Rhythm and Rhyme

by MyHobby

The Aftermath

Dear Princess Corona,

Things have gone quiet since you guys left. Grandma Velvet says she talked to Merry Mare. She said that Merry’s not evil, just a very sad old lady. I don’t believe her. Aunt Twilight says I shouldn’t talk to Grandma about Merry anymore. She and Commander Skyhook say that they’re going to take care of it.

They know everything we know, but that doesn’t feel like a whole lot.

I’m going to start training with Aunt Celestia soon! I guess it’s just a bunch of extracurricular stuff to start with, but pretty soon we’re going to start talking about my alicorn powers. I hope I don’t have to use them for a long time. But I doubt it.

You know how crazy things are in the world right now. It feels like everything’s changing, but nothing’s getting better. At least my mom and dad are speaking with each other again. That’s good.

I guess I’m just still worried about the fairies. What do you think? Are you guys ready to fight them when they finally attack? Did beating the evil changeling queen get rid of your dad’s nightmares? Is the Sunspear fixed yet?

I dunno. Maybe you’ve got some good news. Sorry to dump everything on you like this.

Your Friend,
Flurry Heart

Dear Princess Flurry Heart,

Things are really good here! The changelings just sailed in yesterday, and they’ve already been given a home in the lower floors of the castle. Those weren’t really destroyed during Ahuizotl’s attack, so they took the least amount of preparation. I think they like it down there. It’s the closest thing to “underground” that we have in Roc.

Keep an eye on Merry, but don’t get too close. If we’re right about her, she’s willing to hurt anybody to get what she wants. Whatever that is. Stay safe.

I don’t know about being ready to fight the fairies. Our army was hurt pretty badly by the attack, but most of our war machines are still ready to fight. The Ironclad warships are just getting their finishing touches. But I’m not sure volleyguns and cannons can hurt fairies. We might be in over our heads even if we have enough sparkpowder to blow up a continent.

My dad’s still having nightmares. He’s quieter about it now. They’re not quite as scary. But I think that after Cicada spent so many years torturing him, he’s started to do it to himself just out of habit. Or maybe his dreams are prophetic like yours.

Princess Luna said not to work on the Sunspear until we’re sure the Spade of Hearts is completely destroyed. My dad’s working on something that can break it, but it’s not made of regular metal. It’s enchanted and probably really rare. The etchings in the caves make it look like the Elements were used to create it. What’s strong enough to break the Elements of Harmony?

I’ll write more when we get closer to getting the thing to work. I know we’ve got a lot of magic in the mountain. It shouldn’t be that hard.

Your Friend,
Corona

Abacus Cinch trotted down a dim hallway in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Pale light from the moon shone through the windows to mingle with the warm lamplight dotting the walls. Classes were dismissed, and the students had long ago retreated to the dormitories. A stray thought led her to the potions classroom—just to check if Professor Wincerind had remembered to lock the door. She tried the handle and found that it rotated freely.

With a stately sigh and a slight shake of the head, she made her way into the room. A soft glow of light from her horn banished the shadows and revealed that the equipment remained undisturbed. She’d have to speak with the professor again, just to drive home the dangers of leaving such a collection of chemicals and magical items unattended. He was as fine a teacher as any she’d seen over the years—and make no mistake, she had seen a great deal—but he had a terrible habit of becoming distracted.

She closed the door and drew forth a keychain from the little pocket dimension of Nowhere. A twist of her telekinetic bubble set the bolt, and she continued her walk.

She next came to the dean’s office, her office, bringing her rounds full circle. She unlocked it, hid the keys away in Nowhere, and stepped into the darkness. A spark from her horn lit a lantern and illuminated the room. Trophies dotted the topmost shelves, while ancient tome upon ancient tome lined the wall to the left side of the room. Straight ahead lay her desk, twice as long as a pony and arranged as neatly as could be expected. The paperwork in the outbox lay stacked neatly, while the inbox overflowed with haphazard schoolwork and permission slips. The chair rose imperiously from the far side, a fuzzy maroon to compliment her coat.

To the right was a bay window open to Canterlot. The city sparkled in the darkness, full of ponies enjoying Luna’s night. Two chairs, not as opulent as the desk chair but just as comfy, faced the window, ripe for hosting an intelligent conversation or two.

Sitting in one of those chairs—her mane predominantly pink but still shimmering with living color—was High Princess Celestia of Equestria.

Abacus clicked her tongue and shut the door behind her. “Do you often wait in people’s offices in the dark? Unannounced?”

Princess Celestia sent her a wry smile. “Only when I doze off. It’s been a long day.”

Abacus took the chair beside Celestia’s and allowed the tightness in her shoulders to ease. However brief the reprieve may be. “Today was the meeting with the Saddle Arabian Ambassadors?”

“It didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.” Princess Celestia furrowed her brow, touching a hoof to her chin. “I don’t command as much respect as I used to…”

Abacus Cinch’s eyes trailed down before she could stop them. They focused on the scar marring Celestia’s chest; a grim reminder of an event that had changed the course of history. An assassin who had nearly succeeded. A battle that had nearly collapsed Canterlot. An enemy who had seemed invincible.

But then, Celestia had once seemed invincible, too.

“Perhaps some fizzy cordial?” Abacus reached across the room with her magic and pulled a cooler from beneath her desk. “I have strawberry.”

“I would love strawberry cordial.” Celestia giggled like the young fillies who made the school their home. “It’s been a while since I sneezed bubbles.”

Abacus smiled despite herself. She poured Celestia a glass, then one for herself. They toasted to a backdrop of a sparkling city, one still healing from old wounds. She cracked open a window, just enough for cool night air to touch their manes. Just enough for the crickets to serenade their visit.

“It’s nice to see you, Celestia.”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Abacus.” Celestia took a tiny sip and swished it around, savoring it as a treasured commodity. “I suppose you’re wondering what brings me here tonight.”

Abacus did not answer audibly, but looked over her spectacles at Celestia, pursing her lips in a severe frown. She held Celestia’s gaze until the alicorn princess glanced away into the night.

“Well, that’s hardly fair.” Celestia grinned, her left ear drooping towards Abacus Cinch. “You’re using the teacher stare on me.”

“I’ve refined it over the years.” Abacus tilted her head to one side. “Though I learned from the best.”

“No kidding.” Celestia sighed and tilted the glass all the way back. She sucked on her lips, possibly lapping up the last taste of the drink, and shook her mane out. “I’ll cut to the chase, then. I want to teach again.”

Abacus’ eyebrows shot straight up. She steadied her expression a moment too late to go unnoticed. “I… It has been quite some time since you taught Princess Sparkle—”

“I know. But that’s not quite what I mean.” Celestia hovered her glass to the desk and set it beside the inbox. She tapped her hooves together as her wings fidgeted behind her back. “I’m not just talking about tutoring Flurry Heart. I would like to teach a classroom again.”

Abacus spoke before she could really think her words through. “I thought you’d stopped teaching after you finally got what you were looking for.”

The following silence stung. Celestia hung her head, her wings pulling over her shoulders to warm the skin beneath the hair. Abacus pressed a fetlock against her mouth, wishing she had held back a little more. There was a bite in her voice, just then. A pain that shot straight from her heart into the air between the two mares.

Celestia’s response was quiet and weak. “I am proud of all of my personal students, Abacus. Not just Twilight.”

Abacus rubbed her forehead, just beneath her horn. She stood from the chair and walked to the desk, casting half an eye over the paperwork. Problems for another day, one and all. It was late. She wanted to go home. She wanted to get away.

“I would like to teach Introduction to Magic again.” Celestia’s voice rose above the back of the chair, but the mare’s body was completely concealed by the velvety seat. “Just to get my hooves wet.”

Abacus nodded, and she figured Celestia could tell it was happening without seeing it. She adjusted the cravat around her neck, loosening it. “I suspect you have something a bit meatier in store for the future?”

“A bridge to cross when we reach it,” Celestia said, waving a hoof. Her voice was light, airy even. Definitely practiced. Definitely hiding something. “But that’s some time off.”

“Does it have something to do with Luna’s question regarding a class for…” Abacus removed her glasses and recited the exact words. “‘Manipulating the Celestial Objects’?”

“Ah.” Celestia’s horn appeared at the side of the seat as the princess lowered her head. “Luna already spoke about it?”

“As of yesterday, it’s the only thing she and I have ever spoken about.” Abacus polished her already-pristine lenses. “I had assumed you sent her to tell me and were unable to do so yourself.”

“Did she also tell you why we need the class?”

“No.” Abacus walked back to the chairs and gave the scar on Celestia’s chest a pointed look. “I figured that part out on my own.”

“Any potential selectees?”

Dean Cinch rubbed her chin. Her ears swiveled this way and that until she landed on a particular pony. “There’s a young orphan from Ponyville named Ember. She is a brilliant student, and I should like to see her succeed.”

She pressed her hooves together as she sat on the floor, looking up at the alicorn she held in such high regard. A regard that had eroded bit by bit over the years. “You know you never officially left the School for Gifted Unicorns. You just took an extended absence.”

“Absence.” Celestia’s voice grew weak and weary. “There’s a word with a number of interpretations.”

“I meant it in the literal sense, Celestia.”

Celestia rose from the chair and latched the window. She paused to view the city of Canterlot, glimmering like a jewel. “So do I have a job?”

Abacus came alongside her and handed her another glass of cordial. They stood together and looked straight ahead, letting their eyes fall anywhere but on each other. Abacus took a prolonged sip. “Would it matter if I said no?”

Celestia shifted her weight, an amount of uncertainty that Abacus had rarely seen in the princess. “It would matter to me.”

Abacus turned to look at Celestia. The princess’ eyes grew damp, heavy with the weight of a thousand years of stress and fear and sorrow. Abacus snapped her head away. “I can’t very well bar you from your own school, Princess.”

“Do you want to?”

Abacus shook her head. “No. No, you are welcome here. I’ll… I’ll meet with the other teachers tomorrow and discuss your placement. We have plenty of new students. There’s plenty of room.”

Celestia bobbed her head lightly. She walked steadily, slowly to the door. “Thank you, Abacus. I appreciate it. And Abby—” She looked over her shoulder. “—I really am so very, very proud of you.”

She closed the door behind her, and left Abacus alone.

Cinch sat behind the desk and poured a third glass of the fizzy drink. It would probably ruin her teeth at this rate. A flash of light drew a book from the shelves and floated it to her hooves. She opened the well-worn pages with a flick of her fetlocks.

“The Mare in the Moon,” she whispered, reading aloud to herself. “A myth of Equestria. Once upon a time, in the magical Land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters who ruled together and created harmony for all the land…”

Lightning crashed above the Great Sea. Rain scoured the roof of Solitaire, the most secure prison in Equestria. The octagonal building was submerged in the ocean up to its top floor, which served as a landing pad for airships and a dock for boats. Any airships would have been cast into the sea during such a storm. Any boats would have quickly capsized.

Teleportation was the only means to travel tonight.

Rhombus was soaked to the bone as he was led across the rooftop to the entrance to Solitaire. His shackles sloshed in the thin layer of water coating the landing pad. His hydrophobic wings would have protected him from the deluge, had they not been bound tightly. The mask over his face prevented him from biting his guards.

“We’ve caught a live one, Commander Berrytwist!” The guard known as Checks Position shoved Rhombus onto a lift, which immediately began its descent. “This here fellow’s going to the bottom floor!”

“Another one?” The grizzled commander, Fizzlepop Berrytwist, looked Rhombus over, her broken horn framed by a bright lightning strike. “That’s the fourth one in as many years.”

If Rhombus looked past the broken horn, the vicious scar, and the dour expression—which he was quite happy to do—he had to admit that the commander was a rather attractive mare. Probably mid-thirties, if he knew anything about the fairer sex. “So I’m to get preferential treatment, then?”

“Hardly.” Fizzlepop scowled at him when she saw him eye her rump. “Keep your mind out of the gutter.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, lass.” Rhombus tilted his head in a bow, held back by his harsh chains. “If I had known there would be such bonnie lassies in this prison, I’d have dressed up.”

“You are going to the ninth floor, Rhombus.” Fizzlepop spoke without looking at him, her eyes looking impassionedly at each floor they passed by. “The deepest part of the prison, reserved specifically for traitors. You will serve out your twelve life sentences down there. Your days of threatening the royal family, the Knights and their families, and Equestria itself are long gone.”

“Remarkable,” Rhombus said. “You actually think you can keep me down here.”

The lift came to a stop. Rhombus stumbled down the corridor towards a row of cells. They came to one in particular, unoccupied save for the cot and the refresher. His chains were removed, his mask was detached, and he was allowed to enter the small room. His new home.

He leaned on the iron bars separating him from the guards. “I don’t suppose you’d care to join me for the evening?”

Fizzlepop Berrytwist turned on her heels and marched for the lift, Checks Position right behind her. They were soon out of sight and—to Rhombus’ perspective—out of mind. He craned his neck and looked down the aisle to see who else might have been dumb enough to face royalty and get caught. The cell across from his didn’t seem to have an occupant… until he looked closer. A shadowy shape prowled this way and that, occasionally revealing itself to be a lithe, feline body with six legs and a pair of tentacles. Displacer beast. Cool.

The cell beside that one had a donkey jack, missing one of his hind legs. He played solitaire with the complimentary deck of cards gifted to every prisoner. He gave Rhombus a glower, but quickly resumed his lonely game.

“Hoi there, friend,” a deep voice said from the cell next to Rhombus’. He couldn’t see the person, but the voice’s accent sounded like it hailed from lower Trottingham. “Wot’s up? Name’s Caution Tape. Former personal guard to Princess Celestia.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Rhombus tapped the stone wall in a mock hoof bump. “Rhombus, regional delinquent and former associate of Dr. Caballeron.” He chuckled to himself, polishing his hoof against his chest. “Former employee of Ahuizotl himself.”

“Yeah?” Caution let out a harsh laugh. “How’d that work out for you?”

“They’re both dead, of course.” Rhombus noted that the displacer beast had approached the bars of his cell. The direct light from the hall brought the dark-furred creature into sharp focus. “So I am gladly looking for other means of gainful employment.”

“Are you now?” Caution’s hooves clomped from within his cell. His voice grew low, so as not to be overheard. “Well, seems you’re in luck, mate. We’re escapin’ soonish. Endin’ our little stint in Her Majesty’s pleasure. Got any strong feelin’s on the fair folk?”

“Not in particular.” Rhombus walked to his cot and opened his deck of cards. He flicked one across the room, where it slotted neatly between two stone blocks on his wall. “I’m a simple stallion with simple desires. The path of gods and kings is beyond the scope of my interests.”

“It’s all good, man,” the displacer beast said. “I’m more’r’less in it for the cold hard cash. Caution’s on a quest to find his long-lost daughter, and Aspen…” He looked at the donkey’s cell with a furrowed brow. “Guess he’s just lookin’ to not die.”

“What I’m trying to do—” Aspen the Alliterative drew an ace from his deck and placed it atop his game area. He shuffled the cards already on hand, counting upwards as he cleared the board bit by bit. “—is avoid a war. That’s how the world dies, gentlemen. A war for the sun. Nobody is going to walk away unscathed.”

“War might be inevitable, Aspen,” Caution said. “Just gorra make it quick-like and decisive. That’s how we save the most lives.”

Rhombus rolled his eyes. “Again, I haven’t the patience for the playground posturing of world superpowers. What do you need me for? I’m skilled with a wingblade—” Another card flew across the room and split the first in half. “—but politicking and warmongering aren’t my forte.”

“We’re lookin’ for warriors, mate.” Caution tapped his hoof against the bars of his cell. “We need a small, elite team that can counter the Knights of Harmony. Somebody who can go in, kill what needs killin’, and scoot before things get pants-on-head crazy.”

Rhombus picked his teeth with a card. “The Knights, hmm? You’re talking Blankety Blank?”

“Aye.”

“Martial Paw?”

“He’s on the hit-list.”

“Care Carrot?”

Caution sighed through his nostrils. “She’s me old partner. Oi figure it’s only a matter o’ time before we clash.”

“Alright, then.” Rhombus flapped his wings to hover around his cell. He retrieved the cards he’d stuck into the wall and shuffled them between his hooves. “Say I do join you on your… naff little crusade. Would I be free to slay those I thought might be a threat to the cause?”

“If you gorra reason…” Caution’s voice took on a dark growl. “You clear it wi’ me.”

“Fair enough.” Rhombus looped around in his cell. He hovered upside down, allowing his blue mane to hang limp. “I’m not just in this for my own personal gain, mind. I’m fighting for love. There’s a lovely little lady in Ponyville who I need to reconcile with. Can’t have her go thinking I’m some monster. I’d like to… kiss and make up.”

“Heh. Young love, eh?” Caution’s cot squeaked as he took a rest. “Wot’s her name?”

“Scootaloo.” Rhombus licked his lips. “Rolls off the tongue like honey.”

He touched down and leaned his elbow against the cell door. “So, how does one go about sealing the deal when it comes to fairies?”

“Ya just talk wi’ Merimna. He’s the actin’ Unseelie Court Princeling in these parts.”

“Princeling, you say?” Rhombus quirked an eyebrow. “So, does he visit, or…?”

“Nah. He’s been in the cell with ya the whole time.”

Rhombus frowned. He noted that the displacer had retreated to the back of his cell, out of sight. The donkey, too, had buried himself beneath his blanket. The temperature was an uncomfortable, clammy temperature. He thought part of that might have been his soggy coat, but…

He turned around and looked right through a decayed pony’s empty eye sockets.

The pegasus’ rump clanged against the bars of his cell. A startled, horrified cry burst unbidden from his throat. He fell to the floor and scrambled away from the apparition.

Merimna, Princeling of Equestria, bowed his head. Loose flaps of something dangled from his exposed skull. He wore a long overcoat with an open chest, through which Rhombus could see ribs encased in a tight layer of stretched skin. The fairy’s mouth opened, and a toneless hiss formed words out of the dark pit of his throat. “Rhombus. I have chosen you to be my champion.”

A rope wrapped around the fairy’s neck; a hangman’s noose with a frayed end. A wide-brimmed hat sat atop his head, ragged and rat-bitten. Two tiny glimmers of light appeared in Merimna’s eye sockets. “Do you accept fealty to the Unseelie Court?”

Rhombus swallowed hard and tried not to look at the way the fairy’s skin flaked off its bones. “Wh—what are the terms?”

“You obey me. You go where I tell you and slay who I chose.” Merimna tilted his head. “In return, I will give you all the mares, drink, music, and revenge you could ever desire.” The princeling extended a bony hoof. “Do you accept?”

Rhombus looked around at his tiny cell at the bottom of the sea. He stared at Merimna’s offered hoof for a good minute. “Those are the only terms?”

“I swear it.”

Rhombus felt a grin appear on his muzzle. Part of him said this was literally insane. The creature before him was a monster from the darkest nightmares. Evil in its entirety. He would be reduced to a weapon held in this creature’s hoof.

But in return…

He would have Scootaloo. He would be able to wipe the smug smile from Rumble’s face as he sliced the oversized idiot’s throat. He would have the chance to dangle Button Mash from a rather high place and watch him splat at the bottom.

Perhaps when he was done with Scootaloo, he’d have Sweetie Belle as well?

Rhombus smiled, gripped Merimna’s foreleg, and shook hard. “Hell’s teeth, I just can’t see a downside to that.”

Garble soared above the outskirts of the Cauldron, his keen eyes scanning for a particular purple blotch on the ground. He caught an updraft which carried him higher into the sky. He could never remember where the stupid hot spring was. Like he’d ever need it. He was Ember’s right-hand dragon. The chief of the rambunctious and rowdy group of thugs she tried to call an army. He was the toughest of the tough. The strongest of the strong.

Spike, though? That little pony pincushion? He could see Spike getting beat up enough to need months of healing in the pool. The wuss didn’t even have his wings yet. What a baby. What a loser.

Garble decided not to remember when Spike was first brought to the Cauldron. How the young dragon couldn’t even stand. How the wounds bled and the scales refused to come back together. How, for the briefest of moments, Garble was afraid Spike wouldn’t make it.

He shook his head. Spike was fine. Better than fine. He was going home within the week. No worries.

No. Worries.

He crested the top of a mountain near the border and found the young dragon. He soaked in the pool, speaking with a bunch of wimpy ponies who’d come to visit. Garble grimaced. He supposed they’d introduce themselves. He refused to memorize their names, though. He bet the brown one was called “Lollipop Kissywiggles” or something equally stupid.

His keen eyes caught something else, too. Something sparkled in the bushes some short distance away from the pool. Scales glinting in the sunlight. He caught a glimpse of a tail snaking its way around. Garble grinned and aimed his descent towards the hidden dragons.

He landed softly so as not to make noise. He grasped the tail and gave it a tug. The shriek was sudden, stifled with a claw over a mouth. A young dragoness—probably a little younger than Spike—spun on him, her eyes blazing with inner fire. Another, shorter female dragon poked her head out of the bushes, surprise the only emotion evident in her features.

“Grit. Bellow.” Garble placed his claws on his hips. He kept his voice low so that it didn’t carry to Spike and his pony friends. “What are you doing here?”

Gritilda slapped herself in her mint-green forehead. She waved a claw behind her, speaking as if to a toddler. “We’re spying on Spike. Helloooooo!”

Bellowski’s head frills fanned out as her cheeks lit up a bright purple. “Literally the hottest. Literally.”

“You gotta be—” Garble’s stomach churned with the realization. They actually found the wingless wonder attractive? “By the Creator, your standards are low.”

“Shut up, Garbage. He’s exotic.” Gritilda crossed her arms over her chest and snaked her tongue at him. “Maybe our standards are just different.”

Bellowski peered her head above the bushes, her claws grabbing the foliage tight enough to snap the branches. “We’ve watched him for six weeks straight now. He’s never once kicked a dog.”

Grit nodded as her tail swished behind her. “Never once burned down a tree with birds in it.”

“Never once crushed a bunny burrow with his bare hands.”

“Never once robbed a passing traveler blind.”

“He just sits in the pool and reads all day! And the books don’t even have pictures!” Bellow made two fists and brought them to her cheeks, shaking all the while. “He’s just so… rebellious!”

Garble stared at them for a good, long moment, his arms dangling limp at his sides. He could not think of a suitably-snide response to such a stupendously dumb sequence of statements. When he was younger, these dragons would have been laughed right out of the Cauldron. But that all changed after Spike—

Garble got an idea. An awful idea. All he’d have to do was drop a truth bomb.

“You could just walk up to Spike and talk with him,” he said, spreading his wings and leaning against a nearby rock. “He’s pretty much willing to make friends with anybody. He’ll probably even introduce you to his girlfriend.”

Bellow’s aura of reverence shattered first. “Girlfriend?”

“Sure, a whole bunch of his friends came to visit.” Garble feigned a sigh and stared over the bushes at the party of ponies and wannabe ponies. “He’s got his girlfriend over there right now.”

“Huh?” Grit spread her wings as she spun on the scene, her tail thrashing. “I don’t see a dragon—”

“You didn’t know?” Garble tried and failed to hide a snicker. “She’s the tall mare. The dude’s a ponysexual.”

Grit and Bellow looked at each other, their expressions ranging somewhere between confused and downcast. Bellow gagged and raced off with her hand over her mouth. Gritilda scowled at Garble with her frilly ears laid against her scalp. “You gotta be kidding.”

“Only wish I was, kiddo. The guy went native.” Garble shrugged and walked through the bushes, pushing them aside with a nonchalant gesture. “Set your sights on more realistic targets. Like Deathsaurus, Emperor of Destruction.”

“Eh?” Grit tilted her head to the side. “But Deathsaurus is just a mythical…” She narrowed her eyes and clenched her claws. “You butt-wipe.”

Garble grinned as she flew away, Bellowski in tow. With renewed vigor, he strode towards the pool, in plain eyeshot of the party of campers. His stomach soured when he saw Apple Bloom rub her muzzle against Spike’s, and wondered how those two chuckleheads had managed to miss the copious amount of mush that the happy couple engaged in.

“Good grief, get a cave, you two.” Garble hopped into the hot spring, drenching the nearby ponies with the splash. He spread his arms along the edge of the spring, taking a seat on the smooth stones beneath the surface. “You make me wanna hurl my lunch.”

Spike’s smile was small, longsuffering, and intensely familiar to Garble. “Yo, Garble. Nice to see you again.”

Garble flicked his wrist dismissively. “Good thing you found a pony girlfriend, cuz ain’t nobody here’d give you a second look.”

Spike and Apple Bloom exchanged a lidded look that told Garble he’d gone a little too far with that insult. Guess he’d apologize later. Maybe. “So, guys,” Spike said slowly, “this is my old buddy Garble. I met him during my first Dragon Migration.”

The gray pegasus, a musclebound lunk of a stallion, perked his ears up. “Oh yeah. The moron who tried to kill a nest of phoenixes, right?”

Spike’s small, understanding smile twisted. “Eeee, he’s gotten better…”

Garble threw a tiny stone that smacked Spike right between the eyes. “Yeah, this dummy’s rubbed off on me. I’m gettin’ soft in my old age.”

A white-coated unicorn mare frowned like a mother critiquing their daughter’s attire. “Better, huh?”

Garble rose, waving his hands. “Alright, alright, I didn’t come here to be judged by the Court of Pony Morality. I need your help on something, Spike.”

“Whoa.” Spike also stood, Apple Bloom backing away to let him up. “That’s not something I’d ever thought I’d hear from you.”

The purple dragon was still a head shorter than Garble, who had also grown stronger during the last few years. Garble prided himself on the fact that he was nearly as tall as a pony’s carriage. All the better to look down on his peers. His muscles rippled beneath his red scales as he crossed his forelegs.

“Desperate times, Spike.” Garble chewed his scaly lip. He looked away, furrowing his brow. “Look… Look, I think you’re literally the only person I know who can actually do something about this.”

“Spill it.” Spike’s face was the very picture of chivalrous confidence. Something deep in Garble’s heart chilled—he knew Spike would do anything in his power to help him. That frightened Garble. Nobody else in his life would think of sticking their necks out for him. Spike didn’t think like the other dragons. Not in the slightest. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Yeah, I know.” Garble spat a gout of flame. The smoke roiled and rolled as magic did its work. A scroll appeared out of thin air and landed in the palm of his claw. “So… the guys and I were just at Mount Aris, searching the ruins of Hippogriffia.” He unrolled the scroll and presented it to Spike. “We finally found something new. It was in Queen Novo’s old room, buried beneath the rubble.”

The picture was a hastily-drawn, yet surprisingly-accurate copy of the image Garble and his team had found. It was a circle of ink, broken up by lines that crisscrossed through the center. Layers and levels were built up in the thing, with writing in a strange language labelling the sections. At the top of the sketch, a smaller circle was empty of the confusing lines.

“Is it…” Spike scrunched his muzzle as he turned the page over. “Is it schematics, or a map?”

“Maybe both.” Garble pointed at the image, his breath short as his adrenaline pumped. “The queen kept this in a vault, man. The stone it was carved into is like, a bajillion years old. Shardscale says it predates the changeling empire.”

The brown earth pony peered over Spike’s shoulder. “A map to where?”

Garble paced around the pool, his thoughts racing, failing to land on any single thing. He figured it might help if he laid it out plain. “You guys know about the end of the Changeling Civil War, right?”

“I kinda know,” the orange pegasus mare said. “I know the Thorax and his changelings vanished just before the Equestrian army kicked the collective butt of Chrysalis’ changelings. Nobody knows where Thorax went.”

“Right.” The musclebound pegasus bobbed his head. “Thorax’s changelings were getting creamed so badly, most people just think they got routed.”

“Yeah, that part’s bunk.” Garble snatched the scroll out of Spike’s claws. “While Chrysalis was busy fighting the Equestrians, the hippogriffs were helping the changelings escape. Both kingdoms vanished without a trace.”

“Hippogriffs?” Apple Bloom sat at the edge of the water and popped some kinda pony snack into her mouth. Probably grass or hay or whatever. Veggie stuff. “Why were the Hippogriffs helping the changelings?”

Garble frowned, even deeper than before. Why was it so hard to talk about this? It happened almost a decade ago. He wasn’t even that close to what happened, but… “Two names: Silverstream and Ocellus.”

Apple Bloom pursed her lips. “Should I know those—”

“Two of Twilight’s students,” Spike said. “From the School of Friendship.”

Garble scratched his head. A few dead scales flaked off into the water. “Yeah. Queen Novo’s niece and some nobody from Thorax’s kingdom. Your princess’ school worked on them, at least. Them and four others all ran away from the school after it was shut down. When Chrysalis attacked, I guess Silverstream was able to convince Queen Novo to help.”

Spike sighed deep within his chest. “Gallus, Yona, Sandbar and…” He looked up at Garble, waiting for him to finish the list of lost students.

“Smolder.” Garble waved the scroll beneath Spike’s nose, his teeth scraping against each other. “This picture, whatever it is, is our last best chance to find out where my sister disappeared to seven years ago. Half of me wants to smack her upside the head and—” He let his arms droop alongside his wings. “Half of me just misses her.”

He sat in the pool, submerging himself up to his waist. He lit the scroll on fire and shunted it off to Nowhere, his private little pocket dimension. “So. You know somebody who can help me, or what?”

“So what you’re saying,” the white unicorn said, “is that we can find the other changelings, the hippogriffs, and the missing students all at once?”

Garble shrugged. “Unless somebody went splitsville.”

Spike nodded, cupping his chin with a claw. “Twilight will know what to do with the picture. If not, she’ll know who will. I promise we’ll help you find Smolder, Garble.” He extended a claw to the larger dragon, offering to help him to his feet. “Sounds like the start of an adventure.”

Garble took the offered hand. Spike hoisted him upward so that he could once again tower over the younger drake. “Thanks, pal. I owe you.” He snorted flame breath, causing all the ponies to jump back. “But if word gets out that I said so, I’m plundering Ponyville, got it?”

“Holy mackerel,” the orange pegasus said. “What the heck was this guy like before he mellowed?”

Chrysalis the Last Queen walked up the stairs to the top of Castle Roc, where the Sunspear stood proudly. She clutched the Spade of Hearts tight to her chest. She refused to let the cursed object out of her sight until it was finally destroyed once and for all. She stepped into open air, where Commander Bugly and Crested Barbary were waiting for her.

Ahead, she could see Andean Ursagryph standing by the Sunspear, dressed in his best finery. Golden chains clasped red robes to his body, which swirled around his chest and left his wings free. A circlet lay on his head, at the front of which was a long, golden feather. Euroclydon sat at his side, within its enormous scabbard. His daughters—Corona wearing white and Stella a deep blue—flanked him on either side. Corona’s new spear lay across her back, while Stella’s ornate rapier sat in its sheath. The younger princess smiled, waving wildly at the queen.

Chrysalis looked to the side. A sizable crowd watched her closely. Leaders from many countries were in attendance; President Mangle from Beefland, High Pariah Seabreeze from Breezy Bastion, Judge Zipporah from Girraffrica, Dragon Lord Ember from the Cauldron, Prince Rutherford from Yakyakistan, and many others she had yet to meet. They had each been invited by Andean to bear witness to what she was about to do.

An anvil sat in the center of the makeshift arena. Chrysalis held the Spade of Hearts out for all to see. The curved blade glinted in the sunlight. The wrapped handle felt cold in her grip even in the heat of midday. The red pommel stone hummed with arcane magic that tried to connect with her own.

“This dagger,” she said, “represents the separation of changeling kind from the rest of the world. It represents a bygone day of oppression and suffering. When the sun was used as a weapon to hold the world in check. When the moon threatened frost every night. These two Celestial Objects are meant to bring life and joy to the world.”

Andean’s assured smile urged her on. Chrysalis raised the dagger higher, her wings spreading. “We stand here today united in a common cause. Not standing against a foe, but standing for an ideal. We are here because we believe the sun and moon are for everyone. We are here because we want to work together for a future where no one kingdom is able to hold the power of the Celestial Objects over anybody. We are here to make backup plans in case control over the sun and moon is lost, and make sure that it’s kept out of the hands of those who would abuse them.”

She set the Spade of Hearts on the anvil. She bowed her head as King Andean Ursagryph took center stage. He waved a talon at the assembled world leaders. “In the First Age,” he said, “the sun and moon were guided along their path by the Fae, the fair folk. When they grew too abusive, the changelings rose up and defeated them, and so the Second Age began. They, too, fell to their hubris. Since then, the Third Age has seen the ponies holding sole control over the Celestial Objects. Celestia has sought to be a fair ruler, but her time is long past.”

Chrysalis looked past the crowd to a shadow that should not have been visible under the noontide sun. A pair of sparkling blue eyes—Luna’s eyes—watched the proceedings. Even if she could not be in attendance, even if she could not reveal her influence, they had her blessing.

The king drew Euroclydon from its scabbard. He lay it on the ground before Chrysalis. She touched the hilt with her cloven hoof. The sword seemed to fall to pieces before coming together much smaller than before. It was light enough for her to lift easily, and the handle had become far better suited to her hoof. She felt the lightning of the blade flow through her body, energizing her every part.

She hefted the sword and swung it at the Spade of Hearts. Cracks appeared along its blade. Red magic seethed through the fractures. Another strike from Euroclydon damaged it further, but it held itself together with an arcane mixture of changeling magic and the power of the Elements of Harmony. She brought the sword down in a steady rhythm, hammering away at it with all the strength in her limbs.

The light of its evil magic grew brighter with each strike. Shockwaves of power radiated atop the spire of Castle Roc. Devilish magic crawled its way towards her, as if the dagger itself fought for its survival. She never let up, not for an instant. A final, mighty slice of the blade shattered the dagger into fragments with a bolt of lightning. When the dust cleared, she could see that the cast-iron anvil had been split in twain.

She slumped to her haunches, breathing heavily. Her ears rang with the echoes of the sword’s clanging beat. Euroclydon dropped to the floor and resized itself for Andean. The griffon king hoisted it above his head, pointing at the midday sun. His intense glare found the eyes of every leader in attendance, chilling them in the wake of the violent destruction of the artifact.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice booming across the rooftops of Castle Roc, “welcome to the Fourth Age.”