//------------------------------//
// XXVI: Of Stories 
// Story: Sunken Horizons 
// by Goldenwing 
//------------------------------//

In some ways, Rarity felt like she were enjoying a cruise, relaxed on the deck with the afternoon sun warming her coat and the wind of travel toying with her mane and the company of friends to keep a smile on her face. Pinkie and Fluttershy were playing a game with Brownie and a pair of crewponies, tossing a balloon between each other while the young bear tried to intercept it. Most of the crew still shied away from him whenever he and Fluttershy made an appearance, but they were beginning to relax after three days of travel.

Rarity didn’t partake in the game herself. It was unbecoming for a mare of her station to be seen playing with common airponies, or so she was happy to let them believe if it got her out of it. She would hate to work up a sweat on a ship that lacked the amenities for a shower.

“So you see the issue, then?” Whitehorn asked from beside her. He’d been explaining the finer details of the Equestrian Parliament, using some diagrams from a small notebook.

She nodded. “Truthfully, it seems like a system designed to get nothing done.”

“You aren’t the first to make that observation, my Lady. Perhaps once the Table is established we could make that a second goal of ours, reforming Parliament.” He tapped his pen against his chin with a thoughtful hum. “But alas, the islands will not give up their independence easily. We should focus on one lofty goal at a time.”

Rarity ran it over in her head one more time. Each island, no matter its size, was given a single vote on all issues, and a bill could be passed via simple majority, and a bill required support from a twentieth of the assembly to go up for vote. It was easy to understand at a surface level, but twenty percent of the vote was always reserved for the Princesses, who—as far as Equestria at large was concerned—had been gone for centuries.

And so with a fifth of the vote always abstaining, every island out for itself and fighting anything that might harm their independence, and the fact that there wasn’t any organization in place for enforcing whatever did get passed, Parliament was effectively neutered. From the way Whitehorn described it, each year’s assembly was used more as an opportunity for the island representatives to meet and network than guiding the development of Equestria.

She sighed, watching the clouds roll past. There was so much that needed to be changed, and she only had one lifetime to do it in.

Pinkie’s voice broke through her reverie. “Hey, look!”

Rarity turned, spotting the airship that had crested the horizon. She couldn’t see any details from this distance, but the plume of smoke swirling in its wake was obvious even from afar. She frowned, standing up. “Oh, goodness. Are they okay?”

The balloon fell to the deck as all eyes turned to the distant ship, popping under Brownie’s weight as he pounced. One of the crewponies stepped up to the rail and raised a spyglass to her eye.

“They’re signalling,” she said. “Dead in the clouds.”

Fluttershy gasped. “They need our help!”

The other crewpony shook his head. “Nah. Boss don’t wanna bother.”

Rarity blinked, staring at the back of his head. “I beg your pardon? Those ponies are literally asking for help.”

“Bad luck we found ’em,” he said, frowning down at the popped balloon. “Orders’re we don’t stop for nothin’.”

“That doesn’t seem very nice,” Pinkie said, narrowing her eyes.

The stallion shrugged. “Nice don’t pay wages.”

“Wages are beside the matter!” Rarity stomped a hoof, beckoning to Whitehorn. “Come along,  dear. We’ll talk to the good captain ourselves.”

She marched off without looking back. Whitehorn caught up to her a couple seconds later, his voice low but urgent. “Countess, we’re guests on this mare’s ship. We shouldn’t be questioning her orders.”

“I’ll have none of it!” Rarity practically kicked the door to the lower deck open, ignoring his hints to quiet down. “Those ponies need help, and that’s all that matters. I can’t sit and watch while lives are risked over mere profit!”

Whitehorn grimaced, but thankfully didn’t push the matter further. A pair of crewponies stepped into view, eyes widening at the sight of Rarity’s expression, and leapt back out of sight as she stormed down the hall, stopped in front of the captain’s door, and delivered a series of sharp knocks.

“Captain!” She didn’t stop knocking even when she heard furniture scraping inside. “Captain, I require your attention this instant!”

“What?!” The door swung open to reveal an irritated, sandy-coated pegasus mare wearing a ruffled white blouse and green shoulder cape just a shade darker than her mane. She glared past her bangs, meeting Rarity’s disapproving gaze.

“Your crew has spotted a ship in distress,” Rarity said. “And they tell me that you’ve ordered them not to stop.”

“Aye,” the Captain said evenly. “It’s not our problem.”

“It is our problem,” Rarity countered. “You would want those ponies to help if the roles were reversed.”

“But they’re not,” the Captain shot back. “So we won’t.”

Whitehorn leaned around Rarity’s shoulder with an appeasing smile. “My apologies, Captain. I know you’re a busy mare with much on your mind, but the Countess isn’t quite familiar with—”

“Shut!” Rarity stomped a hoof, cutting him off. If she’d had this conversation a month ago, then no doubt she’d have been surprised—even shocked—that anyone would be so callous with the lives of other ponies, but now she knew the truth. Equestrians didn’t care about each other anymore. If you wanted them to do anything, even something that the youngest foal would have understood was right in the past, you had to take another approach.

She narrowed her eyes at the other mare. “Do you know who I am, darling?”

The Captain’s lip curled back in a snarl. “You’re a mare on my ship, who I’d be in my rights to throw overboard if she tried a mutiny.”

Rarity arched a brow at that, but pressed on. “I am Countess Rarity, Last Lady of Old Equestria, wife of Sir Pontius, Baron-Governor of Friesland, son of Duke Titus of Canterthusia, liege to many other powerful lords on Altalusia.”

The Captain blinked, losing the snarl, but kept her lips pressed into a tight frown. “What of it?”

“Your hold is filled with lumber and crafts from Altalusia,” Rarity said, speaking in the slow, measured tone one used when educating the ignorant. “I know this because I cannot get the smell of wood dust out of my mane despite several thorough attempts, and I expect your insistence on speed is due to a hope that you’ll be first to reach Harvest with these goods after the lifting of the siege. I imagine you would profit greatly from such a deal, and even if you’re not the first, demand for these goods will still be high for some time.”

“I don’t see what my cargo has to do with this,” the Captain said, but Rarity could see she had lost some of her bluster. “This is my ship, and that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, of course, your ship, insofar as you and your crew operate it.” Rarity smiled sweetly. “Though the merchant lord who leases it to you may see it differently.”

The Captain’s tail flicked behind her. “Get to the point, mare.”

“Very well, mare, though I’d advise you to listen carefully, as I will say this only once.” Rarity leaned in, dropping the smile. “If you do not turn this vessel around and help those ponies within the next thirty seconds, I shall make it my business to write to my husband in Friesland. He’s a good stallion, a caring stallion, who does not put the wealth of his pocket over the lives of his ponies, and not only will you never set hoof on Altalusia again, he will see to it that every tradespony under your merchant lord’s employ pays for your callousness.” She paused, letting her words hang in the air. “And I expect any frustrations about such business would come squarely down on your head.”

The Captain had gone stiff. She glanced uncertainly towards Whitehorn before meeting Rarity’s glare once more. “You’re bluffing. Lady Dahlia could take her business anywhere, and Friesland would be the ones most hurt by it.”

“Perhaps so,” Rarity admitted. “But I doubt she would appreciate the inconvenience. And I can assure you, darling, I do not bluff. You’re down to twenty.”

The Captain was silent for several long seconds, and for a moment Rarity began to wonder if she was right. She couldn’t really know how many merchants she’d be asking Pontius to embargo with this threat, nor the economic damage that would be done by it. But it was the only card she had, and she had to play it with confidence.

“Fine.” The Captain grabbed a hat from behind the door, dropping it onto her head. “But once you leave my ship, I never want to see you again.”

“The feeling is mutual, Captain.” Rarity stepped aside with a smile, leaving room for the other mare to pass. “It’s good to meet a pony that cares for more than just herself.”





Rainbow Dash felt light as air as she landed in the Argo hall and pulled the hatch closed behind her. “Applejack!” she called, starting towards the cargo hold. “You won’t believe what just happened!”

A door clicked open behind her, and Rainbow turned to see Applejack’s head, sans hat, leaning out of Flint’s room with wide eyes. “Rainbow Dash, I swear to Celestia, Luna, my parents, and everythin’ I can’t think of right now, if you’ve flown off and killed somepony else, I’m disownin’ ya.”

Rainbow frowned. “Wait, are you two banging again?”

Applejack pursed her lips. “I really don’t see how that’s important here, sugar cube, considerin’ y’all’re covered in blood.”

Rainbow cocked her head. She looked down, and only then realized that in her excitement she’d forgotten that yes, actually, she was covered in blood. “Oh! No, don’t worry, this isn’t pony blood, this is yak blood.” She grinned and struck a pose. “I went out on a hunt with the crystal ponies like Twi suggested, right? And there were all these yaks running around—that hairy thing that attacked me earlier was a yak apparently—and then one of the crystal ponies was in trouble, so I swooped in and saved her!” She jumped into the air, doing a loop for emphasis. “But then I realized one of the yaks was the same one I’d fought earlier, and I couldn’t just let it get off scot-free, so I challenged it to single combat and cut it down with all the hunters watching! And then I ate its heart and everybody cheered, and now they’re all calling me Yakslayer!”

Applejack blinked. “I ain’t even sure where to start respondin’ to all that.”

“Did she just say she ate its heart?” Flintlock’s head leaned into view. “Ye ain’t gonna start glowin’ ’n blow th’ ship, are ye?”

“What? No!” Rainbow groaned, throwing her hooves up. “Can’t you guys just be happy for me? This is awesome!”

Applejack sighed, exchanging a glance with Flint. “I’m happy for ya, RD, really. Why don’t ya go get yourself a shower and then ya can tell us all about it?”

“Ugh, really?” Rainbow shook her head in exaggerated disgust. “Fine, you two have your fun with each other. But you better show up for the feast!” She spun in place, grinning at Applejack’s eye roll, and made for the ship shower.

The sun was starting to set by the time she’d finished scrubbing dried yak blood out of her coat, and after checking with Sabre to let her know she’d come back on time and get permission to set out again, Rainbow went looking for her friends. She didn’t think Sabre was interested in docking again, so if Applejack was going to attend the feast they’d need Twilight to teleport them down as a group. She couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when the crystal ponies told the story of her heroism out on the ice today.

“Twi, AJ? You guys in here?” she called, stepping into the cargo hold and wringing the last drops of moisture from her mane. “You guys don’t wanna miss this feast!”

Twilight’s voice answered from her room. “In here, Rainbow!”

Rainbow grinned as she walked through the curtain. Twilight was standing in the center of her room, facing the entrance, her hooves held close together and her slitted eyes wandering. Rainbow arched a brow, picking up on her friend’s distress. “Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Twilight said. She offered a nervous smile. “I heard you went hunting.”

“Yeah, actually. Did AJ tell you about it?” Rainbow straightened up, flexing her wings nonchalantly. “You’ll hear about it tonight, so I don’t wanna spoil you with the details now.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Twilight nodded a few times too many, tapping a hoof against the floor. She looked away, focusing on something only she could see, and then took a deep breath and licked her lips, meeting Rainbow’s gaze. “I made you something.”

Rainbow’s ears perked up. From the way Twilight was acting, this had to be important. She sat down, giving the other mare her full attention. “What is it?”

“It’s—well, here.”

Twilight’s horn glowed, grabbing a plain cloth off her desk and pulling it aside to reveal a smooth orb of glittering white stone. Rainbow walked up to it, watching the way it seemed to catch the light and twinkle with a rainbow of different colors. She frowned as she saw the runes engraved into its surface, reminding her almost of a wide-open eye.

Rainbow picked it up, feeling its weight. “What is it?”

“It’s an eye.” Twilight’s words came out in a rush. “For you.”

“For me?” Rainbow frowned, looking up and seeing Twilight watching her anxiously. “Like, for decoration? I guess the twinkling is kinda cool.”

“No, Rainbow, not for decoration!” Twilight groaned, hanging her head in her hooves. “Ugh, why is this so hard? It’s an eye, to help you see. To—you know?” She looked up, gesturing at her face.

Rainbow cocked her head, a creeping dread rising at the back of her mind. “Am I supposed to put this in my… wound?”

“Yes.” Twilight nodded firmly.

Rainbow waited for some further explanation, but nothing came, and the room lapsed into an uneasy silence. She looked down at the strange eye and was filled with an unexpected sense of revulsion. Why did she feel that way? She should be happy to have something to fix the damage Gava had done to her, right?

And yet when she looked at the eye she didn’t feel relief. She felt weak. She felt angry. The joy of her victory during the hunt was suddenly swept away, replaced with the hazy, red-tinged image of a sneering griffon with a bloody beak. Her shoulders slumped and her eye itched, and she wanted nothing more than to turn and run, to escape into the sky and fly faster than her thoughts could follow.

“Rainbow?” Twilight sounded worried. Probably because she knows how worthless I am. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Huh?” Rainbow blinked, and the memory was gone.

“This will give you your vision back,” Twilight continued, stepping closer. “Well, not exactly. You still won’t be able to see, but you’ll be able to tell what’s around you, even through walls or darkness. In some ways it’ll even be an improvement from before.”

“Oh.” Rainbow wasn’t sure what to do with the thing. She didn’t want to hurt Twilight’s feelings by putting it down, but she didn’t have any pockets or bags on her either. She settled for looking back to Twilight, trying to ignore the weight in her hooves. “Um, thanks, Twi.”

Twilight’s brow knit with concern. “You don’t like it.”

“It’s not that.” Rainbow sighed, closing her eye. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I’m sure you went through a lot of trouble to make this, and I bet it works great and all. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Maybe you could try it out?’ Twilight suggested gently. “I haven’t been able to test it properly without you.”

“No.” Rainbow shook her head emphatically. “I’m sorry. I just—I was kinda getting used to this, and I haven’t really thought about it in a while, and—if I was gonna get fixed, I’d hoped I would be… fixed. Y’know?” She grimaced, opening her eye, but half her world remained in darkness. “But I guess that settles it, huh? I’ll always be… a little broken.”

Twilight didn’t say anything. Maybe she didn’t know what to say. Either way, Rainbow didn’t want to look up and see her friend’s disappointment. She turned away to leave, transferring the eye to one of her wings, and paused in the doorway. “Sorry.”

She left quickly, before Twilight could get out any response. She flew up to her cloud room and stuck the eye in the little chest she’d made for storing the few personal items she owned, then made for the nearest hatch.

She was tired from the hunt, but not too tired to fly away from the things that haunted her.





They’d arrived at Harvest early in the day and, being well-rested and with nothing else to do, Ana had suggested that they take care of the job as soon as possible. It should be easy enough—find a way onto the ship, find the target, flash some fangs and talons. They could be in and out quick enough for an early dinner and still have time to get the lay of the land afterwards.

That plan didn’t last long.

It wasn’t as easy to find fish for sale in Harvest as it was in Leviathan Wakes, but there were a few spots on the lower levels where it was served. The ponies had cheap metal platforms strung up to ropes and pulleys, and would lower themselves to just above the water to cast out lines or nets before being pulled back up with their day’s catch. Ana and Gava had found a spot behind one such fish restaurant, sitting on the edge of a short metal pier with nothing but open ocean beneath it and listening to the squealing of the pulleys as they shared a plate of fried fish.

It also gave them an excellent view of the Dragonscale.

“By Luna,” Ana muttered, shaking her head.

Gava hummed, tapping a talon against the pier. “That ship is made for war.”

It was an odd thought, an airship built for war. Ana was no historian, but her father had ensured she’d had a basic knowledge of pony history growing up. There was a brief era, centuries ago, where the islands had warred between each other, sending armies abroad on primitive airships in hopes of asserting themselves as the center of a new Equestrian Empire. But such incursions had always carried with them hefty losses in both lives and materiel.

There was no easy way to land a ship on an island that didn’t want to be landed on, and after several devastating wars that saw dozens of ships carrying hundreds of ponies apiece fall from the skies before they ever reached their destinations, ponykind collectively agreed that war was a thing that belonged exclusively on land. They may jostle for economic supremacy or send agents to interfere with islands distant and far, but every ruler knew that an actual invasion of another island was tantamount to suicide, and so ships were never built with war in mind. There were ships for trade, ships for salvage, ships for travel and ships for hunting, but ships for war were relegated to the pages of history.

Except, it would seem, for the Dragonscale. Ana had done some asking around on the way here, and she’d gotten a few conflicting answers about the ship’s purpose. Some ponies said it was a warship, the pride of the Harvest fleet, ready to push off and destroy any vessel that might threaten the city’s airspace. Others said it was just a historical piece, a walk-in museum that harkened back to a less civilized time. And there were even a couple ponies that had disparaged it as little more than a tourist trap.

It was long and wide, four times at least longer than the Roc’s Screech had been, with a pair of gas envelopes to either side of the hull armored with thick metal plating suspended off sturdy trusses. A trio of huge, double-barreled turrets occupied the centerline of its open deck, all currently pointed away from the city, and the prow bulged out into a vertical hammerhead, with angled towers jutting out both above and below the glinting glass of the bridge on the ship’s bow. The hull widened at its rear, providing mounts where four huge propellers sat idle, while a number of sails and fins protruding at angles from the bottom allowed for steering.

It was a warship, and Ana would hate to be on the other side of its cannons, which is why it struck her as odd that so many ponies could be seen milling about the deck, swarming around the great turrets in a dazzling variety of expensive clothing. Travelers from both near and far wanted to see the last surviving warship, and it seemed Harvest was more than willing to indulge them—for a price.

“Well, might as well get on with it.” Ana grabbed the last piece of fish off their plate and popped it into her mouth, kicking the empty plate off the pier to spin down into the waves.

“Just like that?” Gava narrowed her eyes. “You don’t want to spend a few days scoping it out or something?”

“Sis, we’re gonna go scope it out right now,” Ana said, flashing the griffon a teasing smirk. “It’s a public attraction, remember? We don’t even have to sneak aboard.”

Gava grunted as she stood. “They’ll see us.”

Ana smiled as she leaned into her sister, nuzzling under her chin. “Gava, I appreciate you thinking about being subtle and all that, but believe me, if I was worried about being seen, I’d have asked you to stay home.”

Gava clacked her beak, looking around as if to ensure she wasn’t spotted being cuddled. “I’d come anyway. We’ve split up too much lately.”

“Good thing we don’t need to for this job then, huh?” Ana broke away from the nuzzle, crouching low and flaring her wings. “Now let’s get going. I bet they’ve got mango cocktails on that ship.”

As dizzying as the city could be when navigating by hoof, it only took a minute of easy gliding for the sisters to cut across the open air, swerving around the lazy little airboats that drifted slowly across the city’s underbelly like fleas on a dog. Ana landed first, startling a few tourists, and several more balked when Gava’s heftier bulk landed behind her, buffeting them with her wings. Ana offered them her best unnerving smile, but somehow didn’t feel the same satisfaction as usual when they shied away.

The Dragonscale was moored at the end of a long, wide stone pier lined with statues of propellers, cannon, and sails. Each one was flanked by a small plaque describing some historical landmark in the defunct field of military aviation, but Ana kept her eyes on the ship itself as they fell into the loose line of ponies filing aboard. A pair of marines were stationed to either side of the gangway, stopping each party and collecting a fee of bits before directing them onto the ship. Their uniforms were elaborate and ostentatious, with polished black helmets crested by an ornate golden horn and a gilded ship’s prow adorned across the forehead. Each one wore a long black cloak decorated with patterns of gold and silver that hung down almost to the ground and concealed most of their bodies. Silvered sheaths strapped to their shoulders completed the image, carrying daggers that Ana suspected were there more for show than battle.

It was an impressive getup, and after a few seconds watching the way the marines scanned the  crowd, eyes simultaneously sharp yet half-lidded with apparent boredom, she determined that these weren’t mere ceremonial troops; despite their gaudy uniforms and lack of any obvious practical weaponry, these ponies were trained soldiers.

“Don’t cause any trouble,” Ana said, glancing towards Gava. “Those guards aren’t expecting a fight, but they won’t back down from one.”

“I’m not blind, Ana.” Gava rolled her eyes.

Ana smirked at that, turning her gaze on the ponies waiting in line around them. Some looked like locals, perhaps lesser crewponies stationed on the ship or workers that had saved up enough for a visit, but most were clearly from abroad, displaying several distinct fashions. Thankfully, all of them were pointedly avoiding looking at the big, menacing griffon in their midst, which made it trivially easy for Ana to relieve a couple of the more pretentiously dressed ponies of their bits.

The marines straightened up as Ana and Gava reached the front of the line. The eldest-looking stepped forwards, his rank designated by a red scarf tucked into his collar. “Thirty bits, each.”

Ana nodded, producing the required bits with a toothy smile. The guard’s eyes never left hers, though she could see his subordinates glance towards her fangs. “Sixty for two of us, then.”

“Enjoy your visit. Guests leave at sundown.” He stepped aside, fixing each of them with a meaningful look that Ana took as a warning not to cause any trouble.

“Thanks, stud.” She winked, the other two marines watching her with open curiosity as she led Gava up the gangway. The metal rattled underhoof, the departing ponies on the opposite side of the gangway shrinking back when they passed.

Gava snorted, flaring her wings and causing an older couple to quicken their step. “Never gets old, huh?”

“Yeah.” Ana flicked her tail, shooting a dark look at the couple’s back. “It doesn’t.”

The attitude didn’t change once they made it onto the deck. Ana took the lead once again, doing a slow circuit of the ship and playing the part of the interested tourist while surreptitiously soaking in every detail of the security and layout, but she found herself getting strangely irritated by the wide berth given to her and her sister. Why was it bothering her so much, the way ponies would shoot her nervous glances and tug their foals closer whenever she got close? It’s like they thought she was going to suddenly turn and pounce on their children. Normally such an idea would make her snort and show her fangs to the superstitious parents, but for some reason, today she only wished she’d thought to wear a cloak.

Despite the distraction, they were on a time limit, and Ana forced herself to focus on the mission. The ship was lightly crewed, with only a token garrison of marines aboard acting more as curiosities for the guests than effective security. The public was given free reign to ogle the huge turrets, pester any crew they could catch with questions, and tour the uppermost decks, but the pony they were looking for was nowhere to be seen.

Acting on a hunch, Ana tried asking one of the marines where she could rent a room for the night. She was given directions astern, and after a short walk, she and Gava found themselves in what looked like a hotel lobby that had been transplanted into the center of the ship.

“Welcome to the Dragon’s Tail!” a cheery clerk mare called as they stepped inside. “The most—o-oh.”

Gava rolled her eyes, stepping up to the mare’s desk. “Hey. We need a room.”

“Oh, uh, r-right.” The clerk smiled anxiously, setting a large notebook down in the center of the desk and flipping it open with shaky hooves. “Um. L-let me just—oh.”

The mare froze as Gava grabbed the notebook and pulled it across the desk, spinning it around to face her. She clacked her beak and scanned the first page before flipping to the next one. “Which of these is free?”

The clerk grimaced, opening her mouth as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it. Ana smiled at her as she walked up to Gava’s side. “How much for a room?” She leaned around Gava’s shoulder, scanning the pages as the griffon quickly flipped through them.

“Um. Would y-you ladies prefer a suite or o-one of our economy options? The suite is f-five—”

“Hold that thought.” Ana’s hoof flashed out, stopping Gava from turning the page. She tapped once at a name written in small, careful script. Sapphire Swing. VIP Level, Glory Suite. Getting a room next to her would be too expensive, but a cheaper plan was already forming in her mind. She feigned surprise, looking to the clerk with a wide, befanged grin. “Hey, we know this pony! You don’t mind if we go say hi, do you?”

“Who? Um.” The clerk frowned, trying to see the name Ana had pointed to without leaning any closer. “W-we, uh—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Gava slapped the book shut and shoved it towards the clerk. “We’ll find our way.”

“W-wait, you—”

“Have a nice day!” Ana waved before trotting down one of the halls that split off the lobby, Gava at her side, snickering at the fading sounds of the clerk’s stammered attempts to call them back. She led the way around a corner at a brisk pace, glancing back to her sister. “Did you see the room map?”

“I got a glimpse.” Gava kept her eyes forward as they walked. “You think that pony’s gonna call security?”

Ana shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll just have to be quick.”

Every part of the warship they’d seen previously had been designed for military efficiency above all else, with cramped halls made for organized troops to file past each other during battle and regular bulkheads to keep fires contained. Where they walked now, however, looked as if an aristocrat had been hired to remodel the interior in the likeness of their traditional family home. The piping running along the walls was covered up with faux furniture or small potted plants, the normally bare riveted steel walls were now painted in domineering blacks and silvers, and the heavy hatches found throughout the ship were replaced with elliptical wooden doors decorated with geometric patterns. What little wall space remained between the portholes, bulkheads, and hatches was filled in with wood-framed landscape paintings, perhaps in some attempt to make the hall feel more open.

“Here.” Gava nodded as the hall widened to accommodate a slim, steep stairway descending to a lower deck. “The VIP suites.”

The lower deck didn’t look much different at a glance, but most of the hatches had been covered up along with the piping, while those that remained had their doors decorated in gold and silver trim, each depicting a unique image of a heroically posed pony wearing snappy clothes and a grim expression. Ana took the lead again, eyeing the plaques beside each door.

She drew up short at movement ahead of her. A pair of marines had been leaning against the wall, hidden from view with all the clutter edging the hall, and had stepped out into the open with arched brows.

“Good afternoon,” the first said, dipping her head in greeting. “Did you just check in?”

Ana grinned and prayed to Luna that Gava would be able to pull off a half-convincing excited tourist. “Yes, ma’am! We’re heading to our room now.”

“Packed real light,” the second marine said. He narrowed his eyes. “Which suite?”

“We find vacationing more fun without all the baggage.” Ana giggled to buy time as she thought back to what she’d seen of the room list. She knew at least one of the suites was empty; she just had to remember the right one. “We’re staying in the Wheedle Suite.”

The marines frowned. The mare’s cloak fluttered back with a dramatic flourish as she revealed the wings hidden beneath—and the blades strapped to her feathers—while the stallion lowered his head, brandishing the sharp steel spearhead encasing his horn.

“Oh, was that the wrong one?” Ana grimaced. “I meant, the, uh—”

Gava slammed into the stallion, knocking him to the ground. She coiled her body like a spring as she landed before throwing herself sideways into the mare, who cried out in alarm before her helmet struck the hard edge of a bulkhead and she toppled limply to the floor. The stallion rolled to his hooves, a silver whistle held in his lips, only to have it torn free as Gava raked her talons across his face, leaving him dazed and bleeding.

Ana huffed. “I could’ve sworn that room was empty.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Gava rolled the stallion onto his back and tugged his helmet off, exposing his neck. “We’re gonna need to find a place to stash these bodies.” She grabbed his throat in her talons, her beak twisting up into a predatory grin, and—

“Hey, whoa!” Ana rushed forwards, pushing her sister off the groaning pony. “Stop!”

Gava blinked. She looked down at Ana with brow furrowed. “What’d you do that for?”

Ana stared back at her wide-eyed. What had she done that for? Seconds passed in silence but for the stallion’s pained moans.

Gava’s tail flicked behind her. “We can’t just leave two bodies in the hall, Ana.”

“They’re not dead.” Ana shook herself, reaching for some explanation of her actions. “We can interrogate them.”

Gava cocked her head. “Why? We know where we’re going.”

Ana bit her lip, stomping a hoof in frustration. What is happening to me? “Alright, but—look, the garrison’s clearly not expecting trouble, right? They weren’t even watching the stairs or the lobby, these ponies think they’re on tourist watch.” She nodded, speaking more confidently as she sounded out her logic. “If two of them turn up dead, they’ll be on high alert. Two ponies bound and gagged in a closet, not so much—and we can use them to scare our target!”

Two seconds passed as Ana met Gava’s judging gaze. Why was her heart pounding in her ears?

Finally Gava snorted, rolling her eyes. “Fine.”

“Great! Come on, let’s get them restrained.” Ana grinned in relief as she walked up to Gava’s side and pulled some rope out of the griffon’s satchel, silently praying that she wouldn’t be questioned further once they were in the clear.

It only took them a minute to bind and gag the two soldiers. Ana hauled them both onto Gava’s back, and they resumed their search at a much quicker pace, glancing behind them every few seconds. Luckily, the suites didn’t seem to be in heavy use, or at the very least none of the guests were using their rooms at the moment, and after a few minutes of searching they finally found the room they were looking for.

Glory Suite. Ana took a second to admire the gilded likeness of a unicorn mare emblazoned on the door, her patronizing features exaggerated to match the extravagant flourish of her hat and cape. She pressed her ear up to the door and, hearing nothing, nodded to Gava before picking the lock and pushing it open.

The suite itself did an impressive job of pretending it wasn’t crammed onto a military vessel. Walls of smooth wood paneling had been erected inside a wide, low chamber to create a trio of smaller rooms, each illuminated by sunlight filtering in through the narrow portholes that lined the far walls. Paintings of the same mare that had been featured on the door competed with imagery of warships similar to the Dragonscale, sometimes locked in battle with rivals of equal stature, while a round wooden bar next to a collection of sofas served as the foyer’s centerpiece and plush rugs kept the hard metal floor at bay. Ana peeked inside each of the other doorways, spotting a well-stocked office and a lavish bedroom, with a smaller door inside the latter that she assumed led to a bathroom.

“Looks clear,” she said. “Close the door and stash the ponies in the bedroom. We’ll wait for this Sapphire Swing mare to show up, then put the fear of Luna into her.”

Gava shrugged and kicked the door shut behind her. “Fear of Gava sounds better to me.” The soldiers on her back stirred as she stalked into the bedroom and dumped them roughly onto the floor, ignoring their protests.

Ana nodded. “I’m gonna go check that office. Might be something interesting in there.”

“Sis, there’s nothing but paper in there.”

Ana smirked, shaking her head in bemusement and walking for the office. “Just don’t kill the captives, alright?”

She made a beeline for the desk, ignoring the paintings and other trappings of wealth that rich ponies so loved spreading around their rooms. It was mostly well organized, with multiple paper bins for organizing correspondence and a filled-out calendar that seemed to double as an eating surface if the crumbs on it were any indication. A letter was left unfolded in the center of it all, next to a blank sheet and a small pile of crumpled papers. Ana leaned over it curiously, frowning at the lack of the usual clutter important ponies always decorated their paper with.

I am warning you for the last time, Mrs. Swing, ponies who attempt to go back on an agreement made with me do not enjoy the consequences that befall them. You may think yourself superior to me, but I think you will find that any contract is only as binding as its enforcement, and my enforcement reaches far wider than you know.

Ana’s frown tightened. Whitehorn’s voice echoed in her mind, bringing with it the memory of a royal statue of Princess Luna judging her with a silent frown. “A contract, even one as informal as ours, is only as binding as its enforcement.”

Could it be coincidence? There was no signature anywhere on the letter to indicate who sent it, and she’d never gotten a grasp on what Whitehorn’s hoofwriting looked like, but all the pieces lined up. Someone had written this mare a letter threatening her not to pull out of a deal, and now Ana and her sister had snuck into her quarters to deliver a more physical, far less forgettable message. It had to be from Whitehorn.

Her ear twitched at the sound of a muffled whimper from somewhere close—too close and too high-pitched to be one of the guards. She froze, ears swiveling, and a second later was rewarded with a sharp gasp.

Ana stepped back, eyeing the thick curtain that ringed the desk. Slowly she bent down, reached out, and pulled it back.

An earth filly stared back at her, frozen in fear, squeezing herself down under the high legs of the desk.

Ana frowned. A foal? She hadn’t seen any toys anywhere, and there was only one bed. Had she snuck inside as well, or had her mother left her here alone, with nothing to play with and nobody to talk to?

She tried a comforting smile, but the filly only shut her eyes tight and choked out a sob in response. She pursed her lips, hiding her fangs.

“Hey, kid. You alright?” She kept her voice low, both to avoid startling her further and to avoid attracting her sister’s attention.

The filly cracked an eye open. “Where’s my m-mommy?”

Ana sighed, straightening back up and casting an exasperated look around the office. This mare couldn’t at least afford a foalsitter? Her gaze stumbled into Gava, who was watching her from the bedroom.

“Something up?” she called.

Ana put on a stiff grin. If Gava caught wind of the fact that their target’s foal was in the suite, she’d want to use her as a hostage too, both to drive the point home harder and to enjoy the rush of threatening her life in front of her mother. Ana found herself trapped; she could either tell a stark lie right to her sister’s face, or tell her the truth and give the kid up to her vices.

Every other time Ana had been in this situation in her life, the choice had been easy. It was her and Gava against the world, after all. Even if she didn’t trust Gava to always make the best decisions, and Gava didn’t trust her to always be the most forthcoming, they had an understanding—family comes first. Even threatened by death or torture, neither sister would ever hide anything from the other.

But this kid doesn’t deserve that.

Ana wasn’t sure what she’d say when she opened her mouth. Perhaps it was just old habit that made her go for the lie. “Nothing. Just wondering when the target’ll finally show up.”

Gava snorted. “Whatever happened to ‘patience is a virtue,’ huh?”

Ana’s grin grew strained. It was a flimsy lie, but Gava had trusted her anyway. “Guess I’m just a little nervous about someone noticing the guards missing.”

Gava nodded. “Don’t worry. We could probably take on the whole crew ourselves, if we had to.” She chuckled darkly before stepping out of sight, no doubt to try and entertain herself taunting their captives.

Ana let out the breath she’d been holding before dipping back down under the desk. “Hey. My name’s Anatami. What’s your name?”

The filly sniffled, looking up from the floor. Her coat was a pale peach, and her mane reminded Ana of the way the sky glowed at sunrise. “Petite Orchard.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Petite Orchard.” Ana held out a hoof, and after a few seconds the filly hesitantly lifted her own hoof to meet it. Ana’s brow knitted as she tried to think of how to cheer up a filly that didn’t live out on the streets. “I, uh, really like your mane.”

The filly looked away with a sigh. “Thanks.”

Ana nodded, a tentative smile on her face. With introductions out of the way, the kid seemed to have mostly gotten over her panic. She probably wasn’t yet old enough to know that thestrals couldn’t be trusted. “Is this your hiding spot?”

She shook her head. “I like to nap here when mommy’s out.”

“Oh.” Ana nodded again, considering her words. “Well, me and my sister just need to talk to your mother a bit, okay? You get back to your nap, and she’ll come get you when it’s time to come out. Understand?”

Petite Orchard sighed again, but nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

With one last encouraging smile, Ana let the curtain fall and straightened up, relieved to see that Gava was still out of sight. She stretched her wings as she walked around the desk and stepped out of the office, quietly closing the door behind her.

As if on cue, the jingling of keys out in the hall caught her ear. Ana rushed into the bedroom, falling back into her business mindset, and found Gava sitting on one of the soldier’s backs, tapping her talons against his helmet.

“Hey!” Ana hissed. “Show time. Get these set up.”

Gava grinned as she stood and grabbed a leg in each talon, dragging the bound ponies out of the bedroom. Her grin faltered when she spotted the closed door to the office. “What’s that closed for?”

The second lie was always easier. “Cutting off any escape routes.” Ana pulled the bedroom door shut before grabbing the captured mare, and after a few hectic seconds they had the two soldiers posed in front of the bar, facing the entrance.

They had just enough time to face the door themselves as their target stepped into the suite. Sapphire Swing was muttering bitterly to herself, so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice even as the soldiers tried to warn her through their gags. She glanced back, turning the lock on the door, and took two steps towards the bar before drawing up short with a startled squeal.

Ana grinned, and tried not to think about how much Petite Orchard took after her mother. “Mrs. Swing. Welcome back.”

“W-who’re you?” The mare stumbled backwards, bumping her tail against the door as her gaze darted from Ana, to Gava, to the soldiers—then to the office. She’s looking for her daughter. “What’re you doing here?”

“I think you know,” Ana said. She began to stalk closer as Gava made a show of examining her talons. “You struck a deal with our employer. He doesn’t like it when ponies go back on their deals.”

“H-how’d you even get in here?” Sapphire grimaced, eyes darting back toward the office, then the bedroom. “What do you want?”

“Shh.” Ana used one of her wings to gently shush the mare, giving her an up-close look at the little claw at the joint. “We don’t want anything, Mrs. Swing. We’re just here to send a message.”

Sapphire’s eyes shot wide open. She raised her voice into a panicked shout, tears starting to well in her eyes. “Petti! Where are you, baby?!”

“Mommy!” The filly burst through the door to the office, and Sapphire practically collapsed as she met her daughter in a tight hug.

Ana frowned. She could hear the click of Gava’s talons as the griffon straightened up behind her. I can handle that later. She lowered herself down to the floor, catching Sapphire’s gaze intently. “That’s a relief, isn’t it?” She put on an empty smile and tried to avoid the implications of what she was about to say. “But it’ll be different next time, understand? All those soldiers out there? They can’t stop us.”

Sapphire clutched her filly tighter, glaring defiantly into Ana’s slitted eyes. “You’re a monster,” she growled. “Both of you! To come here and threaten my filly over politics.” Ana flinched as the mare spat in her face, shaking with fury.

“You want to see a monster, pony?” Gava lunged past Ana and knocked Sapphire to the ground, and the filly let out a shriek as she was torn from her mother’s grip. Gava held her up by her tail, shaking her like a toy. “Maybe I should show your crotch-fruit what a monster is!”

Ana froze. She watched with wide eyes as both mother and daughter descended into incoherent babbling, begging for each other’s lives. Gava reared up, her beak twisting into a predatory grin, pressing her talons into the filly’s neck hard enough to draw blood.

What is happening to me? This pony family had never done anything for her! She’d never even met them before today! What could possibly set them apart from every other pony she’d ever met, distinguish them from all those selfish, heartless Equestrians who had filed her away as a thief and a liar the instant they laid eyes on her? She was supposed to take joy in being called a monster, in knowing that she was the thing that made a pony look over their shoulder at night. Nothing she did would ever be seen without suspicion in pony eyes, so why should she care what they thought of her?

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care! She had a job to do, and by Luna, she had to do it! To shirk the job would be to threaten her and Gava’s reputation as mercenaries, to put doubt in the heart of any potential employers, to imperil the very livelihood of the one being she knew, without doubt, loved her. Trusted her.

Yet when Ana saw the mother prostrating herself on the floor, begging for the safety of her filly, she found herself thinking back to Countess Rarity, surrendering herself to save five bandits that had ambushed her in the woods. She thought of a dress stashed under an old skull, made of fabric that looked like it had been cut from the night sky itself, and the eager smile of the mare that had made it for her purely on a whim, expecting nothing in return but the chance to see her wear it.

She never did get to see me wear that dress, did she?

“Gava, stop.” Ana rushed in front of her sister, pushing her back with a hoof. “Stop!”

“What? Why?” Gava’s sadistic grin gave way to a confused frown. She glanced towards the filly and gave her another little shake, spawning a fresh wave of wailing. “Am I screwing up the plan here?”

“Yes!” Ana winced at the hoarseness in her voice. She grabbed the filly, relieved that her sister didn’t try to fight her over the little thing, and set her down gently by her mother.

“Ana?”

Ana ignored her, turning to Sapphire Swing instead with a snarl. “Here’s your damn kid back! Listen to Whitehorn, or I guarantee you won’t be so lucky in the future.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “And get her some toys or something! You can’t just leave her alone in here all day with nothing to do!”

“Ana.” Gava’s voice had gained an edge that made Ana’s blood run cold. Still Ana ignored her. She had to make sure this mare got the message they’d been hired to send.

Sapphire nodded shakily as she swept her daughter into her hooves. “I will! I’m sorry! I’ll do what we’ve agreed to, just please don’t hurt my baby!”

“Good.” Ana finally glanced toward Gava, avoiding eye contact. “Come on. Let’s get out of here, quick.”

“Ana!”

Ana froze with one hoof on the door.

“We need to talk.”

Ana bit her lip. Her hoof was shaking. “Y-you’re right.”

There was a long silence. Ana listened to Gava’s talons slowly click closer until her sister drew up beside her, frowning down at her with a mix of confusion and anger. “Why?”

Ana shook her head, fighting back tears. “After we’re safe.”

“After we’re safe.” With one last glare, Gava wrenched the door open and stormed into the hall.





“Oh, thank Celestia!” The crew of the damaged ship all gathered around as Rarity stepped gingerly off the wide gangplank she’d used to board. A bruised stallion practically fell at her hooves, bowing low. “Bless you, ma’am! We thought ourselves goners, for sure!”

Rarity grimaced as she took in the scene. The crew was sparse, not even ten ponies by her count, and every one of them was marked by some recent injury. They looked to her with tired, sunken eyes, their limbs wrapped in soiled bandages and their expressions alternating between hope, exhaustion, or in one case just a blank stare.

“What’s happened here?” she asked, looking down to the stallion she took to be in charge. Fluttershy, Brownie, and Pinkie stepped onto the deck behind her, the former immediately rushing to tend to the nearest pony. “Were you attacked?”

“Not us, ma’am. Engine went a couple days ago, and we hadn’t time in the rush to get provisions for a full trip.” He looked to her and her friends with a tentative smile. “Perhaps you could spare us some food and drink? We’ll work it off, and you can have the ship!”

Pinkie scanned the assembled ponies with narrowed eyes, tongue stuck out in concentration. She nodded once, firmly, then hauled herself back onto the gangplank. It was just barely too narrow for her wheels, leaving one of them spinning slowly in the open air. “Don’t you worry, ponies!” she said with exaggerated gravity. “I’ve got this.”

Rarity lowered herself to the stallion’s level, drawing his attention back to her. It was odd that he’d be willing to surrender his ship even in this circumstance, and she suspected it may not truly belong to him. “What did you mean, not us? Was someone else attacked?”

“Not someone,” he said hoarsely. “It’s Leviathan Wakes, ma’am. They killed one of the leviathans!”

“What?” Rarity’s eyes widened. “Who?”

“The sea monsters.” The stallion shuddered as he explained. “They just up and attacked out of nowhere and bled it dry. The other leviathan’s panicked and we got no way to lead it—those horrors come up every night and we can’t even move!” He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “And there’s this light down there, wailin’ and screamin’. Some demon out of Tartarus to drag us all down to the cold!”

Rarity’s blood went cold. A light beneath the city? The image of a ghastly Princess Celestia wading through a flooded, sinking street rose to the forefront of her mind. She remembered the screams of the refugees when that tingling wave of magic had passed over Fellis, their only warning before it plunged out of the sky and broke against the unforgiving ocean.

Is it her? She’s found Leviathan Wakes now? Unlike a normal island, the floating city couldn’t be merely dropped out of the sky and dragged down into the depths. Whatever monstrous creatures the Princess may have brought with her would have to jump up out of the water and pull ponies down with fang and claw, leaving the survivors to hide in some desperate hope that they may survive until the predators moved on. And this stallion spoke as if it’d been ongoing for days before he left, and this ship had been floating dead for days further!

The city was under siege, and their assailants were far worse than a mere rival faction.

“Don’t worry,” she said, helping the stallion up off the ground. No doubt she would have to have another talk with the Captain. She could only hope her leverage would be enough. “Come aboard and we’ll get a warm meal in front of you. And I’ll need you to tell me everything you know.”





With a crackle of magic and a flurry of disturbed snow, Twilight, Rainbow, Applejack, and Star Trails burst into being.

The sun was setting, painting the smooth crystal of the wide balcony in marbled reds and yellows. Both of the strange crystal pony airships were moored to this tower—the South Face, as Twilight remembered they called it, the same tower where the Argo had first made its landing. Although the interior was sealed behind thick doors of engraved crystal, Twilight could sense the bustle inside with her pings. It was time for the feast, and ponies from all three towers had come to the South Face to celebrate her arrival and, more importantly, her coming descent.

Twilight glanced back at her friends. The malaise that had struck Rainbow when Twilight had given her the eye had retreated somewhat, probably pushed back by the imminent opportunity to preen while the crystal ponies fawned over her. Twilight was pleased her friend didn’t seem stuck in a rut, but she was also still upset—and confused—that the gift she’d put so much thought into had apparently done more harm than good.

Applejack appeared more uneased than anything. She offered a tentative smile as she caught Twilight’s gaze, one hoof reaching up to fuss at her hat, and Twilight smiled back. Although she couldn’t help but be hurt by her friend’s obvious struggle to accept what Twilight had become during their time apart, it was clear she was trying, and Twilight was more than willing to give her space to adjust.

She’d been a little surprised when Star Trails had asked last minute to attend the feast, rushing into the cargo hold just as Twilight was instructing Scylla on how to behave during her absence. Sea Sabre had made it plain that she didn’t trust the crystal ponies and wanted to keep her crew safe aboard the Argo, but it seemed Trails had convinced her otherwise. Now the younger unicorn was beaming up at the tower before them, her green eyes glittering almost as much as the crystal.

Twilight wondered how she’d react if she saw Midnight lounging on her back, sneering at the display of wonderment.

“So this feast is all in your honor?” Trails asked as the group started for the doors. “Is it like a religious thing?”

“I think so,” Twilight said. “I haven’t had time to sit and talk with any of the crystal ponies about their culture, but they worship a being—or maybe a historical figure, I’m not sure—they call the Shaper. And being—” she paused to choose an appropriate word “—wyrded? Like me is a blessing from the Shaper.” She shrugged as they reached the door, placing a hoof against the warm crystal. “This ceremony is to send me off.”

Trails cocked her head. “Are you going somewhere?”

Twilight nodded. “Down into the central Spire. I can sense something in there, and whatever it is, I think it’ll be key to figuring out what happened while I was gone, and maybe even how to fix it.”

“Wow.” Trails shook her head, then looked to Twilight with an appreciative smile. “I’m glad I get to be here.”

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” Rainbow shoved between them, placing both hooves against the door. “C’mon! We’ve got a feast waiting!”

She grunted as she pushed the heavy door open, and Twilight was immediately struck by the mouth-watering scent of cooking meat.

The warmhall of the South Face was packed with ponies, each one shimmering with the warm light radiating from the column of crystal piping in the center of the expansive chamber. All the bodies combined with the room’s normal warmth left the air stuffy and hot, and so the crystal ponies had abandoned their furs, leaving their bodies bare but for their twinkling bone and crystal jewelry. Some of the tents had been torn down and pushed up against the walls, the huge cauldrons normally kept inside left exposed for ponies to gather around and share each other’s company. The eldest ponies were mostly seated around the circular table that filled the center of the room, chatting among themselves or entertaining the foals with fondly told stories.

The festivities didn’t slow as Twilight and her friends filed inside, but it didn’t take long for someone to notice and call out their arrival.

“Chosen!” A scarred, pale grey stallion approached them with a wide, sharp-toothed smile, a trio of similarly rugged ponies behind them. “And Dash!” He turned his grin on Rainbow, greeting her with a hard smack to her back that made the pegasus wince. “With your arrival, now the feast can truly begin!”

A roar of approval went up from several of the ponies in earshot, sending Twilight’s ears flat against her head. Rainbow wrapped one leg around the stallion, looking to her friends with a smug smile. “Twi, AJ, Trails, this is Beau. He’s the captain of the Crystal Heart. I met him on the hunt!”

“Yes!” Beau laughed and gave Rainbow a one-legged shake. “She is Yakslayer, and saved my dear Esmeralda’s life! Your arrival has truly brought great fortune to our home, Chosen.”

He bowed, the ponies behind him following suit, and Twilight looked away with a quiet, “Thank you.” This is all too much.

Midnight stood beside her, eyes alight with glee. No, this is perfect! We should stay here and conquer this place after we explore the Spire. These foals wouldn’t even fight us!

In their mind’s eye, Twilight fixed Midnight with a disapproving stare. In reality, meanwhile, she cleared her throat and tried to nudge Beau up off the ground. “This feast is really great, thank you, but my friends don’t eat meat.” She glanced back, catching Applejack’s expression of poorly concealed disgust and Trails’s nervous curiosity. “Is there anywhere they could get some vegetarian food? Or maybe a drink? And do you know where I can find Ametrine?”

“Of course!” Beau straightened up at once, already pointing a hoof towards a tent near the entrance. “The elders remembered the story of the last Equestrian visit and picked fresh caps from our farm, and we have herbs picked from the nearby islands. As for drink?” He offered an apologetic shrug. “I’m afraid we have only blood soup and water. But they say Equestrian water is of poor stock compared to our own.”

Rainbow scoffed. “I bet it is, dude! You wanna go get some food, AJ?”

“Uh, I reckon it’d be the polite thing to do.” Applejack pursed her lips as Rainbow zipped towards the indicated tent. She glanced uncertainly to Twilight before following.

Twilight turned back to Beau with an anxious smile. “Thank you, really. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“It is our honor!” Beau pounded a hoof against his chest. “And you wish to speak to Ametrine? She is seated at the table with the other elders, preparing to tell the story of the world’s first thawing. I’m sure she would like to welcome you herself.”

“Storytime, huh?” Trails asked. “I want in on that.”

Twilight dipped her head. “Thank you again, Beau. I hope you enjoy the feast.”

He bowed again, and Twilight turned toward the center of the room, hoping to avoid the louder festivities in favor of talking to the elders—only to nearly smack into another group of crystal ponies.

They each bowed just like Beau had, and Twilight grimaced as she realized they were waiting for her to bow back. She returned the bow quickly, hoping they’d be pleased and leave her alone, but then they each approached her individually, shaking her hoof or hugging her or slapping her on the back as they introduced themselves and told her how happy they were that she was there. Twilight kept a stiff smile through it all, offering polite responses until they finally had their fill and walked away, chatting excitedly among themselves.

And then there was another group waiting, and it suddenly clicked in Twilight’s mind that she was the guest of honor, and just about every crystal pony in the hall wanted to talk to her.

Oh, Celestia. This is like all those Canterlot garden parties I went to with the Princess! She shivered at the memories of being pulled away from her library and shoved in front of bickering petty nobles, given no time to herself to read or talk to the one or two interesting ponies that would show up each time. I don’t know if it’s better or worse that they’re all so sincere. I’ll feel bad if I don’t talk to them!

Oh, how terrible. Midnight straightened up when the third group approached. Command them to step aside! They can shower us with adulation as we pass.

Twilight’s smile grew strained as a stallion approached with a young foal balanced between his ears. It was difficult to maintain the expression with Midnight constantly trying to twist it into an imperious frown. Stop that! These ponies are only trying to be nice to us!

There is nothing nice about being stopped by a hundred inane sycophants, little flower! They have their place behind or beside, but never in front! A pony walked up with a wide wicker tray on her back, filled with cuts of spiced meat that made Twilight’s belly rumble. Ah, perhaps we should indulge them for a moment.

Everytime Twilight finished speaking to one group and tried to take a step towards the table, another would appear, just as eager and friendly as the last. Some of them brought her gifts—either samples of meat cooked with their most beloved family recipes or small pieces of jewelry made in the local fashion—and before long Twilight was forced to get Trails a tray to carry the excess food on, assuring the crestfallen gift-givers that she would eat it after her descent into the Spire and that, yes, she would tell the Shaper all about how delicious it was. Thankfully she had no piercings, but that didn’t stop a few crystal ponies from offering to give them to her, and even without earrings she could feel the weight of her accumulated necklaces and mane beads pulling her down.

Star Trails, for her part, seemed to be having a blast. The crystal ponies were happy to talk to any friend of the Chosen, freely answering all her questions and even giving her some gifts as well. It pained Twilight that she couldn’t hear the answers to Trails’ questions over the clamor, but she promised herself she’d have plenty of time to interrogate the other mare later. She didn’t want to offend their hosts, and even if their attentions were exhausting, they really were just trying to be nice.

There was one pony in the neverending stream that stood out to her, though. She’d noticed him standing alone near the elders’ table, a younger stallion with a sparkling blue coat that reminded her of the ursa minor she’d dealt with in Ponyville. He stole nervous glances between her and the elders, his gaze sometimes wandering around the room before jumping down to his hooves.

He approached her alone, after most of the other crystal ponies had said their piece and the way to the elder’s table was clear. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for more fawning, and greeted him with a thin smile.

“Chosen Twilight.” He bowed quickly, not waiting for Twilight to return the gesture before he rose. “My name’s Azuric. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The honor’s mine, really,” Twilight said, like she’d told the past dozen ponies. She paused, waiting for him to pull out some gift or continue to praise her, but he said nothing. He bit his lip, looking at something behind her, but when she glanced back all she saw was Star Trails nervously accepting a bowl of blood soup from a group of foals.

Several seconds passed, and Midnight’s impatience picked at her hooves. She was just opening her mouth to bid him goodbye when he spoke again, squeezing his eyes shut as if afraid of something.

“You’re to descend tonight?”

Twilight arched a brow. “After the ceremony, yes.”

He nodded, keeping his gaze down. “Are—are you scared?”

Twilight frowned. Here she was, talking about trekking down into the dark, abandoned ruins of an impossible empire that was no doubt home to at least one horrific monster, and it hadn’t even occurred to her until now whether she should be scared. After braving the pitch-dark carcass of Canterlot and traveling hundreds of miles across an ocean floor filled with corpses and beasts, the thought of exploring the crystal palace alone barely registered as something to fear. She knew to be cautious, yes, but she was more curious than frightened.

She thought back to how she’d felt the first time she’d stepped out of the Argo’s submarine and drifted into the sodden ashes of Ponyville, clad in a metal coffin. Horrified, frightened, guilty. Had she lost something along the way?

“I’m not,” she said. “Should I be?”

“No.” Azuric risked meeting her gaze, giving her a brief glimpse of his purple eyes. “That’s what the elders say, at least.” He sighed, turning away and disappearing into the crowd without saying goodbye.

How very odd, Midnight mused. The others are all so much better at groveling.

I feel like he was hiding something, Twilight thought as she made for the elder’s table. He’s trying to find an answer without asking the question.

Perhaps we can ask after the question another time. Midnight was sitting on the table in front of Ametrine, the regent’s plate of half-eaten seared steak between her chipped hooves. But for now it is only a distraction.

Noticing Twilight out of the corner of her eye, Ametrine turned and stood to greet her fully with a warm smile. The thick hides she’d been wearing when they last spoke were gone, revealing her soft pink coat and long, icy blue mane. 

“Chosen Twilight. I hope my ponies weren’t too eager with their welcomes on your way here?” She glanced knowingly at the jewelry festooning Twilight’s body.

Twilight giggled. “I’ve been through worse. Is it okay if I ask you some questions about the descent?”

Ametrine answered with a sagely nod. “I would love to answer any questions you have. However, now that you’re here, it is my duty to call the feast together and tell the story of the first thaw. I hope you’ll allow me this honor?”

“Oh. Of course.” Twilight dipped her head. It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, but it sounded like some kind of creation myth, and she could discern many clues from hearing it. “Should I sit, or?”

“You may have my seat.” Ametrine gestured towards her spot in front of the table, between two quietly watching elders. “When the story is told, come see me. We may talk as we ascend the Spire.”

With a graceful bow, Ametrine took her leave. Twilight spent a few seconds watching as she circled the table and made for the stairs that led to the upper exit, ponies quietly parting to clear a path.

“Twilight, did you hear that?” Trails came up to her side and clapped her hooves. “I’ve heard some great stories already, but this one sounds special!”

Twilight smiled. She’d never seen her so enthusiastic before. “I suppose we should sit down. Have you seen Applejack and Rainbow Dash?”

“They were hanging out with the hunters, I think. Oh, there they are.”

Rainbow and Applejack stepped out of the crowd, the former wearing a smug grin and the latter, although still clearly uneased, appearing more relaxed than before. Rainbow was holding a horn in one hoof, her lips stained a dark red.

“Twi!” She smiled, showing more red on her teeth. “Have you had this blood soup? It’s not bad!”

“Ain’t good, either,” Applejack mumbled. “Dang near threw up when that mess hit my tongue.”

“I mean, yeah, me too.” Rainbow shrugged, taking a very tiny sip from her horn. “But you get used to it, y’know?”

“What’s it taste like?” Trails asked. “Actually, do you think I could try it?”

“Are you tough enough?” Rainbow grinned as she held out the horn. “This horn is from the yak I killed, by the way. Pretty cool, huh?”

Trails took the horn in both hooves and looked down into it pensively, muzzle scrunching up at the scent. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and lifted it to her lips—and immediately dropped it as she slapped her hooves across her mouth, hunching over with bulged cheeks.

Twilight grabbed the horn in her magic, doing her best to catch the spilled soup before it hit the floor. She rubbed at Trails’ back with a hoof as the mare retched, using the distraction to sneak a sip of her own.

Delicious. Midnight licked her lips. We should take one of the crystal ponies to cook for us.

Rainbow doubled over laughing. “You shoulda seen the look on your face! Oh, that’s priceless!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Not like y’all weren’t there all of ten minutes ago or nothin’.”

“Eugh!” Trails’ tongue hung loose as she straightened up. “Yeah, I regret that. Think we can get Flint to try some?”

A trio of deep, rhythmic bangs echoed through the room, drawing all eyes upward. Ametrine stood on the balcony overlooking the chamber, leaning on a simple staff of gnarled wood. She looked over the room with a motherly smile as she waited for silence. Within a minute everypony in attendance had taken a seat, with the elders at the center of the room where it was warmest, the foals in a thin circle around them, and the adults gathered in clumps around burning braziers or cauldrons.

Ametrine cleared her throat before speaking in a steady, strong voice that carried clearly across the chamber. “You all know why we are here, I’m sure. Chosen Twilight has come to us from Equestria, honoring us with the presence of herself and her companions, and above all, promised to fulfill the Shaper’s will by taking the descent into the Spire to join his ranks and help defend the Crystal Empire from the darkness that lives beneath the ice. Many stories will be told of today’s hunt, and I expect more will be made by the time the sun sets and our visitors from the East Face and West Face return to their homes with full bellies and smiling lips. But for now it is time for me to fulfill my duty and, for the second time in my service as regent, tell the story of the first thaw.”

Midnight stepped up next to Ametrine with an exaggerated yawn. How melodramatic.

Quiet! I’m interested in this.

“A thousand years ago, before the Shaper came to our world, all was darkness and cold, encased within a single, unbroken shard of crystal. When the Shaper came, she saw this crystal and was inspired by its beauty, and so gathering up chisel and hammer he took the image in his mind and worked tirelessly through a single endless night. And when he set his tools down, the Crystal Empire was born.

“The Shaper was pleased, but when the Sun rose and melted the ice that encased the world, she was inspired again by its warmth. So he took up his tools once more, gathering the heat of the Sun into two crystals he carved after his likeness and mixing it with her love for what she had made. And when he set her tools down, the crystal ponies were born.”

Twilight frowned. I don’t understand. She keeps using different pronouns for the Shaper.

Midnight hummed in thought. What of the idol we saw at the top of the Spire? Two faces, each turned away from the other.

Some kind of dual-aspect deity? Maybe. Twilight nodded, keeping her eyes on Ametrine as she continued the story.

“The crystal ponies were enamored by their creator and the city they had been given, but the Sun was jealous. It whispered into each of the Shaper’s ears and planted a seed of darkness in his heart, splitting his soul in two, and the Crystal Empire was sundered by strife and bloodshed. Sister fought against brother and mother against son, and the Sun smiled as the Shaper’s creation was brought low.

“The fighting touched every heart in the Empire, spreading the seed of darkness planted by the Sun, until one day the crystal ponies grew tired of warring. They came together and petitioned the Shaper for peace, and seeing that the violence was bringing nothing but pain to her creation, the Shaper sealed her souls away within the Spire, vowing not to return until peace could be found.

“The crystal ponies rejoiced, but the Sun heard of this from on high, and it flew down into the  depths of the Spire to confront the Shaper. Their battle went on for three days and three nights, rocking the very foundations of the Empire with its violence, until at last the Shaper was able to defeat the Sun, striking a mortal blow on its breast. But the Sun was crafty and vicious, and as it fought it hid its shadow away in the Spire, and it fled high into the sky, far from the Shaper’s reach, withdrawing its warmth from our land out of petty spite.”

The Sun, Midnight mused. This must be your darling Celestia.

But why would she be the villain in the crystal ponies’ mythos? Twilight shook her head, pursing her lips in thought. And if she’s the villain, then maybe Cadance isn’t the Shaper after all? What could possibly drive Celestia to that kind of violence? Twilight’s eyes shot wide open, mouth gaping as she looked back to Ametrine. Unless the Shaper created the corruption.

Ametrine’s voice grew somber and quiet, and looking around Twilight saw many of the crystal ponies leaning in attentively, ears turned forward.

“Although the Shaper had emerged victorious, the Sun had committed a terrible crime. The heavens wept for the blood spilled between families, a torrent of rain never seen before or since that threatened to destroy everything the Shaper had built. She ran through the streets as the rains flooded the homes of our paradise, gathering us to her and bringing us all to safety high in the Spire. And when the rains finally stopped and the air grew cold and the ice froze beneath us, the Shaper taught us how to survive. He taught us to hunt, to create the tools we need from the bodies of our predators, to fend off the cold with the burning of yak oil, and to gather the herbs and spices that grow on the islands.

“But she could not stay with us forever. The shadow left behind by the Sun encroached ever higher, threatening to rise above the ice and swallow us all. And so the Shaper descended alone into the Spire, promising that he would return when it was defeated to guide us into a new age of paradise. And when his battle grows hard and he requires our aid, he summons us with the signs of her blessing, selecting the Chosen.”

Ametrine raised her voice once more, turning to look at Twilight directly. “And now here we stand, another Chosen in our number, feasting in celebration as we prepare for her descent. She will stand at the Shaper’s side in the Spire, granted the ceaseless vitality of one of his servants, and she will fight the darkness. And when at last it is defeated, she and every other Chosen will return with the Shaper, and we will rejoice with a feast that will be remembered for a hundred generations!”

The crystal ponies cheered, their hooves stomping against the floor filling the air with rolling thunder. Ametrine smiled down at them all as she leaned on her staff, waiting for the applause to abate.

“With the first story told, it is time for others to follow. But first, I must take my leave.” Ametrine looked to Twilight again before bowing her head. “For it is time for Chosen Twilight to make her descent and stand at the Shaper’s side.”

Twilight blinked, suddenly realizing that every eye in the room was turned on her. She stood up with a nervous giggle. The thought of braving the dangerous ruins of Equestria may not faze her, but being the center of attention like this was enough to make her hooves tremble. In the corner of her eye she saw Midnight shaking her head in disapproval. “R-right. Just give me a moment to say goodbye to my friends first.”

Ametrine nodded, and Twilight let out the breath she’d been holding as the crystal ponies looked away, the room filling with excited chatter once more. She turned to her friends with a relieved smile.

“Wait, Twi.” Rainbow was watching her with a concerned frown. “You’re coming back, right? Cause she makes it sound like this is a one-way trip.”

“For the crystal ponies, I think it is,” Twilight said. “But don’t worry, Rainbow, I have every intent of returning the moment I discover what’s waiting down there. This ceremony, the titles, everything—I’m indulging their traditions to learn what I can before I set hoof into the Spire.” She shrugged, glancing around and lowering her voice. “To be honest, I expect the Shaper is based on a real pony, maybe even Cadance. She may have just told them this story so they wouldn’t worry about her.”

“Ain’t ya worried they might be a bit upset when ya come back, though?” Applejack asked. “They’ve built their traditions around this story, Twi. No tellin’ what they’ll do if somethin’ endangers it.”

“I can always just teleport onto the Argo from under the ice if I have to,” Twilight said. “They would never know I came back.”

“Hey, I have a question.” Trails raised a hoof. “Who’s Cadance?”

“Twilight’s old foalsitter,” Rainbow said. “Really, really likes pink.”

“And an alicorn,” Applejack added.

Trails blinked. A couple seconds passed as she gaped. “Wh—there’s three of them?!”

Twilight giggled. She stepped forward, pulling Applejack and Rainbow into a tight hug. “Thanks for everything, girls. You’ll be the first to know when I get back.”

“We’d come with you if you asked, you know,” Rainbow said, returning the hug.

“I know.” Twilight smiled as she stepped back. “And I appreciate it. But it’s dangerous under the water, and I could never forgive myself if something happened to any of you.” She grimaced, bracing herself for an argument. “I feel like this is something I have to do myself.”

To her surprise, Rainbow only nodded and looked away. “Yeah, I get it. We’ll make sure Luna is safe, and find out what we can up here.”

“Thank you.” Twilight’s smile returned quickly. “Wish me luck. I’ll be back before you know it.”

With one last wave, Twilight turned and made for the stairs. The crystal ponies gave her a respectful berth as she walked, bowing their heads low in a way that made her gut clench, but she kept her head up high as she climbed the stairs and stopped at Ametrine’s side.

“Are you ready?” The old mare smiled, holding out a hoof as she turned for the door behind her. She had donned her cloak since finishing the story. “We will make the climb alone.”

Twilight nodded, stepping closer so Ametrine could lean on her. “Let’s go.”

Night had fallen when they walked out onto the balcony and started across the bone bridge. An ethereal rainbow glow shone down on them from above, and Twilight looked up in wonderment as she spotted what looked to be a glowing river of light meandering across the night sky. The Spire caught the light in its crystal, channeling it down into the ice and seeming to pulse with gentle blues and greens as they climbed the steps.

Ametrine let out a quiet chuckle. “So many good omens. Never have I seen a pony as blessed as yourself, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight looked down to her, patiently waiting for the elder mare to take each step before following. “Have you seen many Chosen?”

“I have been lucky to escort two others up the Spire, before you,” she said. “A young mare named Angeline, and an older stallion, Agate Apricot.”

“So it happens often?”

Ametrine answered with a thoughtful hum. “Not often, no. Most regents see only two or three from their ponies. Though most do not get visitors from Equestria, so perhaps the Shaper favors me, as well.” She smirked, giving Twilight a playful wink.

Twilight couldn’t help but smile back, and the two continued the climb. Midnight draped herself over Twilight’s back, her presence felt as a tingling warmth against her coat.

It was strange. This moment of quiet isolation with the elder was exactly what Twilight had been hoping for when she arrived at the feast, an opportunity to question her about the details of what it meant to be Chosen or descend the Spire, but now that she had it she found herself content to climb in silence. Even her best friends were still struggling with their doubts about her changes, but Ametrine felt so genuine and accepting, and Twilight was loath to violate the comfort of her quiet company.

But as they approached the top the questions began to nag at her once more. This would be her last chance to learn more before facing whatever awaited her inside the Spire.

“Ametrine,” she said. “I noticed that sometimes you referred to the Shaper as a he, and sometimes a she. Why is that?”

Ametrine smiled. “Let’s finish the climb, first. It will be easier to explain.”

Twilight pursed her lips, but didn’t object.

Finally they crested the winding steps, and together they stepped through the fur curtain that warded the tower’s peak from the worst of the cold. Although there was nobody else there, the braziers around the edges were still burning, filling the space with their warm light. Twilight’s gaze was immediately drawn to the circle of black crystal that dominated the center of the room, and inside it, the two-headed statue of the Shaper.

Ametrine stepped away from Twilight, walking slowly towards one of the three hearts engraved in the floor and sitting down with a quiet grunt. “The Shaper is not a pony like your or I, Twilight,” she began, looking up at the statue. “She was split in two by the Curse of the Sun, and his two halves are often at odds, though they also often work together.” She pointed a hoof towards the slender, feminine head, its brow crested by a long horn. “She is kind, caring, and wise.” Her hoof shifted towards the masculine head opposite, its horn curved and sharp. “And he is brave, protective, and fierce. Together they are the Shaper, who saved us from the spite of the Sun, but each pony will speak of her differently, depending on their relationship with her and, at times, the subject being discussed.

“The hunters most often relate to the Shaper’s West Face,” she continued, nodding towards the masculine head, “for that is how they know him best. Mothers, by contrast, know the Shaper by her East Face. Do you understand?”

Twilight nodded. “I think so.”

“Good.” Ametrine smiled. “Now, are there any more questions you’d like to ask this old mare?”

A gust of wind blew past the tower, rippling the heavy hides that hung around them. Twilight looked to Midnight, spotting her dark passenger leering at the black crystal from the shaded edge of the room.

“Can you tell me what’s down there?”

“I cannot,” Ametrine said gently. “Only the Chosen are permitted entrance, and they do not return. But this is the task given to us by the Shaper, and we owe her our very existence. He has always been there to protect us.”

Twilight nodded, taking a deep breath. “Can you make the climb down on your own?”

Ametrine let out a quiet chuckle. “Do not worry about me, Twilight. I was a young mare once, and the ice makes us strong. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Twilight stepped slowly up to the crystal, staring into its inky black surface. She reached a hoof out, feeling Midnight’s presence coiled within.

The crystal was cold and smooth underhoof. The tower shuddered, and a section of crystal slid down into the floor, revealing the top of a curving stairwell, the steps fading down into darkness.

Ready?

We are.

Together, Twilight and Midnight started down the stairs. The black crystal snapped shut behind them.