//------------------------------// // XXVII: Of Sisters // Story: Sunken Horizons // by Goldenwing //------------------------------// Twilight had almost forgotten what darkness looked like. She still remembered the pitch-black shadows of Old Canterlot, yes. She remembered braving the graveyard of sunken ships in the Everfree or exploring the bloodied remains of her old treehouse, her world lit only by the pale lamps of her dive suit or the steady glow of her own magic. She remembered what it meant to not know what was a mere two steps forwards, to have to keep pushing on while monstrous things chittered in the distance unseen. But darkness had taken on a new meaning after her time in Canterlot. With her mutated eyes she could see clearly even on the seafloor, far beyond the reach of the sun. Where previously darkness had been a thing of mystery, a thing that swallowed up the world and spat it back out only in reluctant bits and pieces, now darkness felt like a sad old friend. It had been her constant companion during her journey north, wrapping the world in a blanket of ashen greyscale, and she’d grown used to being able to see clearly no matter where she was, never having to fill in the shadows with her own imagination. And so when the black crystal had locked shut behind her, sealing her within the Spire, it came as a shock when she found herself swathed in that old darkness once again. She couldn’t see a thing. The shadows are more than shadows in this place. Midnight’s bloodshot eyes floated in front of her, looking around curiously. We should be cautious. Twilight gulped and lit her horn. A wall of smooth crystal curved away from her on her right side, a neatly cut stairway winding around it underhoof, but there was only empty air on her left. The air was still and stale as if she were inside, yet no matter how much power she pushed into her horn, her light never illuminated any far wall. That wasn’t a mundane doorway. She leaned over the edge, twisting her magic into the familiar shape of her ping spell and sending it questing down into the depths. It returned garbled and messy after a far too long wait. We’re not in the Spire anymore. Or perhaps the Spire is more than it seems, Midnight suggested. We should move as quickly as we can. Twilight nodded, pushing herself into motion. The seconds stretched into minutes, and as the minutes added up she would sometimes pause to peer over the edge, shining an arcane spotlight down into the shadows and frowning when no end came in sight. Midnight walked through the air beside her, a barely visible silhouette with a pair of bloodshot purple eyes, making no attempt to hide her mounting impatience. Twilight didn’t mind the walk. The dead, almost smothering silence, broken only by the rhythmic clopping of her hooves on the crystal, gave her plenty of space to think. How many ponies had made this descent before her, and where did they go when they reached the bottom? Logic dictated that they either moved on to some other, further destination, or that they spent the rest of their lives within these crystal walls. Would she find some isolated community of Chosen living in servitude to a being they believed to be a god? Old bodies piled up in dark corners with only the trappings of their lost lives to hint at their fates? Or worse—the thought was enough to make her stomach twist with anxiety—more empty ruins, a dead end to reward her for her long journey north? She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she started her descent, but she let out a sigh of relief when she finally reached the bottom. The crystal was cold underhoof as she stepped off the stairs, casting her light around. The empty, shadowed void stretched on in all directions, with the sheer column that the stairs wrapped around as the only landmark. She walked around it slowly, searching for some hint as to where to go next, until her light fell on a plain door of black wood set into the crystal. A small gem was embedded on top of its arch, its inky surface absorbing her light. There is magic on this door. Midnight stepped forwards, narrowing her eyes. Magic of my nature. Do you think it’s safe to open? Midnight scoffed. Does it matter? We will not turn back now, and we will face the threat of the door together. Her horn glowed, and a red-tinted beam of lavender magic struck the gem on top of the door. The gem glowed in response, dark purple smoke curling from behind it as the magic traveled down and outlined the door with its glow. A second later the door flew open with a violent rattle, revealing a blinding white light within. Twilight moved to enter, but Midnight stepped in front of her. I shall be first. She paused, waiting for some protest, but Twilight only nodded in response. Midnight turned to the door, horn glowing and ready for any threats that might wait on the other side, and walked confidently forward. Twilight blinked. The dark void, the crystal pillar, and the glowing door had vanished. She found herself instead on a flat plane of windswept ice, swirling clouds of snow drifting past in the howling wind’s wake. Midnight stood opposite her, kneeling with her jaw clenched in obvious pain and her eyes narrowed in distress. “What…?” Twilight looked around in confusion, seeing her friends standing to either side. They were arranged in a circle with Midnight between them, their eyes hard and their ears back as they glared at the creature between them. The Elements of Harmony glowed against their chests, and with a quiet gasp Twilight glanced up and saw the Element of Magic perched on her brow, the tiara teeming with energy. “This is it, Midnight!” Rainbow snarled, scratching a hoof against the ice. “You’re going down!” “And good riddance!” Rarity tossed her mane as the gems began to glow brighter, rainbow light arcing between them to form a pulsing ring around Midnight. “Foals!” Midnight spat back. “All I’ve ever done was try to protect you! To protect Twilight!” Nopony responded, instead closing their eyes as the hum of the Elements grew louder. Their hooves drifted off the ice as the magic coursed through their bodies, lifting them into the air and glowing almost blindingly bright. “You never understood us!” Midnight’s voice broke as she collapsed against the ice, red tears budding in her eyes. Her jaw quivered and her lips trembled, and the next time she spoke her imperious condescension was gone. In its place was a desperate, hoarse anguish, blood dripping down her cheeks and splattering to the ice below. “I was just trying to help! I saved her! I saved you!” Twilight’s gut churned. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? This was what she’d hoped for when she’d first found the Elements: a way to make things how they used to be, to eject the evil invader that had taken root in her mind and take her body back. “Please! I beg you!” Midnight turned a slow circle, gazing up at the impassive silhouettes surrounding her. At last her eyes settled on Twilight’s, wide and fearful. “Please! W-we understand each other! Don’t let them do this to me!” Twilight froze, held in place by the sight of her own, bloodstained face twisted in despair. This wasn’t right. As much as she’d wanted nothing more than to be rid of Midnight in the past, things were different now. Midnight had never asked for any of this. She’d made wrong decisions for the right reasons, and she was already learning to see the world as more than just a collection of adversaries to destroy. Further, Midnight was her own pony. Even if she’d forcefully inhabited a part of Twilight’s mind and tried to take over their body in a misguided attempt to protect their friends, she deserved to live as much as anyone did. But most important of all, Midnight was her friend. Six rainbow beams shot out of the Elements, converging above Midnight’s head like a spear about to drop. She looked up, the rainbow colors reflected in her slitted eyes, and let out a terrified scream. “Stop!” Twilight’s hooves flew up to the Element of Magic, ripping it away. The rainbow magic fizzled with a sputtering crackle as the tiara struck the ice and shattered to pieces, but Twilight paid it no mind. She barely noticed as the silhouettes of her friends blew away in the wind like scraps of paper as she fell back to the ice. She ran forward and pulled Midnight into her hooves, cutting her sobs off with a tight, comforting hug. They were back in the dark void an instant later, holding each other in front of the open door. The only sound was Midnight’s rapid breathing. “It wasn’t real.” Twilight stroked a hoof through Midnight’s raggedy mane, squeezing her tight. “It was an illusion. I’d never do that to you.” “W-what?” Midnight went suddenly stiff, her breaths cutting off with a sharp gasp. She didn’t say anything for several seconds, but Twilight didn’t let her go. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.” Twilight expected Midnight to pull away, to quickly assert that she’d never been afraid of anything, but the other mare remained silent and still. “It’s the door, I think.” She lifted her head to try and catch Midnight’s eye. Midnight kept her head down, ears drooping. Finally she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Why did you stop it?” Twilight frowned. “Huh?” “It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To destroy me? To be like you used to be?” Midnight shuddered, but didn’t pull away. “So why didn’t you let it happen?” “Because you’re my friend.” Twilight gently guided Midnight’s eyes up to her own. “Even if we have our disagreements, I know your heart is in the right place. You’d do anything to protect me or my friends, and—” she paused, putting as much confidence in her voice as she could “—and I’d do anything to protect you, too.” They shared a moment in silence, and Twilight offered up a tentative smile. Slowly, Midnight’s breathing steadied, and Twilight’s smile strengthened as she felt her other half’s fear and panic fade away. “Twilight!” Twilight leapt back as Rainbow Dash careened out of the sky, crashing into the featureless ground beside her. She was beaten and bloodied, her eyepatch torn away to reveal the ugly gash of her old wound, and she groaned as she tried and failed to climb to her hooves. “Rainbow?” Twilight rushed to her friend’s side, rolling her onto her back. “How did you get here? What happened?” “M-monsters.” Rainbow’s voice was weak, forcing Twilight to lean in to hear her. “The c-crystal ponies, they—ngh—t-turned on us.” More groans sounded behind her. A chill ran down Twilight’s spine as she turned to see all her friends stumble down the steps, each one covered in weeping wounds worse than the last. Pinkie was sprawled out immobile on Applejack’s back, and Fluttershy was quietly sobbing as Rarity helped support her weight. All four of them slumped down next to Rainbow, and Twilight’s nose scrunched up at the scent of blood. Fluttershy moaned as she laid on her side, gasping in quick, pained breaths. “S-save us, Twilight. They’re coming.” Twilight grimaced, gaze darting from one friend to the next. Each of them looked to be on death’s door, and she didn’t know how to save them! “Who? Who’s coming?” A deep, overlapping growling filled the air, seemingly coming from every direction. Twilight’s breath caught as she looked up, spotting the ring of crystal ponies that had appeared from the shadows all around the crystal pillar. Their faces were streaked red with blood and their bodies weighed down by thick hides and bone. Skulls impaled on spears swayed over their backs as they began to advance, chanting in a deep, guttural chorus that grew louder and more fervent with every step, and as Twilight stood and put herself protectively in front of her friends a mist of dark purple magic began to rise from the crystal ponies’ eyes, stinging at her nose with the acrid stench. “S-stay back!” Twilight poured power into her horn, but the spell fizzled out with a pitiful spark, smothered by some unseen force. She grimaced as she tried again, to no avail. “I’m w-warning you!” “You can do it, Twi.” Twilight’s ears flattened as Applejack’s exhausted voice cut through the chanting. “I know you can do it. You can save us.” “N-no.” “Please, Twilight,” Rarity moaned, eerily quiet. “We need you to save us.” “I can’t. I c-can’t!” Tears welled in Twilight’s eyes, blurring her vision red. “Please leave us alone. Please! I’ll do anything!” “Why are you just standing there?” Rainbow asked. “We need you to stop them!” Twilight’s legs buckled as the crystal ponies came closer, blood drooling past their teeth. “I can’t! I’m sorry, but t-there’s nothing I c-can do!” “There is.” Midnight appeared in front of her, her horn glowing with power. She reached a hoof out with a reassuring smile. “Together. Nothing can stop us.” Twilight blinked, and the chanting was gone, not even a fading echo in its place. She looked around with a confused sob, but her friends had vanished. It was just her and Midnight again, alone in the smothering silence of the dark void. “It seems the door has revealed your fear as well.” Midnight pulled Twilight to her hooves, holding her gaze. She pursed her lips, and Twilight reflexively braced herself for some jab about her being weak or fearful. “But I’m here to guard you from it. As you did for me.” Midnight smiled. It was a warm, comforting expression, something that looked almost surreal on a face marred by bloody fangs and slitted eyes. It almost made Twilight want to laugh. But instead she smiled back, forcing her pounding heart to slow. Twilight sniffled, wiping her tears away. “I’m glad you’re here.” “Yes. Well.” Midnight pulled her hoof back gingerly, nodding towards the door. “It seems the path is open.” Twilight smirked at her friend’s discomfort, but took the hint. The enchanted door hung open before them, the blinding white light replaced with a shadowed doorway. “Let’s see what’s on the other side.” Stepping over the threshold, Twilight cast her light around. She was in a smooth, cylindrical room of crystal. A chipped and irregular stairway wound up the wall, disappearing into the shadows above. “Great. More stairs.” She sighed, starting gamely for the first step. Wait. She froze with one hoof in the air. What is it? There’s something coming. A long, sibilant hissing echoed off the walls above, bouncing back and overlapping on itself as it grew steadily louder. Twilight’s ears flattened as she backed against the wall, looking up towards the source of the sound and trying to imagine what kind of dark creature must be making it, but no matter how hard she looked or how much power she poured into her light, all was still above her. The sound grew louder still, taking on new dimensions as it suddenly seemed to come from every direction. A deep bass rattled the air, almost like some great beast breathing out from the top of the stairs. Twilight realized she could make out words. “Another pony Chosen to Our service,” it said. The voice was masculine and deep, rolling over her like thunder. “Come, servant. Fulfill your purpose.” Twilight froze, waiting for the rumbling bass of the voice to pass. Soon the stairwell was silent once more, leaving only the tingling hairs on the back of her neck in the voice’s wake. She looked to Midnight, eyes wide. What was that? The thing we felt when we first entered this city, she said. Something like me. Rarity had never seen Leviathan Wakes before. She remembered Twilight's description of the floating city, of a sprawling mesh of boats and rafts all lashed together by rope and chain, a hundred crews hauled across the waves by ancient sea creatures known only as the Leviathans. It had sounded majestic and breathtaking, like something out of a storybook, a vagrant city populated by dashing rogues and handsome villains, but Rarity found such imaginings more silly than appealing of late. No doubt it was a city like any other in the new Equestria, filled with ponies all out for themselves. It was difficult to tell from above; the sun had dipped below the horizon as their ship approached, and the clouds blocked much of what little light would have been supplied by star or moon. So when Rarity leaned over the railing to get her first impression of Leviathan Wakes, she did not find her breath stolen away by some fantastical vista. At first she’d thought there’d been some kind of mistake. Even a baronland village had its own soft glow at night, cast out by candles and hearths burning behind closed shutters, but Leviathan Wakes was eerily dark, with only a few spots of light bobbing on the waves below where there no doubt should have been hundreds. The clouds parted briefly overhead, the starlight giving Rarity a quick glimpse of ship-homes left broken and abandoned in the dark, their hulls smashed and their chipped masts dipping into the water like oars as if to try and paddle for safety. The illumination lasted only a moment, and as the clouds once again closed up and swathed most of the city in darkness, Rarity couldn’t help but draw her cloak closer about her shoulders. If what the marooned airponies had told her was true, then Leviathan Wakes was well on its way to becoming a ghost town. “Lady Rarity?” Rarity jumped, glancing back to see Whitehorn approaching with a grim frown. “Ah, Whitehorn.” He dipped into a quick bow. “The Captain is bringing us in now. She’s not very happy with you, you know.” “Yes, I’d gathered as much.” Rarity pursed her lips, looking back down to the city. “Is it always like this?” “No. Here, take this.” Rarity arched a brow as he pulled a strange yellow tube out of his vest, about half the length of his foreleg and thin enough to fit comfortably into his hoof. A little square base stuck out of one end, though it looked too small for the thing to stand upright on its own. “What is it?” “A flare launcher. You strike the base against the ground, like so, and it’ll shoot a bright light out the other end. We’ll see it, and then we’ll know to come get you.” “We?” Rarity frowned, looking up to meet his eyes. “Do you not intend to accompany me?” “My Lady, the Captain was about at her limit the moment you forced her to stop and aid that marooned ship,” Whitehorn said. “And now you have her landing here in the dark, with rumors of monsters infesting the place. I applaud your ability in finding and applying leverage to get what you want, but there’s no telling when she’ll decide she’d rather risk your punishment than your service.” He sat down, slipping the flare launcher into the satchel hanging at Rarity’s side and giving it a reassuring pat. “To be frank, Countess, I expect she would chart a path for Harvest the instant we stepped off her ship and never look back, and then we’d be just as trapped as everyone else in this city. One of us must stay here to ensure she doesn’t abandon us.” “One of us, hmm?” Rarity snorted. “And so you decided it should be yourself?” He met her gaze with a wry grin. “Rarity, I may not have known you long, but I know you would sooner jump off this ship and swim to the city than be trapped aboard while others get their hooves dirty.” A moment passed as Rarity narrowed her eyes, feigning suspicion, but he saw right through her. At last she gave in, rolling her eyes with a small smirk. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I was wondering why you hadn’t tried convincing me against all this.” He smiled back before breaking eye contact, looking down to the city approaching below. “You certainly wouldn’t listen if Celestia herself gave the order.” The metal clatter of a hatch opening behind her caught Rarity’s ear, and her smile widened as she saw Pinkie Pie climb up onto the deck, grunting with the effort of dragging her wheels up the steep stairs. “Pinkie! Ready to go?” Pinkie nodded, but didn’t return the smile. Her lips were set into an uncharacteristically focused line, and her bags were stuffed to the brim. A cupcake slipped out of one as she stepped closer, its bright frosting splattering against the tarnished metal of the deck with a sad plop. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice flat. Rarity’s smile faltered at the unexpected mood. “Are you okay, darling?” “Don’t worry about me, Rarity,” Pinkie said, peering down over the rail with a distant gaze. Strangely, her mane was just as poofy as usual. “We’ll get everyone this time.” Rarity wasn’t sure what to say to that. Pinkie had told her, yes, of all the ponies that she’d seen during the fall of Fellis Island, all the lives that she’d been forced to choose between. She’d never brought it up again after they left the sinking ruins, and Rarity had thought it unwise to remind the mare of such a painful memory. It’d been long enough now that Rarity had unthinkingly assumed that Pinkie must have come to terms with that day, but perhaps not. Perhaps Rarity would be the same if she’d had Pinkie’s perspective. In a way she was thankful for her ignorance; it was much easier to feel good about the lives she’d saved that day when she had no way of knowing just how many she’d lost. She was pulled from her reverie by more hoofsteps climbing onto the deck, accompanied by the curious snort of a bear. Her eyes widened as Fluttershy came into sight, followed shortly by Brownie weighed down with a pair of heavy saddlebags. “Fluttershy?” Rarity blinked. “I would’ve thought you’d want to stay on the ship?” “I appreciate it, Rarity,” Fluttershy said, stepping up to the rail. She frowned down at the city below with a quiet, thoughtful confidence. “But I’ll be fine.” Rarity cocked her head, examining Fluttershy’s expression in silence. This was the new Fluttershy again, she realized. The one that had spent exhausting nights tending to wounded in a siege camp and dodging fire bombs and enduring Celestia-knew-what-else. The Fluttershy that made rowdy soldiers quiet down and stand in line with a sideways look. In a way she seemed more confident now, on the brink of sure danger, than Rarity could ever imagine seeing her. The ship hovered lower, drifting close enough above the floating city that Rarity imagined a properly trained pony might be able to jump down without injuring herself. There wasn’t any kind of docking tower in view, and even the tallest of the raft-buildings was too short to safely pull up alongside. She swayed slightly as the ship came to a stop over a sort of courtyard, where a wide, open metal raft bobbed between its more built-up neighbors. Rarity was just wondering how they were supposed to get down when one of the marooned airponies they’d saved approached, a ladder of metal and string on his back. “You’re right mad, ma’am,” he said, bending down and securing one end of the ladder to the railing with a pair of quick knots. He grunted as he tossed the rest over the edge, the rungs clattering loudly against the hull, and stepped back as if afraid of falling overboard. “These’re dead ponies here, every one of ‘em.” Rarity arched a brow at that. “So were you, until we saw you.” “Aye, and I’m grateful, ma’am, but these ponies are sufferin’ from more than just a broken engine.” He shivered before holding out a small knife, hilt to her. “I don’t expect I’ll see you three again, but take this. Least I can do.” Rarity frowned. “I wasn’t intending on saving these ponies through bloodshed, darling.” “You misunderstand, ma’am,” he said. A nervous smile flickered over his muzzle before vanishing just as fast. “It ain’t for the terrors.” Rarity cocked her head, confused by the grim tone of the stallion’s voice. He held her gaze, unspeaking, and after several seconds she finally understood what he meant. “Ah…” She grimaced, already forming the best way to turn down the macabre gift, when Fluttershy stepped in front of her. “Thank you.” Fluttershy accepted the knife with a soft smile, tucking it into the small bag under her wing. “We appreciate it.” The stallion nodded, apparently relieved, and turned away without bidding goodbye. “Fluttershy, dear,” Rarity started quietly, “do we really need something like that?” “I hope not,” Fluttershy said, still keeping that same, kind smile. “But it’s better to be prepared.” Rarity could find no argument for that, and Pinkie was already hauling herself over the railing, clenching her jaw as she strained to climb down with only her forelegs to support her and her wheels. Fluttershy spread her wings and floated down over the edge, with Brownie snorting and clambering over the railing a moment later. Rarity shook herself, hesitating only a moment before starting down the swaying ladder. The climb felt longer than it was, and with her eyes still adjusting to the dark it almost felt like descending down a sheer cliff face into an abyss. But then her hooves hit the cold, damp metal, and the ship’s engines revved up as it pulled away, taking the ladder and the light with it. And, Rarity realized, the sound. She’d spent most of her time in the new Equestria in cities, and the sound of airship engines was a constant in Heighton, Fellis, even Friesland. Rarity hadn’t realized how used she’d gotten to the ever-present droning of engines until that ship climbed into the night sky, the sound of its propellers fading until it was a barely audible hum, a small bead of light circling through the sky. It was quiet. The waves swelled beneath the metal raft they stood on, rocking it far more than the deck of any airship, the quiet splashing interspersed with irregular knocks and bangs as jetsam bounced about between the city’s floating foundations. Rarity’s ear twitched at a sudden wet slap, as if something had just jumped in—or out—of the water somewhere nearby, but nothing came of the sound. There were no hoofsteps. No chatter. Rarity lit her horn, finding comfort in the soft tinkle of her magic. A new noise scratched at the corner of her hearing, barely perceptible even as it sent a shiver down her spine. With a start she realized it was coming from beneath her, under the water, a low warbling that gradually grew louder and louder until it crescendoed in a shrill, keening wail. She walked up to the edge of the raft, peering down into the water as the song grew closer. An ethereal golden glow shimmered through the ocean, silhouetting a hundred dark, undulating shapes, some she recognized—Rarity vividly recalled the image of seaponies dragging refugees away during the collapse of Fellis—and others all the more chilling in their unfamiliarity. The wailing sounded again—closer this time—as the light shifted, and Rarity gasped at the sight of a brilliant white star shooting beneath them. It twirled and danced through the water as it sang before diving deeper with a last, mournful croon. The dark shapes seemed to quicken in its wake, twisting in the water, and a hundred tiny circles of shimmering light twinkled into being, reflecting the starlight back at her. For a moment, Rarity was enthralled by their beauty. Then, with a gasp, she realized that the ocean was staring back. She opened her muzzle to shout a warning, but all that came out was a startled squeak. The shadows grew, their glowing eyes holding her in their unflinching gaze. “Rarity!” Pinkie pulled her back just as the first creature burst from the water with a shrill screech. Rarity caught only a glimpse of glowing eyes as she fell on her back with a shriek, adrenaline flooding her veins and bringing her senses into stark detail. She felt the sudden weight landing heavily upon the edge of the raft, tilting the wood beneath her with a nauseating lurch. She heard the screech piercing her ears, furious and hungry, as she rolled onto her belly and was hefted to her hooves by Fluttershy and Brownie. A thin gust of wind parted her mane, but she didn’t look back to see the claws slicing through the air behind her. A single second of panic stretched out into forever— She acted on instinct, following Pinkie up a ramp of taut netting with thin metal sheets tied to it like a makeshift floor and onto the open deck of a long ship. She could barely hear Fluttershy repeating, “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness!” behind her over the rush of blood in her ears and the scraping of claws on metal, could barely think past the panic. There were uncounted predators swimming under her hooves, and she was their prey. The ship lurched to one side as a snarling silhouette clambered onto the deck between her and Pinkie. Rarity just barely registered flashing teeth before Brownie rushed past her, shouldering the beast aside with a ferocious roar, and then it was behind her. She caught a glimpse of Pinkie’s tail disappearing over the edge of the ship and followed without thinking, landing on the deck of another, wider vessel with a heavy grunt. They ran across the breadth of the deck and down a narrow tin ramp that rattled loudly underhoof, Rarity crying out when the water parted beneath her and she felt the wind of jaws snapping shut next to her leg. “Don’t stop!” Pinkie called back, her wheels skidding behind her as she reached the end of the ramp. “Almost there!” A makeshift road of scrap metal bucked before them, built on a meandering line of floating barrels that weaved between the ships and rafts. Pinkie clattered effortlessly across it even as more and more snarling shapes burst from the water, sending out frothy waves that made the path jerk and kick like a living animal. Rarity had no choice but to follow. She grit her teeth and thanked Celestia she had decided against an elaborate dress or shoes, digging her hooves in for purchase against the slippery path before kicking off. The howling of the monsters spurred her on, following Pinkie towards a dark, rigid shape at the end of the path. “Rarity!” Pinkie glanced back, the focused frown on her face just visible past the salty water splashing between them “What?!” “Jump, now!” Rarity jumped. Two sets of snapping jaws reared out of the water on either side, and a pair of monstrous fish slapped down onto the metal just beneath her, briefly dragging it down into the water with their weight before sliding off. She slammed back against the wet metal with a choking gasp, struggling to keep her balance. She risked a glance back and saw Brownie lumbering along behind her, breath chuffing and jaws open to expose his deadly teeth as Fluttershy clung tight to his back. And behind them, a writhing mass of pale flesh and bloody fangs and wide eyes reflecting the starlight like tiny moonbeams. “Pinkie!” Rarity called hoarsely. “Where are we going?!” “Just in here!” Ahead of them, the path split off and parted around a ship that dwarfed its neighbors, its hull scuffed and battered and broken in places with gaping wounds. Rarity didn’t see any way to get aboard—the hull rose up sharply out of the water, curving out over the path in a way that would be impossible to climb, and she saw no netting or ladders. She was just opening her mouth to ask how they’d board when the front of the ship opened up with a sharp thud, a heavy ramp crashing down before them. “C’mon!” A stallion beckoned urgently from within, reared up with two hooves wrapped tight around a winch beside her. “Quick!” Pinkie was already galloping up the ramp, and Rarity followed without hesitation. She collapsed to the side with a shuddering gasp, looking back to see Brownie leap up the ramp in two bounds with Fluttershy on his back. The monsters behind them let loose a bloodcurdling howl, showing no signs of slowing. There was a shout from somewhere above, and Rarity saw the netting lying limp over the ramp just before it was pulled taut with a sharp twang. The beasts racing up the ramp were hauled bodily into the air with snarls of outrage. At the same time, the stallion attending the winch threw himself forward, pulling the ramp up via chains running along the ceiling. A pair of steel-eyed mares rushed forwards with harpoons, stabbing at those monsters that tried to tear through the net. For a brief moment, Rarity finally got a good look at the creatures that had chased her through the town. Some looked like ponies, and others like huge fish, but each of them was twisted in form, their limbs ending with spearing claws and their mouths filled with oversized fangs. Then there was another shout, and a trio of flickering lights fell upon the netting from above. They hit the mass of screeching flesh with the sound of shattering glass, and all at once the netting burst into flames. Rarity flinched back from the wave of hot air, raising a hoof to protect her eyes from the sudden light. The monstrous screeching reached a pained crescendo as the ramp drew shut with a ponderous thud, and after several seconds of frantic scraping and beating against the hull, the creatures finally fell silent. Rarity shuddered. Her heart was pounding and her ears were ringing, and she took a moment to just lay there, feeling herself over with a hoof and checking for missing parts. She looked to each of her friends, relieved to see them both alive and miraculously uninjured. They’d made it. “That,” a mare’s voice said, “was incredibly stupid.” Rarity blinked, staggering into a sitting position and turning towards the voice. The mare approached with her lips pursed and brow furrowed, her blue eyes swapping appraisingly from Rarity, to Pinkie, and finally Fluttershy. She had a white coat similar to Rarity’s, though with a healthy staining of salt, and a pale pink mane that she wore in a frayed ponytail over one shoulder. A bright-yellow, short-brimmed hat rested on her brow, tipped forward to shade her eyes. Rarity took a deep breath to steady herself, shakily standing up and drawing the mare’s attention. “M-might I ask your name, dear?” “Jester.” The mare cocked her head. “And you?” Rarity licked her dry lips. Should she bother with her title here? No, she didn’t know much of Leviathan Wakes, but she suspected introducing herself as nobility would do little to inspire warmth here. “My name is Rarity. And these are my friends, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy.” “Countess Rarity,” Jester corrected, leaning in slightly. She smiled at Rarity’s surprise. “Or would you prefer Auntie? You and Pinkie are quite popular among Fellis survivors, you know.” The smile turned to a smirk as she shook her head bemusedly. “I had the pleasure of making conversation with a stallion from Coltver last week. He fled to Fellis and spent most of the year begging in the camps there—until it fell, too. I suppose he got sick of flying islands, as he hitched a ride here and joined a fishing crew, just in time for the ocean to decide it didn’t like us anymore. Can you imagine?” Rarity pursed her lips as Fluttershy spoke up. “You’ve heard about us.” “Of course I have. Every airpony in the sky comes to my bar one day or another, and airponies are the lifeblood of Equestria. Though I don’t recognize you.” Jester frowned, narrowing her eyes at Fluttershy. “A pegasus with a pet bear should make rumors fly fast. New to the party?” Pinkie stepped forwards. “We’re here to help.” “Help?” Jester echoed skeptically. “Really? You three almost got yourself killed within a minute of landing. Which, again, was incredibly stupid, by the way.” “You’ll have to forgive us, darling,” Rarity said through clenched teeth. The other mare’s dismissive attitude was beginning to get to her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain diplomatic. “Perhaps we’ve got off on the wrong hoof. Let me—” “No, let me,” Jester interrupted. Her tail flicking behind her as she stepped closer, right into Rarity’s face. “Four days ago, a swarm of deepfish fell upon my city, slaughtered one of the leviathans, and dragged half of the ponies living here under the waves. Within a day, every flight-worthy airship left with everyone quick and clever enough to get aboard, and every night those monsters return and lurk under our hooves in packs, ripping homes apart from the bottom-up to get to the ponies hiding inside. They hunt by sound and feel, you know? Deepfish can sense a disturbance in the water’s surface from beyond the horizon, and every single step in this forsaken place disturbs the water.” She leaned in closer, giving Rarity no space to interject. “My old bar—my life—is a couple days adrift by now, and most likely settled on the seafloor with a few dozen of my patrons, ponies that I considered to be my friends. I’ve about come to terms with my death here. I’ve had a good run, and me and mine are satisfied with the idea of going down fighting and taking as many of these freaks with us as we can. But then what do we see?” She raised a hoof and flicked it lightly against Rarity’s chest. “A full-functioning airship lands in the middle of town and drops off three idiots, engines on full blast to erase any doubt that the deepfish will find them. And then those three idiots make a beeline for my hide, forcing me to waste precious material to save them, and who is it but Auntie fucking Rarity, savior of Fellis, a mare that probably gets off every night to the idea of all the poor little ponies she saves wherever she goes, and now she wants to save me, too!” Rarity opened her mouth, but Jester cut her off. “But how are you gonna save us, Auntie? That hauler you came in on can squeeze maybe fifty ponies, my guess, assuming it’s got an empty hold. There’re at least four times that many Wakers trapped in this floating grave, and then you have to feed them and find a place to dump them before you give yourself a new title as a reward. So which fifty ponies is it gonna be? Who gets to die in their homes, and who gets to spend the rest of their lives toiling in some smoggy factory workpit until they’re too worn out to take a full breath anymore? Cause I’d bet good bits that four out of five Wakers would rather die free than be hauled off to one of those torture chambers most ponies call a city.” At last she fell silent, leaning back with a disdainful curl of her lip. Rarity spent a few seconds processing the other mare’s words, gathering her thoughts. “Are you quite finished?” Jester shrugged. “More or less.” “Well, then, your candor is appreciated, Miss Jester.” Rarity cleared her throat politely and straightened up. “You are correct that my vessel most likely cannot fit everyone necessary to evacuate the city, and correct that my companions and I came into this rather uneducated as to the nature of the threat. But it is not our intention to save a select few and leave the rest behind, nor to doom anypony to a life of toil.” “We’re not leaving anypony behind this time,” Pinkie added forcefully. “Not again.” Rarity nodded, not letting herself linger on the unspoken implication. Or we die trying. “And if what you say regarding ponies not wanting to leave is true, then it seems we have no choice but to save Leviathan Wakes itself, rather than just its denizens.” “You’re mad,” Jester said with a dismissive snort. “And you’ve got a madmare’s dream. This city’s long gone, and if I’m lucky I’ll get to die with it.” “Maybe we are,” Rarity said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “But have you anything to lose by accepting our aid?” Jester arched a brow, a quiet thoughtfulness in her eyes. After several seconds she spoke, holding Rarity’s gaze. “And this madmare speaks for all three of you?” “She does!” “Mhm.” She shook her head, her attitude shifting to bemusement. “Well, they say impossible dreams are our chief import here in Wakes, so I’ll humor you. Maybe we can die together, us madmares.” She turned away, beckoning with a jerk of her head. “Come.” Rarity let out a sigh of relief, exchanging smiles with her friends before following Jester deeper into the ship. It was difficult to tell what purpose it might have served when it was first built, but it was obvious that it had been relegated to the task of floating home since then. The walls had been knocked out throughout the entire bottom deck to form a wide open but conspicuously empty living space, with blankets and rugs layered haphazardly over the floor to muffle the sound of hoofsteps. Jester led them up a ladder to the next deck, this one with distinct rooms lining a snaking central hall, and then up again, through a room where several hard-eyed ponies were eating out of small bowls around a lantern-lit table and cards. A few looked up as they passed, gazes lingering on Rarity or widening slightly as Brownie shuffled by, but none said anything. Finally they reached the top. Salty ocean air tickled at Rarity’s nose as she climbed onto the deck and looked around. The ship had only one mast, towards the rear and much too small to be effective, a tattered flag of a ship’s wheel in front of a fool’s cap strung up at its peak. A small team of ponies sat by the bow next to a crate of glass bottles, fussing with some threadbare netting, but Jester led them in the other direction. “I won this ship in a bet,” she explained casually as she walked up to the railing. “I’d been planning on selling it off, or maybe trading it for a favor, but then I barely escaped my bar with my life, so now this is where I hang my hats.” “I see,” Rarity said neutrally. Jester nodded, looking out over the surrounding city. From here Rarity could see the torn and mangled gaps where entire sections had been broken off and dragged into the ocean. “I’ll cut to the chase,” she said. “There’s only one way you’re saving Wakes, and we’ve given it a few tries already.” Pinkie stepped forwards intently, leaning in. “Tell us.” “Yeah, yeah, relax,” Jester said, not bothering to hide her irritation. “The issue is the leviathans. They’re what moves us, and usually what keeps us safe, but whatever’s riled up the deepfish got them so pumped that they killed one in the initial attack. They backed off after, thank the waves, so we’ve got a chance of escaping this, but the one surviving leviathan isn’t strong enough to pull us when its sister is floating dead in the water. We’ve gotta cut the dead flesh free to lighten the load, and probably a good chunk of the city, too.” “Oh, that poor creature,” Fluttershy said. “She must be in so much pain.” Jester arched a brow, but ignored the comment. “The chains are in the water.” She pointed a hoof over the railing, and Rarity followed it to an almost castle-like structure on the far end of the city. “The deepfish calm down a bit during the day, and we’ve got a few of them cut, but there’s this other thing, like a demon out of Tartarus or something. It stays underwater at night, but once the sun’s up it attacks anypony that gets close to the water. Nothing we do seems to hurt it, and we’ve already lost ponies trying to cut the last chains.” “So the deepfish keep you from cutting the chain at night, and this ‘demon’ keeps you away during the day?” Rarity asked. Jester nodded. “That’s pretty much it.” She leaned back against the railing expectantly. “Of course, we’ve got nothing better to do, and Wakers aren’t the type of ponies to huddle up and wait to die. My crew here’s making another bid for the chains in the morning, all or nothing. You’re free to join us, assuming you don’t particularly value your lives.” Rarity pursed her lips, looking between her friends. Truthfully, she was at a loss. She was most comfortable solving problems that, at least on some level, had their origin in disagreements among ponies, but she had no experience when it came to hordes of wild creatures. “That ‘demon’ you mentioned,” Fluttershy said, brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Could you describe her, please?” “Her?” Jester scoffed. “If you haven’t seen it, you’ve definitely heard it by now.” A keening wail echoed from beneath them, high and mournful. Rarity stepped to the railing and looked down, spotting the same strange, glowing star from before twirling deep through the water, casting shimmering rays of pale light that silhouetted both the floating pathways of Leviathan Wakes and the lurking mass of deepfish that haunted it. “She sounds sad,” Fluttershy said quietly. “Sounds angry once it’s got its eyes on you,” Jester said, her eyes briefly losing focus. “It’s got a body of fire and burns hotter than a Heighton foundry. You can tell when it’s coming from the way the water sizzles and spits, but by then it’s too late to run. You just pray it goes for someone else when it surfaces.” She shuddered, shaking her head. “Even your bones fall to ashes, and the waves will wash you away before the next dawn.” Fluttershy frowned. She joined Rarity at the railing, peering intently down into the water and watching the submerged star move. Her ears flicked as it resumed its mournful song. Her eyes widened with a sharp gasp. “Philomena!” Rarity cocked her head. “I’m sorry?” “It’s Philomena!” Fluttershy stepped back and began to pace as she spoke, brow furrowed with concern. “Princess Celestia’s pet phoenix. Oh, I knew that song felt familiar!” “Celestia?” Jester echoed. “But Twilight saw Philomena at Fellis, didn’t she?” Pinkie asked. “She’s supposed to be… you know.” “Philomena’s a phoenix, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said. Behind her, Brownie’s head swayed side to side as he watched her pace. “Whatever Twilight did, she must have survived and reformed, and now she’s attacking the ponies here. We need to talk to her!” “What the hay are you going on about?” Jester asked. “You can’t talk to it anymore than you can talk to a tidal wave.” “Well, violence hasn’t got you very far, has it?” Fluttershy snapped, rounding on her with sudden venom. “She’s probably just lost, or confused, and acting out the only way she knows how!” “What do you know of it?” Jester countered, shooting to her hooves. “We’ve shot it, bombed it, speared it—the thing’s too fast and too tough! I can tell you it doesn’t care when we beg for our lives, as much good as it’s done us! If you want to help then help, but don’t mock us by talking at the thing!” Rarity pursed her lips, looking up to the sky. A threadbare old sail was raised on the ship’s one mast, catching the stiff wind. Far above, she could see the flickering lights of the airship she’d come in on as it loitered, waiting for her signal. An idea came to her. “You don’t have to kill her,” Rarity said, interrupting Fluttershy’s response. “You just need to keep her away from the chains while you cut them.” “And how do you suggest we do that, exactly?” Jester asked. “The sails.” Rarity lit her horn, outlining the sail above her in the soft blue glow of her magic. “This city is full of them, yes? I can gather them up, soak them in the water, and use them to try and smother Philomena’s fire while you all cut the chains.” “I heard you took on six bounty hunters in a fabric shop with that magic. You’re saying you can do the same thing against this demon?” Jester frowned, eyeing the glowing sail thoughtfully. “But how would you lure it away from us?” “Our ship!” Pinkie suggested, a hopeful smile coming over her. “If we fly it close to the water, we can lead Philomena away and keep her busy until the chains are cut!” “Could work.” Jester let out a thoughtful hum as she tapped a hoof. “And whoever captains that craft, they’ll go along with it? Unless she’s a Waker, she’s got nothing to gain and everything to lose.” Rarity faltered, pursing her lips. It was true that the Captain had been uncooperative and selfish every step of the way; Rarity had needed to force her hoof with the threat of economic destruction just to get her to stop and help one stranded ship! If she went aboard now talking of using her ship as bait for an angry phoenix, the mare was liable to throw her into the ocean and be done with it. Pinkie let out a dejected sigh, her smile fading. “Probably not.” For a moment all four mares fell silent. Rarity tapped a hoof against the hull as she tried to work out some solution to the problem, her gaze roaming across the darkened, abandoned city and idly counting sails. Philomena’s song drifted up from somewhere distant as sparkling rays of pale light shone up from behind a lopsided ship. “How big is her crew?” Rarity blinked, turning to Jester. “I beg your pardon?” “Her crew,” Jester repeated, a slight grin pulling at her lips. “No airpony is soft, exactly, but a few seasons working a hauler can make a pony rusty. How many hooves has your captain got at her command?” Pinkie answered without hesitation. “Eighteen. And one of them’s sick.” Jester nodded, her grin widening. “Don’t worry about the captain, then. Her consent won’t be required.” Rarity blanched. “Darling, are you suggesting that we steal the ship?” “Are you suggesting we don’t?” Jester countered. “My home’s at stake here, Countess. I was willing to die and be done with it when I got up this morning, but you’ve shown up and offered us a fighting chance at actually making it here. You think I’ll back down over something as insignificant as some selfish, far-off merchant’s property rights?” She shook her head, jabbing a hoof up to the flag hanging above them—a ship’s wheel in front of a fool’s cap. “There’s no law in Leviathan Wakes, and that’s just how we like it here. Bits, wits, and nothing else. You say you want to help? You want to save every wretched life on this oversized flotsam? We’re gonna need a ship to do it, and you’ve got the only flight-worthy one around.” “It wouldn’t be proper!” Rarity insisted, shaking her head. “You can’t ask me to help you steal an innocent mare’s ship!” Jester snorted. “A mare your age, and you still believe in innocence? And in a merchant captain’s soul, no less? You take what you can get in this world, and I see a chance to save my city in reach.” She took a step closer, straightening up as the mirth left her eyes. “Whether you help or not is up to you, but I’d wager that ship’s gonna come and get you eventually. Or maybe you have some signal on you to call them down? I’m willing to work without your cooperation if I have to, so what’s it gonna be? Do you want to be part of the greater good, or the acceptable losses?” Rarity held Jester’s gaze in silence, weighing her words. Could she really bring herself to be part of this? To take an honest pony’s most precious possession away from them in the name of some greater good? Her gut told her to say no, to light her horn and use the sail behind her to apprehend Jester, to somehow fend off the rest of the Wakers until the ship could come down to rescue them. She could do her best to convince the Captain to freely give her aid and hope that Jester wouldn’t harbor any hard feelings after the rejection. But no, Friesland had taught her that she couldn’t put faith in the generosity of her fellow pony. The Captain would turn her down at best or maroon her at worst. The ponies of Leviathan Wakes would be doomed, with her and her friends most likely accompanying them. Backing down and fleeing wasn’t an option either, assuming she could escape. She would be haunted for the rest of her life with the knowledge that she could’ve done something to save these ponies. And she could feel Pinkie’s eyes boring into the side of her head, willing her to accept the proposal. “We’re not leaving anypony behind this time. Not again.” Rarity knew how hard Pinkie had taken their inability to save all the suffering ponies of Fellis. Who knew if she’d be able to take another, even more disastrous failure. Rarity couldn’t bear to put her friend through such torture. On her other side, Fluttershy continued pacing. The usually timid pegasus had been startlingly confident in coming here, and hadn’t backed down from her insistence in approaching Philomena with kindness, but that could only happen if they went with Jester’s plan. If they left now, then there was no telling when or where they might find Philomena again, and Rarity knew Fluttershy was desperate to help ease the phoenix’s pain. She could perhaps say no and force Jester’s hoof, make a point of going with the plan but only against her will. But no, such a thing would be foalish and immature. A lady owns her decisions. There was only one answer, really. The Captain would be unwilling to give what was needed to save all these lives, but Rarity would be generous on her behalf. Perhaps they could even give the ship back afterwards, and a great good could be achieved with no lasting harm. Hadn’t she done something like this before, anyway? What had she done in Friesland, if not steal Governor Rhea’s city from her in the name of saving lives? “Very well.” Rarity sighed, glancing to each of her friends and receiving reassuring nods. Her horn glowed as she reached into her bags and retrieved the flare launcher, holding it towards Jester. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” The stars twinkled brightly overhead as Ana stepped out onto the deck of the Dragonscale, relieved to have made it outside without any further interference from the garrisoning marines. The way she was shaking, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle a violent confrontation. Gava appeared at her side a moment later, wings already flaring for flight. She’d been coldly silent during the walk, avoiding Ana’s sideways glances throughout. Gava took to the sky without a word, and Ana’s gut squirmed as she followed. What had she been thinking, lying to her sister like that? All over a pony she’d never met? Her unease grew as she glided in Gava’s wake, unable to enjoy the sensation of flight as she normally did. They drifted down, under the hanging urban sprawl of Harvest’s belly, the stars above giving way to scattered pockets of lantern light and flickering windows. A small circular platform jutted out near the edge, accessible only by a narrow winding staircase that disappeared into the island above. Ana idly wondered as to its purpose as she and Gava alighted on the metal. A fishing spot? A small personal pier? Or maybe some forgotten error of architecture, too insignificant to be worth demolishing. Gava kept her back to Ana, her tail lashing behind her. After several seconds, she spoke. “You lied to me.” Ana said nothing at first. What could she say? Then she realized Gava was waiting for a response. She licked her lips, but her voice still came out hoarse. “I did.” “Why?” Why? Such a simple question, wrapped up all neat and tidy in one word, and Ana couldn’t answer it. As children, their father had imposed few rules upon them, but she remembered them all clearly. Share everything, even your struggles. Support each other in all endeavors. Respect your sister’s privacy, but never lie to her. She pursed her lips, thinking back to the moment when she’d balanced on the knife’s edge between truth and lie and had slid without thought into the latter. She’d been scared, but not for herself. She once might have looked away and forced herself to forget, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it this time. Not after she’d seen another mare so willing to give all she had in the name of doing the right thing. “I did it to protect the kid.” “Protect her? A pony?” Gava seemed confused. “From me?” Ana clenched her jaw. Did she really have to spell this out? “You know what you’re like, Gava. You might’ve killed her.” “And?” Gava finally turned around, rolling her eyes. “It’s a pony filly. What difference does it make to us if she grows up and becomes a pony mare? They’re all the same, Ana. You know they’re all the same.” “But what if they’re not?” Ana paused, gathering her thoughts before pressing on. “How can you know? We treat every pony we meet like monsters and they’re just returning the favor! So—” “So what?” Gava snapped, tail lashing. “We’re supposed to let them walk all over us?” “No! No, that’s not what I’m saying! I—ugh, why is this so hard?” Ana sat down and took a deep breath. “Could we just try not treating everyone we meet like they’re beneath us? Just see what happens?” Gava scoffed. “Now I know you’re just messing with me. You’ve seen how they look at us. What about that old couple we passed when we boarded that ship?” “They didn’t do anything to us, sis.” Ana shook her head. “They were just afraid!” “And what about those marines that caught us in the hall?” Gava began to pace, glaring daggers at the horizon. “They were just itching to pull weapons the moment they saw us. We could’ve been a pair of lost tourists and I bet they’d cut us down like dogs just for getting our room wrong!” “They were just doing their jobs!” Ana countered. “Look at us! We’re obviously not tourists, and for all we know they were just trying to arrest us or something, not kill us!” “So we’re supposed to wait and see?” Gava turned and met Ana’s eyes. “You want me to let ponies threaten you, let them do whatever they want to you, just in case they don’t really mean it? Not happening.” “That’s not what I’m saying!” “Then what are you saying, Ana? Because I don’t get it!” “I just—can you just trust me on this?” Ana stepped in front of her sister and placed a hoof gently against her chest, stopping her pacing. “You trust me to know stuff, right? That’s when we’re best, when I can scout ahead and see things and make plans, and you follow up. Right?” Gava frowned. “This isn’t a job, Ana. I’m not gonna let you throw your life away because you’re afraid to kill a pony that holds a blade to your throat.” “No! That’s not what I’m talking about!” Ana leaned in, speaking slowly. “I’m just saying, maybe don’t be so aggressive. Don’t glare and snap at ponies just for being ponies. You can kill someone that threatens us, sure, but not innocent foals! Not just because you feel like it.” Gava didn’t say anything for a moment. She looked between each of Ana’s eyes, brow furrowing in thought. “Where is this coming from?” Ana blinked. “Huh?” “Why are you like this suddenly?” Gava continued. “You’ve seen me kill foals before. We’ve dangled dock workers off piers to get info out of them and then dropped them afterward anyway. You delivered a pregnant mare in chains to some rich old asshole and left without looking back. We bombed a fucking city together, sis.” She sighed, grabbing Ana’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “Me and you against the world. That’s how it is, how it’s always been. I feel like someone stole you away from me one night and I’m talking to an imposter. What happened?” She paused, beak hanging open, before adding quietly. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Ana stiffened, looking away and pursing her lips. What could she say? The ponies I was supposed to hunt got in my head and screwed me up and now I can’t focus on anything I do. No, that would only upset Gava more. She put on a smile as she reached up and squeezed her sister’s talon in return. “I’m still your sister, Gava. I’ve just been doing some thinking lately is all. We can still be fearsome, we can still be strong, but we could have friends, too.” Gava nodded. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “So this has nothing to do with that dress you’ve been hiding from me?” Ana’s blood went cold. “Dress?” “I know you think I’m stupid, Ana, but I’m not blind.” Gava slapped Ana’s hoof away, stepping back. “You put it right under Dad. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? You think I can’t tell when you’re hiding things from me after all these years?” “You—” Ana hesitated. You weren’t supposed to notice. “It’s a valuable dress.” “Then why haven’t you sold it?” Ana opened her mouth, expecting a smooth excuse to form in her head, but nothing came. “Where did you even get it?” Gava demanded. “Why is it so important to you? And why do you feel you have to hide it from me?” Ana sighed. More lies weren’t going to get her anywhere, and her sister deserved better. “Rarity made it for me.” “What?” Gava cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. “Did you commission it to get close to her or something?” Ana shook her head. “She gave it to me.” For a moment the two fell silent. Gava leaned in ever so slightly as if trying to see something through a thick fog, brow furrowing. “You mean all this shit is over some ugly fucking dress?” “It’s not ugly!” Ana’s retort echoed through the air, bouncing off the chiseled architecture of Harvest’s underbelly. Gava flinched back, her eyes shooting wide open, and Ana stepped forwards, pushing her sister back with the ferocity in her voice. “It’s a beautiful dress! She made it just for me, gave it to me without asking for anything in return! Nobody’s ever done that for me before, and I thanked her with lies and deceit!” She realized that she was crying, though she wasn’t sure why. Her chest ached and her throat burned, but she couldn’t hold the words in. “Don’t you get it? I didn’t know ponies could be like that, I thought they would all treat us like monsters, but I was wrong! I was wrong, and that means all those ponies I’ve hurt—that we’ve hurt—maybe they didn’t deserve any of it! Maybe I really am a monster! And I’m trying to do better! I want to do better because the one time I found a kind pony, a pony that looked at me like a person instead of some demon, I betrayed her and I made her hate me!” She sucked in deep breaths of air, body shaking, struggling to hold her tears back. If only she could make Gava understand, they could be better together, and maybe the next time they crossed paths with Rarity, Ana could try on that dress for her, and the generous, beautiful unicorn that poisoned her mind would smile at her like she used to. “Why does it matter?” Ana blinked, frowning up at Gava through the tears. “W-what?” “Why do you care so much what she thinks about you?” Gava asked, her beak set in a pleading grimace. “I’m right here in front of you, telling you how this makes me feel. Doesn’t that matter? Why are you choosing her over me?” “Ugh! I’m not choosing her over you! I just—I—let me think, okay?” Ana closed her eyes, running a hoof through her mane. “I just need to think, put this in a way you can understand.” “I understand just fine, Ana!” Gava snapped, her talons scraping across the thin metal platform. “But it’s like you’ve forgotten everything we’ve been through and done together! I’m just trying to protect you, but suddenly you want to put the feelings of some pony you met last month over your own sister!” “No! You don’t get it!” Ana stomped her hooves and shook her head with an exasperated growl. “Why don’t you fucking get it, you stupid bird?” “What did you just call me?” Ana froze, looking up with wide eyes. “Wait—” “So I’m stupid now?!” Gava shouted, shoving Ana back hard enough her legs buckled. “You wanna try shorter sentences, or maybe draw me a picture? Do I make your life hard by being as dumb as I am?” Ana knew she should apologize. As much as she liked to tease Gava, she knew the griffon was insecure about her over-reliance on brawn. She should have registered the wetness in her sister’s reddened eyes. But the shove had caught her by surprise, and in her moment of disorientation, she snapped. “You know what? You do!” she snarled, jumping up and hovering to glare down at Gava as she jabbed a hoof into her chest. “Yes, by Luna, you do! I left you alone for barely a week and you went and bit the horn off the most popular barkeep in Equestria, and now half the ponies in the sky hate us! And for what? All that and you didn’t even catch the ponies you were looking for!” “Oh, like you did such a great job?” Gava bellowed, sticking her beak into Ana’s face, her fierce eyes shimmering with tears. “The ponies you followed could barely handle a little gang of bandits! I could’ve captured them with one talon tied behind my back, but you were too busy waiting and planning to get anything done without me, because you’re a coward!” “Don’t you try and blame that fuckup on me, Gava! If you’d tried thinking for one second before you threw away the element of surprise then we could’ve gotten all six Gifted together, like Dad always told us to!” “He’s not even your real Dad!” Gava’s screech hung in the air as both sisters caught their breath. Slowly, Ana drifted back to the floor, her jaw trembling and her ears drooping. Her quiet voice broke the silence. “Y-you’re not supposed to say that.” “Not used to the truth?” Gava jeered with a shaky grin, jabbing a talon into Ana’s chest. “He’s not your real Dad. You’re not my real sister! You’re just some gutter rat he found in a hole and took pity on!” Ana’s chest tightened as she looked away. “You d-don’t mean that.” “Yes I fucking do,” Gava growled. She turned away sharply, flaring her wings with a tense shudder. She paused, beak hanging open as if she was going to say something further, then jerked her head away and leapt into the open air, pumping her wings without looking back. Ana’s legs dropped out from under her. She felt like a filly again, a little lost foal freshly plucked from the street and trying to find her place in a kind old griffon’s family. She’d been so happy to have a family. To have a name. A sister. For the first time in decades, Ana remembered how it felt to be truly alone. She cried just like she used to, all those years ago.