//------------------------------// // 41 - Sweetie Belle // Story: The Hollow Pony // by Type_Writer //------------------------------// If losing her leg affected the Banshee in any permanent way, then she didn’t let us see it. The stump oozed wisps of mist, and it slowly seemed to be reforming, though it would take a long time to be fully restored. Longer than the time we had remaining, I was sure. The Banshee stood before us; the changelings, hungry and maddened, snarled behind our backs from the darkness of the tunnel. Maybe we could fight the changelings, but more would replace those we slew, while we couldn’t fight the Banshee. Not without that cursed knife, or some form of cold iron. But I had another item on me that was meant to be cursed—Rarity’s Element of Generosity. Ocellus had said it hungered for souls, like the knife had, though it hadn’t felt like the knife had. So either she was wrong, or it was different in some way, or...I had no way of knowing. But it was all I had. And it was fitting that of all ponies, Rarity’s Element of Harmony should be reclaimed by her sister. I couldn’t reach into my bag with Trixie on my back, and I wouldn’t want to carry her out into my fight anyways. I kneeled, and Trixie slid off my back with a startled yelp that brought all eyes to me. Gilda raised her remaining eyebrow at me. “Holly? What’s your plan?” “D-distract her. I’m g-going to distract her.” I growled. If I was to die here...then so be it. At least the Element wouldn’t be lost in the bottomless darkness of my bag. Maybe I’d even distract the Banshee enough that the others could get away, report what had happened here. Another group, maybe a better-prepared group, could follow in our hoofsteps. They could finish what I could not, they could slay the Banshee and take the Element of Generosity back to Princess Celestia in my stead. I hoped that Ocellus didn’t tell her what I’d done down in the hive. What horrors I’d wrought upon her siblings, and the trail of bodies and blood I’d left behind. But it was Ocellus’ hive, and so it was her grievances; it was her decision how I should be remembered. But it would be better that I was stopped here. Before I did it all again. I drew the Element from my bag, and listened to the clasps rattle against each other as I looked at it one last time. At the black gem, set into that tarnished gold. It had been purple before, a bright purple, before Trixie stole the soul from within. That must have been Rarity’s soul, but only Trixie would know for sure. I didn’t have the time left to ask her. The burning eyes of the Banshee locked onto my own as I stepped over the threshold of the door. While I couldn’t see the wards, Ocellus had described them as covering the door, and I could see where the thin mist that flowed across the ground came to a hard stop. The Banshee watched me, unmoving, waiting for my inevitable trickery. She was smart, and patient, and waited for me to make the first move. What if I just rushed at her with it? Would throwing it at her, through her body, be enough to consume her like the knife had? Did it need to be worn, for the power within to be invoked? Was it a spell I had to practice to learn, or one that required others to activate? I had so many questions, and they all went silent as the Banshee’s gaze drifted to my hoof. The embers of her eyes went wide in an instant, and I had no time to react before the mist under my hooves leapt upwards over my body. I was consumed by the mist like I was being submerged in it, and it coalesced in my hoof, under the golden necklace. The Banshee flexed the stump of her leg as though her hoof had never been taken, and the mist that had ensnared me pulled my body forward to her, instead of waiting for me to move. My hooves slid over the ground like slick ice, and I couldn’t even struggle against it. I heard Raindrops gasp my name as I was pulled away from them, and I hoped they didn’t follow me out. Not yet, not until I truly had a monopoly on the Banshee’s attention. The Banshee’s song became quiet as I slid to a stop before her. Slowly, the lonely heartsong wound down to a close, as she peered at the necklace before her. Her remaining hoof lifted, shaking, from the stone lot in which we stood, and she brought it to my own. She touched the necklace, and the black gem itself, and then slowly began to caress it, as if unsure it was real. After a few moments of silence, she stopped, and raised her own hoof to look at it instead. She stared at the ghostly appendage as though seeing it for the first time, and though it was hard to tell, with features made of mist...I think her expression turned remorseful. She looked down at me, before she raised her hoof to the gem once more. She hummed once more—one last song, a few bars of a tune I could never have recognized—and then I felt my hoof grow hot with the fire of a soul, refilling the gem. But something was wrong, something was different, I felt the fire go through the gem, and into my own soul— * * * Power. I held so much power in every fragment of my being. Every hair, every feather, every bit of flesh and bone and horn. My body burned with power that I could barely contain, that it felt as though was straining to escape. But not yet. The flight up to Cloudsdale wasn’t long, but I had never gotten used to flying. The wings still felt unnatural, and the way my bones and muscles had been changed to include them had been too sudden; I’d been granted wings, but I had to develop the instincts to fly by myself, over the last decade. I ended my all-too-awkward flight by landing atop the pad of the Cloudsdale Weather Factory, where a young colt gasped and snapped to attention. “Wha—Lady Rarity?” I didn’t know his name, but I wasn’t surprised that he knew mine. I’d spent a lifetime cultivating that reputation, and I was proud that it was a name on everypony’s lips, even now. “Indeed so, darling. Apologies for dropping in so rudely like this; Princess Twilight wanted to inspect a specific part of the facility, but she couldn’t come for herself.” His eyes went even wider, somehow. “It’s no trouble at all—it’s a pretty quiet day—but she needs an inspection done? Does she think something's wrong?” I chuckled politely. “She’s always worried that something’s wrong, the poor dear. I’ll only need a few minutes of your time to make sure everything’s in working order. The formal request should be drafted and brought up by a courier in only an hour or so, if you don’t mind waiting?” He looked over the edge of the building incredulously, down at the Canterhorn range, far below. “An hour? You came up here—I couldn’t leave you waiting for an hour!” “Really, it’s no trouble at all!” Tilt of the head, gentle wave of the hoof, bat of the eyelashes… “Nah, miss, you’re a hero! My mother served under you in the war, you kept her alive! I can’t leave you waiting here!” He turned around, and pulled a brass key out from under his safety vest. “Especially not for a minor inspection. I’ll walk you through the place, even!” “Well, if you’re so sure,” I said, with a gentle tittering laugh that was playfully conspiratorial. “I’ll just fill out the paperwork when it arrives, so I don’t have to do the inspection then—I’m sure Twilight won't mind, so long as it’s done properly. You said your mother served in my division? What’s her name?” “Flight Captain Hyacinth Dawn! You saved her life, and the life of her squad during the battle of Cobalt Ridge. She tells that story all the time!” Cobalt Ridge was an ugly fight. Three squadrons had been turned to char before we even had a hoof-hold in the area, and it seemed like the drakes would never stop coming out of that tunnel. Eventually we had to collapse the whole thing, and trap them inside. They’d chew their way out through the rocks eventually—or at least, that was what we told ourselves, and what we wrote down in the after-action reports. None of us knew if it was true. And I couldn’t remember any faces from that battle...nor did I want to do so, after we counted all of the wounded. “Flight Captain Dawn...now I remember, yes! She helped turn the tide of that fight, just when things seemed like they might get hairy!” The Weatherworker pranced happily as we moved down the hallway, and I used the chance to look around the building. This all seemed to be support structures and offices, while the factory itself was below us. I remembered, only vaguely, my last visit to this building, and that had been a very long time ago. My wings hadn’t been quite so permanent then, but Rainbow Dash was still so happy to show us around the factory on that guided tour. The building had a very unique “industrial Pegasopolis” aesthetic, though that was getting lost over time, it seemed; lots of pillars and facades had been aggressively torn out to make room for the newer machinery, and the cables and pipes required to feed water and lightning into that machinery. That was a shame—I’d always liked those classical designs, and how they curved and swirled fancifully, unbound by gravity or the weight of stone, like Old Unicornia construction always had been. The factory itself was sparsely populated; I’d come here on a local holiday. Commander Hurricane’s birthday, or was it the founding of Cloudsdale? Something like that. To me, it mostly meant that the factory was running with a skeleton crew, and the ponies working now weren’t as stringent about the rules as they normally would be. Instead of stopping us, or asking questions, they mostly bowed and stepped aside, since they assumed I was supposed to be here. The fewer ponies that could potentially get in my way, that could potentially stop me, the better. I couldn’t afford to be stopped now. If I was, then I’d never get this chance again, or at least not for a very, very long time. And by then it would be too late. I moved through the factory like a sleepwalker. Faces blurred past me; I only focused on the colt I was following behind, as we paused at the stations. I glanced at charts that I didn’t understand, made nonsense notes on a notepad I’d brought with me, and made indistinct humming noises as I nodded. And so we continued onwards, until we crossed a catwalk that passed over the main mixing room, near the top floor of the factory once more. “One of the last steps we do for the day is a visual inspection of the mixing equipment—you can see it down there, protected by a shield. The feed tubes fill it with aetheric water, which is mixed up inside there, forming raw fog for the rest of the factory to work with. Up until a few years ago, it was always a really slow process, but the expanded weather control area around Equestria led to cloud shortages, so we had to upgrade. Now, the machine spins at upwards of six-hundred rotations per minute, which is really cool to watch!” I nodded, as I propped my legs atop the railing and looked down at the whirling mixer below us. Yes, that would do nicely. I turned to the colt. “I’ll need to do a scan of the mixer while it’s in operation, but the shield might distort my readings. Can you shut that off for a few seconds?” For the first time since my arrival, the weatherworker looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Uh. I mean...I can, but...I really shouldn’t. It’s dangerous, super dangerous. They put in the shield after a pony got drunk and fell in, and—” he swallowed. “I’d prefer not to, if that’s okay?” Bat the eyelashes. Tilt head, smile gently. “Please? We’re almost done here, and I’d hate to keep Twilight waiting. And she’s just going to ask the same thing.” He shifted around uncomfortably on his hooves. In a moment of regret, I realized I’d never gotten his name. That was a shame, but it didn’t matter now. “Well...I...alright, but just for a minute, okay? No longer, I don’t wanna get fired. I don’t even wanna think about if…” He trailed off, and shuddered. “I’ll hit the switch. Go ahead when the shield shuts off, alright?” The colt hesitantly moved to a large switch, locked under a glass cover, which he unlocked with that key around his neck. He barked “Hey! Maintenance check!” down the hallway, presumably towards his supervisor, and pulled the switch. There was an echoing clack as the mechanical switch locked into position, and a bell began to ring as the dome of white energy that had covered the mixer shimmered. After a moment, the power was cut, and the shield oscillated one final time before collapsing. Now I could see the blades of the mixer, unobscured, as they whirled through the fog blow me. They spun faster than the eye could track, as they churned the water below into fog. This was it. I had to do this. After all I’d done, all I’d seen, I didn’t deserve the gift I’d been given. Not while other ponies around me withered and died. So I’d give it back, in the only way that I knew. The only way that I’d learned, when we fought the dragons. When we watched each other die, I saw what it did to the five of us, and how we returned to life, as if we’d never been slain. Everypony else deserved that power, instead of me. I swallowed, and looked over at the colt, one last time. I think he knew. Maybe because my horn wasn’t glowing, maybe because of how I’d been looking down at those swirling blades. But he couldn’t move fast enough, couldn’t flip the shield back on, before I leapt over the railing. As I plunged into the mixer, my last thoughts were of Sweetie Belle. I was so proud of my sister. And I hoped she’d use my final gift well, when I didn’t deserve it myself. And then there was only pain and screaming machinery. * * * f r a g m e n t e d d i s s o l u t i o n e m b e r s s c a t t e r e d t o  w i n d * * * Everywhere, and nowhere, simultaneously. There was no sense of self. No sense of being. No cohesion. No unity. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t even begin to understand that I should understand as such. I couldn’t even understand what was wrong, what needed to be fixed. I couldn’t think while I was broken. I had to fix myself. I had to pull myself back together. I had to gather myself. Then I could fix what went wrong. * * * I felt everything through the fragments of my being. I was everywhere and nowhere. I covered this land, clouded the air with my essence, from coast to coast and desert to mountaintop. But out there I was scattered. There was a place, in the center of this world. Somewhere I was strongest, where many of my fragments were drawn to me once more. Like metal filings, drifting towards a magnet. It was an enclosed space, and I was not alone there, but the others were just as fragmented as I was. They mixed with me, as I mixed with them. In this space, we collected ourselves, and many became fewer, as my core became physical. * * * It was a slow process. My fragments moved erratically, in ways I couldn’t understand. But as more came together, I was able to connect thoughts together once more. I’d never regain all that had been scattered to the winds. They’d been lost/taken/stolen/gifted. But I could move. I could find more fragments of myself. I could think. It wasn’t life. But it was something akin to it. * * * Sometimes, there was other movement around me. Small figures, like ants, wandering across my flesh. They itched, but I didn’t have the strength to shrug them away. And within them, I felt fragments of myself. So close, yet so far. But I couldn’t take it; couldn’t steal back that which I had gifted to them. So instead, I sang to them, as best I could remember. * * * There was movement, once more, and whatever approached came closer to the core of my being than any had, ever before. I had to pull myself closer. I had to compress my being further, so that I had enough focus to observe them. Eyes. I required eyes to see what was before me. And ears, to hear the vibrations. I could decipher their meaning, but first, I needed to know the shape of their speech. “—there’s so many dang bones…” The voice was young, female. And speaking quietly, in awe, or perhaps absolute terror. “I know. I see them too. I’m trying not to think about that.” “And ya’ll are sure this is where you heard that singing?” “Apple Bloom, I’m very sure. I can still hear her now.” The two figures jumped backwards as I began to coalesce my being into a unified form, and they both let out a yelp of fear. The lighter one, a young mare—color, colors and hues and shades were important, but I didn't recall why—and her coat had no color. Even here, in my lightless lair—lair felt both accurate and inaccurate, for some reason I couldn't understand—her coat gleamed bright white, and her horn emitted a glow that outshone even that. No magic struck me; instead, I heard a song. Like me, it seemed to come from both everywhere and nowhere, but only thin this room. My being beyond the walls heard nothing. So I focused my attention upon the room, upon the mare in front of me, and the song all around us, which seemed familiar, somehow… It wasn’t my song, but it was so very close, and tantalizingly familiar. I felt my soul settle as I calmed, and my being relaxed. My core slumped forward, towards the young mare, but I was not afraid of her. A hoof, so tiny, touched the surface of my being. And the song we sang together asked me to show her all that I was. Layers of dust and bone and power flaked away, and split at her touch, until there was only a soft core within. Blind, deaf, unknowing, unaware. She touched something, some part of my core of which even I was unaware. And I felt as though I could finally rest, as my song faded, and her song lulled me to sleep. * * * I gasped, as I jerked my hoof backwards from the gem, as though it had bitten me. Apple Bloom was still watching the titanic remains of the creature, that terrifying alicorn made of bones, but she glanced over at my sudden movement. “Sweetie! Ya okay?” I didn’t think I would ever be okay again. I’d seen...I’d seen Rarity, or I’d...I’d been Rarity. I saw my sister...I saw her throw herself into some kind of mixing vat, through her own eyes. I wasn’t prepared to see that—no little sister ever could be. Apple Bloom’s hoof shook my shoulder, and I started in surprise. “Sweetie! Ya in there?” “I...yes, I…” I looked back up at the equine shape, within the powdery mass of bone before us, and Apple Bloom’s eyes followed mine. She saw the necklace, and the gem set within. It had been a bright purple only moments ago, but now it had turned onyx-black. What had I done, exactly? “Sweets? Ain’t that…” I nodded. Her eyes wandered across the dusty form of the mare once more. “Then...d’ya think…” I nodded again, as I started to choke up. Tears came easily, though I tried to fight them back. The words were hard to say, but I tried to fight through the grief, and forced myself to say her name. “I think...that’s Rarity. Or...it was Rarity.” “W-was…?” Apple Bloom murmured, before looking back at me. “Sweetie, Ah don’t understand…” “I don’t think I do either…” I whispered, as I sniffled. “I saw...I think she’s...everywhere? I think...I think she’s the fog.” Apple Bloom blinked at me. “Wha? Like she’s makin’ ‘em?” “No, I…” I swallowed. My throat was so dry, and we were coated in bone dust from how the beast had shifted. It had kicked so much into the air when it rose from the carpet of bones, and I could feel my tears carving trails down my cheeks. “I think she is the fog, Apple Bloom. She did…something in Cloudsdale. Destroyed herself. Scattered herself across Equestria.” “W-what? But then...how is she here? She’s...she’s right here in front of us, ain’t she?” Apple Bloom still didn’t understand. I reached out again, to touch the gem, but my hoof drifted over Rarity’s breast, and that seemed to be too much. Apple Bloom hauled me back with a yelp, as Rarity’s body turned to powder under my hoof, glowing powder that filled the air and dissolved into nothingness. It was a good thing I was pulled away, because the beast’s body followed soon after, and it collapsed into very real bones and dust, which would have crushed us both if we’d stayed there. As we stood there, coughing bone dust from our lungs once again, Apple Bloom shook her head. “That-that’s crazy! All’a this is crazy! The demons, the dead ponies gettin’ back up, the sun...none a’ this is real!” I didn’t argue with her. I couldn’t stop staring at the slumped pile of bones that had been alive, or some mockery of life, only moments ago. “She called it a gift. To...to me. To us. To everypony.” That got Apple Bloom’s attention. “A gift?” “She remembered the war...the terrible things she’d done. She never told me those stories—I don’t think she ever told anypony those stories. She wanted to forget them, but...she couldn’t help but remember them.” I looked down at the bones beneath our hooves. How deep did they go? “That...that thing that Princess Twilight did. When she made them all princesses, sorta. Rarity loved that at first, but...what I saw...she hated it. She felt like she didn’t deserve it.” Apple Bloom was silent, for a long few seconds. When she finally spoke, her voice was trembling. “Ah...Ah saw Applejack get hurt a while back. Really badly hurt. Somepony knocked a brick off the wall a’ the fort by accident, and it hit her in the head. There was b-blood everywhere. But a minute later, she...she got up like nothin’ ever happened.” “She didn’t die…” I murmured quietly. “Like...how we can’t die now?” Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah. But...faster. Way faster. Takes us moons or seasons to heal still, it feels like. Like ponies normally heal. But Applejack...her head broke, Sweetie belle.” She shuddered. “Ain’t...ain’t never told anypony that. Thought I was goin’ crazy...goin’ Hollow.” “If Rarity wanted everypony to live forever, instead of her…” My voice cracked, and I couldn’t complete the sentence. I remembered those whirling blades inside the machine, and I couldn’t think of anything else. When I regained my senses, Apple Bloom was hugging me, but I didn’t know if it was for my sake, or her own. Maybe it was both. After a moment, she sniffled and wiped her muzzle. “M-maybe we been lookin’ at this ‘curse’ all wrong, ya know?” I stared at her, confused, for a long few moments. She grinned, nervously. There was a look in her eyes, like after she’d been working the farm all day, or more recently, when Applejack had her running errands back and forth without rest for what must have been days at a time. It was some mix of exhaustion, and that little bit of madness that comes when you’re too tired for the world to make sense any more. “If...if this is a gift, then we can use this. You did something—she listened to you when you sang. If we know we can’t die anymore, and you can work the magic like those ponies down in the valley below were doin’...Sweetie Belle, we could win against the demons with that kinda knowledge.” “Fight the…” I trailed off. Apple Bloom wasn’t wrong, but...this was a lot of responsibility. A lot to try and understand all at once. And I still couldn’t breathe in here, not with all the bone dust filling the air. “M-maybe...I don’t know. I can’t...I need fresh air, it’s hard to think in here.” “Was just about to say the same thing.” Apple Bloom helped me stand, and we began the long journey through the darkness back towards the door. As we walked, I thought once more of the Element of Generosity her dusty form had been wearing. She hated that necklace, because she’d had to wear it every day in the war. But she never told me why she had to do that, or what it did. That was another question I could never ask her, now. * * * I looked out over the...well, it wasn’t a classroom. It was a creaking ruin of cloudstone, the remains of what had once been a classroom, before Cloudsdale fell out of the sky. We’d pushed the chairs and desks to the side—after the lesson, we’d break the desks into firewood, while we melted down the metal parts into rudimentary tools—and most of us sat in the newly-cleared space in the middle of the room. Apple Bloom still looked nervous, and she stood near the door just in case, but as I looked around the curious faces all around me, I knew her fears were unwarranted. I was reminded of my own tutoring under Twilight. It felt like a lifetime ago, but I suspected it was several lifetimes ago. It was hard to tell, nowadays, without the rise and setting of the sun. She’d be proud of me someday, I knew, taking on students of my own. It wasn’t as intimate as being an Archmage’s personal apprentice, but the more ponies had this knowledge, the better. “Okay! So, what have we learned since last time we all got together? Lilly Love, you looked excited, what have you got for us all?” An orchid-colored unicorn nodded, though she suddenly turned sheepish as she looked around at the other ponies. “Um. Right! Well, I was helping move the, um, skeletons, around. To help clear some of the buildings. And I was staring at this broken leg bone, and I found myself thinking how it was strange that so many of the bones are still intact…” No reason she was nervous; none of us liked to think about the endless dead in the buildings all around us. But just being here in this city was breaking a lot of taboos ponies held about the dead, and I’d made it clear that we shouldn’t turn away from any possibility, if we thought it might help us learn something about...her, up in the weather factory above. “So, I scraped together some more bones, the ones that were crumbling and turning to dust, and I focused on them. And I remembered the lessons that Mint Swirl has been teaching us, about communing with each other, and your beautiful singing voice, Sweetie Belle. And so I kind of started, um, humming a little bit? While I focused my uh, fire, on the bone dust.” She reached behind herself, and withdrew a long leg bone from her bag. Everypony swallowed—still uncomfortable with discussing the bones, let alone touching them—but she passed it directly to me, and I couldn’t appear to hesitate. I took the bone in my own hooves, and examined it closely. “You see here? This really jagged seam, where the bones have kind of bulged out a bit? That’s where the break was. I think something I did, somehow, fused the bone back together using dust from the others! But, um, it’s not perfect. It’s a really messy mend, and I don’t know if it would work on different bones, or if it just fixes the broken one. And I really don’t want to try this out on a living pony—or, um, you know—” “I know,” I said, with a smile. “It’s okay, Lilly. We’re alive, remember that. We’re more alive than anypony has ever been.” She nodded, looking down at the floor, and I continued to look over the leg bone. After a moment, I looked back up at her. “Do you think you could do it again? While the rest of us watch?” “Sure!” She said, smiling. “Um, I was even kind of thinking, you know, what if we all hummed together? To see if that makes a difference?” “I think that’s a good idea,” I said slowly, as I looked around the classroom. “Maybe I’ll give everypony more of a musical education than I thought.” * * * She was rebuilding, or...reforming herself, somehow. I didn’t believe it when South Pole told me; I thought he’d been making some sort of sick joke, or maybe our—I hated calling it worship, I really did, but there was almost no other name for what we did up here—had finally begun to go to his head. And there was no way that he could know about the significance of what he said; I never told any of them who she had been before. So I had to come up and see it for myself. And Rarity—or the beast to which Rarity had reduced herself, reborn from dust and magic—was making herself new once again. I kept my distance, to avoid rousing her, but I had to be close enough to see her at all. The shadows were oppressive in this room, and it felt like they grew darker all the time. I needed to have somepony set up lamps in the cavernous room at some point. She was nothing more than a slowly-shifting mass of bones, growing into a shuddering hill in the center of the room. And in the center of that mass...I could feel the fire of a pony. Dull, dim, but still smouldering. Growing stronger, just a little bit over time. Eventually, the Rarity to which i spoke...eventually, she would rebuild herself again. She hadn’t recognized me last time...at least, I didn’t think she had, on any conscious level. Would she recognize me this time? I was alone with her. Apple Bloom was guarding the door, and she wouldn’t allow any of the others inside. I had all the time in the world...maybe literally. However long it took, I had to try and...commune with the entity, like we did with our fire outside. No. No, that was a bad way to frame this. I had to try and talk to my sister. Try and wake her up. Just...without words. I stepped forward, and bones crackled under my hooves as I approached. I focused on my flame, and I felt her own as I approached, though it was weak, and timid. The bones rose out of the ground, but I exposed my soul to the soul of the creature before me, made clear that I meant no harm. There was a connection, unlike what I felt with the other ponies outside, when we tried this on each other. There was some fundamental difference between our beings that made us alien, made things not translate properly into concepts that I understood...but there was something else that superseded that, that brought us together even despite being our differences. I gasped, and stepped back, to collect myself. Had that been Rarity? Had she still been in there, somehow? Some tiny part of her, that couldn’t be taken, couldn’t be stolen, couldn’t be gifted? But she’d given it to me, when I sang to her before. I was special to her, even though she didn’t know how. She must have known it was me. She must have. * * * I had a beautiful view of our valley below, from up here, atop the dam. I came up here from time to time, daring the increasingly shaky elevator and the wild skeletons that seemed to rise by themselves. (We kept killing them, but more always eventually replaced those we slew—was Rarity creating guards, to defend herself?) From up here, I could look over the foggy cloudstone rooftops of the fallen city below, and I could see all the way down to the end of the valley, where the mountains curved and followed the river. I could even see my little acolytes down there, building new houses and outposts with scrap wood and steel scavenged from old Cloudsdale. Acolytes. I’d fallen into calling them as such, just as they’d fallen into calling me “Mother,” and the creature within the weather factory “Grandmother.” Honorific titles, for what was quickly forming into a reclusive little cult. I had to curb that soon, I really did. I hated all those titles, and I was growing to dislike the traditions and beliefs that were forming around me. Some of the first fools from Canterlot, they’d carried that here, seeded their damnable dark beliefs and the terminology, and it had all caught on before I even knew I needed to stop them. If I didn’t act soon, I might find my stewardship of this group superseded, founder or no. At least Apple Bloom had been mindful, watching for ponies who spoke that way, and I was quickly amassing a list of ponies I would need to admonish personally. “Ahh, I thought I’d find you up here.” I closed my eyes, and let out a long sigh. And then, there was Starswirl. “You didn’t come up the elevator. I would’ve heard that.” “Perceptive, and correct; I prefer not to use that rickety contraption. How have things been here?” I turned away from Cloudsdale to look at the old, bearded stallion, his cloak and hat adorned with a hundred silent bells. He always dodged the question of “where did you come from?” Every time. Many times, I’d been in places where he would have had to pass by a guard, or disturb a trap, or at least disturb the cobwebs. Somehow, I never saw him arrive nor leave. I’d known of the stallion, of course. We’d all learned about him in history classes, growing up, for over a millenia. My sister, and the Elements of Harmony, had helped rescue him from Limbo long ago. As far as I could tell, he had been capricious at best both then and now. Sometimes he was a crucial agent of good that guaranteed success, other times he would sabotage a pony at the prime of their life, and ensure they were broken and powerless forevermore. One never knew what he was planning, until long after he had left. And nopony knew why he did the things that he did. He’d certainly never been forthcoming with me about that information, no matter how I asked. He cleverly dodged all my questions, eluded giving any answers. He had appeared early on, when none of us recognized him, and instructed us on the finer points of necromancy before disappearing once more. After a few of his visits, I’d dug up every bit of information I could find about the ancient mage, and yet I learned effectively nothing. But I humored him, for he was useful, at least for the moment. I shrugged. “Progress is slow, but the new skeletons are more resilient than ever, and several acolytes are becoming incredibly proficient at seeing through their eyes. Some of them have begun to internalize that control, however, and I worry about their personal hunger for power; I’ll need to address that personally, to keep them in check.” “Mm, I know that feeling well. I’ve had more than a few apprentices who felt they deserved more than their means. You continue to impress me, however, Sweetie Belle.” The dream cracked. The sky turned cloudy green, and blood poured from Starswirl’s eyes. His mouth moved, but his body didn’t—like a stiff puppet, frozen in time. The ethereal, musical voice of the Banshee spoke through his lips, directly to me. “DON’T TRUST HIM. DON’T EVER TRUST HIM.” And then nothing had ever changed at all. Starswirl smiled. “In fact, speaking of apprentices, do you think you could come with me? I recall you’ve been asking for answers for a while, and now may be a good chance to learn some for yourself. I was just on my way to Baltimare, to assist them with a Changeling problem that’s been growing progressively worse.” I glanced back down at my acolytes below—Dammit, ponies, my ponies below—whose courses in our new and strange school of magic I still needed to correct. Could I allow myself a reprieve, in search of answers like this? “How soon do you need to leave?” He chewed his lip. “Soon; lives hang in the balance. But you’ve enough time to give interim orders and goodbyes, before we depart.” I sighed. “Alright. Give me an hour, I’ll meet you back here.” * * * This was my last stop. I’d actually spoken to Starswirl one more time after coming back up the elevator, and he’d been eager to leave...but I couldn’t leave, not yet, without doing this. Rarity—or the beast that Rarity had become—had only grown more solvent since that first encounter, so long ago. A great alicorn of bone sat in the darkness, surrounded by candles placed by our acolytes; a gift to their “Grandmother,” when they came here to try and commune with her. None of them shared our connection. Only myself and Rarity knew each other in such a way, and that gave me precious, fragile hope. Someday, Rarity would live again, and she could tell me why she did what she did. Why she still wore that necklace, that cursed Element of Harmony. She lifted that titanic skull as I entered, but lowered it as I approached, to great me; a goddess nuzzling an ant. I closed my eyes, as I pressed myself up against the solid mass of bone, and felt our fires connect. I was Sweetie Belle, her sister of old. I would be leaving, for a period of time. Our family would stay here, and protect her. And when I returned, I would embrace her once more like this, and she would know thusly that it was I. She understood, at least as far as I could understand. The structure of her thoughts was still alien, disjointed. I had to interpret vague feelings of emotion sometimes. This time, I sensed worry, and protectiveness—she didn’t want me to go. But when I stepped away, and turned to leave, she didn’t stop me. Maybe it would have been better if she had. * * * It was strange to return to a city of the living. I’d never visited Baltimare in its prime, before the sun stopped in the sky, but it didn’t seem as though it had changed too much. There had been a major demon attack, of course, but it had been fought back, and they’d avoided the city since. While changelings stalked the alleys and ponies tried to move in groups, the city was almost unchanged. There was even still a struggling fishing industry, even though a group of unicorns was trying to buy up all the fish they could for study, for some reason. We’d been greeted warmly by the city government and the citizens of Baltimare—especially Starswirl, since it seemed ponies here knew the legends. I was included just as warmly, as his “apprentice,” since he didn’t seem to mention how temporary the arrangement was. I felt no need to correct them; mostly I just wanted to return to Cloudsdale. The mayor had been particularly warm to us, and granted us plenty of space to work, so long as she got to watch us work directly. To her credit, she made a good effort to understand what we were doing, and how; as a unicorn herself, she could grasp the fundamentals, at least. As I stood on the balcony outside our little command center, atop the city hall, I looked back at the throngs of ponies inside, searching through scrolls and sifting through old books of magic and history. They were searching for anything regarding changelings, that they could use to find their hive, and root them out. There were changeling detection spells, of course, and one could test their blood easily enough. But we needed a solution on a mass scale, something that could clear the hive in one fell swoop—or at least detect it. But all the ponies inside...somehow, I’d gotten used to my quiet little valley, and our relatively small group of ponies. The familiar faces that I knew well. I missed them, and I felt almost...overcrowded here. The whole city felt choking, like it was crushing me. I had to swallow that feeling down, and focus on saving them. Once the changelings were gone, I could return to my ponies. Return to Rarity. * * * I’d been humming again while I worked. It hadn’t caught on here like it had in Cloudsdale, but that suited me fine; I preferred to keep these unfamiliar ponies at leg-length, so I didn’t get attached. Starswirl was the opposite; he had been schmoozing and chatting with city officials, and more ponies than I could count that came and went, delivering analysis scrolls throughout the city to perform magical scans, and then returning the results to him. There was no night to work long into any more, but I definitely felt fatigued after I’d been working for long enough. My idle humming grew mournful, and slowed down. The spellwork I was working on...it was based on what I knew of how Rarity had dispersed herself, but intentional, and it would keep my form coherent, instead of scattering to the winds like she had. Starswirl approved of the idea, and he improved on it further; under his guidance, the spell expanded from being cast on a single target, to being cast within an area of effect, while excluding changelings, even those in disguise. In theory, I could cast it within a room, and everypony within the room would take on a ghostly appearance, while the changelings would be left unaffected. A longer-term version of the spell would allow ponies to chase the changelings down into their tunnels, map them out, and find the hive, without fear of being struck down. After all, there wasn’t much that a changeling could do to harm a being of mist. In the meantime, the transformed changelings—those liberated from Queen Chrysalis, long ago, by Starlight Glimmer—were as helpful as they could be. But their numbers fell every day, as it seemed as though they were being hunted by the dark changelings from below. Killed in the streets, or worse—I’d heard stories about the King’s own brother Pharynx, being dragged down into the storm drains alive and whole. King Thorax himself was still free, however, and acted as a liaison between our command center and the civilian changelings of Baltimare. The work was slow, but it was nearing completion. With Starswirl always double-checking my spellwork and correcting my errors, I was sure that soon, we would clear the hive, and finally strike a real blow against Queen Chrysalis. * * * This was it, the first full-scale test of our new spell. We’d tried it in private, and ironed out any unwanted side effects. Starswirl had been checking and double-checking my spellwork even just a few minutes ago, but I’d learned by this point how to integrate the new changes into the spells as needed. Starswirl needed me to be an adaptable caster, and so I became as such. We stood in an auditorium, on a stage before what must have been a hundred ponies. Mostly city leaders, determined reporters, and the Captain of the Baltimare guard; all in various states of Hollowing. Though this spell wouldn’t cure that side effect of my sister’s gift, it would hopefully reduce its severity, while exposing any changelings in our midst. For that reason, the reasons for the press conference had been scheduled and set up in secrecy; only the mayor had been given even sparse details, and she thought that we were going to explain the fundamentals of the spell, with no live demonstration. We needed a large crowd to test it upon, and changelings needed to be enticed to attend while wearing disguises. If they knew what we really intended, then they’d disappear back into hiding. The mayor stepped away from the podium, after giving a speech to which I hadn’t bothered to listen. Starswirl took her place behind the megaphone, but he didn’t say much else of note either; he was just buying time, waiting to get as many ponies into the room as possible. He turned to me, as though introducing me to speak next, and gave the signal. I walked up alongside him as a corona of pale green magic surrounded my horn—it amused him that my own natural magic color was so similar to that of the changelings around us. I stepped up to the megaphone, pointed my horn at the ceiling, and released the spell. There was a flash, as a wave of magic washed through the room, and—something was wrong. It kept going. The wave of magic pushed through the walls, beyond this room, rolling through the city. I could feel it, because I was part of it. The particles of my body stayed in place, but the space between them grew, and I felt myself b e g i n t o d i s p e r s e N O F I G H T I T I pressed myself back together. I couldn’t lose control of it, or else I’d end up just like Rarity. I had to be coherent, had to remain together, even if my particles became mist. When I opened my eyes—or what I understood as the particles of my eyes—my vision was wrong. I could see no colors, no texture, only the most basic outlines of shapes in a pale light that seemed to have no source. It took a moment of focus, but I could make out the shapes of ponies in front of me, even with my vision so altered. So few ponies. And so many more changelings. How had so many gotten into the room? I saw the few pony shapes—not whole, mist like myself, and infinitely more confused at their newly-altered state—leap away from them in shock, but there weren’t enough. Too many pillars of Baltimare society had already been replaced. The very city government had been deeply infiltrated. Even the Captain of the Guard; where he had sat, a very surprised changeling bared her fangs at us. Noise rushed back as I turned to Starswirl, and tried to form words, but they wouldn’t come. Starswirl was radiant, somehow; he alone had retained his true shape, that of a pony, and his horn was leveled at the mayor. Even she had been replaced, supplanted by a changeling infiltrator. How long ago had this happened? Had we ever known the real mare, or only the changeling that wore her face? “What is this, Starswirl?!” She hissed, scraping at her chitinous legs. Her horn flared, trying to reform her disguise, but the spell had disrupted that. It wasn’t permanent, and it wouldn’t last long. Nor would the mist-forms of the ponies throughout Baltimare, now. But it would be long enough to see things how they really were. “Consider our deal broken, Kitt’raak.” Starswirl’s horn burned bright with pony magic, in a way that I’d never seen it, except in the echoes of Rarity’s memories. “You can cancel the negotiations we’d planned with your ‘Ken’ as well.” “Traitor!” She hissed in shock, and leapt at him, only to bounce off his wards. She landed at my ethereal hooves instead. “You have betrayed us, and betrayed the loyalists! You would see us all dead?!” “I’ve fought you insects for decades, a millennium in the past. I’d have hoped that you would be hunted by extinction by the time I returned, but it seems as though the sisters would prefer to hunt larger prey.” Starswirl lowered his head, so that only the three of us could hear him. “It makes no difference to me whether you follow the dreams of Celestia, or Chrysalis, or any other Queen. I created you insects by accident, and it’s time I corrected that mistake.” The changeling-that-had-been-the-mayor bared her fangs, and leapt—but not at Starswirl. Instead, she twisted and tackled me, only to fall through my body. I shuddered at the sensation, as I’d expected an impact, but there wasn’t enough of my physical form for her to touch. She stumbled, and looked at her chitinous hooves, then back at me. “What—what is this? This isn’t the spell you—Lies! More lies! Damn you!” Starswirl let out a satisfied chuckle. “Sweetie Belle? I think it’s time we rooted the changelings out of Baltimare.” I stared at my hoof, and willed the particles that were my hoof to reform, to turn solid. What was a pony’s hoof became thin, and the tip sharpened, into a blade made of solid mist, that was part of me. My eyes fell to the changeling that had worn the face of a pony this entire time, and the chaos that filled the room as the few other ponies of mist created knives of their own leapt upon the swarm of undisguised changelings. They fled for cover, but there was nowhere to run. We might not be able to see color. But I was sure the carpets would be soaked through with blue very, very soon. And it was hard not to let out a hum of satisfaction, as the stress of the ages since the sun had stopped was released through my blade. * * * Everything was wrong. The spell hadn’t worn off. It was supposed to wear off. I missed my physical form. But all I could feel was the cold mist that I had become. I couldn’t even leave. Something tethered me here, to Baltimare, to where I’d cast the spell. Trying to go too far yanked me back, like I was wrapped in an invisible leash. The others were trapped, just like me. Trapped in this city, where the Changelings had fled, and gone to ground in a million tiny nesting-holes. But none of us could escape now. All we could do was kill, as Starswirl had wanted. But Starswirl himself was gone. His horn had flashed, only moments after I killed the changeling-that-was-the-mayor, and I never saw him again. He must have known. He must have known, because he had to be the one who did it. He had been editing my spellwork, adding in bits and pieces to correct my errors; it would have been simplicity itself to insert little conditions, extend durations and range and side effects. Fragmented pieces of additional spells that I didn’t understand, that combined to change the overall work of the spell. To corrupt my casting. This was all his fault. He had betrayed me, just as he had betrayed the changelings. He must have seen what I was doing in Cloudsdale; he must have felt I was dangerous, or my little acolytes were. And this was how he stopped me. He tied me here, in a form that could cast no magic, while he returned to slay them himself. I was a fool to trust him. I had always been. And now all I could do now—all any of us, converted to mist, could do now—was kill. Just as he intended. * * * I paced outside the entrance to the tunnel. This was one of many entrances to the hive below, but I dearly wish I could have found it before that damnable insect covered it in wards. More rules that my ethereal form had to follow, that the bugs did not. A noise; I looked up, and found the ponies that had slain my kin, had tainted me with the dark. I was alone now, because of them, and I knew them to be agents of Starswirl, or changelings in disguise. Eventually, they would emerge from the tunnel. And I could wait forever for my chance to cut them down. Without that damnable knife, they had no defence. One of them, that ragged Hollow, emerged first from the tunnel. She was cautious, but I knew to be wary; she had been the one to retrieve that knife from the museum. She could have found another, or some other artifact with which to slay me. As I thought, she held something in her hoof. I could feel the pull of the dark, familiar—too familiar. I focused on it, and every particle of mist that comprised my being froze solid. That was the Element of Generosity. Rarity’s element. She had it, here. She must have been to Cloudsdale. She must have seen what had become of my ponies. And if she had that, then she must have slain my sister, for she would commune with nopony else. Or she must have been one of Starswirl’s agents, and he must have done so for her. Why had she brought it here? To mock me? Mist coalesced under her, freezing her in place, and I brought the Hollowed fool forward. There was no mistaking it, but the gem in the necklace...it had gone cold, and lifeless. Drained, once more. Had she done it, or another? Perhaps Starswirl...there was no way to know. I’d often thought of Rarity, since I had been bound to this damned city. I’d tried to disperse myself, like her, but no matter what I did, I could not escape. No matter how small my being was, no matter the size of the particles or their density, I was trapped here. I was so tired of it all. Tired of the killing. Tired of this city. If this was his solution to my isolation...I would know my sister one last time, as opposed to being pulled into the howling dark at the end of all things, at a time far distant from now. I looked into the little pathetic embers of the Hollow’s eyes. She wasn’t trapped here. She was free. And even if I could not have my revenge, then perhaps she could enact it for me. I could at least make her understand that Starswirl could never be trusted. That he needed to die. How much of all this was his fault as well? Were we all pawns in his sick game, slaying each other so he wouldn’t have to lift a hoof? That bearded bastard had avoided the dark for too long. There would be no escape into Limbo this time. No peace. Please. For me. For my students. For Rarity.  Starswirl must be slain. * * * I fell to the ground, coughing and wheezing. I’d never appreciated the sensation of physical form, such as I did now. What I’d experienced in those memories was radically different to any sensation I’d ever known, on the most fundamental level. And I’d only known the sensation of being mist for brief flashbacks; to be permanently trapped as that, in that form, in this place...no wonder Sweetie Belle had gone mad. Little wonder she’d become the Banshee. Claws gripped the nape of my armor, and Gilda hauled me to my hooves. “Holly! What happened? What’d you do?” I shook my head, as my hooves shook under me. I wasn’t ready to support my own weight, but I had to stand. “T-too much. Is the B-Banshee still...?” Gilda shook her head. “Nah, she grabbed you, and she was staring into your eyes like she was considering whether she should bite your head off. Then she got sucked into that necklace? At least, that’s how it looked.” That was it, then. The Banshee had been slain, or...perhaps Sweetie Belle had finally given up. Any feeling of success was bittersweet, after what I’d seen in her memories. After what she’d chosen to show me? I felt sympathy for the mare, no matter how badly she’d been trying to kill us before. Starswirl had betrayed both sides here in Baltimare. I wheezed as I shuddered, my legs weak. “W-we shouldn’t say here—” “Yeah. the others are already moving! Let’s get out of here before the Changelings catch on!” I glanced back at the dark tunnel, and the gleaming eyes watching us from the shadows. Without the ghosts to patrol the streets of this dead city, the changelings could run rampant once more. It would be best if we weren’t here when they braved the outside once more, and discovered their newfound freedom. Gilda took wing, and I followed her on the ground. Together, we followed the others out of the city.