The Team

TheIdiot
They took my toaster, so I had to get a new one.

DoctorFluffy
Apologies to everyone for the quiet. I’ve been very busy.

VoxAdam
Come with me if you want to live.

Sledge115
You are a princess, you’ll play your part.

RoyalPsycho

TB3

Kizuna Tallis

ProudToBe

Chapter Nineteen
When The Dust Settles

Behind the Barrier, in the middle of the ocean where currents met, lay Hollow One.

Rising from the turbulent waters of the North Atlantic, it stood as a marvel of engineering, where Saddle Mareabian artisanship met the technology of the Crystal Realm. It had been established in a miraculously short two years, a base for the future invasion of the North American continent. The base was dominated by the superstructure that lay in the middle, a combination of metal and wood built following the expertise of Saddle Mareabian engineers, designed as such to withstand the planet’s unpredictable weather, harkening back to the wind-swept architecture of their homeland, but with material provided by the Solar Empire.

The central structure was one of six – the main lay in the centre of five others, arranged to resemble the Elements of Harmony from a bird’s eye view, connected to one another by a tram system. The Saddle Mareabian-built superstructure and the decks atop were supported by robust crystal pillars that plunged deep into the Atlantic, anchored to the ocean floor.

Atop the decks, the base filled a multitude of roles, including supply and repair, and many a times it had served as refuge for airships retreating from skirmishes in the Atlantic. At any given time, five thousand Equestrians, Saddle Mareabians, zebras and hippogriffs staffed the facility, keeping it running for airships making their transit between Europe and the North American front. In certain times, it could hold more than twice that number.

And it was this grand sight, dimly lit by crystal lamps, that greeted Scootaloo and company aboard their sky-boat. Their vessel was a far cry from the Great Equestrian which had left Hollow One only a few hours ago. But they would be welcomed.

With a hail from platform crew-members, tethers were thrown at them, and the sky-boat gently pulled down to a rest atop one of the auxiliary decks. All around, airships and sky-boats, both coming from and headed for Europe, lay in wait.

Scootaloo and Breeze hopped off the airship, Whistle carried gently between them. They were met by a half-dozen of the base staff. Equestrians, horses, and zebras alike.

“Halt!” cried the lead officer. He was an orange-coloured stallion, a Saddle Mareabian like many who formed the majority of the base staff. “State your business.”

“Starstruck, Cadet, 1st Wonderbolts, Ponyville Group,” Scootaloo answered rapidly. “Our temporary lead is Captain Sparks Timber, 15th Fillydelphia, and he’s still aboard the boat. He’ll fill you in.” She nodded at Breeze and Whistle. “We’ve got wounded, please, get this cadet to the infirmary.”

Two zebras emerged from the group to join the hippogriff medic, bringing in stretchers.

She exchanged a hopeful glance with Whistle, and the little pegasus gave her a last smile before she and her bearers disappeared into the superstructure, past the doorway.

“You came from Boston?” said the Saddle Mareabian. “We’ve had a lot on our plate. They say the battle’s lost.”

“We did. The battle… I… I don’t know.” said Scootaloo. She shook her head. “Look, none of that matters right now. Is the Lady Archmage here?”

It was a foolish question. Of course not. Otherwise Twilight would be here to greet them. If she even was alive.

“She’s already en route to Canterlot, Cadet,” said the officer. “Got teleported here, by Captain Armor. You missed her by an hour.”

Her question was answered soon, by the two newcomers who emerged from the nearest door.

“Terramar,” Scootaloo whispered. Then she broke into a relieved smile. “Rainbow– Captain!”

Her words were interrupted, when Scootaloo almost tackled her to the floor. The Saddle Mareabian shot them a judgemental look.

“S-sorry, you wouldn’t believe what we’ve been through,” Scootaloo said sheepishly. Though the Wonderbolt Captain rolled her eyes, she simply gave Scootaloo’s mane a ruffle.

“You look like you’ve been through Tartarus,” Terramar added, and Scootaloo nodded. “You okay, Starstruck?”

She trailed off, and both her and Terramar looked at something behind her – and a loud thud from behind gave Scootaloo the needed answer. She glanced behind, seeing Sparks Timber and Green Sprout, who stood tall besides the large crate holding Discord.

Luna took a breath, closing her eyes as she slumped onto her haunches upon the snowy grass – a patch of parkland that hadn’t been taken up by a tent for the camp, in what Major Bauer had told her was called the Boston Public Gardens. Just how long had she been here? She didn’t have a clear idea of time any longer. What could be hours felt like weeks.

She had never felt so tired. Fighting for Twilight’s and Spike’s souls had exhausted her thoroughly. Losing one had cost her dearly. So many defeats, even as this battle would be celebrated as a victory.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a voice asked. Luna turned, frowning, to see Tess Jones staring at her. She wore no helmet, and her hair was loose and dishevelled.

“Kind of?” Jones said. She sat down next to Luna, snow crunching beneath her. “It’s just… sorry, you look troubled, or I guess you do.”

Luna nodded slowly, a slight frown furrowing her face. ‘When did I become so transparent? I am Princess of the Night. I cannot show my fear. Never in times like these.’

“I suppose I am concerned,” Luna said after a moment. Vulnerable she may be, but honesty remained essential. She took a breath. “About Spike. About… everything. So many questions. Yet so little time.”

“I couldn’t begin to imagine,” Jones said. She grabbed a flask from her hip-belt and took a long drink. “I was just talking to Major Bauer, UNAC’s main guy on the ground here. For the record… if we can help you in any way, you have our support.”

Luna wanted to thank her immediately for her offer, but something stopped her. Captain Reiner’s words about the HLF’s unreliability sprung to mind.

Diplomatically, she offered a small smile. “I am grateful for the trust you place in me.” Luna took a deep breath. “But as I said, I do have questions. Do you know anyone who could answer them, whether from your group or the PHL?”

“Depends what the questions are,” Jones replied. “I once met a man– well, sometimes he’s a man– who was great with questions, but he’s not been around a while. Something about ‘bad atmosphere, needed to go back and tweak something’.”

“A scholar of sorts, with a fixation on the souls of the dead,” Jones remarked. “In fact, to tell the truth, Princess Luna, when we saw you and that Discord fellow appear in the heavens, my first thought was our man had wrought something… Till I remembered you’re not dead. Merely petrified.”

Her easy tone got Luna to wince. “Yes, well... it is not often one sees living statues about.” She sighed. “Losing Discord to the Imperials may yet undo what good I wrought here. Doubly so, I regret to say, with him alive rather than dead.”

“Right. I forgot. They got you good, didn’t they?” Jones said sympathetically. “I’m sorry. But now you get why, somehow, I can believe your wild story.”

“Through the looking-glass, I expect,” Jones said with a chuckle. “He was a right card.”

“This does trouble me...” Luna said. “I’m not sure what trust I’d place in those who fixate upon the souls of the dead. Necromancy is considered a dark art of the highest order by my people. Father Krampus has been remembered by many names, but merely the memory of the Lord of Tambelon brings nightmares which even I struggle to ward away.”

As it was, just thinking about the Krampus’s doom-laden words at the Convocation made Luna almost shudder. Celestia had taken a gamble by calling upon that creature.

“The afterlife is a question I have pondered, always with no clear answer. And it shall be milennia before I see it for myself. If I survive this war…”

“But mankind hasn’t got anywhere near that time,” Jones replied gravely. “Which means we can’t just chit-chat our time away here, either. So, what were your questions?”

However, Luna was contemplating how certain questions could not be asked of Jones. Rather, they were meant for the other woman she’d met in the naval yard.

“There are my immediate concerns, of course,” Luna said truthfully. “Spike, to begin with. We can help him, I am sure of it. I only need the right space.”

Jones eyed her. “You’re thinking of taking the dragon back with you. To where you came from.”

“Princess Luna,” said Jones. “Pardon me for interrupting, but… if you think you can break the hold on that dragon’s mind… would we be any closer to putting an end to the Newfoals?”

The subtle plea in the human’s tone did not evade Luna, who paused to look at her. Really look, taking in the unfamiliar features, the eyes ringed by all-too-familiar shadows.

“Sorry, but it’s too early for me to tell…” said Luna. “The chains binding Spike are woeful, yet nothing unknown. There are many on Equus who’d seek to control dragons, with perverse enchantments or old forbidden words of power…”

“Alas, the mystery of this serum is absolute to me. Captain Reiner hadn’t the words for it, and…” Luna couldn’t help shuddering as she thought of puppets. “To delve further, I should have to start by examining one of those creatures…”

“Ah, yes,” Jones said, nodding slowly. Her expression lightened. “Fortunately, there’s… someone else I happen to know. They’re still around, and they’ve got… some knowledge of the topic…” Jones hurried through her next words, as if afraid she’d said too much already. “Well, I– I guess they may be interested in dragons, as well, you know.”

“I would be grateful, Tess Jones,” Luna said, calming herself. A small smile crept on her face. “But much as I am experienced in diplomacy, too many questions would, pray forgive my words, merely waylay me. And to find certain answers, I must depart this city.”

“This fine country, of course,” Luna said evasively. “I am unfamiliar with its geography.”

“Alright,” Jones said, getting to her feet. Luna followed suit. “I can get you a map. I won’t ask what you want one for.” She paused. “Yet how about the other alicorn? Lady Cadance, isn’t it? Could she fill in for you?”

“Princess Cadance,” Luna replied, thinking about it. “It’s a fine thought. She came to me when I needed her most, and she holds her own at diplomacy. I could always brief her on what we need. This would not be the first time I’ve delegated to her.”

Winter on Earth was unlike any place Cadance had ever been to before. The pegasi-controlled Winter, cold as it was, remained warm at its heart, a warmth that radiated the strongest every Hearthswarming, when all was quiet save for Reindeer bells. And, far off in the Frozen North, where the winter raged on, even then Cadance could feel and breathe the inherent magic that flowed within them. An ancient and primal form, untamed, yet tied with Equestria.

On Equus, the Oleander earthponies who’d raised her taught her their ways, as best they could. For she was a child of no tribe, too lithe to be an earthpony, wings too fragile for flight, and no horn to speak of. Yet she called herself an earthpony, and that felt just right.

Then came Prismia, then her ascension, and the magic that permeated Equus revealed itself entirely to her.

There was no such warmth here. Here, in the early morning hours, she stood outside this tent, between two searchlights erected by the staff. She felt no connection to the earth beneath her, the winds that blew, nor did she feel the planet’s magical flow.

She bit back a shiver, amidst the falling snow. Though she might be disconnected from the earth she stood on, the people were another matter entirely. Much like she had at the train station, with Major Bauer, Cadance allowed herself to sift through the love that flowed from the tents.

It was peculiar, how it felt. Whereas on Equus, she had taken for granted the connection between love and magic, here the love was more raw, untouched… much like the world they lived on. And yet, it was love, all the same, and Cadance found its touch equally soothing.

Something crept in, permeating the flow of emotions. Something familiar, as if it was her own thoughts. A feeling of love once held, then lost to the bitter cold.

Cadance’s heart skipped a beat when, a few paces away, she saw the newest arrival, standing in the snow. At first, it didn’t even seem as if the newcomer had recognised her.

Lady Cadance – Cadenza, she thought. It felt fitting of her more reserved demeanour, this wan mirror image of hers – remained impassive to her greeting. Until she gave the tiniest of nods. Only then did Cadance felt compelled to trot over.

“Morning,” Lady Cadenza said gruffly, standing there. She wore a green vest, and a beige coat that covered her wings. The vest was embroidered with a golden lyre on its lapel. But it was clothing that valued function over appearance, and suddenly Cadance felt very self-conscious of the glittering Crystal Realm armour she wore.

Then she saw the lines under Cadenza’s eyes, and her thinning, faded mane, and the palor of her rosey coat. Seeing her counterpart was akin to seeing a washed-out photograph of herself. On closer look, beholding this Cadance was not like looking into a mirror at all.

Her counterpart stared back. “Could’ve arrived sooner,” she said plainly. “Needed a boost… But I hear you’ve come from a lot further away.”

A cold breeze caused her to ruffle her wings. At this, it crossed Cadance’s mind that she could not see the other Cadance’s wings under the beige coat.

“So... what do they call you, then?” Lady Cadenza asked, her eyes darting from her wings, to her armoured chest. Cadance’s armour was emblazoned with the sigil of the Crystal Heart. “Not everyday you get to meet… yourself, and yet, I don’t have a clue what to call you.”

“Just Cadance is fine,” she replied. Now her counterpart’s gaze landed on her wings. “I mean we’re… you know.”

A pregnant pause followed. Cadance kept her wings close to her barrel. Then, before she could change the discussion, Cadenza cleared her throat.

“They told me you fought on the Great Equestrian,” Cadenza said quietly. She looked out into the darkened skies. “Before you fell.”

“I did. On both accounts,” Cadance said. A hint of shame seeped into her tone. “It didn’t… it did not work out. I wasn’t prepared for Shining–”

The moment her words left her mouth, she regretted them, as Cadenza immediately shot her a virulent glare.

“You saw him?” she whispered. Her glare softened, her stern expression unraveled. For the first time since she’d seen her counterpart, Cadance felt the love within her heart flare out, past the icy facade.

The chill that she had when she glimpsed… whatever that thing was that followed her – Cadenza’s – husband, returned. Such twisted, tainted, revolting love, it sickened her to the core.

‘She was his wife…’ she remembered. Alex’s stories were disjointed and weren’t at all clear, but Aunt Luna had told her about how Shining Armor had betrayed her trust and come so close to turning her...

“Then we won’t get him back, ever, will we?” said Cadenza coldly. “If even you couldn’t get him, then… then what hope do I have.”

“Don’t. Don’t give me that,” Cadenza said quickly, almost in a snarl. “I could not even fly here... let alone teleport without someone else doing it for me... so don’t…”

Her words trailed off, and she blinked back tears. She was looking at Cadance’s wings.

“Huh?” Cadance said blankly. “Oh, um… well, we never went to war. Shining Armor threw me at the Crystal Heart, and Sombra was… defeated.”

Her voice died down in her throat when she saw the angry glare from Lady Cadenza. For a moment, Cadance thought it might have been the matter-of-fact tone she had used.

“Of course you did,” said Lady Cadenza bitterly. “They told you, haven’t they?”

“Well? I see it in your eyes,” the pegacorn said harshly. “I’m not the pony you think I am. And I never have been.”

With quivering lips, she jabbed her chestplate, and Cadance recoiled from the touch.

“Say it, then,” she said tersely. “A failure. That’s what they all think of me, after they’ve seen you swoop down and break the shield. And you’re everything I should have been.”

Though the tension remained in the air, Cadance steeled herself. Gently, she pushed Cadenza's forehoof away. And took a deep breath.

Lady Cadenza blinked away unspilled tears. “What for?” she choked out. “You’re… you’re everything I’m not.”

Cadance shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry all this happened to you. It’s... It's too much for anyone to bear, and I can't imagine how it must’ve felt.”

Without any hesitation, she moved closer to her counterpart and welcomed her in her embrace.

“We’ll get him back,” she said softly. “Aunt Luna told me that… she got to Twilight, you see? She was close but, it wasn’t enough. Given time, maybe she could have.”

“No,” came the reply. Cadenza’s gaze was that of longing. “I’m– I’m sorry, I got carried away there, but… you don’t know what we’ve been through, you’ve experienced none of it. I hope you never have to. And yet you’re so eager to help.”

“That’s okay, I… yeah, I understand. They said you were a helper as well,” Cadance remarked. “Someone to sooth when no-one else would.”

“I suppose,” said Lady Cadenza. “Pray I won’t ever have to receive you, you or anyone else from whatever miracle place you come from.”

“War changes people,” she said wistfully. “You saw Shining, and you think it’s obvious. But it isn’t always that simple, because the change is in everywhere, in everyone, and it’s rarely for the better.”

“I don’t know about getting Shining back, and if we do, that’s… that’s everything I’ve ever wished for. You might be the best chance we all have for it… But don’t… lose yourself.”

The love that flowed out of Cadenza softened, into something that it should have been… and Cadance couldn’t help but smile, softly – a smile awkwardly mirrored by Cadenza.

Before either of them could continue, though, there was a commotion at the camp’s entrance. The two of them turned their gazes there. Just in time to see the Princess of Dreams set foot in the camp.

“It went well,” said Luna. She shook her head. “But the matter is not done.”

Though she held her head up high, her mane billowing in the wind, and still proudly clad in her black armour, something was off.

She had lost some colour, from the time Cadance last saw her. A few locks of her mane, just over her forehead, once starry and enchanted, looked drained and not at all magical. A baby-blue to contrast her old midnight-blue shade.

“Cadance, I need to speak to you,” Luna said plainly. She glanced at Lady Cadenza. “You are welcome to join us, Lady Cadance.”

“I’m afraid I must decline, Aunt– Princess,” said Cadenza. “I’ll need to speak to the others first. This may take a while, and everyone’s confused… I advise you get some rest.”

“That is kind of you,” Luna said. “But I hope you understand if Princess Cadance and I each take our turns slumbering.”

The pegacorn stared between the both of them. With a quiet nod, she departed back into the outskirts of the human camp, into falling snow. Awaiting her was a bipedal silhouette in armour. Cadance saw him to be Major Bauer.

Through the slit of his visor, she saw him look at Cadenza, then turn his eyes towards her. Even from this distance, Cadance could tell when she sensed bright-eyed wonder. That, and perhaps silent begging that the world wasn’t going wholly mad.

Luna’s unexpected statement wrenched Cadance’s gaze away from the retreating backs of her counterpart and the human warrior.

“Oh, I will stay the night,” Luna clarified gravely. “But I believe there are more answers to be had. And those answers may lie in Alexander Reiner’s hometown. In my absence, I will need you to help negotiate the terms, as needed.”

“Wait, this wasn’t part of the plan! Heck, I wasn’t even supposed to be here! And you and Celestia never said anything about going to Reiner’s hometown– How would you even–”

“That was before I found someone,” Luna said. “Reiner has a sister. And she’s here, in Boston… I know what you want to ask. How could I find my way about, without a guide? Maxine Radwick shall be that guide. But Cadance, there is no-one here I trust more than you. My finesse has never been with sorting matters of the Night Court. You… I believe you are up to this task.”

Cadance looked up at her, biting her lower lip. She thought about meeting Major Bauer, and how she’d explained only what needed to be explained. That she was not the Lady Cadance they knew, but something like a reflection of her. A reflection from an Equestria which was maybe the Equestria to let Harmony truly shine bright again.

“I gotta be straight with you, Cadance,” said Vinyl Scratch. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“Who was expecting anything from tonight, Scratch?” said Spitfire. “Two alicorns, one of whom should be a statue, and another who shouldn’t even be one. No offense, Cadance.”

Uncomfortably, Cheerilee leaned back in her seat, her eyes still fixed on Lady Cadance. Not two hours ago, she’d been looking at this same face, projected from Boston by Major Bauer’s shoulder-camera. Now Bauer stood at guard behind Cadance, and the PHL High Command’s war-room was receiving a much crisper image, courtesy of the Great Equestrian’s retreat and the Lady Cadance’s personal iPad.

“Cadance,” Cheerilee said, faltering for a beginning. “You’re saying they confirmed the intel from Major Bauer? We’re talking here about… some sort of manifestation?”

Bauer remained in the image’s background, arms behind his back and knees spread. Under the rules of jurisdiction, the leader of the Teutonic Knights should have reported this directly to UNAC. Yet again, Cheerilee privately thanked him for bending the rules, hoping it wouldn’t have repercussions later on.

“Shut up, Pina,” Spitfire said. “But this… other Cadance, Your Ladyship… So she can… Y’know. Fly?”

*“I think that’s less important,” Lady Cadance said promptly, “than the question of just where she came from in the first place. She, and Princess Luna.”

“If this were only Luna, I’d have said the Night Princess has broken loose,” commented Gladmane. “But none of my guys in Equestria mentioned anything of the sort.”

“It’s like this, you see,” Moondancer said, trailing a forehoof along the table. “According to the reports, when Princess Luna– if that’s who she is– initially showed up in Boston, she had a companion whose appearance closely matched Discord’s description. Now, we see her with Cadance. A Cadance who’s an alicorn. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”

Vinyl lifted her sunglasses. Her eyebags appeared more sunken than ever – hard party animal that she’d been, the sleeplessness of the war had taken its toll, and even joining strengths with Moondancer, the strain of teleporting Cadance to Boston had cost her.

“Well, it’s just a theory,” nodded Moondancer. “Now, I’m sure our Lady Cadance has learnt how to identify a Changeling impostor… Slim as the chances are we’re dealing with a Changeling. But… how do we know this isn’t Discord?”

Around her, and even on the screen, Cheerilee felt the temperature in the room go colder.

Gladmane glanced at Pina, who shrugged. He looked at Moondancer. “I have to say, Dame Moondancer,” he said. “That’s reasoning worthy of a con artist.”

“Ahem,” Pina interrupted with a cough. “Interesting theory, yes. But, one problem. Why would Discord show up as himself in the first place?”

It was an arresting event to see Moondancer and Pineapple Nectar express opposing views. While the bookworm’s intellect was well-known to the High Command, the peculiar, laconic mare showed another kind of intelligence – one which hinted at an abstract and clinical disdain for the world.

“Even so,” Spitfire said, “mayhap it sounds paranoid, but Dancer’s got a point. Discord’s a tricky one to pin down…”

“Really?” Pina said, deadpan. “Someone completely unexpected shows up after we’ve seen the man behind the curtain? What idiot would fall for that trick? Mister Gladmane,” she told the big earthpony, “you must agree, yes? Even Rainbow Dash would know her own father.”

“Oh, nothing,” Pina stroked her prosthetic forehoof, smiling. “Just wanted to say that anyone so cretinous deserves a knife in their back.” She stared at Spitfire. “It will be our backs if we think like that. Nothing makes one so gullible as paranoia.”

“Bah,” Vinyl cut in. “If the war’s proven anything, it’s the enemy of our enemy doesn’t mean they’re our friend.” Her gaze went to Cadance and Bauer on the screen. “And right now, I’m real worried about a honkin’ great dragon falling into the HLF’s hands,” she spat. “Fucking HLF.”

“Well, like it or not,” Cadance said from the screen, “though my double may have accosted Major Bauer, it’s the HLF who got to Luna and the dragon first.”

“Do the HLF have anyone who can tend to a dragon, Lady Cadance?” Moondancer said curiously. “Actually… We didn’t get a good look at the dragon from the Major’s shoulder-cam. But he looks familiar, somehow…”

Having been called back from the UN, Amethyst Star – who unlike her father held no seat at this table, and Time Turner was still away, trying to placate the Security Council – had retreated to a corner with Bonbon, holding the exhausted mare in a comforting embrace. She’d remained silent ever since getting grilled for what she knew of the mysterious entity who had communicated through Bonbon.

“... Spike?” Cheerilee repeated. “Wait, you don’t mean… Twilight’s little assistant in Ponyville?”

“Who gave her permission to speak?” Vinyl interrupted angrily. “You’ve been keeping secrets from us, Amethyst. You and Cadance. How do you know the dragon’s Spike? What, anything else you’d still like to share?”

Amethyst stood up, gently releasing Bonbon. Who remained seated, rocking back and forth, lost in her own world. Amethyst, however, glared at the High Command.

She walked around the circular table, until she stood behind the chair next to Cheerilee’s. The chair that faced the door. There were three empty chairs in the room tonight. But this was the one chair always kept empty.

“A dragon with Twilight. Who else could it be?” she told them. “If you’d just stopped and thought, instead of fretting and assuming the worst, you’d have concluded the same thing. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Squatting here in the dark, squabbling over whether this person’s who they say they are… Over whose help you want or don’t want… ”

She rubbed the back of the seat, into which was etched the seal of a golden lyre.

“I know… there are days when it seems humans hardly give us a reason to help them, and the HLF, in particular, have given us many such days. But if the humans had stayed stuck in the place we are now, the Tyrant would already have won.”

No response came forth immediately. Ironically, when it did, it came from the only one who could not see the engraved lyre from her vantage point.

“Amethyst’s right,” Cadance said. “We’ve all been making fools of ourselves… And I ought to have guessed that was Spike. We’ve become so fearful of deception and self-interest, we’ve pulled the wool over our own eyes.”

“Miss Cherry,” Bauer pitched in. “Though I am not on your council, I’d like to say a word. As a soldier, I have a duty to always stand on guard. But as a human being, I’ll add my voice in favour of Miss Star’s wisdom.”

“Although, discretion is the better part of valour,” Moondancer added mildly.

Cadance nodded at her. “That’s fair enough, Dancer. But sometimes, one must step out. Hopefully, into the light.”

“So, these apparitions… Luna, Discord… this alicorn Cadance… the weird voice talking through Bonbon… They’re all connected to Alex vanishing into that portal?”

“Apparently,” said Cadance. “Whatever happened at the JFK portal-station, Captain Reiner got thrust into a… different Equestria.”

Moondancer frowned. “I find it hard to attribute that to sheer luck,” she said, eyeing Amethyst. “If this is true… There must be some other power at work, we just don’t know about it yet.”

“Ma’am. I’ve a feeling the Princesses plan to stay with the HLF, close to… Spike. What would you have me do?”

“This night has worn us all,” she said. “And though soldiers may be practiced at staying awake past their limits, we must approach this new development with clear heads. I shall notify Time Turner that he, as it were, must get the Security Council prepared for a meeting in the morning. In the meantime, all our Boston safehouses are down… If the Major will be so kind, return with him to the UNAC base in Fenway.”

“The Teutonic Knights will be happy to provide shelter to the PHL,” said Bauer.

“Good. But please, do keep an eye out for our… visitors, and their hosts.”

From a sleep that wasn’t as restful as it should have been, filled with abandoned libraries, the wails of specters behind their shelves and corridors of blood, Luna groaned her way back into the waking world.

“Still on Earth,” Cadance whispered back. “Yes. Luna, Miss Jones was here just now. It’s… it’s the human leaders. It’s UNAC. I don’t think they’ll… they’ll hold out much longer. They need answers.”

Luna stood up within the large tent. They’d spent the night here on mattresses, she and Cadance, divested of their suits of armour, which had been stored into their respective null-spaces, ready to be summoned anew if needed. The inside of the tent, lit by floodlights, illuminated its third occupant. The great purple dragon that lay motionless in his deep slumber. They had secured an all-access permission to find refuge in this specific tent. And though Spike had been a mutual enemy during the battle, Miss Jones hadn’t argued. This was the tent she’d set aside for Equusites.

The dragon was kept heavily sedated, from what Luna understood, by several times the dose required for a full-grown elephant. With the initial stages of the spell upon his mind dissolved, however, his rest was more than well-earned.

She pressed a hoof against his snout, tracing his scales, avoiding the wounds he had sustained. This camp’s medic, a man called Avery, had done his best, but Luna only trusted those within Equestria to truly understand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” said Luna. “Nothing I can't deal with by myself for now.”

An alicorn’s natural regeneration had been a blessing, and neither she nor her sister had ever been struck by truly debilitating ailments. And, if Cadance had told the truth, neither had the newer, younger alicorn.

“Tell me. Now that you’ve slept on it… What did you make of Lady Cadance?” Luna asked, stalling.

“She’s… willing to talk, so there's that,” Cadance said. “But she’s heartbroken, you see. She misses him. Shining Armor. And I saw him on board…”

“Not as much as he’s hurt my other self…” Cadance said quietly. “I don’t know what happened. It was like, he didn’t even care that it was me. Or her. He, and Twilight… like they hated me “

“Hm, I presume years of war haven’t been kind to what they think of Lady Cadance.”

“I suppose so… but it’s still not him. Shining would never– I just, I don’t understand. Why?”

She choked on her last words, and Luna laid a comforting wing on her, sharing her forlorn look. She’d told Cadance about how she’d embarked on a trek in Twilight’s mind, how she’d come so close to setting her free, before a stray bullet ended that chance once and for all.

“I know it isn’t, and I am sorry you had to witness it. But he is not the first, nor shall he be the last to behave this way.”

She pressed Cadance’s head against her neck in a familial embrace, and they stood there for a moment that stretched on, with only the gentle breathing of Spike to break the silence.

”Theirs is not our world, much as I like to think it should be,” Luna said quietly. “In that Equestria, there was no triumph at your Wedding… no redemption of Discord…”

“... And no Spike the Brave and Glorious,” Cadance whispered mournfully. She walked away from Luna, and nuzzled Spike’s snout affectionately. “Oh, Spike, what did they do to you…”

Luna had only heard snippets of the Realm’s return. Celestia had insisted on Twilight to undertake the quest, with the rest of the Bearers. And though all was almost lost to the Dark King, Cadance had informed them of how Spike, the little drake that could, had been the one to truly save the Realm. The title Brave and Glorious, bestowed upon him by crystalponies, must have been his finest hour.

Her gaze turned from the slumbering dragon to Cadance. The Crystal Princess come again, the first new alicorn in generations, Luna remembered. A pegacorn, raised by earthponies, born to her lost bloodline, a bloodline that had disappeared with Princess Amore many centuries ago.

And Celestia wished another to join Cadance, in a plan she’d only shared with her dear sister...

Luna sighed. Yet another future lost, she presumed, gone in the wake of the Imperial years.

“Things are not as clear-cut as they should be,” said Luna. “But… and I am not so sure this is a promise I can keep, but I promise that… whatever the answers are, we shall find them. And it begins here, Cadance.”

Cadance nodded, before turning to embrace Spike, one last time. He remained motionless, his breathing shallow and laboured.

A simple promise, Luna mused, but one not so easily fulfilled. Yet something else tugged at Luna’s troubled mind. Alexander Reiner…

The night before, Maxine Radwick had departed from this camp with Major Bauer and Lady Cadenza. Just as Reiner had explained during his last words before Luna had departed with Discord for Earth, the Major and his Teutonic Knights had their own camp further West, in Fenway Park.

Jumbled as her thoughts were, Luna tried not to dwell on Discord. As they stepped outside, she pulled out the map Jones had presented her with.

While Cadance watched curiously, Luna unfolded and scrutinised its contents one more time. North America, a broad landmass, fragmenting to the North into a dozen lakes and islands. It put her oddly in mind of a squat, lopsided tree crowned by pine-needles. Tracing national and regional outlines, Luna’s eye drifted down to a point South. There, a small town, in a place called Texas.

The Princess of the Night folded the map back up. Closing her eyes, she let her mind expand. Dawn had yet to break on these shores. Luna reached out with her mind – and sensed this world’s Moon.

Alien, unfamiliar, no friend of hers. But recognisably a Moon. This night had been the night of a Full Moon. Breathing in slowly, breathing out, Luna let the Moon’s touch envelop her. And as it was back home, the Moon was a mirror to the world, and from behind that mirror, Princess Luna’s eyes beheld the world.

Alike to the world from whence she’d came, a blue-green pearl hanging in the void of space. But this pearl was tainted. It was from this elevated vantage point that Luna saw in the East, how there advanced an inexorable wall, of a sickly colour that drained all others in its wake. Fighting back faintness, Luna tore her gaze away from this sight of what her fallen sister had wrought.

Her eyes searched, sliding along silvery rays of light the Moon took from the Sun, and gifted back to the world below. This was what her exile had been. To look upon the world from afar, beholding its magnificence, yet seeing only a surface unbroken in its smoothness, never to marvel at the myriad little existences that swarmed and multiplied underneath, anymore than mortal eyes see these in a drop of water.

“Yes... Miles, in fact,” Luna replied distantly. She looked at her niece. “One request I must make of you, above all. You must bring Spike back. Whatever their demands, this is ours. Allow us to bring Spike home, and we ask no more in return. Our mission is to set right what was wrong, and this is the first step. Can you promise me that, Cadance?”

Though Cadance seemed nonplussed at Luna’s sudden remoteness, she dutifully answered. “Okay... I promise. And about Discord…”

“No,” she said. “Not yet, Cadance. Not until we have made ourselves known to these people. I’ve let too much slip already. I do not wish to completely throw them off balance. We shall inform them when the time is right.”

Cadance nodded. “Right… Before we come back in, though– your mane, Auntie?” she finally asked. “It’s… it’s a little off-colour.”

Luna’s forehoof followed where Cadance pointed. With a tug, pulled a single strand from the tuft of mane that hung over her forehead. She saw that it was indeed a shade lighter than her usual midnight blue.

“So it is,” she said quietly. “This is the least of my worry, Cadance, much less yours. Now… They have waited long enough… Let us swiftly travel to Fenway Park. And I shall pick up Maxine Radwick, though I may have to coax her assistance after the fact…”

The trip from New York to Boston had taken a little over four hours, not counting the time it had taken to arrange for a UN-affiliated humvee to bring a war correspondent into a newly-reheated war zone. Positively late by pre-war standards, but these days, time was something no-one really had anymore, least of whom Hanne Adler. And here she sat next to her dear partner, being driven across the desolate, snow-covered battleground that was now Boston. Yet it was by a stroke of luck for Hanne that who else should have boarded her vehicle, but for Stephan Bauer himself – better known as the Knight of Germania.

So far, she’d had the courtesy not to pester the borderline legendary soldier, and she and Dieter had merely exchanged glances and a shake of the hand with Major Bauer.

That was ten minutes ago, once the humvee had arrived at Longwood Station. Now, entering Boston proper, even at this distance and with her middling knowledge of the town’s landmarks, Hanne felt a sudden chill to see something had happened to the John Hancock Tower. Half the face had been shorn off the tower, exposing the metallic skeleton beneath its reflective surface. It unnerved her to see evidence the Imperial assault had extended this far inland. But she did not dare ask Bauer about it, and this made her fidget in her seat.

Seeing light on the horizon, she checked her watch. It was close to nine o’clock in the morning.

In war, one would often latch unto the symbol of hope that stood for their cause. For Germany, that symbol was Stephan Bauer, the knight without a homeland, whose valiant efforts symbolised the will of the German people to endure.

Here, in the humvee, his features and exhausted expression made him look like any ordinary man. Even his signature armour – a modern version of the knights of old – was nowhere on his person, and he was now clad in a simple, standard-issue Bundeswehr uniform.

Bauer had come to greet them on their way to the rendezvous point, and didn’t say much. Military confidentiality was still an issue. Any other time, Hanne would have been clamoring for a chance to talk to the man. Yet here she sat, her camera in her lap, feeling giddy as a schoolgirl on the inside, looking aloof as ever on the outside.

Hanne poked her partner. She could have glared at him. Bauer, meanwhile, was snapped out of his thoughts to look at them both through the rear-view mirror. Hanne knew soldiers were so often hardened that they’d think such a question… insensitive. Unless they found some dark humor in it.

Before Dieter could blurt out another question, Hanne intervened. “Yeah, same old, same old. UNAC meetings are, in the end, just meetings. But what else is there to do?”

“Can’t get every shot, Major Bauer,” Hanne lamented. Her shoulders relaxed, a little. “That’s what Lani Sanderson says as well. But we take what we can get. I, ah, believe the fabled Knight of Germania himself was in the thick of things?”

Bauer groaned. “Please don’t call me that,” he said. “Just Major Bauer. It takes forever to get the damned media to lose the nickname.”

“Her regret is that she didn’t give you the nickname herself, you see–” said Dieter, before Hanne jabbed an elbow into his ribs.

“Then you are fine in my book,” said Bauer, ignoring Dieter’s pained yelp. “Everybody remembers your Barrier photograph, Miss Adler. Whereas I’d hate to end up being remembered by such a… tacky moniker.”

Hanne blinked. “Like I said, Major. We take what we can get at this point. It was a lucky shot, but I’ll take it if it means a little more for the history books.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Bauer. “Everything counts– hold up, we got a checkpoint.”

The humvee’s pace slowed and Hanne saw more soldiers outside. She readied her pass, but her gaze trailed as Major Bauer, leaning past the driver, spoke to the Teutonic Knight patrolman who was manning the checkpoint.

Hanne made out the tall, crumbling structures that dotted the Boston landscape. It was hard to believe that the city, mere hours ago, had been the site of a battle. Now it was but a ghost town, from what she could surmise.

She hadn’t managed to call Lani Sanderson again. The last she’d heard from her was to meet in some outpost, one Hanne felt sure they were heading to now. Her colleague had simply mentioned that she 'had to be there’.

But Hanne was still keen on taking the best of pictures – quite unlike the photograph she’d just retrieved on instinct from her jacket, held in her hand. She looked down at it.

It was a faded polaroid, one of a few copies she’d given to her circle of friends back in university. She’d convinced them to indulge her hobby – what good was a polaroid these days, they’d obviously thought. And it wasn’t the best of shots, either, in Hanner’s professional opinion. But there was no question how much it really meant for her, especially in the wake of the Conversion War.

There were a few people in that precious shot, and she remembered them all quite well. But only two remained, apart from her, and their time to pass would come.

At last, the clearance was given, and the jeep continued in its trek, each of its occupants from Major Bauer to Hanne herself travelling in silence. Or at least, the jeep continued, until it came to a halt shortly after at Fenway Park.

Lani, her hands in her pockets. In contrast to the destruction Hanne saw surrounding her, her fellow reporter was smiling. Nor did the smile leave the Hawaiian’s face as Hanne and Dieter exited the humvee, followed by Bauer.

“Of course,” Hanne shrugged, letting go of Lani’s hand. “Traffic these days, you know.”

Lani chuckled wryly. “One way to put it,” she said. “But, well, let’s just say that this is going to be worth your time. Promise.”

Bauer, who’d been observing both journalists, cleared his throat. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, indicating the command tent at the centre of the camp. “I’m expected elsewhere. Our welcome amongst these people relies on maintaining good relations.”

He left then, seemingly deeming the matter cut and dry. Hanne opened her mouth, but was interrupted when her partner tapped her shoulder.

She followed where he pointed, and was met by a crushing hug from someone a full head shorter than she was. It knocked the wind out of Hanne, and she staggered. But all annoyances evaporated when she met the large, warm eyes of Anastasia Bjorgman.

Her best friend laughed. Despite the layer of dust covering her, Ana looked almost as typically cheerful as she’d been when Hanne first met her, many years ago in their university days.

“Yeah, of course I am!” she exclaimed, rubbing the back of her head coyly. Her hair, Hanne saw, was also much shorter than it had been last time she’d called. “Goodness, took you guys quite a while to get here. I’d have thought you weren’t coming! Lani promised, you know.”

“Right,” said Hanne flatly. She reached out to brush away one of Ana’s remaining bangs. “Ana, what’d you do to your hair?”

But Hanne frowned. She hadn’t taken Ana for a combat agent at all, as her letters had only made mention of working in the PHL-aligned branch of Boston’s pharmaceutics sector. Biotechnology and pharmaceutics, this was one of the industries Boston had been known for prior to the war. And the war had lent it new significance.

“Regulations?” repeated Hanne. “Was zum Teufel? After Indonesia, you were supposed to be with R&D, not sent back to field duty, Ana. What's all this?”

“But, in all seriousness, look around you,” said Ana, her hand tracing their surroundings. “Even with weeks to prepare, the evacuation took ages, they needed the manpower and… well, even Amethyst Star doesn’t have the clout to prevent a reassignment to the frontlines.”

“I know, right? Well, they didn’t expect the Empire to push so boldly. So we found ourselves caught in the battle, and off to the frontlines I went…”

‘Ana, why’d you ever tell them about your shooting range performance, you goof…’

A memory flashed by of the pair of them fooling around in their university days, sneaking in and out of classes. Hanne’s smile turned wicked.

“Very well, and… Okay, Lani?” said Hanne. “I really should tell you sometime about how Bjorkman and I went sneaking around campus and f–”

And then Ana stepped on her foot, hard. Dieter, like the charming, loyal man he was, burst out laughing, and even Lani suppressed a smirk.

“Okay, okay I get it, don’t bring it up,” Hanne said hurriedly, cringing through the pain that shot through her foot. “You still need to explain a few things…” Her glare fell on her partner. “People are watching, Dieter.”

She was right. All around them, the various soldiers had turned their eyes on them. Including a fellow who fast approached them. Clad in the kevlar-plated armour of a Teutonic Knight, he possessed sharp features, and with a glare that could match her own. Hanne quickly stood up to meet him eye-to-eye.

“Ah, yes, the Englishman,” said Hanne coolly. The man nodded. “Hope she isn’t a handful.”

Thomas Harwood shrugged. “It varies,” he said primly. Ana laughed, and Hanne chuckled. “She’s still the same ray of sunshine.”

“And then some,” Hanne quipped, and Ana nudged her. “You know what I mean.”

“See, about that–” Ana had begun to say, but she was interrupted by a growing murmur from the command tent.

And Hanne gasped when her eyes fell upon the mare who at this moment walked in hushed conversation with Major Bauer.

“Lady Cadance?” Hanne asked aloud, puzzled. “What the… but you were…”

The camp had fallen silent – even Dieter and Ana kept quiet, equally mystified, as the rose-coloured alicorn drew up to them. And then ‘Cadance’ unfurled her wings. Her fully-formed wings, graceful and angelic in their beauty.

“... Mein Gott,” Hanne said, before finding her voice. “And the… the dark alicorn? Where’s she? Where is Luna?”

Cadance shook her head. “She’s… a little busy elsewhere. Come, I’ll explain.”

Based on where the morning light shone dimly through the clouds, it was barely past ten o’clock, when Luna set hoof upon solid ground once more. And barely past ten o’clock when Maxine Radwick, for lack of a better word, was even less pleased with her.

“Jarden, your hometown,” said Luna calmly. “Or the outskirts, anyway. I took the liberty of finding it on a map, and teleporting here was trivial, even with my limited mana reserves. I merely needed to find the Moon and–”

“You took me to Jarden?” Radwick repeated. “Do you have any idea how far this is!”

“Why, yes,” answered Luna. “We are approximately– where are you going?”

They were on a hillside. In the Winter, the local Sun’s light remain dimmed, but there were lights not so far away, down below in the morning mist, an erratic collection of shapes and colours at the bottom of the hill, scarcely concealed by squat trees – sycamores, if Luna recalled correctly. She wasn’t the Princess most attuned to the land.

She followed Radwick downhill, silently. With her keen eyesight, she squinted to see where the human was heading. It was a group of metallic structures on wheels, which might have been mobile homes, at a stop in a grass field. Despite the early hour, there was activity. The scent of perspiration and alcohol reached her senses, and on top of that, the place was loud, a cacophony of laughter, chanting and screeching music all mixed together.

If Luna lost Radwick in that fray, it’d be hard to find her again without being spotted.

“Wait!” shouted Luna. She flew over and landed on the grass, blocking Radwick’s way. The woman’s green eyes narrowed harshly. “Please, I have my own reasons to bring us both here.”

“Well?” Radwick said, glaring. She crossed her arms, and her shoulders relaxed, just a little. “Spit it out. We don’t have all day.”

“Aye. I only wish to see what humanity treasures most. And I only have what Alexander Reiner told me– your hometown.”

“I apologise, Miss Radwick. But I know pain. And I thought you may need the reprieve, too. If it is your superiors you worry about, I’m prepared to take full responsibility... I do apologise, truly, for abducting you. Now… please. Please, make me understand, just what it is humanity is fighting so hard to keep.”

“So you took me back to my hometown, just for that?” Radwick said curtly. “You don’t do things by half, do you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Luna admitted. “I prefer a direct approach. Both by deeds, and by words.”

Radwick snorted. “Words,” she said. “You ponies were always full of pretty words. Your actions wouldn’t really line up.” She paused, thinking. “You know, if you’d ‘ported right into town, they’d likely have picked up the spike, and you wouldn’t be my problem any longer. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you in.”

Luna, for a brief moment, pondered if she should remind Radwick or not about the battle they had just lived through, mere hours ago.

“Wouldn’t they wonder how you left the battle, Miss Radwick?” she asked. “I could just as easily bring you back, just like that.”

It was a bold-faced lie. Even had she tried, Luna wouldn’t have been able to teleport a hoofball field away, not in her current state. She’d exhausted her last mana with this jump.

“But I need answers. Your brother didn’t want to believe it at first, either, but we’re sure there’s some old connection between your family and Equestria. And I promise, this will provide us both a reprieve from our troubles.”

As Luna was about to give a resigned sigh, however, she heard the woman speak, without looking back.

“You want to meet my Dad,” Radwick said quietly, moving a few steps towards the camp, hands in her pockets. “He still lives here. In Jarden, I mean. Not this madhouse.” She nodded towards the gaudily lit, noise-bursting camp. “He’s pretty chill about ponies.”

“Don’t,” snapped Radwick. “Just don’t. You won’t find Mom here, anyway. She… left. Not even Dad knows where.”

Luna looked at the woman’s back, up and down. She was tense, fists almost clenching.

Radwick chuckled mirthlessly. “Besides, doubt you’ll get very far. The town’s a fortress, you need special clearance to visit, if you’re a tourist. Dunno how you’ll even get past the gates.”

“You’re a citizen, surely?” Luna said thoughtfully. “And Captain Reiner’s sister. I’d expected there might be setbacks. I was hoping you could help me.”

Radwick turned around. “Oh, really,” she said. “Why aren’t I surprised? You did want to use me for something, after all. But you’re not exactly the most inconspicuous of ponies, you know. Half the guys want to shoot down the first alicorn they see.”

Luna tapped her chin. It didn’t take too long, of course, for an idea to hatch. A simple trick, one which Galatea had reminded her still existed for all three of them, when the grey alicorn had assumed her disguise as a… grey earthpony.

Celestia, meanwhile, had once spent an entire day in Ponyville in the guise of a pegasus, and by all accounts it had been a fun outing. One that had only ended when Twilight remembered, from a glance at an old storybook, what colour her mane had been in youth.

So it was, her horn glowed bright, her aura enveloping her. Her mane and tail, once midnight blue and flowing, shortened to half their original length, and now inert as any normal pony’s should be. Her blue coat, too, shifted to a light azure shade.

And now she stood before Radwick in her youthful form, the very same form she’d had when she was freed by the Bearers of Harmony. Only her cyan eyes and mark remained intact, her wings having disappeared under the glamour.

“I haven’t felt so… invigorated in days!” she exclaimed. “Tell me, tell me, how do I look?”

“Come now, Miss Radwick,” said Luna lightly. “I did say this would be a reprieve. “And now, before you stands... uh, Claire de Lune, yes. Claire de Lune, former Canterlot aristocrat, and a fervent admirer of Captain Reiner.”

“A fancier way of saying Moonlight, but I like the name. Sounds very posh, doesn’t it?”

“The mane changes everything, first off,” said Luna. Now, the once conspicuous light blue tuft hanging on her forehead blended in with the rest of her mane. “But you’re right. There must be something else I can do...”

She cleared her throat. Then, she vocalised, tuning up her pitch with each ‘ah’ she said. And, with a wide smirk, she began to sing.

“Tend the burdens your heart carries, come along and join the fun!” she sang, tapping her hooves upon the grass. Radwick raised an eyebrow at the display. “Loosen up, forget your worries, dance with me, the night is young…”

“Ah, it worked, then,” said Luna. “Sorry. But to be so young again… my, I couldn’t resist.”

“Oh, you remind me of Starswirl. He wasn’t amused by that song either,” said Luna cheerfully. She flicked her head gracefully, beaming. “Now I’m truly Claire de Lune. And I feel that I’ve much to see.”

“Alright, everyone,” Cadance said primly. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

She put on her best smile, and stood up. Before her were Major Bauer, Lady Cadenza, and a few more people whose names she did not know. Her counterpart sat opposite her, facing a black device on the table. The pliable, two-piece device reminded Cadance vaguely of a pocket mirror, but oversized and providing no reflection. Its upraised ‘mirror’ half, in fact a screen, had been opaque until Cadenza tapped a button on the lower half, which consisted of an unusually flat keyboard.

Cadenza had rapidly explained that this ‘laptop’ functioned by storing memory in silicon, much like crystal infused by the mystical arts. Meanwhile, the screen – or ‘monitor’ – actually wove images using a combination of liquid crystals and light. When asked what power made this possible, Cadenza reiterated a fact Cadance had briefly gleaned off of Reiner, that due to different physical laws, Earth was surrounded by a magnetic field, trapping lightning in quantities the Kirin could only have dreamt of harvesting.

It was remarkable. But the device’s appearance also made Cadance a little uncomfortable, reminding her of the ansible, that uncanny typewriter which had delivered the words condemning Redheart to death… Heavens, had that only been a day ago? She wondered how Luna was coping…

A few more faces appeared on-screen, forming something akin to portraits on the wall. Animated portraits, that is. For such a small screen, it felt like they were in the room with her.

Finally came the last man on a screen. He, Cadance remembered, had been mentioned several times by Reiner. He was a homely-looking man, whom she thought Shining or Blueblood would have felt made for a nice presence at a bar evening.

“My name is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, though just ‘Cadance’ is fine,” she said. A pause, as the humans’ scribes took notes on their notebooks and thin black pads. “I am the reigning Crystal Princess, ruler of the sovereign Crystal Realm.”

Another pause. She looked at Major Bauer, to her side. He gave her an encouraging nod. She cleared her throat again.

“I stand here as an envoy for my Aunts Celestia and Luna, reigning Diarchs of Equestria. An Equestria that has not known war in centuries. And this Equestria has an alliance is in the making. An alliance that will stand against your enemy, hand in hoof.”

A pause, and static crackled from her microphone. She gave a nod to one of the two most prominent men who flanked Cheerilee. This one was to Cadance’s left on the table. Antonio Guterres.

“If I may,” spoke Guterres. “According to our records, Princess Luna is not at present ruling by her sister’s side. Her attempted defection was halted in Iceland by Queen Celestia… the same night you yourself defected, Lady Cadance.”

“Yes, Secretary-General,” replied Cadance. “In their Equestria. But in ours, Princess Luna rules in equal measure to her sister. And I am not the same Cadance. Anymore than my Aunt Celestia is the same Tyrant you fight.”

“Another Equestria...” said Mélenchon, a bespectacled, elderly man. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but you must understand how… surreal this all seems. We have questions.”

“Is Captain Reiner alive?” asked Vanderbilt. His voice was gravelly, yet clear.

“He is,” said Cadance. “Hurt, but alive. He arrived nearly two weeks ago, by our count. We’ve been treating him as best we can.”

“Alive, after two weeks?” Vanderbilt said incredulously. “How is that possible? All the evidence we have shows humans cannot survive in the Equusite biosphere much longer than three days. The thaumaturgic environment is too rich for us to adapt.”

“I don’t know what’s up with that,” Cadance admitted. “But it doesn’t at all seem the case with Captain Reiner and my Equestria. Maybe… maybe it isn’t the environment. Maybe something in the Equestria you know is toxic to humans…”

And so it began, indeed. A story that had been told to others before the council which sat here. A story of a man who’d found his way to Equestria. How Equestria had listened to his story, and called upon allies from far and wide. How an entire world had heard Reiner’s plea for help.

“It was decided that my Aunt Luna was to be the envoy, along with Lord Discord,” said Cadance. “Princess Celestia thought she shouldn’t come to Earth yet.”

“Yes… how wise of her,” said Vladimir Putin. The President of the Russian Federation, Cadance thought, had a higher-pitched voice than what his shrewd, calculating appearance implied. He narrowed his eyes. “Yet sending someone as… important as you are to treat with us, seems equally unwise.”

“Things didn’t go exactly as planned, Mister President,” said Cadance. “Aunt Luna has her own… task now, and I speak on her behalf.”

Cadance raised a forehoof. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Captain Reiner has given us a rundown of your world’s politics, Prime Minister,” she said quickly. “Enough for us to understand.”

“I see,” said Javid. “In any case, our questions remain. You claim to be from another Equestria. But… what sets you apart?”

“Fifteen years separate us from our counterparts, Prime Minister,” replied Cadance. “We’re still not entirely sure where we really diverged, but Aunt Luna has observed that the Crystal War never happened to our Equestria.”

“Indeed,” Cadance agreed. “Enough time for things to be… drastically different.”

“How different?” he asked, in a language different from the others’. “If I may ask, Princess.” Then someone from his end of the call repeated the words – at the same time Cadance instinctively replied in his language.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Mister President,” she said hurriedly, consciously switching back to the former language. “I meant… There’s been no war. No Co-Harmony Sphere. No Empire. And... ” She couldn’t help but hesitate. “No madness of Queen Celestia…”

Xi Jinping narrowed his eyes. He had a squint that, weirdly, made Cadance think of a bear.

“I see you have a Gift of Tongues, Princess Cadance. Interesting…” the President of China told her silkily. “Yet to our knowledge, Captain Reiner is quite fluent in Modern Equish. I assume he communicated with you in that the whole time?”

“You know, I never really thought about that…” Cadance said slowly, wondering if here was a net she was being drawn into. “But… from what I know of the Gift, I could only be talking in words you understand, if enough of my people can read your language… Such as how the deep magical bond works. Yet this is my first time on this world…”

“Then we are to take this as a good sign,” the PHL’s leader stated, a gleam in her eye. “Because what it means, Princess, is you’ve attuned to the souls of thousands of Equestrians stranded half a world away in China… Likely the hundreds of thousands of Equestrians here on Earth.”

A new feeling had come upon the tent. Cadance looked towards Cadenza. And she saw that Cadenza, wryly, was smiling.

Cadance steeled herself. “Anything we can. We are… we’re still negotiating terms with the other nations of Equus, that is true–”

“Is a military option on the table?” asked Putin suddenly. Xi Jinping nodded.

“Yes, you said it yourself. You have no experience with war,” the Chinese President said coolly. “What could you possibly offer us?”

Her eyes looked from left to right, taking in the sight of everyone within the tent. Then she noticed two of the scribes in the corner. Lani Sanderson, the journalist from earlier, and by her side, her colleague Hanne Adler, someone Sanderson had mentioned to be very, very interested in humanity’s legacy.

“... Preservation,” she finished. “Alexander Reiner spoke of a world close to starvation. Your people, Mister President, he said they were afraid for the Barrier’s arrival, As are yours, President Kaine.”

“A few billion people is a… huge number, that is true. But, you will have the support of a brave new world. I can promise you that whatever happens, your culture, your humanity will be preserved to some extent on our world.”

“And Alexander Reiner, Princess? When can we anticipate his… return?” asked Mélenchon. “The Barrier is already within viewing range of Boston. Negotiations need to happen swiftly.”

“As soon as he recovers, President Mélenchon,” said Cadance. “I’m aware that… right now, these are simply words from me, but I guarantee he will come back to you. And my Equestria will have already arranged for… well, an open diplomatic channel between worlds. Reiner has been a tremendous help in preparing us for that.”

“Princess Cadance, you’ve spoken much of what you can do,” said Kaine. “But what can we do for you?”

“We need the dragon,” she said. “We need Spike. He’s an innocent soul, twisted by the Solar Empire. My Aunt Luna believes she may break the Imperial conditioning… That’s the one thing she asked for. The dragon she defeated.”

The mention of Spike drew uncomfortable mutters. Their memories of Spike’s scorching of the PHL safehouses did not escape Cadance’s notice.

“That might be… complicated,” Kaine told her. “Especially since the dragon, so we’ve been informed by Major Bauer, is not in our custody, or the PHL’s. The last thing we want is getting the HLF mixed into this.”

Lady Cadenza stepped in. “And yet I’d vouch for this, Mister President,” she said. “I know that my younger self is telling the truth. I knew Spike when he was just a kid. It’s quite simply not in his nature, what happened here.”

“Children do not remain innocent forever,” Putin said, unmoved and seemingly unfazed to see both Cadances at once, “if they ever were innocent to begin with. And you should know what war does to people, Lady Cadance.”

“But I believe this may go deeper than that,” Cadenza pressed on. “The Newfoals, the Geas… What you should know, sir, is that the Empire has many ways of beguiling people into doing its bidding.”

Guterres spoke again. “It certainly poses a greater moral dilemma than usual in war, when the enemy uses literal thralls to fight…”

“Regardless,” Kaine interrupted. “The fact remains, the dragon is not ours to hand over, Princess Cadance. While we sooner wouldn’t see him kept by the HLF, believe me, we wouldn’t, handing him to you would first mean negotiating with them.”

“And what if I went to the HLF directly?” Cadance asked tiredly. “I’ve met them already.”

“Your Highness,” said Kaine, “whatever their name, the HLF are not the officially-designated representatives of humanity. We are.”

“Sir,” she said. “And sirs. With all due respect, my Aunt and I came here offering help, not to any one part of humanity, but to all humanity. And maybe you’ll think this makes us naïve or idealistic. Trust me, when I look at the size of this enterprise, I cannot fool myself into believing it’s ever possible to save everyone. But your personal disputes shouldn’t keep us from trying! Even if it’s by chance, my Aunt seems to have got into Miss Jones’ good graces. Please, I ask you to let me make use of that.”

“This seems fair enough, gentlemen,” she said. “This is no guarantee… but maybe, in this unexpected and unhoped-for option, we’ll find answers we can’t elsewhere. Here stands an Equestrian Princess who is neither of the Solar Empire, nor the Equestrian Resistance, nor the PHL… I say we let her stand for herself, and show us if she can do what we can’t.”

The five human leaders were in thought, seemingly waiting to see who’d speak first.

“I agree,” said Kaine. Mélenchon also nodded, and so did Javid, albeit a little reluctantly. Putin looked like he held back a jab, as did Xi Jinping.

‘That’s right… Reiner mentioned it didn’t he? Something… something about Russia and China having institutions to ‘rival’ the PHL… Using griffon expats, huh?’

“In any case, Princess Cadance?” said Cheerilee. “I think we’ll have plenty to discuss once things are a little less hectic. The PHL would be happy to help.”

“Are you sure you want to place such important matters in your care, Miss?” Putin said suddenly. “Such a responsibility should lie in mankind’s hands.”

“No, Mister President,” Cheerilee replied placidly. “The Ponies for Human Life will be honoured to accept said responsibility. Lyra Heartstrings’ dream is still alive and well. And we’ll take any chance we can get to see that dream fulfilled. She made a promise to help mankind, long ago. That’s a promise we intend to keep, no matter what.”

“And hope lives. It is here. Look with your eyes. She sits there, the Crystal Princess Reborn. And we have hope, more than we’ve had in years.”

The statement wasn’t so much directed at Cadance, so much as it was directed towards everyone else in the room as well. Their love, repressed for so long, had begun to flow. Grief and despair made way for the tiniest sliver of hope that rose from their ranks.

Cadance’s mind went out, and her heart went too, to Stephan Bauer, to this careworn Cheerilee, to Starfall and Blank Canvas, Alicia and Daniel… To Hanne Adler, to Lani Sanderson, and that strawberry-blonde-haired young woman who’d been with them, her love as pure as the Reindeer’s. To Teresa Jones…

“And if we can keep that promise,” Cheerilee continued. “with bandages and books, moreso than bullets… that’ll be all for the better.”

At first, there was a tense silence that followed. Then Stephan Bauer stepped forward. He wore no armour, but his words were steely and proud.

Discreet as it was, Cadance felt the love flow so smoothly and freely, gentle and tender and happier than it had been in years. She held back a laugh. So many around the tent remained with faces as if carved of rock, but others had smiles evidently tugging at their lips.

Her eyes met the mare opposite her. Herself. The little lost pegacorn who’d found her place in the world so many years ago.

With the love all around her, love for each other, for people, and for the hope that come anew, Cadance smiled serenely. Perhaps it was her presence here.

“I thank you, Princess Cadance,” said Cheerilee. “You stand before us as what we could have been. What Equestria should be. And we will be grateful to accept your terms.”

“Princess Cadance,” he said. “You said you were forming an alliance of your own. Is there an official statement to be expected on their behalf?”

“They are awaiting the outcome of our negotiations here, Council Leader,” said Cadance. “But it will come soon.”

“Then it’s settled,” Vanderbilt said evenly. “The PHL will handle diplomatic overtures from hereon. I’ll expect to hear from you again, Princess. For we still have much to discuss, of course, regarding certain matters.”

“That we will, Council Leader,” said Cadance, nodding. “That we will…”

The souvenir shop had been an interesting visit, for PHL memorabilia was the main attraction, the golden lyre an ubiquitous sight. Business was booming, or as booming as it could get during wartime, and even in these quiet morning hours, there were a few shoppers to be seen while Luna acquired her disguise.

Explaining her presence to the shopkeeper, she mused, hadn’t been much of a challenge at all.

“Thank you!” she said loudly, waving to the elderly shopkeeper. “Have a great day!”

“You could have just kept quiet and nothing would’ve been different,” said Maxine flatly, as they left the store. “I’m sure you’re proud of your… getup, but– Christ, you didn’t need to announce your fancy name.”

“I suppose I was being rather theatrical,” she said, tapping her chin. “But I like theatrical, and it probably cheered him up.”

The souvenir shop, thankfully, had just what she needed. A pair of sunglasses and a button-up, rose-patterned shirt, both made for a pony’s build, completed her eccentric outlook. Then she affixed a small, lyre-shaped pin to her shirt.

‘I’m really getting the hang of modern times,’ she thought happily. ‘Take that, Tia…’

“Like a tourist,” said Maxine, matter-of-factly. She shook her head. “You didn’t seem this… out there, earlier...”

“I used to be the Bearer of Laughter, you know?” Luna said whimsically. “Sooo, you could say that I’m just in my… Element.” She giggled. “Right! Onwards to your family home, then? What kind of bond do you have with Alex, Maxine?”

“Sibling rivalry perhaps? I can relate,” Luna said, as she hummed and began to sing again. “I was just the second born sister, who most of the town ignores! Like a button, like a horseshoe, like a mare who’s bad at metaphors!”

“Stop,” Maxine hissed. “I don’t wanna talk about it, least of all to someone who breaks into song every few seconds.”

“Okay, okay,” Luna said quickly, tapping her hooves on the sidewalk as she looked around. “Sorry… sorry… um, where is it, anyway?”

In Boston, Luna had found no time to behold the architecture, at night and in the heat of battle. And too much else had taken up her attention shortly before she’d left Cadance to negotiate. Her eye had caught a hazy impression of a world of brick and cement, many of the buildings a lean five storeys high, the landscape occasionally punctuated by structures of glass and steel – nothing too dissimilar from the streets she’d walked in Alexander Reiner’s uneasy mind.

Already at this hour, crowds milled upon the sidewalk, pressing close to the series of squat, two-storey buildings, from which jutted sunshades above the entrances – looking back from where she’d just exited, Luna was curious to note the architectural style here favoured arches, over windows as well as the door, and longer, lower buildings.

A black car drove by and Luna had to stop and stare. While naturally she had seen horseless carriages in her time, for such vehicles to be so ubiquitous they could be owned by a person of modest salary, ran contrary to everything she knew, including the new Equestria she’d stepped into a few years ago. Yet to her trained eye, even aside from these modern conveniences, the town just looked young. Younger than Ponyville. And oddly, although her time in Boston had been sparse, her feelings told her the place wasn’t much older.

Alexander Reiner had explained humans could trace back their civilisation’s history to almost ten-thousand years, which was many times older than Equestria’s recorded histories. But he hadn’t mentioned he came from a country so young. Luna felt her lips pull back. Here was a nation in its infancy, and yet, another nation that resembled her own had decreed it would die, one of the last of human cultures. It was not right.

It was a few hours later that Cadance ended up back on Boston’s streets. Following Luna’s message, it had been agreed that Cadance – alongside an escort team dispatched by the PHL – would seek out the HLF leadership residing at Logan International Airport. It was not a large escort, granted. Tensions tended to arise between this lot, and a full guard detail would have drawn suspicious eyes. Yet Major Bauer had vouched for her, by proclaiming she could handle herself just fine. The dome’s collapse over Boston had proven it well.

Now, carefully navigating past ruined asphalt and concrete debris, Cadance found herself walking side-by-side with a few lightly armed guards – that short woman they’d called Bjorgman, who was presently bearing a rifle almost as tall as she, along with Bjorgman’s griffon partner and certain members of Major Bauer’s unit. The ones whose names she could remember best, Daniel and Starfall, were accounted for. To Cadance’s relief, she’d been told Blank Canvas would pull through.

A tang of salt hit Cadance’s nostrils. There, at the waterfront, looking out onto the watery expanse of the channel which separated three-quarters of this city from its remaining quarter, she’d managed to rendezvous with Aunt Luna’s contact from last night. A mousey-brown-haired woman, who wore a battered-looking flak-jacket, while over her back was slung a large, streamlined-looking weapon not dissimilar to the fancier-looking firearms.

Teresa Jones was standing there, bobbing her head to an unheard tune, which Cadance deduced came from a device at the woman’s hip, attached to the ears. Shaped like a miniature white monolith, it was smaller than any cassette player she’d ever seen. She was interested to spot the mark of an apple on it.

“Hello again, Miss Jones,” Cadance said by way of greeting. Besides and behind her, her escorts halted in their steps.

“Your Highness,” Jones replied politely. The woman threw a slightly awkward salute, which Cadance, who tried not to think of Shining, took to indicate she had little military background. The glance Jones threw to the closest escort – the griffon, whose talons had moved to her rifle – was uneasy. “Teresa Jones, reporting for duty.”

Again, Cadance noted the similarity to a Griffish Isles’ accent with amusement, accentuated by Jones’s mock-formality.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure this musn’t be pleasant to hear, but UNAC do seem terribly… stubborn, where you’re involved.”

“They would,” Jones said shortly. She shook her head. “But they don’t call all the shots. Not your first rodeo with us, eh, Miss Bjorgman?”

Cadance followed her eyes, to the woman Jones had addressed. Bjorgman, who’d kept quiet until then, cleared her throat.

Jones nodded, flashing a reassuring smile. “Just fine, Bjorgman, thanks for asking. You could ask her yourself, though. She should be with us soon. It’s been what, three weeks since you and your nerd friends last came over?”

“Too long, too long,” Bjorgman said. Cadance looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, we do joint R&D here and there, Your Highness.”

“Well, whatever ‘bad blood’ UNAC has got with you, Miss Jones, I don’t see it here,” Cadance added, nodding along. “When I broached the issue of Spike– the dragon– they seemed just fine with Aunt Luna and I taking him with us back.”

“Ah,” said Jones. “Methinks they’re testing your mettle, Princess Cadance. I did promise your Aunt that our resources would be at her disposal. Not a promise I want to see broken.”

“It’s gotten better,” replied Jones. But her tone belied a familiar sort of weariness, one that Cadance had heard all too often from either Aunt Celestia, or her old tutor Kibitz, at the tail-end of busy days in Canterlot Palace.

“Huh, you mean, apart from what UNAC or the PHL could tell you?” Jones replied, sounding tired. “Alright, what would you like to know?”

“I… haven’t really got a specific question,” Cadance admitted sheepishly. “I’m just curious about the organisation. We’ve got time, I’m sure.”

That got Jones to chuckle. “Yes, Dearheart can take her time,” she said with a light touch of mischief. “Curious one, aren’t you, Your Highness?”

“Oh, I was taught by the best,” Cadance followed up, smiling in reminiscence. “Aunt Cel– the Sun Princess always pushed me to ask all the questions I could. My sister liked to answer them herself– when she wasn’t too annoyed.”

Nevermind, of course, that ‘annoyed’ was an understatement when it came to Sunset Shimmer. But that fiery irritation wasn’t to be found in Jones.

“I see,” Jones said pensively. “Alright. Have a seat, Your Highness, you and your pals. Even with Cliffnotes, there’s a lot to take in.”

They found the nearest pile of rubble they could to seat themselves. Although Daniel decided he wanted to stand and Starfall leaned against a half-destroyed wall, Ana and her griffon partner did take a moment to sit as well, leaning against one another. For her part, Cadance cleared the immediate area, her aura realigning the fragments with a neatness Rarity would admire.

“Back in 2018, when Conversion was new, this American priest, Reverend James Thomas, founded a group called the HTF– the Harriet Thomas Foundation, named after his daughter, one of the most prominent Newfoals to ‘go pony’ and vanish off the face of the planet.”

“Troubled times?” Cadance quietly asked. “Captain Reiner said things turned ugly fast.”

“Publically, no,” said Jones. “Most governments were really keen to put on some show of friendly relations with Equestria. I mean, pretty pastel ponies, how doesn’t that look good for PR? Kids… kids love ’em,” She hefted a deep sigh. “But beneath the surface, agitators had already been making waves. At first, it was the usual suspects. Reactionary nutcases, conspiracy theorists… Various cults who didn’t like the competition…”

From the corner of her eye, Cadance could see Ana lean closer to her partner, chatting with stolen glances towards Jones.

“Still, for the first two years after ponies arrived, things were going pretty well. In fact, 2018 was the last good year, really. I remember… Well. I remember seeing pictures of you in the papers, Your Highness. Next to Vladimir Putin, of all people. You and your husband were in Russia, attending the Football World Cup.”

“Huh. Shining never was one for sports when he was younger,” Cadance remarked, just as she caught herself and felt her cheeks heat up. “S-sorry, carry on.”

“Well, Your Highness, you two looked happy then, and you both liked it enough to be there, right up to the Finals. Papers digged it, the crowds loved you two waving back at them,” Jones added, with a wistful smile. “Happier times…” Her smile faded. “In hindsight, I’m guessing that was the idea. Your public appearance did make for great publicity, when the Conversion Bureaus opened a couple months later.”

Cadance swallowed, taking in the implications. To consider that Celestia, in any incarnation, would exploit her image so wantonly… Yet, whenever she thought nowadays of how Celestia had introduced her to the people, from the Palace balcony all those years ago, her older self couldn’t help but wonder if this might have made a difference with Sunset.

“Not quite as fast as you’d think,” Jones said, her eyes looking faraway. “You gotta get this, Princess Cadance, that you ponies picked the right time to show up. 2016 had been a weird year, even before that. My own country had just voted to leave the EU– Oh, you wouldn’t know what that is. Well, it doesn’t really exist anymore, anyway, not the way it used to. Not with the whole damn continent swallowed by the Barrier.”

There was, Cadance felt, a deeper history behind Jones’ words. One for which, at the moment, she’d do best to wait before prying further.

“Point is,” said Jones. “Ten years ago, you’d have told me a man would be applauded by the press for becoming a woman, I’d have thought you were bonkers. Yet things were changing. In fact…” She turned hesitant. “Alright, this story’s not mine to tell. But the person you’re gonna meet, she can tell you about it if she wants to. Her own mother– Okay, it’s complicated. She’s adopted, see. The couple who adopted her, well, Mum used to be a guy. Pretty popular comic-book writer. Except not many people knew they’d had a sex change, until they made it public that same year.”

This got Cadance to blink with surprise. “They’d kept it secret? Why?” she asked. “From what Captain Reiner had said, we’d understood humans were an advanced civilisation.”

“Laws can change, Your Highness, but people are a fickle bunch, especially the sort to read comics,” Jones said. “They wanted to be on the safe side. Advanced? In machinery, yes. You should see our trains. Culturally, though…”

Underlining her words, it seemed, was a whole topic she’d have loved to broach. Yet Jones seemed to think better of it.

“I’m getting side-tracked again,” Jones said, rubbing her forehead. “But unless you’d been there to convince a bunch of jungle-dwellers that ponies were really gods– and let’s face it, I’m sure quite a few people did believe that– you couldn’t have picked a better time to tell people it was okay to radically change their bodies. Well, except for skin colour, I guess, because that’s always its own can of worms.”

At that juncture, Cadance felt she had nothing better to do than nod, listening intently.

“‘Going pony’, as they called it, was a pretty niche thing, you know?” Jones noted wryly. “They played it smart. Beauty of it was, most changes weren’t even permanent. Amazing what magic can do, ain’t it? And it barely cost a penny. I told you, kids loved it. Get your parents to let you be a pony for your birthday… Genius. Sheer, bloody genius…” Her gaze fell upon the broken asphalt at her feet. “Then Equestria says it’ll take people in, if they’re ready to change forever. First it’s just a few, mostly homeless, but then, more and more… Sure, there were waivers, psych evaluations… To be honest, nobody looked too hard. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“And it all went to shit,” Jones said, speeding up. “You know the drill. Things started to fall apart. People got questions on their minds. And the governments weren’t providing answers. So some ex-SAS guy, whose name I could never pronounce– and I’m Welsh, mind you– took matters into his own hands. Shortly before the war started, he brought together many wannabe soldiers from Great Britain and North America, putting them under one umbrella. He managed to get Reverend Thomas on his side– but also a man named Mike Carter.”

Cadance nodded. She remembered Alexander Reiner’s descriptions of Mike Carter and the organisation he’d been a founder of, and they were distinctly unfavourable.

Jones clicked her tongue. “Within months, Mike Carter took over, violently, and he wanted to kill all of your kind, not just Imperials. Reverend Thomas distanced himself from the organisation. A broken man, for the rest of his days, poor bloke… His heart gave up on him only a year later. And with him gone, that was the end of the Foundation. There are many groups, all over the world, who claim the name, Your Highness, but it’s America people think of when they hear the name ‘Human Liberation Front’.”

“Well, you don’t seem the type Captain Reiner talks about,” said Cadance. Seeing Jones’ quizzical look, she added, “You and your people here.”

“I’m talking to you right now, and I haven’t had one of your weapons aimed at me. I foalsat ponies before. I know when people are lying.”

That much was true. In the final days leading up to her wedding, she’d had her own suspicions when a photographer demanded to be allowed into the Palace apartments. A suspicion proven correct, after she found herself wrapped in Changeling wax no sooner than she’d asked if the photographer was invited.

Or perhaps Chrysalis was just a bad liar. Yet uncovering the deception hadn’t changed the dread and despair that sunk into her as hours went by in darkness, until a brilliant lavender glow had shone within the crystal caverns, and her soon-to-be sister-in-law came to the rescue.

Jones, for her part, let out a chuckle. “Fair enough. Actually, I spent quite a long time in the PHL, helping with freight distribution on the railroads, right up until just weeks ago… until the evacuation of Halifax… One last job for me. Then I quit.”

“Let’s just say… there are things that go bump in the dark,” Jones replied mysteriously. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with them.”

Cadance’s heart skipped a beat. Her mind flashed back to that great airship, her not-husband… And the grinning creature that stood so proudly by his side.

But all words she had on offer faded, as a horn sounded through the still morning air.

And, as Cadance and her escorts looked towards the water’s edge, they saw a vessel approaching. It was large, about as large as the sky-boat that had taken her to Canterlot so many years ago. Though drab and unassumingly grey, it was not unlike a boat of the Royal Fleet. Cadance suspected the unappealing colour was less about aesthetics, more about functionality, for lingering scraps of red paint told her the boat had been repainted more than once.

The boat bopped lightly against the edge of the wharf, marking its arrival. A small ramp extended from onboard, perhaps automatically, perhaps by magic, followed by someone Cadance would not have expected. It was a small pony, dressed in a two-piece uniform that must have been scrounged. A cream-coloured pegasus mare, with golden eyes and a primly trimmed, two-toned mane in shades of aquamarine and brown. There was a light skip to her step, a certain dissonant cheer set against the grim countenance of the ship’s deckhands and Cadance’s companions.

Bjorgman’s partner – Frieda, that was it – stifled a laugh. Ana smiled back. “Yeah, heh. Though it’s all business for now. Thanks for the letter.”

“For sure!” Dearheart replied. She turned to look at Cadance at last, smiling. “Hello, Your Highness. We’ve been expecting you.”

Cadance inclined her head. The mare, chipper as she was, looked as harmless as any pony could. “So I’ve been told,” she said, returning the smile. She glanced at the boat. “Well, it won’t be my first time onboard one of those, I suppose, eh-heh.”

“No, not at all,” Cadance said, “You’d have to ask my relative, Prince Blueblood, about that. Although I was interested in joining. At least partly,” she admitted with a grin, “because I always loved wearing those double-breasted peacoats.”

“Oh, I’m a fan of snappy uniforms myself,” Dearheart said, motioning to her own matching two-piece. “I’ve got one too now, so that’s nice! And if you’ve got a relative who’s a naval fellow, I look forward to meeting him.”

Teresa Jones’s expression had turned glum, and having bowed her head briefly, she silently plugged one earpiece back in. Evidently, she considered her part in the conversation over.

‘Good thing I didn’t press,’ Cadance thought. She took a breath, gathering her thoughts. “I’m told you might be able to help me with something.”

“The things that go bump in the dark,” Cadance echoed. “Teresa Jones explained your side of the war. And… Well, I’ve got a thing or two to ask about the Newfoals.”

The sky was not overcast, and yet the clouds, Luna thought, seemed to gather over one particular place in Jarden. It was a property like many other houses they’d passed. A single house sitting on a patch of green land. What set this house apart were a scant number of details – the colour, a garish-looking yellow, seemed rather faded, the structure was fairly aged with a peeling surface; and there was the worn feeling one got from looking at it.

So of course, this was the Radwick household, even if the rusty mailbox didn’t give that away.

“It’s still that damn colour…” Luna heard Maxine muttering, in the manner one would speak of an old deficiency that had been around for years.

“That’s a horse, not a pony.” Maxine said dismissively, marching towards the front door without batting an eye at the silhouette. “Ack... Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can move on.”

“But isn’t this your house?” asked Luna, tilting her head. “Shouldn’t you spend some time here to, I don’t know, relax?”

“No,” was all Maxine said, stopping to reach into a pocket and pull out a key.

In short order, the door was unlocked and Maxine entered, Luna following soon after, though wary about the implications.

Amazingly, the inside was far more prepossessing than the exterior. It was fairly average decor, if Luna had to guess, but she immediately took note of the simple, cosy layout. Beyond floors with half-decent carpenting, to the left there was a staircase to the second level, to the right, an old wall clock that still told the time, a loud screeching sound–

“No, that’s not it,” wheezed a voice not far from the front door, sounding weary and dismayed. “Still needs to be fixed.”

“And that’s him,” Maxine muttered. The woman looked to Luna. “Now don’t you say anything, unless you have to.”

“Whoever is here is trespassing,” said the voice, sounding gruff and annoyed. “I’ve got the Sheriff's department on speed dial after the last time someone broke in, and a protection order.” So, state your business now, or you’ll be forced off the property in handcuffs.”

Luna looked down at her flowery shirt, then bit her lip nervously. She pocketed her sunglasses.

“Dad? It’s Maxine,” the woman called, but in a softer tone than Luna had heard before “I need to talk to you about something important. It’s about Mom, and Alex.”

There was a brief moment of silence, only broken up by the wall clock’s ticking, before there was a clicking sound. It continued, until Luna saw a figure standing not far from them in what was probably the living room.

Said figure was a man, dressed in what could be assumed as casual wear, except for the rather prominent brace on his left knee. The man himself had a bushy beard and greying dark hair. His eyes were a brown colour, in a different shade than Maxine’s, yet Luna could perceive that the two humans were related, despite nothing immediately suggesting such.

“Max?” he whispered, stunned. “How are you here? I thought you were in Boston.”

“I was,” Maxine said quickly, “but I was given leave of absence after the battle ended.” Which was a partial truth. “Look, I need–”

“Who is this?” the man asked, his eyes now on Luna. “I'd have never thought to have seen you with a friend after DC.”

“I’m…” said Luna, with a polite, friendly smile. She offered a forehoof. “I’m Claire. Claire de Lune. I’m a friend of Maxine’s from Canterlot. We… um, we first met a couple weeks ago.” She laughed anxiously. “Sorry… I’ve never been to a small town before. It’s all so, so new to me so, please excuse my… well… you know. An honour to meet you.”

“If you say so,” he remarked, walking further down into the hall. “Come in and rest your legs. I have got some leftovers, if you’re hungry… Besides, it’s better to have one misinformed tourist rather than a bunch.”

Passage across the channel had proven uneventful. This was just as Major Bauer had promised Cadance, although she’d felt nervousness, nonetheless. Following the rout the Imperial forces had been dealt the night before, he and the other officers on the ground had doubted a new offensive would befall Boston in the near future. But Cadance saw this part of town, as she stepped off the ramp and onto a stone platform that couldn’t have served as a wharf, looked even more wrecked. Here, detritus floated in the scummy water, plastic cups and knives and forks and trays and paper bags and various other cast-off pieces of civilisation, including what she fervently hoped wasn’t a used condom.

The path took them down what once must have been a small parkland area, now overgrown without proper maintenance. But soon they stepped out into an open space. A road made of concrete such as Cadance had seen on every street in Boston, only this concrete surface was wider than that of the streets, since no buildings, only small strips of uncut grass stretched on either side. They walked in lockstep, Cadance going after Dearheart while flanked by her PHL escorts, Miss Jones having stayed behind. Silence reigned as they marched through a crossroads, a concrete wall rising to their left. Predominant material on this world was concrete, so it seemed.

They crossed a bridge and went under an overpass. Eventually, they reached a fork in the road, turning left here by a building that was no longer concrete, but a rich red, and finding a small winding path upon a grassy hill.

The path led to a strange edifice. A large, glass-paneled cube, green as the sea, yet the glass panes looked grimey from getting cleaned less often than they should have. Set within the entrance, where the eye couldn’t miss it, was a rectangular column, the numbers ‘8:14’ etched upon its surface.

Cadance stared at Dearheart, but the mare just nodded. She went inside, taking a moment to drink in the space.

It was sparse, smaller than she’d have considered comfortable. This was evidently not a structure built for accomodation, nor could she believe its occupant spent much time living there. Yet the place did have some personalisation to it.

Comic books, lying on the floor. Different titles, but most of them marked ‘IDW’, with cover art indicating they were apparently about blocky robots called Transformers.

“We live in a society…” spoke a voice, making Cadance’s eyes dart up. It was a woman’s voice, coming from behind another sea-green column. “Where honour is a distant memory… Isn’t that right– Princess Cadance?”

There was a touch of amusement to the voice. Playful, even, like she knew something others did not. Cadance, undeterred, held her head high, clearing her throat. She’d handled world leaders. A single HLF commander could not be difficult.

But when Cadance saw what stepped from behind that column, it was all she could do not to gasp in surprise and alarm, and she had to take her own step back. Her senses had told her that her interlocutor would be short in stature – but not how truly short. Had Cadance focused a little harder, she’d have picked up an oddity to her interlocutor’s footsteps.

This fantastic apparition, grumbling under her breath, for she was struggling to fit one forelimb through a sleeveless gap in her camouflage-green jacket even as she walked, came into full view of Cadance’s bewildered eyes. Younger-looking than her voice suggested, despite the evidence of at least one scar upon her dark-coated back, strode the commanding officer, an earthpony.

With a groan and a tug, the mare succeeded in wedging herself into her jacket, thus completing her officer’s look.

Sighing, she glanced back, seemingly ignoring Cadance, who still wasn’t sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.

Yet there it was, unmistakeable – a match for the jet-black of her mane, the mare’s tail, swishing back and forth. The mare gave a snort, yet there was some purpose to her tail’s motion, as it deftly picked up something she’d left by the column, which Cadance saw was a rounded green cap with a stiff bill at the front, and the mysterious words ‘Jack Wolfskin’ written on its crown. One swift flick of the tail later, and the cap landed, neat as you please, atop the mare’s head.

“Fuck, never can get this right,” she complained, using a forehoof to turn the cap around, so that its bill faced backward, covering her nape. “One day, perhaps.” She shook her head. “Anyway. You wished for a face-to-face, Princess?”

Cadance remembered where she was, and what she was doing – gawking at her. Picking her jaw from the floor, she nodded. “Y-yeah, I guess… uh…”

“Really, Verity?” Dearheart suddenly chimed in. She must have snuck in, quiet as a ghost. “‘We live in–’ of all things, that’s what you’re gonna choose to open this with?”

The mare called Verity rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, can’t I have a little fun? Don’t lie, you thought that was funny. I did. Amber and Rivet like it.”

“Only cos’ it’s you, you and your dumb comics,” Dearheart retorted. She leaned closer to Cadance, giggling. “She always does this, you know.”

“Yes, yes, alright, thank you, dear,” the mare replied, adjusting her cap with a huff. “I'll take over. Go talk to Ana or something, we shouldn’t take long.”

The mare moved past Cadance, ushering Dearheart towards the exit. The two shared a smile – and if neither Cadance’s eyes nor attuned magical senses deceived her, a tiny blush.

Left alone with the officer, Cadance mustered a smile, looking ahead to meet the mare’s eyes.

“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza,” she introduced herself. “Or… Cadance, for short. Just go with Cadance.”

“Verity Carter, at your service, Princess,” said the mare, doffing her cap. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

The mare shrugged. “Last I checked, I didn’t change it, so yeah. Verity Carter.”

“Have a seat. It must’ve been a long trip… You’re from very far away, Dearheart says. Further than her Equestria.”

The mare smiled. Neither condescendingly, nor in challenge. Merely a friendly smile. Cadance didn’t feel compelled to return it, however.

“Very. In more ways than one,” Cadance said uncertainly, accepting the seat. “Aunt Luna and I have gone through a lot.”

“I can tell,” said Verity, jabbing a hoof towards her breastplate. “Your armour’s seen better days.”

“Well, as first times go, it wasn’t bad…” said Cadance. Her thoughts went to the broken dragon, injured, bruised and singed. The dragon she saw as a brother. She steeled herself. “Look, um, Miss Verity. I don’t mean to be rude, but… Spike. The dragon.”

"Don't worry, he is. We're just... making sure his injuries are patched. Rest assured, Your Highness, we’ve no true interest in keeping him around.”

“I’m sorry,” she continued. “It’s awful, what happened to him. I, I don’t know what else I can say… Again, I’m sorry.”

Cadance nodded. This time, she felt her shoulders relax. “It’s alright. We can take it from here. We’re… well, we’re going to take him home.”

Home. She repeated it mentally. Such a simple word, and sentiment. Perhaps she was indeed lying to herself, oh yes. Spike hadn’t belonged to her Equestria. He was taken...

But then, unexpectedly, she felt a giggle come up. When it came out, it came out in a burst of laughter. Verity, for her part, looked surprised.

“Nothing. Nothing!” Cadance exclaimed, shaking her head, wiping away a few tears. “Just… this, all this is just ridiculous. Spike’s supposed to be home and safe, my sister-in-law and husband tried to kill me, and-and you! You’re a pony! How are you a pony? Captain Reiner told us the serum didn’t just change people, it changed their souls, that it’s magical law or whatever! I just– gah, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and Aunt Luna’s off somewhere and–”

“Sorry,” Cadance said sheepishly, pushing a few strands of her mane away. “I’ve… I’ve had a busy day. Or night.”

Cadance looked her over. “Verity… Carter,” she enunciated slowly. “Your name. It’s–”

“Yes,” Verity said sharply, almost as if she’d been expecting this. “Mike Carter, founder of the HLF. He was my father. Adopted, technically. But the only Dad I had.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Cadance said, not sure now why she was sorry. “I was adopted too,” she added softly. “A village of earthponies in Oleander raised me from when I was a baby. I’ve never known who my parents were… But Princess Celestia found me one day… Told me I was her sister’s heir…”

There was more to this story, of course. More which she had told Alexander Reiner. The encounter with the enchantress, Prismia, that had shaped her destiny. Mysteries she knew no answer for to this day, including her parents. Yet before her was a mare who was herself a mystery.

Verity Carter tapped her snout, a crafty look in her eyes. “Poison-joke,” she said simply. “I tripped into a bunch of ’em while snooping ’round a PHL greenhouse. Been stuck like this ever since. Would you believe the wacky theories I heard people spout about me, though? Sometimes it really ain’t that complicated.”

“Poison-joke,” Cadance repeated. “But why would poison-joke… turn you into… a pony. Twilight told me it… you know, plays jokes on you. Turns your voice funny, makes horns floppy. But why a pony?”

Sighing, Verity stared at her, with those large eyes Cadance knew well on ponies, yet something underneath it hinted at the mare’s human origins.

“Guess you could call it that, eh? A joke,” Verity said at last. “Because that’s who I was. Daddy’s little terrorist, an HLF fanatic through-and-through.” Her gaze swept over the glass cube. “Do you know what this place is?”

“I was told we’re next to Logan International,” said Cadance. “An airport.”

Verity nodded. “Right. It’s where Dad used to work, before the war. Here, in Boston. For the airlines. But this isn’t what I’m talking about.”

She pointed at a column, the one at the entrance, on the front of which Cadance had read ‘8:14’.

This was the back of the column. At the top was written ‘United Airlines Flight 175’. And below, two lists of names. Crew and passengers.

“It’s a memorial,” said Verity, a heaviness in her tone. “More than twenty years ago, an attack rocked this country to its core. People couldn’t understand why… why anyone would do such a thing. What kinds of monsters would blindly kill innocents, even if it meant taking their own lives to do it? At the time, it felt like the worst that could happen…”

Those eyes turned again to Cadance. There were no tears, yet their look was haunted.

“And then when the worst really is upon you, and you know your very right to exist is under threat… Well, suddenly it becomes a lot easier to feel justified, in doing unto others before they do unto you. Your life hardly matters. Only theirs matters less.”

“It’s funny. Most of us grew up expecting the Apocalypse to be something out of Tom Clancy… Not the pastel Covenant.”

“I… don’t know what either of those things are, I’m afraid,” Cadance said hesitantly.

“Ah, Dearheart told me I should tone it down, heh…” Verity said wanly. “I wasn’t being totally random, you know, when I started this conversation talking about honour… Honour and respect... Those are values my father swore by, but in the end, for all his talk of respect, he had little to show.”

“Maybe I still can’t quite blame him,” Verity muttered. “He’d lost everything. Mom got sick, and there was no cure… Fucking Alzheimers. So they turned to Equestria for help… Th-that fucking serum did the opposite of what Mom hoped it'd do. Turned her back into what she wasn’t. The stuff only recognises biological sex… All the struggles she went through the years, down the drain and, and... and Dad got upset. Real upset…"

She took a long, gasping breath. Cadance waited, but the other mare did not elaborate.

Instead, sighing, Verity leant over to pick one of the comics off the floor. The title on the cover caught Cadance’s eye. Latter-Day Saints. Under the title, a list of names again. And then Cadance understood. One name appeared on all of the comics in the pile.

“It says here this was written by a Jazmin Carter,” Cadance said. “Teresa Jones told me…”

“Yeah,” said Verity. “I don’t mind that she did. We learned to trust one another. Girl’s had it rough too, y’know. She didn’t get on the boat here with you, did she? Can’t blame her. That’s where she last saw her parents, wrong side of a ferry that was escaping Britain. Got there too early, and… Just missed each other. You notice that iPod she’s always listening music to? It’s all she’s got left of her old life.”

Cadance felt her wings ruffle. Wings that hadn’t seen flight in so many years, before she flew in that cavern with Twilight. She saw herself as neither unicorn or pegasus, for she’d been raised by the earthponies of Oleander, akin herself to an earthpony in that old village, an old life to dream of.

A life she’d left behind, just as humanity was forced off theirs, by the will of a being she called Aunt. The visage of the Tyrant had been so close, so familiar...

“Don’t worry. Happens all the time,” Verity said, chuckling, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “What else can we do, really… But it can be done. Dearheart used to be pro-Conversion, for one. It takes a while to de-program that, and her friends over in the PHL helped a whole lot. Me, I told her what that poison did to my Mom… And let’s just say, Dearheart's name isn’t for show."

“Then, Miss Verity,” Cadance coughed, keeping her focus on-topic. “You said ‘it’ can be done. You’ve been trying to find a way to be human again?”

Verity contemplated her for a moment. “Right. I got the radio from Tess. She mentioned you wanted to know about the Newfoals. Makes sense.”

Cadance nodded. “Yes. The… things that go bump in the dark. My… well, my Aunts would be interested, I can imagine. After all, you’re here.”

“Hmmm, apt description. See, there’s a history in this war of ‘anomalous’ Newfoals,” Verity said. “Newfoals made under mysterious circumstances, or endowed with unique… no, freakish abilities. Common sentiment in the Solar Empire is that they’re neither quite pony nor human. There was even a PER high-ranker, named Shieldwall, whose entire thing was the creation and exploitation of such creatures.”

“That…” Cadance blinked, swallowing. “They… deliberately engineered them?”

As an answer, it was oddly evasive. Also, the name ‘Shieldwall’ sounded familiar…

“That’s right,” Verity said quietly, regaining some bitterness. “Ones that could reanimate corpses. Ones that could use all kinds of unusual magics.”

She paused, wetting her lips. Something suddenly struck Cadance. The mare wore a look just like Sunset, on those occasions when she struggled on a difficult theorem.

“An… associate of mine had the privilege of meeting the last ‘Slow Newfoal’,” Verity finally said, “and I know she was the luckiest of them.” She pursed her lips. “Poor woman. But no matter what, you had to respect her. If you threw her out of a helicopter, she’d either teach herself to fly or hold onto a rope with her teeth for miles and miles. The idea of giving up was like poison to her.”

“Kept most of her mind intact for five years, against all odds.” Verity sighed, glancing at Cadance. “I can’t claim to know better than the PHL– we’re all stumbling around in the dark, in our own way. But my existence… could it possibly suggest this transformation doesn’t have to come at the cost of the soul? What drains the souls from the serum’s victims?”

“Miss Verity,” Cadance said dolefully. “The ‘soul’ is a tenuous concept. Even on Equus, we do not know for certain if it exists. How would you guess this has anything to do with souls?”

“Wish I could say logic,” Verity replied, “but actually, it’s pop-culture. Being genre savvy can be pretty useful.”

Cadance blinked, before letting out a short, wistful laugh. “‘Genre savvy’. Hah! Yeah, I can understand that, definitely.”

‘I really must ask Shining if we’re gonna finish that Ogres and Oubliettes session one day…’

“I can appreciate what you’re saying, Miss, but I do have to ask… Are you alone in believing this?”

“Probably. Or a minority,” Verity said. “But it feeds into a theory the nerds have, PHL or otherwise. Take ol’ Newton’s Third Law. ‘Every action has an equal and opposite reaction’. That’s not just human physics, that’s the basis of your magic in every textbook we could get our mitts on. There’s nothing you can’t reverse.”

“Aunt Celestia told me that too,” Cadance remarked. She allowed herself a tiny smile. “Including poison-joke. My sister messed with them once. She wasn’t exactly happy till Aunt Celestia taught her how to fix it.”

Verity let out a chuckle. “Maybe I should ask your sister how she coped.” Her voice trailed off, as she lifted a hoof, examining it. “Truth be told, I hated myself for a while... But then, you know, I figured that me still being me, good old Verity, and not some Newfoal stooge? That’s a huge middle finger to the Empire. Well, if I still had any fingers.”

“Oh, yeah,” Verity grinned. “It sure is… But then,” she added, her eyes twinkling, “to humans, so’s this. Well, sorta. Maybe I’m going to hell, doing what I’m about to in here, but… Here, lemme just–”

“Dearheart!” Verity called softly. “Will you join us, please? We’re almost done.”

“Hey, sweetie,” Verity said, sidling up to her. “Remember what we talked about? Let’s show Princess Cadance how we do the thing.”

A blush appeared on Dearheart’s cheeks, bright as a tomato. “... Really? Must we, Verity?”

And before Cadance’s eyes, there played a scene she’d seen unfold so often between her charges and their friends. Verity lifted her hip, if a little awkwardly, and bumped her cutie mark against Dearheart’s, who bumped back in synch, three times in a row.

“Aw, seriously? Don’t I get more than that?” Verity chided her, then planted a kiss on her cheek. Whereupon she turned back to Cadance. “There you go, Princess Cadance. You were asking if I’m looking to be human again. Well, between you and me, I wouldn’t mind, but…” She gave Dearheart’s flank a final bump, eliciting a squeak. “I know Dearheart here would miss this. It just isn’t the same.”

“And you know that’s not what I’m thinking of,” Verity said, eyeing her slyly.

Cadance showed a small smile at the display. “So, how long have you two been together?”

“It better not be,” Dearheart followed up with a firm nuzzle. She turned to Cadance. “So, has it all been settled? Great! I’ll radio your pals. Spike will be home in no time, promise.”

That was when it hit Cadance. “You…” She gasped. “Oh, my. How… When did you get a mark?”

For there was a mark on Verity’s flank. A shape Cadance didn’t recognise, except she did. It was the blue-and-red cubic face, like an insignia, of a robot from the cover of Verity’s comics.

“As you can see, there’s more to me than meets the eye,” winked Verity. “And if it’s alright by you, there’s a couple secrets I’d sooner keep to myself. I’m the Mare Behind the Curtain. The Wizard of Oz herself. If the Empire catches wind that I’m a human, who never forgot who she was even with hooves– well, they’ll scramble everything they've got. I’m living proof their shtick is bullshit. It’s a charade for whatever shit they’ve spiked that serum with.”

“I see what you mean. Don’t worry, Miss Verity. Your secret is safe with me.” Cadance paused, as she felt that familiar, wonderful love flow within the memorial. “But you know, there’s an old saying. ‘To speak a thing and to do it are two separate matters’.”

“That might be true,” Dearheart agreed. “But I get the feeling you’re pretty good at ‘doing things’, Your Highness. You’ll find a way. You, and your Aunt… It's what we do. Find broken things, and give them a place. That's what Reverend Thomas would have wanted. That's what Harriet needed. And Verity’s been adding deeds to words.”

“Yes,” Verity said, nuzzling Dearheart. “We’ve already got a cabin set aside in the woods, way up in Canada. Timber from Earth, but put together entirely by pony hooves,” she said, tapping her own meaningfully upon the ground, “so the Barrier won’t affect it. We’re taking two foals with us, if their father can’t. Nor are we alone in such plans. If humanity does lose the war, there’ll still be ponies all over Earth, hiding from the Empire’s eyes, who remember… Especially me.”

Dearheart nuzzled her back. “Whatever UNAC’s told you,” she told Cadance, “Verity and her people? They don’t go by HLF anymore. That name’s been spoiled by… well, your PHL friends can tell you what, if Tess hasn’t.”

Verity’s smile, as her foreleg fondly stroked Dearheart’s withers, was warm as the morning Sun.

Maxine’s father sat upon a sofa, pressing a button to elevate a kickstand to support his legs. Luna’s eyes took a cursory glance of the living room – by the sofa, there was an old coffee table in front of its midsection, the rather worn love-chair Maxine was sitting on, a sliding glass door with a screen to the outside, and a small kitchen to the right.

“So, what do you need?” Maxine’s father asked, his right hand briefly touching the rather frayed-looking violin beside him. “And no, Maxi… I’m talking to you. I’d like to know what your friend wants,” he added, before she could answer. His brown eyes looked again at Luna, who saw a faded spirit in them. “My name is Dan, by the way. Dan Radwick.”

“You’re not fooling me with that name,” Dan said with sudden bluntness. “I’ve done sales long enough to spot an alias. So I’d appreciate a full truth, rather than a discounted one.”

“Maybe. Now, if you would be kind, who are you? I know my daughter well enough that after–”

“If I may ask first, Mister Radwick,” said Luna. “Do you have eyes watching in here?”

“Maxine, you know I don’t trust that kind of shit.” Dan said friskily, “people can have a private conversation between themselves without others listening in.”

Luna nodded. “Very well, then. I am Luna,” she said simply. “Apologies for the alias, Mister Radwick. I thought it was appropriate.”

Dan gazed at Luna for a moment, before looking to Maxine, who gave a slight nod. he seemed to pause, processing what he’d just been told before sinking into his sofa.

“A Princess.” He sighed deeply, before rubbing his eyes, “I’ve got royalty in my house. Perfect. Juuust perfect.”

“I hope this isn’t too much of… well, a surprise, Mister Radwick,” Luna continued. “And if I may be honest, this is not my true form, so, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to stay like this for now. I don’t wish to intimidate anyone.”

“Couple of things,” he began. “First off, my name is Dan. My kids call me Dad, my wife calls me Daniel if she needs or has to, and, if I need to be a professional business attorney, then it’s Mister Radwick. I’d prefer it if you called me Dan, Princess Luna.”

“If you’ll call me Luna, then, we are in agreement,” Luna said, tapping her breast-pocket. “I’m not here on official business.”

“I’m gonna tell you something real quick,” Dan rambled. “These past few years have been a total mindfuck. Starting with the country almost tearing itself apart in 2016, this whole pony thing has made less sense than making a book out of expired coupons. And now, the world’s either insane or getting destroyed because of a Barrier that vapourises anything it touches, and from the grapevine, Alex’s disappeared to do God knows what.”

“I know. I heard it before.” Dan said sharply, “but I’d like to know one thing first. Where is Alex?”

“Alex is alive... Dan,” said Luna. “In Equestria. And I am here to see where he came from, and what he holds dear. I wish to hear his, and your family’s story.”

“My Equestria,” Luna repeated. “An Equestria that did not know of this war, until your son revealed it to us. Now, Alex has told us much about your world, that which I now tread upon. But I wish to hear his story, too. To understand.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on a forehoof, and tilting her head curiously.

Dan rubbed his eyes again. “Okay, then... I’m gonna go through this like you’re not just my meds acting up. Here’s the short of it. Megan and I met at a rodeo. I was trying to sell some product that went nowhere. She was there because she needed time out, time out of the house, after her first husband… Andrew, got killed overseas…”

“We chatted a bit, kept in touch afterwards, and boy, I even managed to get an important ‘yes’ from her later on. From there, I became little Alex’s stepdad… but never his father.”

“Then we had Maxine,” Dan gestured to his daughter, “and, because of my work, we had to make a choice. Me being away for months, or us moving together as a family. Megan decided the latter, because her old house had too many memories in it.”

‘That’s right…’ thought Luna, ‘they moved around… Reiner even said his mother and father met somewhere other than where she grew up. This isn’t her house…’

“Alex probably never forgave me for that.” Dan murmured, “I tried to connect, Luna, I really did, but Alex never did get around to letting me in. Or Megan for that matter.” He laughed croakily. “Almost have to wonder if that’s genetic.”

“Megan never talked that much about her history, Max,” Dan said firmly, “I met her brother at the wedding, and never so much as got a Christmas card from him. I never once met her younger sister.”

“Better question is why they didn’t, Max,” Dan said. “That whole family… none of them liked talking that much. Megan would sooner talk about Danny than Molly, and that would only be once in a blue Moon… if you’ll forgive the expression, Your Highness. Their parents weren’t much help, either. Hell if I know whatever happened to them.”

“... No, I don’t.” Dan admitted, “you’d think, being married for so long, Megan would’ve told me. Closest that I ever got was when… they showed up.”

He gestured towards Luna, who suddenly felt very cold. Colder, even, than when the Archmage had stepped forth to greet her in the confines of that great airship.

“For a while, she was stuck watching TV, like it was 9/11 all over again,” Dan continued. “Kept muttering how ‘impossible’ this should be… But she never said anything else, and if I tried to press her, she’d just brush me off.”

He pressed a button that moved the sofa back to how it was previously. He then limped away into some other part of the house.

“Maxine, does Dan… does he dream?” Luna asked in the lull. “He doesn’t look like he sleeps very well. Yet he’s taking all this better than I expected him to."

“Whatever his state of mind, Dad’s just been able to shrug off anything.” Maxine said solemnly.

Yet her eyes were focused on the roughed-up violin. Luna could tell it’d taken a lot of damage that went beyond simple wear-and-tear. The biggest indicators were the cracks and chips on the instrument’s neck. It gave the impression of much-needed repairs or fine-tuning, by the way the strings were lined.

Perhaps its state was not due to the ravages of time. Maybe it had been damaged in a fit of rage or frustration. Maybe Dan hadn’t always been that stoic.

The lull was broken when the ‘click’ of Dan’s leg announced his return. Luna and Maxine watched him approach with two leather-bound books tucked under his arm.

“I found these in Megan’s hope chest, alongside some of her other personal items,” Dan explained, taking one out and showing it for both of them to see. “Hell if I know these’ll be important to ending all this shit, but who am I to say? Perhaps I’m missing something I’m just too dumb to pick up on. See if you can figure ‘em out.”

“Oh, do not worry, Dan,” said Luna. “We have just the right person for the task. And… thank you.”

“I have one condition first,” Dan said, tucking the book back under his arm. “It has been a long while since you’ve visited, Max. Bit late for lunch, but I’d appreciate it if you could stay tonight, have some dinner with me. Your friend is welcome too, of course, Southern hospitality and all. Be nice to have a visitor who isn’t trying to kill or abduct me.”

Maxine seemed to contemplate this. She kept her eyes on the floor and gave a slight nod. Luna, meanwhile, smiled brightly.

“Thank you, once again.” she said. “It’s an afternoon off, then. We’ve still got a long way to go, I feel…”

~ Canterlot, Equestrian Solar Empire ~ Thirteenth Day of the Month of Ocyrhoe, Year 19 of the Era Imperator ~

The Royal Gardens weren’t always so forlorn in their atmosphere, especially at dusk. Once, these gardens here welcomed the company of many, from curious fillies in guided tours, to lonesome souls taking a break from a weary day at work, to young lovers seeking a secluded place to frolic in private. A place that welcomed and sheltered all, in hardship and in peace.

Now there stood a lone statue, and her stony, defiant gaze loomed over the gardens as she had in life, during her final waking hours.

Archmage Twilight sat there in its shadow, reclining on the bench. After fifteen hours’ sleep, reason and duty dictated she had catching-up to do. So she was trying to read. But her mind kept wanting to drag her back to sleep… Even through the phantom pain of what remained of her left ear, covered by bandages.

Her horn glowed dimly, just enough to illuminate the books and textbooks that accompanied her, from Mount Aris and Seaquestria: Two Worlds, One People, to Canterlot, A History, to a meticulously copied version of Starswirl’s Journal.

No comforts took her mind off the tiniest of errors, though, and her face scrunched up.

“I thought we made it clear not everything needs an exhaust shaft this big! Especially this airship engine model! That’s the new stabiliser’s job, why would they–”

Closing the cover of her edition of Crystals & You: A Pocket Guide, she flipped the pages back, to its table of contents.

“Year 15, Era Imperator,” Twilight read. “Great, guess I’ll have to ask First Folio if she’s got a newer edition… Right, that’s for tomorrow then.”

Shaking her head, she set aside the book onto the pile next to her, and settled for Starswirl’s Journal. Which, to her chagrin, still hadn’t been translated right, from the plethora amount of grammatical errors. And a mistranslated book was no pleasant read.

“Now that’s another thing to do, ugh. Thanks, Sunburst,” she complained. “If you want something done right, gotta do it yourself… well, sleep it is, then.”

Setting aside the future project, she closed the book. Try as she could, not even the thought of personally translating Starswirl’s book of spells could take her mind off of the events that had transpired on Earth, barely a day ago.

And the dark alicorn that encompassed her thoughts loomed behind her, even superseding Spike, wherever he was.

With a yawn, Twilight hopped off the bench. But just as she was to leave, she paused, and looked back at the stone Luna. Though the statue remained as inert as ever, part of Twilight remembered how the two of them had reunited, fought, and almost killed one another.

Shaking her head, Twilight picked up her books, and moved on. “Sweet dreams, Luna…”

Yet her rooms, the Archmage’s Quarters of the Palace, never felt as comfortable as her beloved Golden Oaks, or even her old observatory. On the surface, it had everything she could’ve wanted. There were bookshelves on every wall, a small loft with a bed, the finest armchairs and coffeemaker that the Palace could buy, a long dark wooden table, but…

It just didn’t feel like home. All three rooms felt so lonely and cold, ever since Spike became too big for them. And since her move from Ponyville, it was where she would conduct her official business, along with some research in the attached laboratory. It made all her new responsibilities as Archmage feel inseparable from life itself. As if no matter how long she spent in the admittedly soft bed, the war would always be in the next room.

And that wasn’t going into, how so long ago, she had shared long-forgotten laughter with Shining Armor… and Cadance.

Suppressing the bitterness that welled up, she trotted down the corridor, and paused, to listen in to what two of the nearby Loyalty Guards were talking about.

“...I’m telling you, she doesn’t actually like salmon juice all that much,” said the first one – Terramar, as deadpan and honest as ever.

“What, your sis had a change of heart or something?” replied the second one, in the tell-tale, laid back tone of Gallus. At first, Twilight hadn’t thought much of him, but for a Griffonstone orphan to rise all the way to the Loyalty Guard, the Captain of the Canterlot Branch no less, was something to be appreciated.

“Nah, she got used to other stuff. Like what the Kirin make. Besides, she likes a fancy dinner. So, might as well go all the way, Cap’n.”

Twilight blinked. Gallus had, of course, not-so-subtly hinted that he wished for a transfer to Mount Aris. Now she knew why.

‘Sorry, champ,’ she thought, with an apologetic sigh. ‘Still need you here.’

“Right, yeah, count that out then. When’s the next tour to Mount Aris anyway...”

“Beats me, Cap’n,” Terramar replied. “you’re the one who made the schedule.”

“What?” said Gallus, his tone so indignant that Twilight had to let a smirk creep up on her. “Argh… I wasn’t such of an… egghead, before this assignment, y’know? Now all the homework is on me–”

His voice died down. Twilight had chosen that precise moment to turn the corner, and greet them both with a serene smile.

“Gallus, Terramar,” Twilight said. The two Guards snapped to attention in a split second, yet there was a blush in the to the griffon’s cheeks. It contrasted so strongly to his vibrant blue feathers and fur. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

“Lady Archmage, ma’am!” exclaimed Gallus, with a crisp salute, followed by Terramar’s own. Twilight returned it in kind. “My apologies. I did not expect you to be up this late.”

“At ease, Captain,” said Twilight. “To be honest, neither did I, but reading always takes up time. Well, might as well make it quick.” Normally, briefings were to be held at her office, but with the headache that threatened to resurface beneath her bandages, good sleep was something she’d rather have sooner than later. “How’s the attendance list looking for the Joint Council session?”

Terramar cleared his throat. “Chief Mage Sunburst will be arriving this morning, just before the meeting, Lady Archmage. The ‘Great Equestrian’ is still at Hollow One and, um, High Captain Shining Armor wishes to remain there for now.”

“As I thought. I really need to talk to him about going down with the ship these days… Dash was right. And I expect Clever Ace will be filling in for him tomorrow, right,” said Twilight. She held back a yawn. “I’ll best be on my way. We’ve got a long day ahead.”

“I’m afraid I must retire for the evening soon, Captain,” said Twilight. “Please, inform the Queen I shall be available after tomorrow’s session is adjourned.”

“What would you like for breakfast, Your Ladyship?” Terramar piped up. “Something after a good night’s sleep?”

“Some hayfries would be nice,” Twilight replied. “Something quick, you know?”

Terramar’s nod was all that she needed. Without any further queries, she gave them a nod, and turned to leave.

“Princess Silverstream likes roasted salmon, by the way,” Twilight said casually. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted for some, next time you visit, Gallus.”

“Oh,” said Gallus. Even without looking, Twilight could imagine a nervous smile. “T-thank you, uh, Lady Archmage. I don’t know how to make one–”

She heard Terramar give Gallus a nudge, tapping on his armour. She turned around, levitating a book towards Gallus. The griffon’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.

“Fifth edition, so that’s page 117,” said Twilight. “Don’t worry, it’s not as hard as you think. I mean, if I can do it… heh.”

Gallus, for all the times she’d overheard him lament the reading he had to do as an Imperial Guard, nodded vigorously. She exchanged an amused smile with Terramar. Whose gaze, Twilight noticed, had drifted towards the bandaged side of her head...

“It’s okay, Terramar,” said Twilight. “Look… just relax, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

“Just enjoy the night, you and Gallus. And really, if Shearwater also wants to say she’s sorry, well, she knows what I told her.”

Her bodyguard looked like he wanted to ask further, but he kept his beak shut, and simply nodded.

“Thank you, Lady Archmage,” said Gallus. He saluted. “Have a good evening.”

“And a good rest, Lady Archmage,” added Terramar. “Oh, and uh, Scootaloo wishes you well.”

From the moment she crossed the doorway and closed it behind her, nothing else crossed her mind. No, nothing else. She barely had time to place her diadem on the bedside table, before she slumped onto the bed, with nothing but dreams of an ethereal mare in blue to accompany her sleep.

Cadance was with Spike. Outside the tent, snow had begun to fall, and night was falling anew.

She heard Lady Cadenza push open the tent-flap. Silently, her counterpart, whatever other business she’d had for the day sorted, approached them both, staring melancholically at the heavily-slumbering dragon.

Cadenza sighed. “That’s humans for you,” she murmured. “They’re like griffons, or…” She stared at Spike. “Dragons. They love to talk big game about how tough they are, but at heart, they’re far more soft and sentimental than they let on…”

“Not necessarily,” Cadenza said gloomily. “No creature’s so dangerous as one that hides from its own nature. And humans are masters at doing just that.”

She glanced at the tents’ sides, as if to make sure no-one was listening, then spoke in whisper.

“Lieutenant Ze’ev’s penal squad reported the capture of an Imperial officer. A Trailblazer,” Cadenza told her. “Her squad have not filled in the paperwork yet, and he hasn’t left the city. We can arrange for his transport. Although…”

Cadenza shook her head. “I was thinking about that little speech you made,” she said. “I can’t tell you how… peculiar it feels, to hear those words coming from your own mouth.” She laughed softly. “I guess we’ll have to get to know ourselves again, Cadance. Though I wouldn’t worry too much, if I were you. We may have more time than you think.”

Unease etched into Cadenza’s features. “There’s… someone outside I think you ought to meet. She can explain it better than me. It’s about getting you home.”

“With Spike,” Cadance emphasised. “Spike, and the… Trailblazer. We need them both.”

“I hope so…” her counterpart said. Cold air invaded the tent as she lifted the flap, bidding Cadance she go first. “But that… depends a lot on what she says.”

Cadance stepped outside, wondering who ‘she’ was. It turned out that awaiting her in the snow, with the Foundation’s camp’s milling occupants giving them a polite berth, was not one ‘she’, but two.

One was a small unicorn. Though covered by the uniform of the PHL, her coat was strikingly of richest magenta. Her mane, a two-tone of violet hues. Purple was her colour in every regard, but for her mark – three cyan-blue diamonds.

And next to her, held under a comforting forehoof, there was a beige, wild-eyed earthmare, clutching a battered golden lyre.

Cadance’s heart skipped as she recognised the latter. Shocked, she turned to her other self, who nodded sadly.

Bonbon, the inseparable companion of little Lyra all grown-up. Was this what she had become in this blighted place, Cadance thought in horror, as she observed the twitching, sobbing mare, who never seemed to notice her presence in return. Snowflakes covered her, and she did nothing to shake them off.

Not bearing to look any longer, Cadance’s eyes drifted to the figure next to the broken Bonbon. And here again, she felt invaded by a flicker of recognition. Perhaps it was that, colours aside, the stranger had a face a lot like Lyra’s.

“Maybe?” she said. “My business is with crystals, Your Highness. If you come from a world where you reclaimed the Crystal Realm from Sombra without heartbreak, then it’s quite possible we crossed paths early into your reign. Or you and my otherworldly mirror-image, anyway.”

“But I’m just plain Amethyst, a jeweller from Ponyville. My father’s the one you want, if you’re looking for help returning home.”

“She sells herself short,” she told Cadance. “It’s Amethyst’s whole family who’ve allowed us to keep the Empire from cornering a monopoly on travel between Earth and our homeworld.”

“You’re here to talk about getting us back,” she said to Amethyst. “Me and Luna, and Spike.”

“And opening a channel between our worlds,” Amethyst said warmly. “Though part of the reason I came all the way down here is because I wanted to see you for myself, Princess Cadance… But mostly how to get you back, ahem, yes.”

“The specifics of how you got here remain somewhat… undefined, Princess, though eyewitness reports of Princess Luna being initially accompanied by Discord help paint a clearer picture. But his absence now is very conspicuous. Luckily, UNAC’s leaders don’t really know who Discord is, but I think now’s the time to tell. The PHL will want to know. What happened?”

What to say? Cadance felt put on the spot, like she was the child trying to hide a secret. Luna had advised, probably wisely, against telling too much, too soon.

But UNAC and the PHL had been given a day to deliberate already. If not now, when would the time be right?

“There was a mishap,” she said unhappily. “Aunt Luna told me about it. The Archmage came prepared, and she petrified Discord. We weren’t able to save him.”

“That’s deeply unfortunate…” Amethyst said at last. “Yet if we act fast, perhaps not unsalvageable. We have agents in Equestria– that is, our Equestria, who given the time, might be able to interfere before the Imperials can do their worst with him. I shall inform Miss Cheerilee.”

Acquiescing, Cadenza walked up to take Amethyst’s place next to Bonbon. Without goodbye, Amethyst hurried away, tapping something in her ear and muttering breathlessly as she did so.

“I’m sorry,” Cadance whispered. “We came here to help, but it looks as if–”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Cadenza said firmly. “Queen Celestia has a plan for everything… Helped by her Archmage, of course. I’m sure the Security Council will consider what you’ve brought them today worth far more than your stumblings.”

A reedy, haunted voice echoed her. Cadenza and Cadance were each surprised to hear that it had come from Bonbon, who’d raised her gaze from the lyre she held.

Something was different about Bonbon’s eyes. It took Cadance a moment to figure out, before it hit her. The bright blue irises had realigned, and they stared at her – not with the glazed, unseeing reflection of madness, but focused.

Bonbon’s lips parted. “Two by two, the same are you… Yet also not… One from a lost past, the other, a future that might have been.” She grimaced with painful concentration. “Please… Is this… now?”

And Cadenza gasped softly. “Oh, Bonnie…” Lovingly, she patted Bonbon’s arched back. “Yes… Yes, this is now. What you’re seeing is real.” She pointed at Cadance. “That really is me. Another me. Bonbon… You’re… back with us?”

“No,” Bonbon winced. “Worse… Better… And worse again… Not forever, but who can know how it shall end. However… for now, my mind is quite clear… Only for a moment.”

She kept staring at Cadance, tightening her grip, while the other forehoof stroked the lyre she had set down on the snow-covered ground.

“I feel you… Even when I cannot see you. Tell… tell… my love… Always I am her Bonnie.” She breathed out mournfully. “Her and me, nevermore…”

Her eyes unfocused. As before, they drifted in different directions. Bonbon released her grip.

Princess Cadance and Lady Cadenza – the same person reflected, one a mirror to the past, one to the future, as was said – contemplated the broken soul between them, each knowing that the other thought the same thing.

“How did it get to this?” Cadance whispered. “How could we have let this happen?”

Cadenza shook her head. “I fear that somehow, I wasn’t blessed like you,” she said, feebly ruffling the wings beneath her vest. “When Celestia found me in Florentina, when I discovered I had a family in Prince Blueblood, when my Shiney loved me for who I was, I thought I’d got my pony-tale ending… And then I learnt it wasn’t enough…”

“But I don’t understand,” Cadance said, almost beggingly. “What about the Alicorn Amulet?”

“A trinket, gathering dust somewhere,” Cadenza said bleakly. “I tried it once. It had no effect upon me. And then, much later, it disappeared.”

“No, how can that be? Did you…” Cadance swallowed. “Could you have… done something wrong when you got it off Prismia?”

Spectrum

by Sledge115

Act II ~ Chapter Nineteen ~ When The Dust Settles