Sundial had been to the old Elysian Islands exactly once in her entire career, if only because she’d needed to catalog everything the world had to offer so that she’d have a proper reference document for anything that might come up in the course of her duties. Tick Tock’s many predecessors hadn’t updated the data on the southern continents in centuries, and Tick Tock herself had only just started doing it when she finally retired, so Sundial had to take up the slack. She couldn’t blame them, really. Traveling south from the north was quite difficult before the Beacons fell.
The islands were one of the most unique locations in the whole of Equestria, a marvel of gryphon techno-magical expertise and understanding. They were a series of tropical islands just north of the coast of the southern continent somewhere between the harbor city of Seaside and what was now Newhaven. As such, the islands were populated by palm trees, tall, green grass, white sands, and vast expanses of brush and ivy, all of it organized almost unnaturally in neat intervals and precise locales as if placed there with specific intent, perhaps by a landscape artist.
Each island was also occupied by a number of buildings of varying materials in varying colors, decorated with gemstones of every kind imaginable. Each building was of a different size, shape, and style that made them stand out from one another and related to their clear, unique purposes. Nature had overtaken most of the buildings and roads by now, and many others were in various states of disrepair and deterioration after centuries of neglect.
Most importantly, however, these islands were suspended in mid-air high above the ocean. There was nothing visible on the islands that should allow them to accomplish such a feat—no machinery or magical apparatuses—but they floated in the sky all the same. Sundial knew that it was the result of gryphon techno-magic that still operated to this day and showed no signs of stopping, but she had no idea how it worked.
Gilderoy’s instructions had been rather clear: one of the central islands contained a primary hub called the Arcanium which would operate similarly to a computer, and Sundial was to take the Beacon Key to it and reconfigure it for the southern Beacon. A simple task, really. Sundial was already half a step ahead of the game in that sense: a week of exploring these islands herself years ago and comparing her own notes to those of her predecessors had given her fair knowledge of the islands’ layouts.
The Arcanium building was located on the centermost island, which was also the largest, and covered almost the entire surface. The pyramid-shaped structure was constructed of silver metal, decorated with mostly red and blue gemstones, though its state of disrepair was significantly more intense than several of the other structures on the other islands.
Sundial and Bluebolt descended onto a landing pad on the south side of the building near what was clearly the primary entrance sometime in the late afternoon. They then waited nearly a minute for Flurry to do the same, as she was flying rather slowly and carefully to avoid running into anything. The large, cumbersome hat on Flurry’s head that covered her horn didn’t exactly want to stay in place at this altitude, so she had to use her hooves to keep it from flying off in the wind. She was also wearing a light sash to help make her a little more fashionable to go with it—Rarity insisted—but at least that was comfortable and didn’t interfere with her flight.
“Sorry, sorry,” Flurry apologized as she caught her breath and landed beside the others. “This darned hat is just so—” The wind swept the brim into her face. “Ugh! I wish we’d found one without such a wide brim!”
“For what it’s worth, lass, at least ye only have ta wear it for this one ocassion, aye?” Sundial offered. “Because let’s face it, it looks bloody ridiculous on ye.”
“Is it really that bad?” Flurry asked as she took it off to give it a look. The hat was big, yellow, covered with flowers, and had a wide, floppy brim. So yes, it was that bad, as far as Sundial was concerned.
“It’s no balmoral bonnet, aye?” Sundial said, tapping her own hat, which was significantly less disagreeable in the wind. “I don’t know why Rarity had ta get ye the loudest bloody hat on the rack when ye’re just going out for a wee trip up here with us, but I’m not one ta judge a mare’s sense o’ fashion. I wear the same outfit every day, aye?”
“You can take it off now, if you want,” Bluebolt noted with a grin as the hat flopped around in the breeze like an angry animal trying to escape from Flurry. “There’s nopony up here to bother you if they notice you’re an alicorn and all that jazz, right?”
“Oh yeah, that’s true, isn’t it?” Flurry tucked the hat behind her head, keeping it attached with the chin strap around her neck so she wouldn’t lose it—she’d need it when they headed back, after all. “Is that better?”
Sundial looked Flurry over, then nodded with approval. “Aye, much better. Ready ta get a move on, lassies?”
“Yeah!” Bluebolt cheered, pumping her hoof in the air. “Mom said these islands have all sorts of neat technology to look at, and after seeing those ruins up north I’m super excited to see what all the fuss is about.”
“I bet Venture would love to be here with us,” Flurry noted with a fond smile. “This kind of stuff seems right up her alley, what with the ancient ruins and a chance to study the gryphons again. I’ll admit that even I’m getting a little excited to see what’s ahead. All this techno-magic stuff is really fascinating.”
“Hey yeah, you’d have thought Venture would be leaping at the chance to come up here with us, no matter what that would take,” Bluebolt said, scratching her chin. “I mean, I don’t think any of us could’ve carried her all this way without stopping, but I’m sure something could’ve been worked out. She sure seemed distracted by something after my dad left.”
“Aye, shame she’s missing out,” Sundial said with a shrug. She was actually thankful the excitable unicorn wasn’t present as a distraction. “Just means less exploring we’ve got ta do, aye? She’s a good lass, but bloody hell doesn’t she ever stop? Even for a second?”
Bluebolt huffed. “Hey, at least you weren’t cooped up in a shipping crate with her for four hours. I mean, she was really helpful with sneaking me and Symphony on board the Blue Lightning and all that, but holy smokes, that mare can talk. And talk, and talk. And talk some more. It’s a wonder we didn’t get caught!”
Sundial chuckled. “Och, well, let’s not waste any more time, aye? I’d rather not leave the lass alone with the others for so long that they all get sick o’ her or something.” She gestured along the paved pathway that led into the building. “Just stick close, lassies. I haven’t explored the whole building, but I’ve got a pretty fair idea o’ where we’re going.”
“Right behind you, Sundial!” Bluebolt saluted.
“Let’s go!” Flurry said, clapping her hooves.
*****
Sundial had only really ever been inside the main lobby and a scant few of the deeper rooms within the Arcanium building before, so some of the rooms that she, Bluebolt, and Flurry were walking through were both familiar and unfamiliar all the same. They looked similar to just about every room in the building: sparsely decorated, clean, well-organized, and purpose-oriented. As best as Sundial could tell, every single room was built with some sort of operation or procedure in mind since they all looked unique, but without a gryphon here to ask she could only make a few educated guesses on what they were meant for.
Compounding the issue was that she couldn’t read the gryphons’ written language, Hierogryphics. Nopony could, actually, for very few ponies had learned it when the gryphons were still around and they’d never passed down that knowledge. And, since few ponies ever explored the ruins of gryphon civilization—north or south—nopony had bothered to make an attempt to learn it after the fact. Sundial had made a few attempts but was completely lost on the matter without somewhere to start.
“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Bluebolt asked as they walked through a nearly identical hall to the three or four they’d just passed through. “I feel like we’re going in circles here.”
Sundial grunted and rolled her eyes. “Och, keep yer knickers on, aye? We’re making some progress here, I promise.”
Sundial otherwise kept her eyes on her Timekeeper to read the sparse map that she’d made herself, and was actually kicking herself now that she’d not asked Tick Tock to borrow that wonderful map of hers for the time being, since it was supposedly of gryphon design. She’d just gotten so used to traveling without a map, only relying on her memories and instinct, that it had completely slipped her mind.
“Well, I can’t imagine it’s much further,” Flurry noted as she eyed a few signs above the next set of rooms they were passing. “You would think that this ‘computer’ would be located in a more central location if it’s meant to be as important as Gilderoy made it out to be. Are we getting closer to the center?”
“Aye, that we are,” Sundial said, pointing ahead at a door at the far end of the long, long hall. “That door there leads inta the central processing chamber where the Arcanium’s hub is located, at least according ta the information I’ve got here.”
“Well, that’s lucky. So all we do is head through there and we’re good to go?” Bluebolt asked. “You’d think this place would have security or something. Like traps! Oh crap, do you think there are any traps?” She glanced around nervously, eyes darting to and fro. “Symphony’s not here to help spot anything—”
“Och, don’t ye worry, lass. Most o’ these systems haven’t been active for almost a thousand years, aye? But that goes both ways. No security ta worry about, but I have no idea how we activate anything other than hoping for the best that the Key does something other than look pretty. Gilderoy was a wee bit scant on the details o’ how this is supposed ta work.”
“Well, I imagine that he wouldn’t have given us the Key and sent us off without anything more if there was something complicated to do,” Flurry noted. “He seemed pretty smart and awfully nice, don’t you think?”
“Aye, lass, that he did. I’ll have a bit o’ faith in him if ye do,” Sundial said, giving Flurry a little smile.
The trio continued walking in silence for a moment towards the end of the hall, when Bluebolt suddenly cleared her throat. “So, uh, this probably isn’t the best time to bring this up, Sundial, but it’s been killing me for like two days now and I just can’t get it out of my head, so I need to ask you a question.”
Sundial raised an eyebrow. “Aye? What is it, lass?”
“So, I’ve known you for a long time. Symphony too, y’know? We’ve known you for years and years, and we’ve gotten used to you being, y’know, you.”
“What do ye mean, lass?”
Bluebolt rubbed the back of her head, clearly nervous. “Well, I mean… I’m just so used to you being…” She paused, taking a breath. “Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say it, Symphony and I are just used to you being kind of an ornery pain the ass all of the time, swearing at every little thing and getting mad at the slightest provocation. But lately, you’ve been different.”
Sundial narrowed her eyes. “Cheers lass, thanks for the bloody compliment, aye? Different how?”
“Well, I mean, you’re kind of… normal.” Bluebolt paused. “Okay, wow, that wasn’t the right word. Sorry. What I meant was—”
“I get what she means,” Flurry said with a smile. “She means you’ve changed a lot over the winter, at least since I first met you. And during the stay over at Hope’s Point, especially. You’re more open and friendly, and you’ve even asked me to spend time with you instead of the other way around.”
“Not to mention you look like you’ve been sleeping better.”
“And that you’re even swearing just a little less.”
“Shite, really? I need to catch up on the swearing then, I suppose,” Sundial muttered. She turned to Bluebolt. “Go on then, give me a reason ta swear at ye if that’s what ye want.”
Bluebolt tilted her head. “What? No. That’s not what I— look, Symphony and I like the change. I think everypony does. You’ve been really fun to hang around, you know?”
Sundial grunted. “And I wasn’t fun before?”
“Uh, well, you were fine for me and Symphony to put up with, sure, but I mean, you and Rarity got on like fire and oil when you two first met. Now though, you’re talking to her like she’s an old friend.”
“She speaks very highly of you, by the way,” Flurry added.
“Whatever, lass, are ye gonna get ta the point o’ all this shite?” Sundial huffed.
Bluebolt smirked. “Sure, fine, if that’s how you want it to be.”
“Aye, it would be nice.”
“Symphony figured it out a bit faster than I did, since she’s got a nose for that sort of thing, and I noticed it after she pointed it out to me. There’s definitely a change in your whole aura, Sundial, and we know what it is.”
Sundial rolled her eyes. “Och, ye do? Well then out with it, lass.”
“You got laid.”
Sundial tripped despite there being nothing in the hallway to trip on, despite walking so slowly that she shouldn’t have been able to trip so dramatically, and despite being very keenly aware of her surroundings. The others stopped to help her up. The computer hub could wait.
“What makes ye say that?!” Sundial blurted, perhaps too quickly, her face red.
Bluebolt chuckled. “I just went over all of that already. Sheesh, Sundial, try to keep up.”
Sundial sputtered. “Ye think all o’ that rubbish is because I got shagged?”
“Oh, yes, totally. I mean, I’ll be the first to say that Symphony and I noticed a big change in our own behavior after we first did it together. We just felt more relaxed, y’know? For us, sex is super good for stress relief. As long as you’re enjoying it, of course, and obviously you enjoyed it.”
“Are you sure that’s what’s happened?” Flurry asked, red in the face. “I mean, she could just be acting differently because of all of the new friends she has, right? I know that Aunt Twilight said she started acting differently when she made new friends. Either that or it’s because she’s sleeping better.”
“There’s a big difference between ‘I’m sleeping better’ changes and ‘I’m sleeping with somepony’ changes. Just having new friends and getting better sleep might make you more friendly and open, yes, but getting laid is gonna do wonders for relieving tension.”
Flurry scuffed her hoof on the floor. “W-well, now that you mention it, my mom always did say that it's a pretty healthy thing to have in your life, even if my dad was always insistent that I waited to find the right somepony.”
Bluebolt waggled her eyebrows at Sundial. “So? Did you, or didn’t you?”
Sundial clenched her teeth. “It’s not really any o’ yer bloody business whether or not I’ve had a shag, lass.”
“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, Sundial,” Bluebolt groaned. “We’re your friends, and we want you to be happy, so we should be allowed to know if somepony made you happy, right? Right?”
Flurry, still red, cleared her throat. “Is she right, Sundial? Did you, um… ‘get laid’?”
Sundial balked at Flurry. “Flurry, not you too. C’mon now—”
“If you just tell us, we’re not gonna give you a hard time or anything,” Bluebolt said with a grin. “C’mon, we’re all friends here. Spill!”
Sundial groaned, closing her eyes and holding up her head with all the dignity and grace she could muster. She was not looking forward to Symphony finding out; this felt like walking to an execution. “Fine. Yes, I did.”
“Ha! I knew it!” Bluebolt cheered. She pulled in Sundial for a hug. “You go, girl! You got some! Way to go!”
Flurry, redder than ever and hiding her face in her wings, nodded and mumbled something that sounded like “way to go”, but it was hard to hear.
“So, who was it, huh?” Bluebolt asked with a wide grin. “I mean, I know you’re into stallions, not mares, and Symphony and I aren’t the best judges of what makes a ‘hot stud’ and such, but I imagine you picked out a good one for your first time.”
Sundial was terribly red now, her face practically matching her mane. “Wh-why do ye want ta know that?”
“No reason, really, just wanted to know what they were like, and what the whole situation was like.”
“Was he cute?” Flurry asked, face still behind her wings.
“C’mon lass, don’t go asking me something like that,” Sundial grumbled.
“Was he packing?” Bluebolt asked.
“Bluebolt!” Flurry gasped.
Bluebolt held up her hooves defensively. “What? I have no idea what even qualifies as ‘packing’ for a stallion! I was just curious!”
Sundial rolled her eyes. “Look, fine, I’ll save you the time o’ trying ta figure it out, aye?” She took a deep breath. “It was Weaver.”
Bluebolt’s eyes widened, as did her smile. “Ohhh, no way! No. Way. Ahaha!”
“Aye, I said it!” Sundial shouted, getting right in Bluebolt’s face. “I shagged Weaver, and he’s a bloody good shag too! He’s packing! I don’t know what that means either, but he is because I say he is! Are ye happy now?!”
Flurry giggled, her face even redder than Sundial’s. “Oh my goodness…”
Sundial swiveled her glare around towards Flurry. “What?!”
“I mean, when we first met him, we were hoping to help him learn to grow and make a life of his own, and now he’s…”
Bluebolt let out a loud, hearty laugh. “Aaahaha, ‘grow’! I bet he did some growing! Ahaha haaa!” She clapped Sundial on the shoulder and pulled her in for another hug. “Holy crap, do you have any idea what this means?”
Sundial rolled her eyes. “No, lass, what does it mean?”
“It means Symphony owes me eighty bits! She was positive, positive, that you’d had eyes on Captain Blue Flare for the last five years and finally jumped his bones. Ha!”
“Blue Flare? That posh twat with the glasses? Och, is Symphony bloody mental? What kind o’ taste does she think I have?!”
“Bad taste, apparently. Like I said, we’ve got no idea what qualifies as hot for a stallion. Now, if you were into mares, I mean, Symphony and I would be happy to offer some advice—”
Sundial snarled. “I don’t need any bloody advice! Rarity already—” She put her hoof over her mouth. “Shite.”
Flurry gasped. “Oh my goodness, you asked Rarity for advice?”
Bluebolt tapped her chin. “Well, I mean, that seems like just common sense, really. Only other mare worth asking would’ve been Tick Tock but I bet you’d be embarrassed as all hell—”
Sundial huffed. “Hang on a bloody minute, don’t ye go getting sidetracked. You and Symphony were taking bets on who I shagged? Who was your bet then, hmm?”
“Well, I didn’t actually make a bet on anypony because I’m not dumb enough to risk being wrong,” Bluebolt said with a cocky smirk. “Buuut, if I was betting, I was shooting for Captain Steeljaw.”
Sundial made to retort, paused for a moment, then nodded. Steeljaw had definitely caught her eye a long while back. “Aye, okay, fair play ta ye, lass. But that’s besides the point!”
“Yeah, you’re right. The point is, how was it? You said he’s a ‘good shag’ but like—”
“Seriously, lass, c’mon now—”
“Did it hurt?” Flurry asked, still red. “Was he careful?”
“No, lass, it didn’t—”
Bluebolt snickered. “Does he talk dirty or is he like—”
“Really? Really?”
“Are you two dating now?” Flurry murmured.
“I have no idea—”
“Ooh, did he get his cutie mark? From pounding that—” Bluebolt started.
Sundial slapped her wing over Bluebolt’s mouth and gave her a withering look. She then paused in thought for a brief moment. He hadn’t, right? No, no, his flank was still blank. She checked. Multiple times. Now that would be a difficult cutie mark to explain.
Sundial then cleared her throat. “Can we just move on, aye? This has been a thrilling conversation and all but we’ve got bloody work ta do and we’re wasting time talking about my bloody sex life, and I’d frankly like ta keep it ta myself.”
“And Weaver,” Flurry added.
“Right, right, sorry,” Bluebolt muttered, giving Flurry a little grin. “It’s just, why Weaver? Honest question, last one. I mean, I know I said you knew how to pick a stallion and all but—”
Sundial put her hoof to the bridge of her nose. “Because he’s attractive, he’s attracted ta me, and he’s just… he’s there, aye? He doesn’t bother me, he doesn’t question me, he just accepts me for who I am and what I do. We’re just having a bit o’ fun, that’s it. Nothing else.” Under her breath, she muttered: “And he’s bloody good at it, whatever.”
“What was that?” Bluebolt asked.
“Nothing, I’m finished.”
“Well, even so, good for him,” Flurry said with a nod; she was still red in the face. “And, um… good for you, too.”
“Aye, very good for me, whatever, let’s just get moving,” Sundial snorted.
The door at the end of the hall was ornately decorated with engravings in Hierogryphics that none of the ponies present could identify, though Sundial certainly made an attempt like she always did, and came up empty like she always did. She hoped that her information was accurate, because otherwise they were just wasting time. Again, she kicked herself for not bringing Tick Tock’s map; it would’ve made things so much easier.
Luckily, her Chronomancer predecessors weren’t skimping too much on details or accuracy, because what was beyond the door was exactly what they were looking for: the gryphon’s Arcanium central system hub. She had never seen it before, and obviously neither had the others, so the trio were collectively floored by what they were seeing.
“Holy moley…” Flurry muttered as she gawked at the sight. “What is this thing?”
“That’s gotta be the biggest piece of techno-magic I’ve ever seen,” Bluebolt muttered, shaking her head, “and I’ve seen my mom’s entire fleet.”
Sundial smiled. “Well, I think it’s safe ta say we’re where we’re supposed ta be, aye?”
The Arcanium was a towering piece of machinery that occupied the entire room, and the room was nearly a quarter-mile around and half as high, the largest room in the superstructure, which was already the largest building on the largest island. Though it was inactive at the moment, Sundial could make out a lot of telltale signs of technological equipment that kept the thing operating at peak capacity and allowed it to be maintained: cooling vents, protective casings, cables, wires, indicator lights and panels, various ports, jacks, and drives for inserting materials, and a staggering power supply which, unlike the rest, was clearly operating at a minimum level rather than not at all.
All of this was connected to a station just a dozen or so feet ahead of them which was not much larger than the monitoring station that Sundial had in her TARDIS, composed of a trio of display screens, a couple of keyboards—designed for a creature much larger than even Flurry—and a chair that could comfortably fit two of the trio with ease. The irony that the actual operating station was so minimal and convenient compared to the sheer size of the hub’s actual mechanics wasn’t lost on Sundial; it was amusing, actually.
“So, is it on, or what?” Bluebolt asked.
“Doesn’t look like it, but the power supply’s working, so that means it’s not dead, aye?” Sundial said, gesturing at the dull glow coming from the central tower of the structure. “It’s probably on sleep setting or something, like a regular computer. Probably keeps the whole city running on minimal power requirements, otherwise the whole island chain would fall right inta the bloody ocean, aye?”
“You mean this thing is what’s keeping us all afloat up here?” Flurry asked, wide-eyed. “How can it do that? I didn’t see anything outside that looked like it would keep these islands up here in the first place.”
“Nopony knows exactly, and we don’t have any gryphons ta ask, y’know, except for Gilderoy up north, but that’s a wee bit inconvenient at the moment and I didn’t think ta ask at the time, aye?”
Flurry glanced around the room at all of the machinery, shaking her head in disbelief. “Wow, the gryphons sure did build a marvel though, didn’t they? The closest thing to this I’ve ever seen back home is Cloudsdale—the capital pegasus city—but that’s built on and out of actual clouds.”
“Ooh, that sounds pretty neat,” Bluebolt said with a grin. “A city made of out of clouds? Super cool.”
“Let’s see if we can’t get this thing working,” Sundial said, approaching the command station. “Gilderoy made it sound easy enough, so let’s hope he wasn’t just making an assumption about the state o’ things here. Be a right mess if the bloody thing can’t be turned on, aye?”
“Oof, I just hope we don’t accidentally press the button that causes the islands to fall or something.”
Sundial and Flurry just stared at her blankly. “Why in the bloody hell would ye say a thing like that? Are ye trying ta jinx us?”
“Sorry! Sorry. Just ignore me, it was a dumb thought, there’s not gonna be like a big red button or anything that says ‘Do Not Touch: Islands Will Fall’, duh. I mean, obviously. Dumb idea.” Bluebolt didn’t seem too convinced of her own words.
Sundial took the Beacon Key out of her saddlebag and took a seat in the overlarge chair, then set the Key on one of the armrests that she was too small to use anyway. She looked at the keyboard, tilting her head in confusion and disappointment.
For one thing, the keys were much smaller than those on a pony keyboard, likely because the gryphons had actual digits to use that didn’t need such large implements. For another, the whole thing was labeled in those damned Hierogryphics again, so she had no idea what anything meant or did and there were more keys than she was expecting to see, so she couldn’t even hope that the layout was in a simple QWERTY format.
She decided to try tapping a key, hoping maybe it would at least wake the computer up. No such luck. She tapped a few buttons on the console nearby. Nothing. She slapped the side of the centermost monitor—not too roughly—but still, nothing.
“Bloody hell, how are ye supposed ta work this thing?” Sundial muttered, scratching her head and leaning back in the chair. “There’s no ‘on’ button ta press and it’s not working like my TARDIS does. What kind o’ shite is this?”
“Maybe there’s a password or something?” Bluebolt suggested.
“Aye, right? A password, ye say? There’s no prompt for a password for me ta enter anything in!” Sundial grunted.
“Maybe you have to use the Key somehow?” said Flurry. “I mean, a key is used to unlock things, and you’re trying to unlock this ‘computer’, right?”
“Aye, but the Key is supposed ta be used for the Beacon, not for this system here. I don’t see how that would even work.”
“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”
Bluebolt gestured towards a port on the side of the central console. “This looks like a spot where you’d insert a drive like we use for storing large bits of information sometimes,” she said. “I mean, it’s a little antiquated since we use a digital network-based storage system but my mom has like eighty little drives with all sorts of backup information in case of an emergency.”
Sundial eyed the little port, tilting her head, then lifted up the Key to look at the little attachment on the bottom. It looked like it would fit. “Aye, worth a shot then, I guess,” she said with a shrug.
She inserted the Key into the slot, and waited. Seconds later, the console lit up in a bright neon blue, and following that, the entire Arcanium structure did the same. The room’s standard lights died down so that only the blue of the computer system kept things illuminated, giving the whole room an eerie, technological glow.
“Fair play to ye, lass,” Sundial said, giving a little nod to Flurry. “Good thought. Just keep them coming, aye?”
Flurry blushed and nodded back. “Thanks.”
The monitors also sprung to life seconds after that. The left and right monitors were blank apart from some Hierogryphics that, as usual, were indecipherable to the group, though they were identical to the symbols displayed just outside the door.
The center monitor, however, displayed a face. Its eyes and mouth were distinctly avian, like a gryphon’s, complete with a gryphon’s beak and everything. The eyes blinked open, as though waking up from a nap, and the monitor emitted a series of pleasant notes.
“Welcome, Lorekeeper Gilderoy,” the face spoke, its soothing feminine voice echoing throughout the room. “It appears this is your first time interacting with the Arcanium system, so allow me to welcome you to the Elysian Islands Arcanium hub. How may I be of service today?”
Flurry’s eyes widened. “This thing can talk? Is it alive or something?”
The computer’s eyes shifted slightly towards Flurry. “I am the Arcanium’s interactive intelligence, and I am fully equipped with voice-processing fluent in every form of communication. I am not ‘alive’ by the strict definition of the word, however.”
“Cooool,” Bluebolt muttered, eyes wide in awe. “This is more advanced than any of the computers we’ve got up in Hope’s Point by, like, leagues. The gryphons were something else if they had a computer like this a thousand years ago.”
“Processing,” said the computer. It paused for an instant, then: “New users detected: two pegasi, one alicorn. Creating new user profiles. Complete. Please state your names and roles.”
“Oh, uh, I’m Bluebolt. Princess of Hope’s Point.”
“I’m Flurry Heart,” said Flurry with a nod. “Princess of… well, that’ll do. Just Princess.”
Sundial nodded too. “Sundial. Chronomancer.”
“Acknowledged. Welcome Princess Bluebolt, Princess Flurry Heart, and Chronomancer Sundial, to the Elysian Islands Arcanium hub. How may I be of service today?”
“Huh…” Bluebolt said, tilting her head. “Well, you know who we are, but do we call you ‘Computer’ or something? It feels awkward talking to you without having something to call you by.”
The computer’s eyes shifted towards Bluebolt. “Different users utilize different appellations for interacting with my systems based on their comfort level with an artificial intelligence. Some have used the term ‘Computer’, referring to my primary function; others have used the term ‘Arcanium’, referring to my housing unit; my inventor, Techno-Sage Garrus, designated me as ‘GAIA’, which stands for Gryphon Artificial Intelligence Assistant.”
Flurry smiled. “Ooh, I like that last one, it sounds pretty. GAIA.”
“Aye, GAIA it is, then,” Sundial said with a nod. “So, GAIA, ye said ye can help us with anything we need, aye?”
“I am bound to assist all gryphons of the empire with any tasks they have to perform,” said GAIA. “However, as guests with proper clearance, you also qualify for this privilege. So, may I be of assistance to you?”
“We’re looking ta reconfigure this Beacon Key to the energies of the southern Beacon in Zeb’ra’den. Can ye do that for us?”
“Absolutely.”
The Key and the port it was inserted into slid inside the console system, disappearing from view. Several parts of the larger tower began blinking and giving off whirring sounds, clearly working on the task they’d been given.
“The process will take approximately one hour, nine minutes, and thirty-two seconds as the Dark energy within is converted into Light energy. May I assist you with any other tasks in the meantime?”
“Hmm…” Sundial muttered. “I wasn’t expecting ta have time ta interact with an artificial intelligence system.” She brightened. “Och! I can use this ta get some information on the gryphons o’ this world! This is great!”
“Oh hey, yeah! I bet you could download a whole bunch of stuff right into your Timekeeper and everything,” Bluebolt said, tapping Sundial’s shoulder excitedly. “This is a hell of a lot better than relying on what everypony before you wrote and stuff. Ooh! I bet you can even get a translation guide!”
Sundial nodded, more excited about her job than she’d been in a long while. She took her pocket watch out and set it on the console. “Uh, GAIA, is there any way ye could upload a copy o’ some kind o’ translation guide of Hierogryphics inta Equine inta my Timekeeper here?”
“Processing,” Gaia said. After a brief pause, she continued: “Device designated ‘Timekeeper’, utilized by the order of Chronomancers, pony agents tasked with utilizing Chronomancy to protect the world from Void energies manifesting as space-time distortions. Configuring system to interact with device.”
A few seconds later, a new port appeared on the console, just next to the pocket watch, which had a unique shape compared to the other ports Sundial had seen so far. She marveled at the fact that it was perfectly shaped to accept her Timekeeper’s attachment, exactly like the one she had in her TARDIS for updating, uploading, and downloading information.
So, she plugged her pocket watch into the console, and the watch glowed a dull green. This lasted for just a few seconds before the glow stopped completely.
“Upload complete,” GAIA said. “Your device now has access to a full translation guide as requested. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Can ye put a map o’ the Elysian Islands on there too?” Sundial asked.
“Absolutely.”
The watch glowed green for a few more seconds, then dimmed.
“Upload complete. Your device now possesses a full layout of the Elysian Islands, complete with a legend and guide to all individual locations. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Sundial then proceeded to have GAIA upload as many things as she could think of on the gryphons that she could in order to satisfy her thirst for more data: history, biology, society, culture, and much, much more. Every piece of information she received she could look over and transcribe into her documentation on the gryphons, which would be the first major update to the data that her predecessors had collected in hundreds of years. It was literally like catching up on ancient history.
“Och, this is wonderful!” Sundial said, smiling as she finally tucked her pocket watch back into her pocket. “Ye have no idea how useful all o’ stuff is, lassies. I’ve got enough data here ta last the rest o’ my tenure. Bloody brilliant, this is.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” GAIA asked.
“Yeah, how much longer on that Key configuration?” Bluebolt asked as she eyed the central power structure.
“Forty-two minutes and thirteen seconds.”
Bluebolt nodded, clearly impressed. “Wow, all of that history given to you in about twenty minutes? This thing works fast. Well, unless we want to sit around for forty minutes kicking back and talking about Sundial getting laid some more, anything else we should ask?”
“Bloody— we are done with that conversation!” Sundial snorted.
“Oh, no we’re not. I’ll let it go for now, but you, Symphony, and I are gonna have ourselves a little chat when we get back to the surface.”
Flurry raised a hoof. “I have an idea.”
“Please!” Sundial quickly said. “Thank you!”
“Well, I’m pretty curious about how all of this techno-magic works, since we don’t have anything quite like it on my world. Straightforward technology seems so different, y’know? Like, those airships of yours at Hope’s Point are so much more advanced than the sort we have back home, which are basically just boats with balloons and such. Not quite the same.”
“So you want to ask it some questions about gryphon techno-magic?” Bluebolt hummed and nodded. “Yeah, that could be interesting. Their stuff is more advanced than even ours in some areas, so this might be kind of neat to hear. Ooh, maybe I can suggest something to my mom? She might throw some ideas at the science staff to whip some new things up!”
Flurry smiled, then turned to GAIA’s monitor. “GAIA, could you give us an overview of some of the techno-magic inventions the gryphons made?”
“Certainly,” GAIA replied. “Which sorts of inventions would you like to know, or would you prefer a brief history?”
“How about some o’ the top projects the gryphons might’ve worked on then, aye?” Sundial suggested. “Y’know, things that might be more advanced, like yerself?”
“Processing,” GAIA then paused for about two seconds. “Gryphon techno-sages and lorekeepers developed a grand total of three thousand, five hundred, and ninety-one techno-magic projects in their time at the Elysian Islands before the migration north to the city of Aeropolis, where they developed an additional nine hundred and twenty-seven projects.
“Of these projects, the lead techno-sages through the ages declared a total of five as ‘Momentous’, which is defined as ‘any project that truly defines the advances of gryphonkind to extraordinary, world-changing degrees’.”
Sundial rolled her eyes. “From most o’ what I’ve heard, the gryphons were proper chuffed about how great they thought they were.”
“The five projects deemed Momentous are as follows: the invention of the Wand, the development of the terraforming program, the joint creation of the Arcanium and invention of the Gryphon Artificial Intelligence Assistant, the development of the Beacon project, and the Rebirth Initiative. Would you like to know more about any of these?”
Sundial raised an eyebrow. “Hang on a tick, I know those first four pretty well…” She turned to Bluebolt and Flurry. “Aye? Those murals back at Gilderoy’s wee Sanctuary talked about the first two, GAIA here is the third, we already know all about the Beacons—”
“So what’s that fifth one? The ‘Rebirth Initiative’ or whatever?” Bluebolt asked. “It must be pretty important if the gryphons put it up on top with the other four, right?”
“GAIA, can you tell us about that Rebirth Initiative, please?” Flurry asked, seeming genuinely curious and excited. “It sounds interesting.”
“Certainly. The Rebirth Initiative was developed over the course of twenty years just prior to the Gryphon Empire departing from the Elysian Islands to the northern city of Aeropolis. The project leader was Techno-Sage Genesis, and the project was developed as a means of surviving a possible apocalyptic scenario.”
Sundial blinked. “Och, that sounds bloody morbid for the gryphons ta work on. They always seemed a hopeful lot.”
“So, what was it? Some kind of bunker or something?” Bluebolt asked, tilting her head.
“The Rebirth Initiative utilized highly experimental magical theories to create a minor pocket dimension similar to the Sanctuary of Knowledge utilized by the lorekeepers, but on a different scale and with a different purpose: true preservation.”
“Preservation of what?”
“The gryphon race.”
Flurry’s eyes widened. “Wh-what does that mean?”
“The Sanctuary of Knowledge was developed as a means of preserving gryphon knowledge and research in a fashion that would be unaffected by the ravages of time, as the information would all be stored in a format accessible to any creature which would also not biodegrade. The Rebirth Initiative’s ambitious next step was to create a pocket dimension where time itself did not operate.”
Now, Sundial’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“Is that sort of thing even possible, Sundial?” Bluebolt asked.
“Aye, it’s possible. Chronomancer HQ exists almost entirely in a field o’ that sort o’ magic so that nopony in the facility grows older. Only the new recruits live outside o’ that field, at least until we’re old enough ta take on an apprenticeship, then we move inta the field until we’re taken in by somepony.”
“So, none of the Chronomancers at your HQ get older unless they’re really young at first?”
“Aye, lass. That’s how our faculty is able ta stay the same for such a bloody long time, at least until they want ta retire themselves. Then they get transferred ta one o’ the other Equestrias out there ta live out the rest o’ their lives, aye? I mean, Charity’s been making uniforms for I think six hundred years or so but still looks about twenty-five.”
“So this Rebirth Initiative was trying to do something like that?”
“Correct,” answered GAIA. “The Rebirth Initiative relied on concentrated fields of time magic—Chronomancy—to operate. Techno-Sage Genesis based most of her research on the order of Chronomancers and was briefly assisted in the project by the Chronomancer Night Owl. The intent was to create a pocket dimension that would not preserve data, but preserve life.”
“You mean—” Flurry gasped. “Oh my goodness, does that mean there are gryphons alive in this pocket dimension?”
“Incorrect. The project does not have any living gryphons involved.”
“Oh…”
“Well then what was the point o’ the whole thing?” Sundial scoffed. “If it’s so important, it sounds like it should’ve succeeded. Ye wouldn’t call a project Momentous if it bloody well didn’t work and live up ta the name, aye?”
“Correct, the Rebirth Initiative was a near-complete success.”
“‘Near-complete’? Well what does that mean, then?” Bluebolt asked, impatient.
“The pocket dimension was successfully created and utilized to preserve the gryphon race in the event of an apocalyptic scenario. The final process has yet to be activated, however, so the project has not yet been deemed a total success. Regardless of this, as no complications were foreseen by Techno-Sage Genesis or her peers, the project was deemed Momentous. Should the project ever be brought to its intended conclusion, it will have properly earned the name. Otherwise, I will update its status in the database.”
“So, this pocket dimension is supposedly preserving the gryphon race, but there aren’t any gryphons alive in it, and yet the project is considered a success?”
“Correct.”
Bluebolt hung her head. “I’m so lost.”
Flurry’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, eggs!” She grasped Bluebolt suddenly. “That’s what’s in there! Gryphon eggs! Right, GAIA?”
“Correct.”
Bluebolt gasped. “No way, you’re kidding. You mean to tell me this little project has a bunch of gryphon eggs in storage somewhere and that they’re unaffected by all the centuries that have passed?”
“Correct. The Rebirth Initiative pocket dimension currently contains one hundred unhatched gryphon eggs kept in time stasis so that they do not hatch or expire, as well as enough fast-growing crops and a water purifier to last such a population for twenty years.”
“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness!” Flurry said, practically shaking Bluebolt. “The gryphons aren’t extinct! We can save them!”
“Hold onta yer horseshoes a moment, lass, this is more complicated than ye think,” Sundial said, trying her best to keep Flurry from shaking Bluebolt apart. “GAIA, how are these gryphons meant ta survive after they hatch? A bunch o’ wee gryphons won’t last long and they can’t rightly grow any o’ those crops or ration the water, aye?”
“Correct. In my capacity as caretaker of the Elysian Islands, it will be my responsibility to ensure that the gryphon hatchlings are properly nourished, educated, and cared for until they are of age to do so for themselves. As for ensuring they survive that long, the gateway into the pocket dimension is stored within this facility, which is built to resist an explosive force of over sixty megatons.”
“And how is it supposed ta activate if no gryphons are alive ta do so? This project exists in case there aren’t any gryphons left, aye?
“Correct. The project’s deadline is deemed to be four hundred years, at which point the project will be activated regardless of other circumstances. According to my calculations, we are beyond the deadline by hundreds of years. The project has not activated automatically due to the Elysian Islands being decommissioned prior to the exodus north.”
“So, why don’t you activate it now?” Flurry asked, practically hopping up and down.
“Because the intended deadline has passed, my programming does not permit me to take further action, as I am not an independent system and cannot make such decisions on my own. I can assist with the process, but it will need to be activated by a user.”
“A user? Oh! Like us!”
“This is amazing!” Bluebolt cheered. “Holy crap, Sundial, we’ve gotta do something about this!”
Sundial nodded. “Aye, I agree. Still, something’s bothering me, aye? Why didn’t Gilderoy know about this? If this project was capable o’ saving his entire species like this, why didn’t he mention it ta us? Or ta Twilight and her friends all those years ago?”
Bluebolt paused. “Hey yeah, that’s weird, right? You’d think he would’ve known about it. Hey, GAIA, why didn’t Gilderoy know about this project?”
“The project was known specifically to Techno-Sage Genesis and a select collection of peers and volunteers. The project’s staff, not accounting for the anonymous donors of the eggs to the project, numbered only eight gryphons. Donors were unaware of the true purpose of their donations.”
“Okay, so, why didn’t any gryphons but those eight know about it?”
“The project was deemed classified, and information on such an endeavor would only be made available to certain individuals due to the controversial nature of its processes.”
“But if it’s classified, why’d you tell us about it?”
“The project was specifically made classified to all citizens of the Gryphon Empire. Users Princess Bluebolt, Princess Flurry Heart, and Chronomancer Sundial are not members of the Gryphon Empire, and have proper clearance to access the Lorekeeper information network. Thus, project details are available via technicality.”
Sundial grunted and grinned. “Aye? Well, that’s a lucky oversight.”
“The possibility of pony users entering into the system was deemed improbable if not impossible. Current evidence suggests this was an error in judgement.”
“Ha!” Bluebolt laughed. “I’ll say it is. Like getting through a firewall because the guy you’re hacking put his password on a sticky note or something.”
“What made it so controversial that the project team would keep it classified?” Flurry asked, clearly worried.
“Many members of the Council, when they first heard of the project’s parameters, forbade its continuation as it required ‘conscription’ of unborn gryphon chicks into the program. The parents of the unborn willingly donated their unhatched eggs. However, the Council deemed this unsatisfactory justification, citing that in the event of a failure, the project would be akin to mass murder, and that the donors were not told the truth about the project’s parameters.
“Techno-Sage Genesis continued the project in secret with a smaller team, and managed to secure new volunteer donors. The project is stored within my database as I am crucial to its success. However, I am unauthorized to reveal the existence or nature to any gryphon of the empire, as previously stated.”
“But all in all, you’re saying that if we activate this project, we might be able to save the gryphon race?” Flurry asked, eyes and smile wide.
“Correct, assuming that the project’s intended result comes to pass.”
Flurry turned to Sundial. “We’re doing this, right? We’re activating this project?”
Sundial pondered this for a moment. On one hoof, going through with this and succeeding would mean that for one thing, she—they—would have successfully given the gryphons a second chance at existence. For another, she’d have actual gryphons to interact with—Gilderoy was likely beyond her ability to contact again—and that meant she’d have even better data than what she’d downloaded.
But on the other hoof, what if something went wrong? The project was experimental, as GAIA had said, with no proof that it would even work to the end, and had apparently already hit a fairly significant snag. If it didn’t work, would those eggs be stuck in time stasis forever? Or worse, would it be akin to murder, like the gryphon Council had feared?
Still, it was a chance, and even if it was a long shot—which it didn’t necessarily sound like it was—it seemed like it would be worthwhile.
Sundial nodded. “Aye, lass, let’s do it. Let’s give these gryphons another shot at life.”
Flurry clapped her hooves. “Yes yes yes! We’re doing something amazing here, girls! We’re giving a little hope to this world’s future!”
“Ha, just wait until my mom hears that I helped save the gryphons,” Bluebolt said with a grin. “If this doesn’t show her that I’ve made my mark on the world, nothing will. Dad’s gonna be so proud of me.”
“GAIA, go ahead and activate that Rebirth Initiative,” Sundial said with a smile.
“Right away, Chronomancer Sundial,” GAIA said. “Opening the Rebirth Initiative gateway to transport the containment units. Please stand clear. This process will take approximately two minutes.”
The central power station whirred louder than it had been before, as did several other mechanisms, as the Arcanium began loading up the project’s parameters. A panel opened up nearby, revealing an emitter of some kind that projected a light onto the floor. Within seconds, the group saw actual matter being created by this light. Sundial was baffled at the level of technology and magic needed to perform such a task.
Once two minutes had passed, the emitter shut down and retreated into its panel. The group was now faced with a trio of large containers with translucent tops so that they could see inside them. In one container was a large device that Sundial recognized as a specialized water purifier. Hope’s Point and New Pandemonium had similar devices and used them to provide water to their populations, as it converted any sort of water, no matter how dirty, contaminated, or salty, into fresh, potable water.
In the second container was a heap of packets filled with fast-growing seeds of all manners of crops: potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, lettuce, oranges, etc. Sundial had seen similar packets before at Hope’s Point—but not New Pandemonium—as the city used them to quickly repopulate their farmland after the winter season was over. That the gryphons had apparently invented them first and ponies in the modern age had finally reached that level of development was amusing.
In the third container were a series of divots designed to precisely hold egg-shaped objects, and in each of these divots—all one hundred of them—was a colorful egg. Sundial had never seen a gryphon egg before, and in fact nopony in this world ever had, but there was no other explanation for what they were. The entire fate of the gryphon race was sitting right there in that little box.
“Oh my goodness, look at them all…” Flurry breathed.
“So now what?” Bluebolt asked. “Is that it, GAIA?”
“No, Princess Bluebolt, this was merely the transmission process. The containers are now out of time stasis and are nearly ready to be interacted with. The next step is for me to deactivate the dormancy protocols on the eggs’ container in order to engage them in the hatching process. One moment.”
The Arcanium’s power structure churned louder still, and several more lights came on to indicate that the amount of power being generated was staggeringly high, by Sundial’s judgement. So much so apparently that the power structure was now letting off a high-pitched whine.
“Oy, what the bloody hell?” Sundial grunted as she held her ears. “GAIA, what’s going on?”
“Error. System failure detected,” GAIA announced. “Arcanium power level too low to complete process at present time.”
Flurry’s eyes widened. “Wh-what? What do you mean?”
“The Arcanium’s power supply has deteriorated due to age and neglect. Without a significant increase to the power source, the Arcanium systems cannot generate enough energy to properly proceed with the Rebirth Initiative parameters.”
“What? Why?” Bluebolt blurted. “You said you just needed to deactivate some ‘dormancy protocols’ or something.”
“Correct, but the dormancy protocols are in place to protect the contents of these containers from side-effects of the Chronomancy within the sub-dimension, such as rapid acceleration of time, backwards movement of time, or a permanent time stasis effect even outside of the sub-dimension. This requires a great deal of power to deactivate.”
“But why don’t ye have enough power?” Sundial asked. “Ye’ve kept this entire system online for hundred o’ years in a dormant state, and ye’re telling me ye don’t have enough juice ta make this work?!”
“Correct. The power requirements for the project were substantial, but the Arcanium was designed with enough power to handle such a task, and the Initiative was designed with the expectation of being activated at the deadline. Additional time has drained the power systems, as is the current process of reconfiguring the Beacon Key per your specifications.”
Bluebolt paled. “Oh shit, it’s our fault.”
“No it bloody isn’t,” Sundial snorted. “We had ta get that Key business handled, and we didn’t know anything about this here project, aye? We’ll think o’ something.” She turned to the computer again. “GAIA, how much power do ye need?”
“As the Arcanium operates on techno-magic, the power generator does not require standard electrical units of power, but magical units. An Arcane power source equal in strength to an average unicorn’s full potential would be sufficient. I have adjusted the terms to make sense within pony-centric units of measuring magical energy as a courtesy to the current users.”
“Great! That’s just great!” Bluebolt spat. “We don’t have a damned Arcane unicorn or any of those fancy wands or whatever!”
Sundial gasped. “Aye! GAIA, do ye have any wands we could use?”
“Processing. I do not have any wands in storage at this time. Initiative parameters dictate that I am to construct new wands for the participants once they are of age.”
“Can ye make any for us now?”
“Arcanium protocols dictate that I cannot construct wands for non-gryphon entities.”
“Shite. What the bloody hell are we supposed ta do now, then? We can’t get in touch with Gilderoy ta borrow his wand because we need a wand ta even do that.”
“We can’t just leave things like this,” Bluebolt huffed, tapping her temple. “There has to be something we can do. Think think think.”
Sundial took out her Timekeeper and attempted to sync it up to the storage unit. It didn’t seem to be working. “Bloody hell, this is supposed ta be Chronomancy magic, isn’t it? GAIA, why isn’t my Timekeeper interacting with it?”
“Due to the nature of the project, Techno-Sage Genesis implanted a number of safety protocols to prevent any attempts at sabotage. As such, only I am permitted to interact with the Chronomancy field, which has been configured to my magical signature.”
“And ye don’t have the power ta do it. Shite,” Sundial muttered. “All o’ these damn safety measures are making it harder ta help. Bloody hell.”
Flurry paused, then took a deep breath. “Maybe I can help?”
Sundial glanced at Flurry, shaking her head. “Lass, yer magic doesn’t come from the Arcane spectrum, aye? Even Gilderoy noted that yer Aunt Twilight was unique in having that kind o’ power. I think we’re stuck.”
Flurry stepped towards the container, staring down at the eggs with a conviction that Sundial had never seen before. “I have to try. I’m the only here who can.” She took a deep breath. “GAIA, how can I give my magical energy to the Arcanium?”
“Deploying siphon, configuring for alicorn horn. One moment please, Princess Flurry Heart,” GAIA said.
A few seconds later, another panel opened up alongside the Arcanium’s main power structure, revealing an odd-looking device laden with wires and clips that appeared as though it could attach to Flurry’s horn in some fashion.
Flurry wasted no time in walking over to it and getting herself attached, though she looked uncomfortable doing so. Sundial likened it to a pegasus having to strap a bunch of gizmos to their wings. “Okay, so now what do I do?”
“Siphon your magical energy into the device by channeling your magic but not focusing on any particular spell. The device will absorb your magic at a consistent pace so long as you maintain concentration.”
“What happens if it’s not enough?” Bluebolt asked. “You’re not gonna drain all of her magic, are you?”
“The siphon is equipped with safety features that would normally be used to prevent irreparable damage to a wand. It will do the same if it detects that Princess Flurry Heart’s health is in life-threatening danger.”
“I don’t know if that makes me more, or less worried.”
Flurry nodded with confidence. “Okay, here goes.” She lit up her horn as bright as Sundial had ever seen her do before.
The central power structure gave a loud clunking noise, as if something had attempted to start but failed to do so, like an old-fashioned combustion engine.
“Error,” GAIA announced. “Power source has been detected as Light energy. Arcane energy is required.”
“Can’t ye convert it?” Sundial asked. “She’s the only magic we’ve got!”
“Processing.” GAIA paused for a few seconds, then the power structure gave another loud clunk and whirred back to life. “Converting magical energy from Light to Arcane energy. Warning: energy requirement has increased exponentially due to conversion standards. Power required is now equivalent to the collective magical energy of twenty average unicorns.”
Sundial paled. “Och, that’s a lot.”
“I can do it,” Flurry said, flaring her horn brighter. “I can do this. I know I can.”
Bluebolt pumped her hoof. “Yeah! Yeah, you go, girl! You can do it!”
Flurry took a deep breath as she started to sweat. Her horn glowed brighter still. “I’m going to do this. I have to do this.”
“How are we doing so far, GAIA?” Sundial asked.
“Power requirement met at five percent and climbing,” GAIA replied.
Sundial grimaced and shook her head. “Flurry, ye’ve still got a long ways ta go, aye? Are ye sure ye want ta go through with this? Ye might get hurt.”
“I can do this,” Flurry breathed, flaring her horn brighter, and brighter. “I can do this. I can do this.”
“C’mon, Flurry! Go! Go! Go!” Bluebolt cheered. “You’ve got this! I believe in you!”
Flurry’s horn glowed so bright now that Sundial and Bluebolt had to shield their eyes or otherwise avert them, as though they were staring into the sun just before noon.
“Power requirement met at sixteen percent and climbing,” GAIA chimed in.
Sundial took a breath, impressed at the rate this was going. “Bloody hell.”
“C’mon, Sundial!” Bluebolt said, grabbing Sundial and pulling her close. “Flurry’s gonna do this! Cheer her on with me!”
Sundial nodded. “Aye, lass.” She took another breath, then shouted: “Ye can do it, Flurry! C’mon, lass, show this bloody machine who’s boss!”
“Yeah! Show it what you can do!”
Flurry’s knees were shaking, and her face was drenched in sweat. “I can do this. Just do like Aunt Twilight said: focus yourself, and let your magic flow…”
“Power requirement met at thirty-three percent and climbing,” GAIA noted.
“The gryphons are counting on me. Gilderoy is counting on me.” Flurry took another deep breath. “I can do this. I can help them. Gilderoy doesn’t know that his race has a chance… and I’m going to help!”
“Power requirement met at fifty-five percent and climbing.”
“Bloody hell, she’s really doing it,” Sundial muttered, a grin on her face. “She’s really doing it! Go on then, lass!”
“You’re almost there, Flurry! More than halfway!” Bluebolt cheered. “Go! Go! Go!”
Flurry’s left foreleg gave out as the strain started clearly draining from more than just her magical force, but she did not dim her horn one bit. “I have to do this. I have to do this. I can’t give up, no matter what.”
“Power requirement met at sixty-seven percent and climbing,” GAIA said.
“Almost there, Flurry! Only one-third of the way to go!” Bluebolt shouted.
The glare from Flurry’s horn was so bright now that it hurt Sundial’s eyes even when she closed them. “Bloody hell, that’s bright,” she grimaced, putting her hoof over her eyes to protect them. “Keep at it, lass!”
“I’m going to do this, because I want to do this…” Flurry grunted, clearly straining under the pressure. “Because it’s right! I can do this. I can do this!”
“Power requirement met at eighty percent and climbing,” GAIA noted.
The glow was so bright now that it was generating actual heat. Bluebolt and Sundial had to back away to keep from getting burned, and took cover behind the chair at the operating station, though it didn’t help much.
“Holy crap, she’s got a lot of juice!” Bluebolt exclaimed as she shook her wings off. “Hot damn, Flurry! You’ve almost got it!”
“This is bloody amazing,” Sundial muttered, stroking her chin. “I knew she was strong, but bloody hell.”
“Power requirement met at ninety percent and climbing,” GAIA said.
Flurry fell to the floor, barely able to stand, but managed to keep her horn lit brighter than ever. “I… I can do this… everypony’s… counting on me…”
Bluebolt bit her lip. “Oh no. C’mon Flurry! You’re so close! Just a little more!”
“Ye’ve got it in ye, lass!” Sundial called. “We believe in you! If the rest o’ our friends were here, they’d be cheering for you, too! We all believe in you!”
“Power requirement met at ninety-five percent and climbing,” GAIA said.
Flurry’s horn flickered a little bit. “I can… do… this…” She clenched her teeth and stabilized her horn’s glow again. “I can give them… hope!”
Then there came a flash so bright that even from behind the chair, Sundial and Bluebolt were nearly blinded.
“Power requirement met at one hundred and ten percent. Continuing with Rebirth Initiative procedures. Please stand by.”
Within an instant, the light was gone.
Sundial chanced a look around the chair. Flurry was on the floor, and she wasn’t moving. “Oh shite.” She rushed over to Flurry, Bluebolt right behind her, and quickly took the apparatus off the younger mare’s horn. “Flurry! Flurry! Speak ta me, lass!”
It took a few seconds, but eventually Flurry gave a little groan and strained to open her eyes. “Huh? Sundial? Did I do it?”
Sundial smiled and hugged Flurry tight. “Aye, ye did it lass. Ye did good.”
Bluebolt grinned and flapped her wings. “That was awesome! You’re super strong, Flurry. I had no idea you were that powerful.”
Flurry barely managed a smile. “Thanks, girls. That took a lot out of me.”
“Aye, but ye did it anyway, lass,” Sundial said, holding Flurry close. “Ye did it anyway. Even though it hurt, ye kept going, didn’t ye?”
Flurry smiled and nodded. “I picked that up from you, I think.”
Sundial smirked and patted Flurry’s cheek. “Och, don’t go letting me rub off on ye too much, lass. I don’t want ta hear ye start swearing anytime soon, aye?”
“I dunno. After spending all winter with you… that might be… hard to do…” Flurry chuckled and set her head down in Sundial’s hooves. “I think I’m gonna take a… a little nap…”
The central structure then gave a low clunk, and nearly all of the noise in the room died down to nothing.
“Rebirth Initiative procedures have completed. The gryphon egg storage container has been prepared for the hatching process,” GAIA announced.
“How long is it gonna take for them to hatch?” Bluebolt asked eagerly.
“Approximately twenty days, at which point the next stages of the procedure will commence.”
“Are ye gonna have enough power ta get through all o’ that?” Sundial asked, worried. “Ye just gave all o’ yer power ta get this far, plus ye’re still finishing up the Beacon key.”
“The Arcanium’s power cells, once they are completely drained, will operate on minimal solar power. Anticipated supply left is seventy days.”
Bluebolt let out a breath. “Okay, that’ll give us time to finish up this job of ours, for me to get back home, and for my mom and dad to send out some aid. We’ll get this all sorted out, I promise.”
“Aye, cheers, lass,” Sundial said with a nod. “GAIA, how long for the Beacon Key to finish up?”
“Approximate time remaining: twenty-seven seconds. The additional influx of Light-focused power from Princess Flurry Heart significantly impacted the process.”
“Really?” Bluebolt asked. “Wow, she even got that done quicker than we expected. Just how powerful is she?
Thus, twenty-seven seconds later, the compartment that the Key had been taken into reopened, and the Key was out in the open once again for the taking. Where once it had glowed with a sickly orange color streaked with black lightning, it now glowed a soft, sky blue dotted with specks of flickering white.
Sundial gestured for Bluebolt to retrieve it. “Get it and put in my saddlebag, lass,” she said. “I don’t want ta move Flurry any, aye?”
Bluebolt saluted. “Naturally.” She hopped up and over to the console, removed the Key, and shoved it into Sundial’s saddlebag. “I guess we’re just gonna kick it here for a little bit while Flurry gets some rest?”
Sundial glanced down at the napping Flurry, then smiled and nodded. “Aye. She deserves it.”