cinder stared a moment longer, clearly deep in thought. Finally she gestured at the table. “I suppose we can have a few words. You wouldn’t have done anything incredibly stupid, like try to assassinate me.” Her horn glowed faintly, and runes appeared around her, half-formed circles that faded before they could complete. “My mother may not have cared about me, but I learned from her. The bitch of Wintercrest was the most dangerous sorceress who ever lived. Until me.” Arcane felt quite small in her seat. She folded her forelegs on the table, and was momentarily too stunned to speak. Some part of her wished she had put her old memories away like most fish did. Then there wouldn’t be any pain. Fortunately, Cascade had given up enough that he wasn’t confused. There was a tiny bit of recognition, though only at the beginning. “Your mother was Lady Word. You don’t sound like you, uh… liked her much.” The unicorn laughed bitterly, waving a hoof towards the table. “A round, Georgia! I’m thirsty already.” Then she looked back, her expression still bitter. “You cannot imagine, fish. But try, if you will. Imagine you weren’t wanted. Imagine your mother invested every ancient magic into your brother, making him bold and confident and perfect. But you are barely even mentioned. “Eventually you get old enough, and the city falls into danger, and you stand up to save the day. But everyone loves your brother, and he’s the one who gets the credit. He could fly away like a coward when the ground started shaking, but nopony even cares.” “We do,” she said, maybe a little too quickly. “We care about the way he’s started treating fish. We think that if you’re going to make Wintercrest a better place for us to live, that you could probably get a lot more support from the ocean.” “Oh?” Cinder’s eyebrows went up. “Now you’re suggesting I do what my brother accuses me of? Help undermine our security to the ocean? Let you drown us in our beds and worse?” “Come on,” Arcane snapped. “That’s bucking stupid and you know it. I heard songs about you when I was growing up—you’re old enough to know that fish don’t have to be like that. There was a time not too long ago when we just lived here. And some ponies lived under the sea, too. With enough hard work, we might even be friends one day.” The unicorn fell silent as their drinks arrived, taking a few hearty drafts. Maybe this was one way to judge her true age, because that ale smelled strong, and she could down it like a sailor.  Arcane sipped delicately at her own glass, face wrinkling at the awful, bready taste. But she wasn’t about to complain in front of the wannabe Lady. “I’m not going to flood Wintercrest,” Cinder said. “But I could… promise to treat fish the same as ponies. When the dust settles and I’m the one ruling from my family’s ancient castle.” “Yes,” Arcane answered. “I think that’s enough to get started.”