An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

178 - Reunion

Extended Holiday
Chapter 178: Reunion

Twelve hours later, the Gantrithor hovered over New Unity and most of the troops with wings had disembarked. Grif, Day Moon, Kel’leam, Cayde, Tarefson, and Victry all sat in a private room aboard the airship in front of Hammer Strike and anyone he thought necessary. They had only just finished their debriefing of everything that had happened.

“And yeah, Sombra was gone before we got there. Raised a goddess, fought a deep one.” Grif shrugged.

Hammer Strike frowned as he thought on everything. “I’ll have to start some scans again,” he muttered.

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Cayde said. “I’m back.”

“Yeah, and I’m going to have to spend the next week fixing you.” Hammer Strike frowned. “It’s good you’re alive. Don’t get me wrong.”

“I know introductions are already past here, so shouldn’t we be focusing on discussing what to do next?” Avalon asked. “The fact that Sombra was willing to do something that drastic is a danger to all of Equis. We need a means to track him other than Grif’s vow.”

“I may have a solution to that, though it would take time to set up.” Hammer Strike frowned. “It is also unlikely to work perfectly, given any satellite or magical mapping from the Alicorns are definitely gone.”

“Okay, questions about what satellites are aside, there is one other matter to settle,” Shrial noted. “What in Tartarus’ name happened to you, Hammer Strike?”

“The Alicorn Empire wasn’t so kind in their prime,” he simplified. “That, and I’m roughly two thousand years older than when you last saw me.”

More than one brow raised in the chamber, immortals and privy members already excluded.

“You look pretty good for two thousand,” Avalon noted. Snowy hooted on her shoulder, and she stroked the bird’s feathers lovingly.

“Aw, stop, you’ll make me blush,” Hammer Strike commented sarcastically, raising a brow. “In any case, it turned out that if stress, poison, and the weighing presence of a god doesn’t kill you, the Alicorn tech will double down on ensuring I stay alive, followed by alternative means also, doubling down.”

“And did this tech do something to Clover, too?”

“Not at all. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “Her magic changed while we were casting. I wondered if this technology of yours might have had something to do with it.”

“No, she’s never had to use it.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Thankfully. Trust me, it’s not a pleasant experience. To clarify my statement from earlier, Sombra comes from the Crystal Empire. And given the nature of said place, he’s trackable through means of the empire. I, however, would need to create the system to do so.”

Pensword raised a wing. “Wait, you mean there can be a system to track all Crystal Ponies?” He put a wing over his forehead and shook his head.

“So, you can make a tracker for him?” Grif asked.

“Maybe. It all depends on if I can make a relay for it. I’ll have to make designs and establish a crystal matrix out here in Equestria.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It won’t be anytime soon. There’re plenty of things that are of major importance right now, including the fact that he has undone all of my work in clearing these specific creatures.”

Pensword shuddered. “They unnerve me, to say the least.” Fear flashed in his eyes as he looked to his friends. Tightly controlled, but present all the same. “You need to teach us, at least to protect our homes and cities. Not to hunt, but to protect what we have.”

“”I’ll lend you some of the old tomes,” Grif said. “As it is….” He sighed. “I have reason to believe that everything thought gone is coming back. Vampires, undead, things of that style. Shouldn't be surprised if cultists and necromancers start popping up, too.”

“Joy.” Pensword deadpanned. “Just what we need, dark robe-wearing nuts.”

“Hammer strike, I normally wouldn’t do this, but I need financial help,” Grif stated. “As of now, I am pushing the building and activating of an adventurer’s guild to top priority.”

“I’ll establish priority on that, as well as bring you an individual who knows everything you’ll need to know.” Hammer Strike nodded.

“The compound’s already firmly warded,” Grif noted as he looked to Avalon. “Can you get a group together to start warding the rest of Unity?”

“You won’t need to,” Hammer Strike cut in. “Clover, would you do me a favor?”

“Well, not with everybody here, but maybe afterwards.”

Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “Oh, you know what I meant. Start preparations for the return of Ainz.”

“I’ll make sure everything’s ready. Last thing we need is every Pony nearby freaking out when he shows himself.” Clover nodded.

“An elder lich Minotaur would result in plenty of questions and panic,” he agreed.

“Wait, an elder lich?” Grif stopped. “As in triple-S ranked threat, kill-on-sight-or-run monster lich?”

“Indeed. You need not worry about him, since the entity he bound his soul to for power was … well, me,” Hammer Strike replied simply.

Pensword’s jaw dropped as his eyes lost focus. “What?”

Grif seemed stunned as he attempted to process the information.

Vital Spark shrugged. “If you’re the one he’s bound to, then there’s no problem, right?”

“I fought against the world with every means available to me.” Hammer Strike’s eyes hardened. “Every means available to me, even going so far as to bind more souls to mine to avoid the chance of corruption.”

“Yeah.” Clover shrugged. “It kept me safe from the darker magics.”

Grif shook his head. “Well, massive reveals aside, how do we move forward from here? Equestria’s not exactly ready for this kind of problem.”

“It certainly is not.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Thus, I think it’s about time I take back my throne. Of course, I’ll need to gather a few individuals and things first.”

“Your throne?” Shrial asked.

“Yes.” Hammer Strike turned his attention to Shrial. “I spent over two thousand years creating Equestria, and I refuse to let it fall to the likes of these creatures. My daughters may have kept things in check until now, but it’s time I restore things to how they once were.”

“Hail to the king.” Grif chuckled.

“The once and future king,” Vital added. “How ironic that title actually fits.”

“If there is nothing else to discuss, then it is time we depart and get back to work,” Hammer Strike remarked. “Circlet, you’ll be coming with as well.”

“Of course.” The golem nodded.

“Are we finally done?” Tarefson commented from his position.

“Yeah, we’re done.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes.

Pensword jumped at the new voice, having seemingly missed the being. He looked and his navy coat paled. “Va-vampire?” He put his head to the table. “Hammer Strike’s oath, monsters fighting monsters.”

“Yeah, yeah, vampire, scourge, killer, whatever you want to call me.” Tarefson rolled his eyes. “Come along, Guard Filly. We’ve got to get a look at our new fixer-upper home!”

Angelica Victry rolled her eyes as she approached her savior and maker. “Why are you always so sarcastic?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Pensword muttered into the table. “To keep imposters in check?” he asked sarcastically. “Nothing could fake that level of snark, Sergeant. And technically, you are dead, so congrats, you got your two rank promotion.”

“Does that mean I get a raise in my pay?”

“Yes, and a transfer to New Unity, so the Nobles don’t go raiding that.”

She smiled. “Well, maybe this isn’t all bad, after all.”

Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he made his way into the depths of New Unity. He had taken time to purposely avoid anyone, since he didn’t feel like explaining things several times before he could just make a speech and get it over with in one action. Thankfully, despite the obvious reconfiguration of the castle compared to what it once was, he was able to locate the chamber containing his sword.

Upon entering the room, he gave a soft sigh, taking in the sight of Astral Abyss. It had surprisingly lacked any wear from the years it spent down in the depths. “It’s been a long time, but hopefully that spatial lock kept the tomb from having to experience all those years.”

“Knowing you and the fact that you literally account for just about every possibility you can, I’m guessing it’s probably fine,” Vital Spark said as he looked around the space, then whistled. “You really went all out for this entrance, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ve never made a spatial lock like this before.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “But yes, I wanted to ensure it was obvious.” He approached the blade and sighed as he prepared himself for what was to come. Then he placed his hoof on the grip and pulled the blade out in one clean motion. Not even a speck of dust sat on the metal, leaving each of the clan marks gleaming in the torchlight around them. After taking a moment to study the blade, he flipped it in his grip before placing it against his back, where it locked into place.

The doors opened with the loud crunching of stone against stone. The chamber within the doors was a wide open space made entirely of stone bricks. Torches of dark fire lit up instantly as the door swung open to reveal the truly gigantic bear skull that took up the entirety of the chamber. Inside the bear's mouth lay another door of onyx.

Vital whistled. “Is this that skull?”

“Indeed. Ainz wanted to use it.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he strode forward. “Be prepared. Though time passed differently here, it still passed in some capacity. There has likely been a change in ‘staff.’”

The onyx door opened to reveal another large chamber; however, this one was carved from rough stone and frozen on every visible surface. On the far wall next to a massive door were weapons of various types and styles arrayed to be picked up at a moment’s notice. Sitting before the door was a massive creature. Plates of armor like chitin covered it entirely. The face was insectoid in nature with large mandibles. Six dark blue gem-like eyes looked out upon them. Off the creature’s huge thorax sat four powerful arms, each ending in three-fingered hands covered in gauntlet-like chitin. The creature had two legs covered in even more plating. Two toes pointed forward on each with a third spikelike toe coming out the back and another growing a few inches above that. Behind him, a thick tail like a segmented tube lay ending in several jagged spikes.

The ground shook as the beast rose to his feet and walked toward them. The air became almost colder as it approached.

“Greetings, you who visit the sacred tomb of Nazarick. I am Cocytus, the guardian of this floor and the gate. Who are you, and what is your business here?” The voice was booming but also slightly gravely.

“Hammer Strike. I’ve come for Ainz,” Hammer Strike called out.

“Oh, forgive me, supreme one. I have only stories, and did not realize who you were. Shall I make a portal for you to the throne room?”

Hammer Strike raised a brow at the comment before replying, “If you would.”

Cocytus reached out a massive hand in front of him, and a large oval-shaped portal appeared.

“Come along, Vital,” Hammer Strike remarked as he moved on.

Vital Spark nodded and quickly followed behind. He offered a swift, “Thank you,” before passing through the swirling mass and into a vaulted throne room lined with banners. A great throne lay on the far end, where the skeletal form of Ainz Ooal Gown sat with focus in hand. A tall sleek figure in pure white garments stood by his side. Her skin was flawless and smooth, her dark hair glossy, and black wings sprung from her waist to make her look almost like an angel. The only part of her that betrayed the facade was her yellow eyes.

“Well now, this is a pleasant surprise,” Ainz said, holding up a hand to Hammer Strike. “It has been some time.”

“I’d certainly hope not too long,” Hammer Strike remarked. “Though, given the nature of the spatial lock, I wouldn’t be too surprised.”

“Depends how you look at it. After all, on the outside world, more than ten thousand years have passed,” Ainz noted. “In the tomb, it has been a mere millennium since we last spoke.”

“Well, it’s time. Though Equestria is not how any of us remember it, we’re needed once more.”

“My life’s purpose is, of course, to serve you, my king,” Ainz said with a sweep of the hand.

The creature at Ainz’s side fixed Hammer Strike with a glare, then looked back to the lich. “King?” she asked. “Lord Ainz, surely, you can’t be serious. This is the great one who stole the souls of the others from their masters and returned them?”

“Albedo, calm down. Lord Hammer Strike is the one who granted me lichdom. My soul is bound to him. Thus your soul and the souls of the other guardians are also his,” Ainz said.

The sudden fire that had blazed in Albedo’s eyes died immediately. Like the leash of a dog pulled short, she retreated demurely to her lord’s side and bowed her head in shame. “Of course, Lord Ainz. I … am sorry for being such an embarrassment to you.”

“Do not apologize to me, Albedo,” he said as his eye sockets flashed bright red.

“O-of course, my lord.” She turned to face Hammer Strike and bowed deeply. “My apologies for my rudeness, Lord Hammer Strike.”

“You need not worry. Considering this is our first meeting, I am not surprised by doubt,” he replied.

“How may we be of service?” she asked.

“While it is certainly interesting to see new faces within the Tomb, I have several things that need to be done. The tomb is open once more, and I would recommend you catch up with Clover, much like Binding is right now.” Hammer Strike sighed. “The world has changed, and creatures we’ve removed have been brought back once more. The hunters will need training.”

Ainz stroked his bony muzzle. “I see. I’ll look into it immediately,” he said as his gloves and mask appeared.

“Just how many people live here?” Vital asked curiously.

Albedo smirked. “Legions, little Pony. But I’m certain they won’t do you any harm, so long as you don’t go against Lord Ainz’s will.” She brushed a hand gently over his chin, leaving the spicy scent of perfume mixed with pheromones that left the colt’s heart racing. “Do try not to disappoint.”

Vital Spark gulped. “Uh, Hammer Strike, anything else we need to do down here?” he asked nervously.

“No, it’s time we return. I have more work for myself.” He sighed. “Ainz, you wouldn’t happen to have kept tabs on the outside beside the passage of time, would you?”

“I haven’t been able to without risking the lock,” Ainz admitted.

“Damn it.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I need to find Yharon. I appreciate you not stressing the lock. I was just hoping someone would have an idea of what happened to him. Tell me you at least remember him. I’ve already got a few individuals who can’t.”

“Something has affected people's memory of Yharon?” Ainz seemed disturbed by this. “I’m sorry I couldn't be of more help.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He frowned. “I’ll find him, somehow.”

“We’ll find him,” Vital Spark said, then smirked. “I’d like to get to know this nephew, too, or whatever familial relation works best for the metaphor. Cousin, perhaps?”

“I am unsure. In any case, I’ll have to really start looking around, start some scans.”

“We’ll do everything in our power,” Vital promised. “If he’s asleep, Luna can probably find him in an instant, or one of the other dream walkers.”

“Perhaps, though I have doubts about that. Especially since Celestia and Luna lack their memories of him, meaning it had to be something … more.”

“Then we’ll take it as it comes, one step at a time.”

“Indeed,” Hammer Strike said grimly.

“Are you ready?” Grif asked as they stood in front of the door to his home. The girls had gone on ahead with orders not to say anything. Now he and Kel’leam stood before the door which, if according to plan, would be answered by Cheshire.

“You’re asking a male who’s just come back from the grave if he’s ready to meet his wife and son?” He chuckled. “This is a second chance I have no intentions of wasting.” And then he strode to the door and knocked with a heavy rap. He turned and grinned at Grif. “Wait till she gets a load of my new armor.”

“Best face forward, man.” Grif chuckled. “You deserve this, and so does she.”

The door pulled open as Cheshire rolled her eyes. “About time you got back, Grif. The girls are exhausted and—” The usual smirking Gryphoness gaped at the massive figure that stood before her. The door slammed shut less than a second later.

“Well, that was … unexpected,” Kel’leam said. “But … I suppose that is Chesire.”

“Give her a second.” Grif chuckled. “It’s not often you see a loved one rise from the dead.”

“I don’t want to make her go mad, Grif,” Kel’leam said. “I like her crazy just the way it is.”

“She won’t go mad. She’s stronger than that,” Grif said. “Three, two, one….” He counted down with his talons.

The door didn’t budge.

Kel’leam chuckled. “You should know she doesn’t conform to those tropes, Grif.” Kel’leam knocked again. “You know, I could just come through the door if you’re that sure I’m not real. Or I could break it down, I suppose, but I’m pretty sure Grif wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“So, tropes don’t apply?” Grif asked. “What's that on your shoulder?”

“A pauldron.” Kel’leam shrugged, then reached to open the door.

Something tugged lightly on said pauldon with the screech of talons sliding against metal.

“Well, what do we have here?” Kel’leam chuckled as he reached onto his back and pulled a very large cub into view. The great Albatross wings and liger body were only too telling while the familiar piercing gaze of his mother’s eyes peered with that playful feline slit that was both unnerving and adorable at the same time. “Well, well. You must be Cú Chulainn.” Kel’leam held the cub close to his chest and preened the lad’s feathers gently. “Hello, son.”

The cub cooed happily as it pressed into his chest.

Grif laughed. “That's probably more noise than I've ever heard him make.”

Kel’leam smirked. “That’s because he needed someone rigid and reserved to poke fun at, like a certain bird I know. I wonder how long it’s going to take for her to get her flustered behind out here.”

“The Kel’leam I knew never talked like that,” Cheshire said from behind.

Kel’leam shrugged. “Dying has a way of changing a person.” He smiled and pecked her on the cheek. “But never enough to forget you.”

“You big idiot.” Tears streaked down her cheeks as she shouldered into him.

Kel’leam didn’t budge. “You’re going to upset our son if you keep going like that, you know.”

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Kel’leam chuckled. “My pleasure.” He pulled her beak up to his, and the two locked together while Kel’leam maintained a gentle hold on his son to keep him from being smothered.

“And that, ladies, is how you do a proper reunion,” Avalon said from the door.

“Do I dissatisfy you there?” Grif asked as he appeared behind her silently.

“On the contrary,” Shrial said as she kissed him gently on the cheek. “You do just fine.”

“After a little prompting from us,” Avalon added with a mischievous smirk.

Gilda huffed from her place high above on the landing. The twins were batting playfully at her tail and nuzzling her distended belly while Tazeer peeked from atop her back. Grif made his way up to his third wife and gently took his son off her, then placed the cub on his own back. He finished by giving Gilda a peck on the cheek.

“That’s the shortest excavation trip I’ve ever seen.” She blushed. “Welcome back….”

“And yet longer for me,” he said. “I’ve spent three days traveling through time in ten minutes while watching two thousand years progress.” He hugged her gently. “And that reminds me. I need to get the clan together. I have an announcement, and I'm pretty sure it’s not going to be easy to hear. May be joyful, may be terrifying. But everyone needs to know.” He sighed. “The Black Gale is free.”

The house rang with three identical shrieks of, “What?”

Kel’leam chuckled. “Grif, stop teasing them and tell them the whole story.”

Cheshire waved dismissively. “You all can listen. I already know enough. Kel’leam can fill us in on the rest. But first,” she yanked his breastplate and pulled as she marched him toward a patch of shadow. “We have some catching up to do.” Her voice reverberated and faded into a lingering echo as they disappeared.

“Kel’leam still had the cub,” Grif commented.

“And since when have you ever known Chesh to actually mean what she says when she talks like that?” Avalon asked pointedly.

“Fair enough.” Grif sighed. And then he told them everything that had happened inside the dome. “And so, I freed her, and she gave me the ability to summon one warrior’s spirit in exchange.” Grif shrugged.

“And he’ll always be around? He won’t disappear?” Avalon asked.

“As long as I’m alive.” Grif nodded.

“And the Black Gale won’t go out of control again?” Gilda asked. Even her bravado had been shaken loose by the announcement.

“No, I made sure of it,” Grif promised.

“Then we have nothing to worry about,” Shrial said. “What do you say we all have a family night tonight?”

“I’d like that.” Grif grinned “I haven't had an opportunity to for a while.”

“Good. The cubs missed their father.”

“And I’ve missed them,” Grif said, reaching up to stroke his son's head gently.

Tazeer smiled and nuzzled his hand.

“Then that settles that. Let’s get Gilda onto the sofa, and then we can get started.”

“All right, so where does all this leave us now?” Vital Spark asked as he trailed alongside Zecora through the Everfree.

“What came to pass, it will not do. A light must rise, the shadows subdue.”

“And you have an inkling of this light?” Vital Spark theorized.

Zecora smirked. “Who said that there would be only one? Honestly, Vital Spark, does that sound like much fun?”

“You did say a light.”

The Zebra chuckled. “So I did. It seems my senses have slid.”

“Rhyming again?”

“Now and then.” She smiled.

“A ten out of ten,” Vital returned as he smiled with her. “But seriously, Zecora, what is this light?”

“A power born in the still of night that bathes the world and is bane to blight. It slumbered once, but now has awoken. Its call will spread when the name is spoken.”

“A name?”

Zecora smiled as she switched to Zwahili. “You and I will be very busy soon, little brother. I hope you’re ready.”

“To hunt?”

The Zebra’s smile widened as they approached her hut and she opened her door to the familiar sight of her cauldron and other parts of her living space. “To teach.”

“So,” Pensword began as he slowly walked down the lane toward the castle at New Unity. Day Moon laid sleepily across his back, holding closely to Shadowsbane. “Did you keep anything from your hunt?”

Day Moon was silent for a time, and Pensword had to turn his head briefly to make sure the colt was still awake. Finally, Day Moon answered. “I guess you could say that. Something … strange happened. Grif kept me safe and helped me with it, but it’s something I don’t know that much about yet.”

“Feral instincts?” Pensword questioned. “That is something best left to the Wolf Tribe if it is. It’s something every Thestral deals with in one way or another as they grow up. Even I had to talk to the Wolf Tribe at times when I was younger.”

“I … guess that’s one way to describe it,” Day Moon said. “Grif wants to give me lessons to deal with it, too. Do you think it’d be better if I chose to go to the Wolf Tribe instead?”

“Both, Day Moon,” Pensword answered. “Grif has his lessons and knowledge, and so do the Wolf Tribe. One, you trust as your teacher and mentor. The others are more attuned to our unique primal nature, which differs from that of Gryphons. It is possible you can be made whole, or even better, by learning from both.”

“Well said,” Shadowsbane spoke up. “Most wise.”

Day Moon frowned as he looked at his sword. “Pensword, do you think … Do you think you and Father would be all right if I were to be different? I mean, … if I change, will it … will you…?” He struggled to put it into words.

“Day Moon,” Pensword said seriously, “I would love you as my son, no matter what happens, and so would your father. Remember when your mother and I told you about some of your flightless cousins. If they can love us for being different, then we can certainly keep loving you.”

Day Moon smiled and wrapped his hooves around Pensword’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Pensword smiled. “You’re welcome, Day Moon.” He raised a wing to pat his foster son on the back. “These are fears that we all go through in some way or another. Though I probably should explain myself properly. The reason why I asked if you had anything you kept from your hunt is because, although you are older than most foals would be for it, you just completed a rite for coming of age. With Grif acting as witness to your actions, you now have the right to be called a proper stallion. Traditionally, the new stallion takes a trophy from their hunt, preferably something safe, to make a weapon or icon in memory of the trial. Your mother has pauldrons with wolf fangs jutting from them. I have an elk handle knife and my bear eye tooth from Dakota. Given the nature of the creatures you hunted, I am not so certain any trophies you take from them would be advisable to take with you, but even Shadowsbane may well be enough to serve as a proper reminder in this case.

“Regardless, today, you’ve earned the warrior’s rest. For the next two days, you are to be excused from chores and any other hard jobs to recover and reset your sleeping schedule. You also should expect a feast to be prepared by your mother in honor of your first solo hunt. Even if Grif was with you, I know him well enough to know he would have let you stand on your own against the creatures in there.”

“He most certainly did,” Shadowsbane agreed. “And if anyone doubts it, I shall gladly rebut them myself.”

Day Moon chuckled. “That’s the most talkative he’s been outside of battle in ages.”

“In matters of honor, Master Day Moon, I am easily roused. I am a Gryphon sword, after all.”

Day Moon smiled as he patted the sword. “And a wonderful companion.”

“Companion. That sounds so much better than ‘partner.’” The sword shuddered in its scabbard. “Honestly, if I ever start sounding like my brother, I pray you’ll knock some sense into me, Master Day Moon.”

This time, Day Moon laughed. “We’ll see when we come to it, Shadowsbane.”

Pensword chuckled and smiled at the antics as they approached the castle’s main gate. “Just remember, you two. When we get to the apartment, we’re all going straight to bed. No excuses. Understand?”

Day Moon sighed forlornly. “Yes, Father.”

A few moments later, the steady breathing and subtle rasp in the young Thestral’s windpipe paired with the weight of his white head on Pensword’s shoulder told the warrior that the new stallion had fallen asleep. It appeared that for some things, one could never truly be too old.

Pensword chuckled tiredly as he entered the castle halls and slowly drew himself toward the waiting apartment and the soft comforts of bed and mates. They would have quite the story to tell the rest of the tribe when Day Moon had recovered, and he could hardly wait.

Deep within the bowels of the castle, the free air finally passed through a long-forgotten passage. The last fragments of cobwebs fluttered down to the floor as torches burst to life around him to reveal a sight that had not been seen in millennia. A familiar landscape with a rising sun stood off to the side. The cobbled streets and bustling Ponies brought a smile to his face as he passed the scene frozen in a frame. Hurricane stared from his canvas with his famous scowl, and a single empty slot on the wall indicated the place where Unity’s king had once hung Starlight Bulwark’s portrait for Clover. At the very end of the chamber, a great portrait stood awaiting them. Yharon sat behind them with his wings spread wide. Hammer Strike and Clover sat together flanked by Celestia and Luna. Starlight stood next to Luna with his great zweihander across his back. An orange corona tinged with blue surrounded the family as a hint to their intrinsic ties to fire and to each other, as well as to create that feeling of a warm family atmosphere. He smiled at the sight of the portrait and wiped away the tears that threatened to fall as he thought of his sons. He would never see one again, but he would be damned if he was going to lose Yharon.

“I always regretted we never had that in real life,” Clover commented at the family portrait.

“It was a shame, but their journeys weren’t over quick enough.” Hammer Strike frowned.

“You think Celestia would have liked Starlight?” Clover asked.

“Definitely.” He chuckled.

“I’ve worked out the genealogy spell. When we have time, we’ll be able to track our entire line, see if his bloodline survived.”

“I’m curious to see what descendants we have, if it did survive.” Hammer Strike smiled.

“You’ll be surprised,” Harmony assured him as she materialized. Her translucent wings practically glowed in the chamber as she looked to her contractor and finally to Clover. She smiled at the pair, though it fell when she looked at Yharon.

“Though I doubt the answer, Harmony, would you happen to know where he is?” Hammer Strike asked.

She nodded somberly. “I do.”

Hammer Strike suddenly tensed up as his mind caught her response, and he turned swiftly to face her.. “Hold on, you do?”

“He’s alive,” she promised. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

Clover let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Where is he?” Hammer Strike’s voice wavered for a moment before holding once more.

“Asleep. He’s with Father Anderson.”

Hammer Strike blinked a few times at the statement. “He … didn’t have much longer when I left, so I assume you mean, well, his body.”

Harmony nodded. “He served Unity to the end.”

“Can you tell us where?” Clover asked.

“Where he lived is where he rests.”

Hammer Strike’s eyes dimmed momentarily as he thought over the location. “Based off the castle’s position compared to the land around us, it’s … buried.” He frowned. “There’s nothing where it once stood besides open ground.”

Clover screwed her eyes tight. Immediately, her horn covered in layers and layers of magic gaining in intensity until a final light so blinding even hammer strike had to look away filled the area. Clover released the spell in a massive wave that spread out around them. She stood quiet for almost ten minutes before her head turned almost robotically. “It’s there, just underground, deep underground. Something buried it. I mean, even with the time that's happened, there is no way it could end up that deep.”

“Something did. But that is a story that Yharon will have to tell you.” For the first time, Harmony showed not only regret, but … shame.

“Could I make a tunnel from near your tree, Harmony?” Hammer Strike asked.

“Not in my cave. My roots stretch far. You might hit them accidentally. But I believe there is another location in the gorge that should suffice for a starting point.”

Hammer Strike wasted no time in creating a rift at his side. “Direct me and I can make a tunnel,” he said before crossing over, followed by Clover. The two stood before Harmony’s physical form. The tree sparkled and tinkled in the cavern, spreading its light.

Clover concentrated as they ran toward the cavern’s entrance, and a simple line of magic sparked in the air and traced the path onward. “Follow it,” she ordered.

Hammer Strike nodded. “You’ll have to forgive me for my urgency, Harmony, but…” He turned his attention toward the line and ensured he was a clear distance from the tree before thaumic fire surrounded his hooves and the earth in front of him began to dissipate and turn to crystal. Said crystals, he left for Clover to collect.

The light gradually faded the deeper they tunneled. Crystal after crystal was carefully taken and stored. And as the darkness finally swallowed the day, Clover conjured a mage light to see and properly handle the aspects that Hammer Strike continued to crystallize.

At last, the final chunk of earth gave way and then stopped. There was no falling, no clatter. The chunks continued to shrink, and the last earth crystals formed to be carefully stored. In the light of Clover’s projection, the space ahead revealed a perfectly preserved globe. Dust and dirt were suspended like air bubbles in ice. And as Clover followed her husband into the space, she cast her light high into the chamber and turned up the intensity to shower the space with illumination. Occasionally rainbows would filter back through the air as a result of the light refracting through the barest hints of roots. It would seem that Harmony had guarded this place for many a year.

The great arches and ridgid gothic structure of the cathedral stood as prominently as it had in its prime. The white magelight gave it an almost ghostly quality, and the many stained glass windows cast in shadow obscured any possibility of seeing what laid within. But there was something Hammer Strike did sense beyond those portals. Two somethings, to be exact. The life force of his son, and a burning divine power that blazed with the strength of the primal.

“Clover.” Hammer Strike attempted to speak up, though his voice didn’t travel far. “Gather a powerful mage to assist, just in case. I’ll see if I can clear things up in the meanwhile.”

Clover vanished in a flash.

Almost instantly, time altered around Hammer Strike. it seemed even more sluggish than was normal for the cave. He felt a familiar presence behind him as a voice spoke up. "To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better than facing fearful odds for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods?"

Hammer Strike turned to face the voice, taking in the figure of someone familiar, though his conversations before hadn’t followed this nature. “Sleipnir?”

“Hammer Strike,” Sleipnir acknowledged.

“This … isn't how you normally visit?” He questioned. “Though, last time was under the guise of an older stallion,” he muttered.

“Somehow, a random older stallion appearing to you in a cavern that has been sealed for millennia with the only entrance being a tunnel you made yourself seemed like it would give me away.”

“Well, if you offered a sword, I’d probably buy into the act,” Hammer Strike joked, uncertain on whether the deity would even get it.

Sleipnir chuckled. “Perhaps, but you have enough weapons of that caliber. Though I imagine Bahamut will be happy to know you found this place.”

“It ... certainly doesn’t feel right.” Hammer Strike frowned as he glanced over the cave. “But, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Supernatural order is about as natural as supernatural chaos,” Sleipnir noted. “It is interesting to look upon the resting place of one of the few people with the gonads to make demands of a god.”

“Make demands of you? Last I checked, he was Faustian and refused to acknowledge you as much as he could, despite your blessing upon him.”

“He was a very abstract individual. Blessed by myself, devoted to my daughter, and yet his actions leaned toward my wife’s portfolio.” He chuckled again. “You knew he had my blessing. What do you think could have killed him with it still upon him?”

“Many things, but I’ll assume you had something to do with it.”

“He cursed me, blasphemed me, demanded me to lift my blessing. Ordered it, if you can believe it. He ordered me!” Sleipnir's tone was almost mirthful. “Had I been present, I am certain he’d have attacked me.”

Hammer Strike thought it over. “Yeah, … he definitely would have.”

“I’m sure you can guess why you have a church frozen in time miles beneath the ground,” Sleipnir continued. “That kind of magic takes sacrifice.”

“So that’s why.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It does explain a few things.”

“He was a unique mortal.” Sleipnir sighed. “My grandfather would have had him in Valhalla for certain.”

Hammer Strike took a moment before shaking his head. “Right, Odin and all them. This is still very strange, I’d like to point out.”

“Not enjoying your bizarre adventure? Prefer more posing? An over-the-top villain maybe?”

“Ex Divinia etiam, no. I’m good. As I mentioned to Faust, and Bonnie, you all honestly put me on edge, all the time,” Hammer Strike replied bluntly.

“Fear of god is important. Even if it’s not your god, it’s healthy to fear those you know exist,” Sleipnir said. “It would be like taming a lion. No matter how tame it seems, it will always put you on edge.”

“I’ve … got a manticore at the castle?” Hammer Strike offered questioningly.

“I was attempting to use a metaphor.” Sleipnir rolled his eyes. “I would offer to help, but unfortunately, it’s not my temple.” He shrugged helplessly. 

“Like that’d actually stop you,” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “From what I’ve gathered, you’re the top dog of this realm.”

“My wife hasn’t spoken to me in seven millennia. Do you think I want my daughter to give me the cold shoulder as well?”

“... Fair enough?”

“You need to get rid of the stones you still have,” Sleipnir added. “I’m not sure how much longer you can tether yourself to mortality with so much power.”

“I’m trying,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “And I’m not about to start handing them out to individuals I don’t know. Maybe Grif to lock it away or something, but…”

“Consider it a word of warning. You are an interesting creation. I’d hate to have to kill you.”

“I don’t need more pressure put on me, please,” Hammer Strike commented.

“Very well. Faust will be visiting you sometime soon, something about a favor she owes you. But for now, I need to be leaving. My wife wants you to set a meeting with her and your Gryphon. Tell him to bring the boy as well.”

“I’ll work on it.” Hammer Strike placed a hoof on his forehead.

“Cheer up. Your son lives. Also, you’ll find something you're missing in there,” the eight-legged Alicorn said as he turned to leave. The ghostly clopping of his hooves thudded mutely in the still air before even that, too, faded into the emptiness, and he was gone.

Hammer Strike let out a breath as Sleipnir left him, the tension in his muscles starting to relax as time began to flow once more. After a few seconds, he moved purposefully toward the cathedral’s entrance.

Moments later, Clover appeared with Twilight in tow.

“I’m back.” she offered.

“Give me a minute,” Hammer Strike commented. “Slephnir decided to show up, and I just … need a second.”

“And he couldn’t have helped?”

“Not his church, and he’s already got enough issues with his wife. Apparently, he prefers to at least have some semblance of a stable relationship with his daughter?”

“Huh.” Clover shrugged. “Take the time you need. I'll work on the equations,” she said.

Twilight, meanwhile, stared at the building itself and frowned. “I know you mentioned that it had been preserved, but this is above and beyond the norm for a preservation spell. This feels like sealing magic.”

“It is sealing magic,” Clover said. “Pure order forced into the space to stop entropy entirely.”

“We’ll be in there soon,” Hammer Strike remarked, placing his hoof on the door as he pat the spot mostly to comfort the thought, only for the sudden rush of dirt and dust to disrupt him as everything around them suddenly settled and the door creaked, opening slightly at his touch.

Hammer Strike blinked a few times before turning to Clover. “Wow, you work quick.”

“That … wasn’t me,” Clover said.

Hammer Strike slowly turned his attention to Twilight with a questioning brow.

“Don’t look at me!” Twilight objected.

Hammer Strike frowned as he turned back to the door. “Then … was it me?” he questioned as he slowly pushed the door open further.

“It must have been tied to you,” Clover guessed. “It ended when you opened the door.”

Hammer Strike finally gave in and pushed the door open fully, revealing the cathedral’s interior.

Even with their artificial light, the shadows rose high over the ball and surrounded them. The entrance felt more like a great tomb than a chapel. A large dish was set into a pedestal and filled with pure water. Row after row of massive pews stood on either side of them as their hoofsteps echoed and reverberated through the chamber. There was no sign of the windows they had viewed outside. The chamber was too vast. Massive pillars and arches rose into the shadows like the spindly legs of a slumbering beast.

“I can hardly see anything. Just how big is this cathedral?” Twilight asked.

“Anderson went a little overboard when he was given full access to the treasury to upgrade the church.” Clover shrugged.

“Despite everything, he didn’t spend too much,” Hammer Strike remarked. “He was quite persuasive.”

“Persuasive or intimidating?” Twilight asked.

“Yes,” Clover and Hammer Strike confirmed.

Hammer Strike took the lead from the group as he made his way further into the cathedral. Before long, a series of familiar silhouettes took shape.

Hammer Strike’s throne of Dragon bone and scales sat on the dais in the center. It lay as colourful as ever with it’s collection of varied dragon scales. Sitting at the top of the backrest was the familiar platinum scale that while having no visual difference from the rest, drew the eye and gave one a shiver down their spine. Sitting on the throne in pristine white robes sat a very ancient and very dead Gryphon. Clutched in his talons was a long sword of silver and a simple round circlet of steel with a sapphire embedded into it.

A familiar figure wrapped protectively around the dais. His breathing was deep and rumbled through the air as he slept. One feathered wing rested protectively around the throne, as if it could somehow shelter it from the cold darkness that surrounded the room and breathe life into the dead frame that laid against the throne’s back.

Hammer Strike’s expression softened as he looked over the scene. 

Clover hung her head and a single tear dropped to the ground. “Had to die in the most show-offy pose possible, didn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t expect any different.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile as he moved forward. He stopped near Yharon and took a seat. “Yharon,” he called out softly. “Come on, my boy. It’s time to wake up.”

A low purring rumble heaved out the Dragon’s chest. The air stirred as a warm breath steamed in the cold air through his nostrils.

“Yharon.” Clover cooed in a fashion Twilight had never heard from the mage before. “It’s time to get up. You’ve been asleep a long time.”

The Dragon murmured sleepily. “Must be dreaming….”

“Come on now, Yharon. I’d rather not use extremes to wake you.” Hammer Strike chuckled softly.

“If this is a dream, I swear—” He broke off as one great eye fixed itself on the mare. It rolled toward Hammer Strike, and finally to a familiar purple Alicorn. “All three of you.” He raised his long neck and stared at the trio with misty eyes. “Is this real?”

Clover moved forward and attempted to wrap her hooves around him, burying her own misty eyes in his feathers. “I missed you.”

Yharon seized the mare in an iron grip and wept out his four eyes as he clung to her. “You’re alive.” Hammer Strike soon found himself levitated by Yharon’s magic to join the embrace. “Are you really back? I mean, is this your present?”

“Indeed, it is,” Hammer Strike replied, returning the embrace.

“Thank the gods.” He shuddered, then sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Clover soothed as she brushed a hoof along his great neck. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m not, Mother,” he said softly. “But with you both here, I think I will be, in time. Did Harmony tell you where we were?”

“It was the way we located you,” Hammer Strike replied. “The cathedral is currently around three miles underground.”

Yharon sniffled and returned his foster parents to the ground. Then he swiped the tears from his eyes and rose to his full height. “Then we haven't much time. We need to raise the cathedral before we all choke. Either that or get out the way you came in. We are still underground, right?”

“I had planned on it, given the fact that ‘New’ Unity is in need of a cathedral, and this one is still well off. I’ll have to align things on bringing it up, but there is a space ample enough to hold it.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Twilight, teleport topside and clear the area where the church was meant to be built. You’ll know it when you see it. It’s got plenty of markers.”

“Won’t you need me above the cathedral first?” Twilight asked.

“I’ll be realigning it as I raise it.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Needs to work with the current layout of the city. Clover, I’ll need you to reconstitute the ground beneath us to ensure everything is structurally sound.”

“Already working on it,” Clover said, her horn glowing brightly.

“All right. I’ll get to the site, then. It’s good to see you again, Yharon.” And with that, Twilight disappeared in a flash of purple light and lingering sparkles true to her namesake.

“I have the spell prepared. I’ll prime it as soon as we begin moving,” Clover told Hammer Strike.

“What do you need me to do?” Yharon asked.

“Sit down and take some time to finish waking. Magic when you first wake up isn’t exactly a grand idea,” Hammer Strike remarked.

“And you don’t think the shock of finding my parents was enough to do that?” Yharon raised a brow in a manner that was dangerously reminiscent of his father.

“Yharon Pinnatus Strike, you will watch your tone and obey your father!” Clover snapped back.

Yharon flinched at the stern rebuke. “Yes, Mother….”

Hammer Strike exhaled as he started to focus on the cathedral in its current state. Thaumic energy seeped from his body as blue embers scattered across the air around them. Soon after, the cathedral shifted beneath them, and the rumbling continued as the earth outside of the cathedral shifted. Hammer Strike was actively pushing the earth above them apart while raising the cathedral into the open space. Clover, meanwhile, reconstituted the earth beneath them, solidifying it once more to give them solid ground.

The heat of the summer sun shone down on Twilight as she poofed into the construction site. The markers for the new structure jutted up from the ground with bright orange flags. A hurried search easily got her in contact with one of the many contractors to warn away any workers in the area and to ensure the military wouldn’t mobilize when the shaking began. As an added precaution, she threw up a large shielding spell over the area to cordon it off and prevent the populace from interfering with Hammer Strike’s efforts.

It didn’t take long before the earth began to rumble around New Unity, slowly growing in intensity before the earth within the dome split open and sunk. Many warriors of the city had approached the area with haste upon the ground shaking beneath them, but were calmed by Twilight as she tried her best to explain what was going on.

Soon afterwards, the top of the Cathedral peeked over the ground, rising upward until the entirety of the structure was able to bathe in the sunlight once more. Despite its journey through the land, the structure was relatively clean of dirt and in great condition.

“Well,” Grif said as he craned his neck to follow the rising building, “that’s where it went.”

The two engineers stood with mouths agape as they watched. Eventually, Twilight had to lower her barrier in order to allow the structure room to grow as it continued to spring forth from the ground. 

“Holey moley!” Pinkie hopped beside Twilight suddenly.

Twilight nearly crashed as her wings froze in surprise, but she quickly regained control of herself. “Pinkie! What are you doing up here?”

“Well, the view’s so much better up here,” Pinkie noted. “Gummy wanted to see the whole thing!” A familiar green head poked from Pinkie’s mane.

Eventually, the structure came to a halt, and the terrain closed in, sealing the ground around the building. After a minute, the doors at the base opened, revealing Hammer Strike, Clover, and Yharon.

“We’ve been working to rebuild everything we’ve lost,” Clover said as they examined the area. “A few things have changed.”

Yharon raised a brow as he breathed the free air and took in the hustle and bustle of the workers. “I’d call that an understatement.”

“It’s been roughly fourteen thousand years since I left Equestria. Much has changed.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Do be warned, while he does not come to New Unity often, Discord is free.” He looked to Yharon. “And before anything is said, it’s necessary. Embodiments need their balance. While I was not thrilled of this, it is a step that is needed for balance. He is more … tame, now.”

Yharon growled and ground his teeth. “He destroyed everything. He turned at least half the population against themselves and reversed their magic, Father.

“Yharon,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “I know. But as much as I would like to be rid of him, it will only result in a much worse scenario. You don’t have to like him. Hell, even I don’t. But so long as he maintains his current path, we can leave him be to his minor bits of chaos.”

“Besides, he wouldn’t dare come to Unity uninvited,” Clover assured him.

“All I ask is he not come anywhere near me,” Yharon said.

“He likely will at some point.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “It’s just the nature of his being.” He looked out to the crowd. “Now that I think about it, we’re both the oddity right now. They haven’t seen me as I am now, and at the same time, they have never seen a feathered Dragon.”

“At least they don’t have to worry about me trying to steal their treasures.” Yharon shrugged.

“But you will have to worry about a biiiiiiiig welcome party!” A massive cupcake was suddenly shoved into the Dragon’s mouth, followed by a bouncing Pinkie jumping back and rearing up onto her rear hooves in a welcoming hug. “Hiya, Yharon! Welcome back!”

Yharon furrowed his brow in confusion after swallowing the cupcake. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

Pinkie giggled. “Nope. But you’re gonna see a lot of me!” She fished around in her mane and pulled Gummy from the vast space. “And Gummy! He doesn’t look like it, but he’s a really deep thinker, like you!”

“A general rule involving Pinkie is to not question her,” Hammer Strike recited. “Though, I believe I’m starting to fully see why…” He muttered the last bit. Though it wasn’t audible, he could feel the equivalent of a chant pressing against the back of his mind as he looked at her. 

Gummy, on the other hand, was quite different. What Hammer Strike saw was still an alligator, though it was definitely not Pinkie’s alligator. The body was long and covered with scales of a sickly yellowish green. Rows of long jagged spiked teeth stuck from its muzzle that were black and gleamed like the edge of a band saw. Spikes ran down the beast’s back from the start of its spine to near the end of its tail. It had several jagged-looking scars across its body and long curved talon-like claws. The eyes that looked at him spoke of an ancient and somewhat terrifying intellect.

Hammer Strike blinked a few times before directing his attention to Yharon again. “You’ll figure it out.”

“Yharon, actually, I have a task I could use your help with,” Clover spoke up suddenly.

Yharon looked down at the mare. “Yes, Mother?”

“I have a magic student. He’s a bit of a special case,” Clover explained. “Like you, he’s born of a race that generally isn’t directly magical. Thus, we have no idea how to teach him. His ability to cast magic comes from a unique mutation of his body.”

“Is that so?” Yharon asked. “And what species am I dealing with?”

“He’s a Gryphon. But his talons and the bones in his arms are formed of alichorn. He can use them like a Unicorn horn, from what we can tell.”

“That is interesting,” Yharon agreed. “And where is he now?”

“Oh, he’s staying over at the Gryphon compound for now,” Pinkie said. “I had to throw an extra special teeny tiny party for him, since he’s scared of large crowds.”

“Introverted?” Yharon inquired.

“Quite.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Twilight, would you mind giving Yharon a tour of New Unity? I have to prepare a speech.” He sighed.

“A speech? What for?” Twilight asked.

“He’s got to announce Yharon, so people understand. He also has to explain himself,” Clover noted.

Twilight nodded. “Is there anything else you need me for?”

“You can go,” Clover said. “Thank you for your help.”

“It’s my pleasure.” She smiled. “See you for tomorrow’s class?”

“Definitely,” Clover said.

Hammer Strike gave a small smile to the group before turning his attention toward the mass of individuals currently staring at them. “Citizens of New Unity. The structure behind me is to be left to itself for the time being. I will be giving a speech on everything, between this building, Yharon, and my current difference of appearance within the next two hours. Please spread the word around, and I will attempt to cover all questions that may be asked.”

It took a few minutes for the crowd to finally acknowledge the request, and some had to be herded away by guards, but finally, they did separate, and the remaining trio was left to their own devices and to catch up. It was clear both parties had questions, and it was time for some answers..

Hammer Strike’s office was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the windows. It dyed the room a curious shade of white that seemed reminiscent of a crypt or sepulchre. The door opened slowly and silently to reveal first Grif’s taller and more muscular form, then the incandescent white of Day Moon’s fur. His mane had become fuller and messier since returning from their adventure with Sombra, but his eyes were still bright and carried a certain gravity in their gaze.

“There you two are.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Grif, I’ll need you to seal the room.”

Grif took out a small crystal and placed it on Hammer Strike’s desk. He gave it a tap and waited for the crisp low note to end. “We’re good.”

“Quite a strange situation we’ve found ourselves in,” Hammer Strike muttered. “Bonnie, this meeting is something you have been wanting to establish. In turn, I invoke your name, and shall act as the conduit for you to manifest.”

It took several minutes for the goddess to appear. She managed to manifest a physical body, but her coloring seemed faded, and she looked incredibly tired. The sparkles that shone like stars were dim, almost gone. Her silvery hooves barely registered and seemed almost to blend with the light cast from the moon outside. Her silver mane rested against her back and neck, having barely enough strength to maintain its volume. Her horn curled long and proud, not unlike Celestia’s, but its light was dim, and the spirals were edged more in shadow than light.

“Hello, Hammer Strike,” she greeted before turning. “Speaker for the Winds, and member of my own people, I greet you both.” She nodded to them.

Grif bowed his head low in respect.

Day Moon cocked his head in confusion. “Are you Princess Luna’s mother?” he asked.

Bonnie laughed at the colt's words. “No, dear boy, though at one time your people called me the moon. And some even went so far as to call me Mother. I am Bonnie, the wife of Sleipnir and mother of Faust.”

Day Moon approached slowly. “So, you’re a goddess, then?”

Bonnie nodded. “Although my power is diminished right now,” she explained. “But it is slowly coming back. You are evidence of that.”

Again, the colt cocked his head in confusion. “Me? What do I have to do with that?”

“When you fought, you showed power you didn’t understand, didn’t you? A raw rage?” she asked.

Day Moon blushed. “I don’t know if I’d call it raw, ma’am,” he said respectfully. “It took me by surprise, and I guess I did sort of lose control the first time, but Grif was there to help.”

Bonnie nodded. “At one time, beasts of the night and creatures of darkness were far more common in the world. Thus, I granted your people a rare blessing. A hunter would be born to keep them safe, one who could grasp the strength of the wolf and make it their own. It will take time to master but you will find it helpful as you pursue your destiny.”

Day Moon blinked. “You mean to be a monster hunter?”

Bonnie nodded. “I care not for war, but I care for monsters even less. With few exceptions,” she admitted. “You will be my instrument, Day Moon. You will cleanse those who would harm others.”

“You mean I can heal them?”

Bonnie sighed. “Unfortunately, too many are beyond that point. There will be some you can save, but others that must be dealt with by the sword.”

“So, … you’re the Moon, then?”

“As I said before, I am the one you used to call the moon,” she clarified. “But I am not the moon itself.”

“So, are you gonna tell everyone else, then? I mean, if you’re the one who helped us find the caves in the first place, then the rest of the tribes should know.”

Bonnie sighed. “I can’t at the moment. I hope to eventually, but it will take some time.”

“Which may divert to me,” Hammer Strike commented. “I still have to reintroduce her name to Thestral society.”

Day Moon cocked his head. “Okay, so where does that leave us now? I mean, I guess I should ask you this to make sure. I don’t know if I need to, but Grif always says to be over-prepared, instead. Can I use your name for invocations and blessings? Grif said I needed a patron to bless holy water and things like that.”

“Of course.” Bonnie laughed. “I would be honored for you to act in my name.” She placed a gentle hoof on his head. “You are to me almost as Grif himself is to his gods. Not quite as close a connection, but you are the closest Thestral to me currently alive.”

Day Moon gaped at her in surprise. “I am?”

She nodded her head. “It’s why I marked you at your birth.”

“How did you do that, anyway?”

“My power is diminished, but not gone,” she told him. “Sleipnir is my husband, and Faust is my daughter. I may gain a little power from both through our connections. There are also the legends of the moon your people tell. The faith you’ve had is something, even if I cannot grasp its full effect. When you were born, I saw you. I saw what you would do and who you would be, and I touched your coat.”

“So, you can see the future, too?”

She nodded. “Several.”

Day Moon cocked his head in confusion again. “How can there be several futures?”

“Time isn’t set in stone until it happens. Every choice makes different things happen.”

“Though I’d bet traveling across it makes things interesting,” Hammer Strike muttered.

“Timey wimey, wibbly wobbly,” Bonnie told Hammer Strike with a chuckle.

“Indeed.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Also, quick question while you’re here. I’m good to bring your name back now, right? No more, ‘wait until later’?”

“Yes.” Bonnie nodded. “I think it is definitely time.”

“Considering I have to act as a battery at this moment, I’d like to agree with that,” Hammer Strike commented.

“I thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” Bonnie gave him a smile. “I will make it up to you when I can.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I still need to prepare for my visit to the caves, as I have a feeling it’s going to be an … interesting meeting.”

“You mean the caves where the tribes meet now?” Day Moon asked.

“Indeed.” Hammer Strike gave a smile.

“I will see you then, if you need me present,” Bonnie told him. Already, he could see small bits of color returning to her. “Thank you for this, Hammer Strike.”

“It’s no issue, though I hope I don’t need to invoke your name just for them to believe me. Especially since I wouldn’t be able to properly introduce it first. I’d hope just the blade would be enough for them to figure it out.”

“I hope so, too.” Bonnie nodded. “Farewell.” And with that, she turned and walked away, vanishing as she did so.

Hammer Strike exhaled as he felt the drain on his power cease. “About as much as I expected for the drain, but still quite taxing.”

Day Moon peered intently at Hammer Strike. “So, if Bonnie’s a goddess, and she needed you to help her, … what does that make you?”

“A glorified battery.”

“That’s … not what I meant.”

“He knows,” Grif said. “But it’s the best answer you’re gonna get. Here’s a fact of life for you, Day Moon. You can ask, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get the answer you're expecting, or an answer at all.”

“In most circumstances, yes. In that case, it was just the most direct answer to the question.” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“So, … where does this leave us now?” Day Moon asked.

“Tired, hungry, vaguely confused about what happens from now, and as always, mostly apathetic to the world,” Grif said, pointing between them as he went over points and ended with Hammer Strike.

“Accurate enough.” Hammer Strike nodded.

Hammer Strike sighed as he sat in his study, Clover was to his side and Yharon sat across from them. By some grace of design, he managed to have chairs that worked for both his scale and something for Yharon.

“It’s just the three of us now. Since Celestia and Luna are currently busy, and it would take time for them to remember, since it appeared to be you causing the memory lock on them. Would you mind updating us on what occurred?”

“That depends on where you want me to begin. You know Discord was the origin of what happened, yes?”

“Let’s settle on what led up to the situation you found yourself in, and said situation.”

Yharon nodded sadly. “Things went well after you left, at first. You trained us well, and society carried on that way for five hundred years. The citizens honored their contracts. Any disputes were settled in the proper manner through a tribunal, should it reach us. And true to your will, we never let Star Swirl return to the kingdom. But as the generations passed, the contracts’ magic began to dwindle, and given enough time, the bonds throughout the kingdom began to change. Discord saw the opportunity inherent in that change, and took it.” He shuddered. “I watched families torn apart as their magic, their very natures, were inverted. It spread like a sickness. And then….”

“He came for Unity?” Clover asked.

Yharon shook his head. “He came for Equestria. Everything it represented, everything we had achieved. He turned nature on its head, twisted magic into a literal balloon animal. No one and nothing could stand against the onslaught. The only reason we weren’t consumed by winter was because he turned the Windigos into candy and their snow into powdered sugar. He toyed our forces.”

“You mean toyed with?”

“No, I mean toyed. He literally turned them into toys.

“Did none of Unity’s protections help?” Clover asked.

He shook his head. “Discord cut through every one of them. In the course of events, we got separated, and Celestia and Luna, … they insisted on being decoys. I didn’t want them to, but Anderson overruled me. They were the last remnants from the old empire. They knew they could draw him away long enough for us to get the most important thing out of his talons.”

“What was the plan?” Clover asked. “What were you two going to do?”

“We had to get the contract to safety. If Discord sunk his claws into it, he could easily have twisted it in Tiamat’s favor. He may not have been able to break the contract, but he could corrupt it.” Yharon shook his head. “The rest … it’s better you see for yourselves.”

He raised his wings, and they began to glow with the power of his mana. The energy streamed off of him and gradually formed a large pane through which the two rulers could watch. Yharon grimaced as screams, cackles, and violence spread throughout the area. Monstrous creatures that were barely recognizable as the smallest of forest animals crowed overhead and roared as they rampaged through the city, demolishing buildings and transmuting them into all manner of candy, chocolates, pellets, and other various foods or confections to feed their lustful appetites.

A goat, a snake, and a cat that rapidly swelled into a lion soon merged to create a savage chimera. A silver blade embedded itself through the lion’s skull, rendering the body immobile while the goat and snake thrashed, hissed, and bleated. Moments later, both were silenced.

“Move it, lad.” Anderson was all business. The manic light that normally held such fervor had been cooled by the grim act he had to perform and the import of their mission. “We can’t get that oversized armchair out of Unity, and we can’t let Discord get ahold of it, so we’re going to do the next best thing.”

One gout of fire later, and a corrupted bird that looked suspiciously like a roc was suddenly flying without its feathers and squawking like a chicken. The vision carried on as the Gryphon rushed to the cathedral and swung open the doors. “In here, lad. Hurry. Hurry!” The groan of the doors as they shut was followed by a hastily muttered prayer from Father Anderson as he directed his silver pendant toward the portals.

“Oh merciful Faust, goddess, creator, mother to all living, hear the prayer of thy servant and help us in our hour of need. Hold fast the doors and bar the way to our enemy, lest your creation and your children fall to anarchy, and ultimately their destruction. In your name, I pray, grant us sanctuary!”

The light that spread rippled like a wave from the Gryphon, followed by the scrawl of a pen in motion. Chain after chain of runes and characters flowed from the priest’s paws and talons to encompass the interior of the structure. When they had settled into place, the words faded, and Anderson gasped from the exertion. A large clawed hand laid itself on the Gryphon’s shoulder.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine. Fine.” Anderson waved off Yharon’s hand. “Well enough.” He shook his head. “My faith is strong, but the magic that stems from it won’t last forever, not at the rate that menace is breaking the others’ belief.” He grit his teeth in frustration. “Damn that beast,” he snarled.

“Anderson, we have to find a way to hide the contract.”

Anderson shook his head. “No good, lad. There’s nowhere we can put it that red-tailed bastard won’t be able to look. He’s not like the Dragons or the Gryphons. He can’t be bought, can’t be reasoned with, and honor doesn’t mean a flying feather. Your father warned me about his ilk before he left.”

“Then what are we supposed to do? Why bring me here?”

Anderson looked gravely at the screen and spoke as though he were addressing the king and queen who now watched through their son’s eyes. “Because there’s only a few powers that can bring him up short. Most of them are being weakened. Without faith, gods are limited in how they can act. Direct intervention is almost as rare as a Gryphon worshipping Faust.” He cracked a grim smile. “No, lad. If we’re to have any hope at all, we’ll need the other Missus to step in, get to the root of the problem, as it were.” He raised his head and called. “Isn’t that right, Harmony?”

The voice that carried through the cathedral reverberated faintly, like a fast-clipping echo. “Anderson. I appreciate your confidence, but I barely have the strength to speak to you, even now. Much of my power has been spent to conceal my location and prepare the means of deliverance for our children.” The voice seemed almost to sigh, carrying with it the weight of one borne down by weariness.

“We’re talking to—?”

“Harmony. Aye, lad.”

“But she never talked to anyone before.”

“Times change, lad.” Anderson raised his voice again. “Now, we need your help to keep Mister Mismatch out there from taking hold of this here divine artifact. I may not worship the Dragon gods, but even I know it’s a bad idea to let that windbag dig his talons into that kind of power.”

“Please, Anderson. He has trespassed against many, but he is still my brother.”

“Begging your pardon, Miss, but I don’t give a buck if he’s the emperor of the bloody world. We need to keep this contract out of his hands. You know it and I know it. Now, can you help us or can you not?”

The vision flickered as Yharon blinked in surprise. “That thing is your brother?”

“...Yes,” Harmony finally replied. “Were it not for the actions of the Alicorns, he might have been different. But as it stands, there is no reasoning with him now. He is dangerously close to falling under our other elder brother’s influence. And that is something we must avoid at all costs.” The voice sighed. “Regrettably, I am still too weak to have any significant impact on Discord directly. It will be up to my children to fulfill that task. They will answer to your sisters, should they prove worthy. And I hope that they do. If you seek to hide this contract, however, there is only one way that will suffice. It will require a power that is anathema to my brother, something that he cannot draw near nor corrupt, even if he should determine the location of the throne. And more importantly, it will need to be a power that will grant me the energy to fulfill your desire.”

“Well, out with it, lady!” Anderson barked. “We haven’t got all day.”

“No, noble Anderson, you haven’t,” Harmony agreed sadly. “As I said, there is only one thing that will suffice for what you ask. A price must be paid. And I regret to say that it must be done so in blood. My brother can corrupt, twist, and manipulate all that lives. His power can even reach beyond the grave itself, should he be of a mind. But not even he can break the magic born of a willing sacrifice in contract to order.”

“A death,” Yharon’s voice said softly. “You mean a death.”

“Yes, I do.” Her voice was grave and carried the burden of sorrow. “Sometimes, to restore harmony, one must silence an instrument and reattune.”

“Is there no other way?”

“I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

Anderson adjusted his robes and drew himself up. “Right, then. We all know what needs doing. Let’s get it over with already.”

“Anderson, you can’t die,” Yharon said. “If someone has to sacrifice themself—”

“Don’t even finish that thought, lad.” Anderson held up a staying hand. “Your father would never let me rest if he found out I let you die over something like this.”

“But—”

A silver bayonet embedded itself in the floor between Yharon’s fingers and vibrated. “What did I just say?” He strode slowly toward the altar, then knelt, as if to pray. At the last moment, he shoved the whole thing over the edge, and it clattered and crashed into pieces as it fell down the stairs and collided with the floor behind. “Now lay that throne right here, lad. If I’m going to do this, I want to do it right.”

The throne levitated into view, surrounded by Yharon’s fiery magic, and settled atop the dais. “But how is this supposed to even work? Won’t you just regenerate?”

“Aye,” Anderson said. “That I will.” He grinned cheekily. “So we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?” The chaotic screams and roars of animals, creatures, and monsters were heavily muffled, but could still be heard through the thinner panes of the windows as the runes and charms that were designed to dampen sound slowly corroded. His robes ruffled in the air as they spun with him, and he looked up into the rafters high above and spoke in a calm tone.

"I'm not asking you anything. I never have, and I never will. I am not your child, no matter how gifted I may be at war. I've tolerated your blessing because it has given me the chance to serve and protect my flock. But now…." He took a breath to steady himself, even as his talons clenched all the tighter, and blood began to trickle on the floor. "I can't. It can't. And the rest of you lot won't even lift a bloody finger!" He drew himself up and leveled a finger at the ceiling. "This blood on my hands is nothing compared to the ocean that's heaving outside, an ocean that will swallow each and every last one of you if you do nothing. You're their guardians, damn it, their guides! But once the going gets rough, you decide to step back and let them suffer under a force they can't hope to match? That's not just bad parenting. That's a blatant disregard of your responsibility.”

His gaze hardened as his voice dropped lower. "So, I'm not asking you. No." He chuckled as a familiar cheeky grin bared itself to the world and his glasses flashed white. "I'm ordering you. Take back your bloody blessing, you eight-legged bastard. To Tartarus with it, and with you! If you lot won't act to save this flock, then I will!"

A great rumble of thunder rolled overhead with the retort of many hooves beating over the land. Alexander grit his teeth and stumbled up the steps onto the arm of the throne as a single gasp escaped his beak. Before Yharon's eyes, the passing of years seemed to flow over the Gryphon in a rush. His feathers lost their luster and laid limply against his side. His hairs paled and matted against his body as muscle mass decreased and his limbs began to tremble. The tight youthful muscle around the proud Gryphon's face degenerated into wrinkly jowls. His glasses slipped down his beak as his head bowed from the sudden weight of years to reveal the encroaching fog clouding eyes that had pierced the souls of so many errant youths over the centuries.

"Anderson." Yharon stepped forward, but the Gryphon raised a staying hand.

"Don't you dare," he ordered through labored breath. "Don't you bucking dare." He eyed the Dragon, and his gaze passed through time to his king and queen as they watched. For the briefest of moments, the fog cleared to allow one last piercing glare. "You know what you have to do, lad. No one can find us. No one can know. This contract, this place, you, me. We have to be forgotten. It’s the only way to make sure."

"But—"

"No buts!" Anderson pulled himself slowly around the throne toward the seat. "Harmony always likes symmetry. Isn't that right, ya daft crystal cunt?" Harmony didn’t respond. He chuckled as he looked back to the dragon. "I don't see you casting, lad."

"Anderson...."

"We all knew my time would come eventually, blessing or not. Now get to it. That barrier won't hold for much longer, especially after how many gods I probably just pissed off. No exceptions. Even the girls need to forget. They can't find us. They need to find the tree. Plant the seeds. That heathen of a lich should have taught you how."

"But—"

"And tie any wards you cast to your father. Only he and those he permits can breach these walls, understand? Ward everything as heavily as you can. And then, by Faust, you'd better get your ass to bed. Or so help me, I'll come back to haunt you." That familiar roguish grin pulled at the Gryphon's beak as his head bobbed on a significantly thinner neck. "Go on."

The vision of the cathedral’s great chapel fogged and blurred as tears formed in Yharon's eyes. The flap of his wings and the glow of his magic coming to bear filled the room with a fierce white light. Waves of mana and heat emanated in equal measure, warping the floor of the sacred structure as a multitude of magical circles and sigils manifested at once, bound by a great seal that spread out over the floor to engulf the entire building.

Anderson smiled as white light engulfed the Dragon's pupils. For the first time, they could see the entirety of the room above, the intricacies of the tiered casting Yharon was performing, the white light that radiated from his eyes making him appear uncomprehending.

"Good lad," Anderson muttered to himself. "You shouldn't have to see this." He looked up at the vaulted ceiling of the church where he had presided for so many years. Heinkel had come and gone, and all of her descendents had been too happy to keep serving under him with the other novitiates. Now these children, what few were still uncorrupted, were struggling to help save what souls they could from the chaos.

Tears pattered against the stone floor as he pulled a familiar silver longsword from a sheath at his side. The glyph Bonnie had placed upon it glimmered in the light and seemed to pulse faintly in his grasp. Next, he fished out a steel circlet from his robe’s pocket. He chuckled as he looked on it and smiled. Hammer Strike had shown him time and time again the importance of sacrificing for others. "'Greater love hath no one than this, that a creature should lay down its life for its friends.' How ironic, that just when I'm about to die, I think back to the words of the South Wind." He laughed again. "Isn’t that funny, Hammer Strike?” Then he sighed and nodded in resignation. “Well, wherever I end up, I hope you're all ready for me."

He slid the circlet over the crossguard, and the metal sang as it skittered down the blade to stop next to his chest. True to the will of its maker, the sword slid smoothly through, and the hilt thumped against his chest. He grunted from the blow, then smiled and chuckled weakly as he fell heavily into the throne’s seat. He let the blood flow as he let out a weary sigh. A gentle breeze rustled his feathers, and with it came the old smell of the familiar highlands he'd roamed as a child and the moist clouds of the azure sky. His body shuddered weakly as he felt that chill again and smiled as it flowed over his body. "I'm coming home,” he whispered, even as his life blood flowed over the scales and the light slowly faded from his eyes before he closed them.

A great flash of light consumed all as Yharon roared in his grief and the vision was consumed in darkness as the Dragon sobbed. For a moment, it seemed as though the vision would close, but light began to build again, and the Dragon’s eyes opened to the sound of sweet chimes playing a soothing melody. The stone buckled as sparkling crystalline roots shoved the floor aside and attached themselves to the walls. Rainbows spidered their way through the walls of the structure as the ringing song increased and the foundation began to tremble.

“Sweet child. It’s time to rest now.”

The image bobbed with Yharon’s nod, and the heavy padding of feet dragged over stone as the light from outdoors slowly faded to just the flickering lights spread by Harmony’s rainbow in a kaleidoscope over the room. The view of Yharon’s tail and his hind paws appeared as the Dragon wrapped himself around the throne. He allowed himself one last look at the priest he had known for so many centuries and nuzzled the aged head before settling to the ground. Harmony’s voice filtered softly through the room with the swelling of music as her lullaby wove with the enchantment of the words she spoke, beckoning him toward sleep, in the dark where time would have no meaning and a mother’s love would watch over him.

The projection faded to black as Harmony’s voice fell by the wayside, and the projection finally closed. “And that’s how it ended,” Yharon said softly.

Hammer Strike sighed as the projection dissipated. “I suppose that is about what I expected.”

Clover gently rubbed her hoof on the Dragon’s back. “No one blames you for what happened, Yharon.”

“I don’t expect anyone to, Mother. I did what had to be done. So did Anderson. It’s what Father would have done in our place, if he could and didn’t have any other options.” Yharon shook his head. “I just wish it didn’t have to happen.” He sighed. “I’ll need some time to gather my reserves again before I undo my spells. Fortunately, by unearthing the Cathedral, one of them should already be decaying naturally. It’s difficult to forget something that’s staring you right in the face.”

“I’d hope so.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Once you are rested, I can call Celestia and Luna here, and we can settle that side of things. How does that sound?”

Yharon nodded. “I don’t know if my spells would have effected any of the others who were bound to you. Mother said that might make them immune to certain spells I might use against them. If they did, you should probably summon them, too.”

“They remember you fine, thankfully.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.

Yharon nodded. “Just … it’s going to take some time, Father. What happened thousands of years ago for you, for me, it was literally yesterday.”

“It’s all right. Take as much time as you need.”

“We’re right here if you need us,” Clover said.

Yharon nodded. “I assume my room no longer exists?”

“It ... somewhat does?” Hammer Strike remarked. “It’s been moved, due to the whole incident, and we can quickly get some furniture placed in to fix things up.”

“So long as I can sleep in my natural size, I’ll go anywhere,” Yharon said. “That lullaby may have put me to sleep, but I don’t feel all that rested.”

“Technically, you did sleep only… ten minutes to an hour?” Hammer Strike muttered in thought. “In any case, Clover, would you mind showing him to the room while I work on getting at least a bed for him?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” She nodded. “Come on, Yharon.”

Yharon rose to his feet and nodded as he followed. “Right behind you, Mother.”

“So, Trixie, given your makeup and everything, I wanted to introduce you to a place that you may want to get to know better. Now that Hammer Strike has brought it back, it’s the ideal place for you to learn more about how to better apply the darker aspects in your magic.” The pair trotted carefully down the passageways of the castle. Dust still sifted at the edges of the corridors as they delved deeper into the castle’s depths.

“This person you’ve found certainly likes to stay out of the limelight, don’t they?” Trixie asked.

“They have good reason to for now. That being said, I think he’ll be more than interested to meet you properly.”

“Well, most want to meet me,” Trixie said smugly with a playful smile.

Vital Spark smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “You do have a certain magnetism about you. I can’t seem to stay away, no matter how hard I try.”

“It’s a curse,” she said dramatically.

“Am I really that much of a burden?” Vital quipped as they passed into the vaulted chamber where the passage to the tomb had first been opened by Hammer Strike.

“Oh, of course not. It’s merely the crowds of people who chase me all over Equestria demanding my attention,” she said.

“I guess that means I’ll just have to freeze them in their tracks, so I can have you all to myself.” He grinned.

“We can’t be greedy,” she tsk tsked.

“I don’t know. If it’s you we’re talking about….” He smiled as they approached the great double doors and the massive ursa skull. “Okay. So, Trixie, just a warning. Don’t use your magic on anyone or anything we encounter past these doors. All of them are bound by a contract to serve and obey Hammer Strike. Some of them may startle you, but I need you to keep your reflexes in check, okay?”

“Okay?” Trixie looked confused. “I don’t think we’re going to find much worse than this,” she said, rolling her slitted eye for emphasis.

Vital chuckled. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And with that, he pulled the great doors open with his magic and stepped through. “Cocytus? Are you there?”

“Who speaks?” The large arthropod asked as he stalked into view.

“What in Faust’s name is that thing?” Trixie asked.

“He falls under a lot of classifications in the magic spectrum. He’s also the first guardian in this fortress.” Vital raised his voice. “It’s me, Vital Spark. I came here with Lord Hammer Strike before? I’ve come to see Ainz if he’s available.”

“Hold on a moment.” Cocytus said as he rose one of his four hands and a eerie hole in space seemed to form in front of him. “Lord Ainz, there are two people from the outside requesting to speak with you. Neither is Lord Hammer Strike, but I believe one was part of his entourage.”

“Send them in,” Ainz said after a few moments.

The hole expanded, forming a large tear before them. “Enter the gate.”

Vital Spark took his wife’s hoof and guided her through. “Thanks, Cocytus!” He waved cheerfully before they passed into the great throne room where Ainz sat next to Albedo, garbed in his gloves and mask. On either side, a number of imposing figures stood atop plinths, and a massive obsidian statue reared behind the lich’s throne. Its eyes blazed with blue fire, as did its hooves, and a familiar coat swathed over it. A great sword rimmed with black with the whte spine of bone had been polished. Its pommel was a great bear’s head. Ursa fur drifted spectrally from that edge while the replica of the great bear token glowed brightly near the blade’s base. While not a perfect replica, the earmarks of Astral Abyss were clearly present.

“My apologies if I’m disturbing you, Master Ainz, but I thought you might like to meet my wife. It’s not meant as a social call,” he said quickly to cut off Albedo’s rising ire. “Rather, an appraisal. She is … unique among magical beings in Equestria. And while Clover has been able to teach us both much, I believe you are the ideal teacher to aid her in mastering and strengthening her skills with the darker half of her magic.” He gestured toward Trixie. “This is Trixie Lulamoon Spark. Trixie, this is Master Ainz Ooal Gown, one of Hammer Strike’s greatest assets in the early days of his rule. You might remember studying some of his spells when we were preparing for one of Chrysalis’ sieges.”

“Come closer,” Ainz said, sitting up as the mare slowly approached. “Trixie, was it?”

“Yes?” Trixie said incredulously as Ainz placed a gloved finger under her chin and lifted it up, examining her and her perfect division closely, the half that was nighmare and the half that was Alicorn.

“How was this accomplished?” Ainz asked curiously as he looked her over. “In all my years of studying magical sciences, I’ve never discovered a being so perfectly able to balance magic. You are truly one of a kind, aren't you?”

Trixie blushed slightly. “I am?”

“In most cases, dark magic will corrupt all but the most devout wills or the normal magic will attempt to purify the dark. Your magical field is existing in a constant cycle not unlike the water cycle, the darkness being purified and the light being corrupted in an equal but ever-present cycle.”

“You can trust him, Trixie. And anything said in these walls will stay here,” Vital promised.

“There … was an attack by a corrupted entity on Unity. It filled the dungeons with some kind of corrupted energy. I held it back for as long as I could, but I was exposed before my rescue, and it left its own scars on me. When I ascended, it took things even further. My own burden to bear for my sins,” the mare admitted, attempting to look away.

“Sins?” Ainz asked.

“I … went to a bad place after my first encounter with Twilight Sparkle. I became desperate for revenge and managed to obtain a dark magical artifact. The,” she gulped, “the alicorn amulet. I spent a few days terrorizing Ponyville before they were able to stop me.”

“Interesting.” Ainz interlaced his fingers as he sat back, seeming to ponder behind his mask. “Well, if you carry your sins with you, you’ll be in good company here, my dear.” And suddenly his gloves and mask vanished in black flames. “Many in these walls have sins they carry on them.”

Trixie gasped and took an involuntary step backwards before looking to Vital.

“I told you, Trixie. So long as we remain allies of Hammer Strike, we’re in no danger here. Every person here has their own story involving dark magic or forbidden powers and arts. Hammer Strike gave them all the chance they needed to be free and forge a different path with their powers, just like what was done for you when you were brought back by Shawn,” the stallion assured her.

“If you require my assistance in learning your power, you may have it,” Ainz said carefully.

Trixie swallowed slowly “Please,” she finally said in a meek tone.

“Very well, Trixie. Welcome to the Great Tomb of Nazarick.” Ainz spread his hands wide over his head against the backdrop of a huge purple banner with a blank face that hung from the tall ceiling to the floor of the dais behind his throne and the rendering of Hammer Strike.

Hammer Strike sighed as he looked out amongst those gathered for the speech. Admittedly, the crowd was larger than he expected. Though there were plenty of questions that hung in the air, he supposed. Yharon, Binding, Swift, and Wall stood behind him. While he normally would have had them just join into the city, their positions weren’t to be questioned. Once he determined that enough personnel had arrived, he took his place on the stand. The crowd’s murmurs slowly stopped as their attention was directed on him.

“Citizens and Soldiers of New Unity,” he began, “it is a pleasure to see you all once again. I’m sure many of you have questions. Between the newly arisen cathedral, the new faces standing behind me, and even toward myself. I plan on addressing as many questions as I can with this address.

“For the individuals behind me, you will find Binding Strategy, Towering Wall, and Swift Wings,” he gestured to each as they stepped forward with their name. “They are personnel from a bygone era who have returned alongside myself. The Dragon standing with them is Yharon, my adopted son, to clarify, but my son nonetheless. Aside from them, six other individuals will be around as well. Ainz Ooal Gown, Lord, Rem, Ram, Tarefson, and Angelica Victry. They have tasks they are handling at this moment and are unable to stand here at this current time. You will likely know them when you see them. Know that they all work directly for me, and you have nothing to fear from them.

“For the Cathedral, it, too, comes from an era long ago, before my departure, long before the Discordian Era. It will not be available to the public for now, as it requires some attention and care before it can be properly used once more. Contracts will be going around to find those of you willing to attend to the task. You need not worry.

“For myself, I’m sure you have some questions as to my appearance, if the glowing eyes didn’t give it away. While I stood amongst you all some two weeks ago, it was not truly as myself. A part of me has always been around in times of urgency, though it was never the me that stands before you now. It has come time for me to stand here once again, not for the reason of urgency, but for the matter of recollection. I have much to address in that regard, but it will take place on a much grander scale than this. Know that I have changed since you have last seen me, my past having finally caught up to me. Work around New Unity may change, and I will put in an effort to assist in those regards as well. Please keep this in mind.

“I know that I certainly have not addressed all questions that you may have, so I will allow for unit leaders, clan leaders, and civilians to ask those questions to ease your minds. Please gather them in an orderly manner and submit them to your appropriate leaders to forward to me.” He wrapped up, allowing everyone to gather their questions into order before sounding them off.

“Does this change anything?” one of the Unicorns asked. “Aside from a few more people in the chain of command, I mean.”

“The work order around New Unity may change, and new equipment may arise from this. Beyond that, I can’t say for the near future,” Hammer Strike replied.

“When will we get to see the cathedral?” someone asked. Hammer Strike couldn’t see who.

“When it is brought up to standard. Right now, it has spent nearly ten thousand years, if not more, underground. My restoration work alongside Clover can only do so much.”

“Will we be getting priests for it?”

“We will after it has been adjusted and repaired.” He gave a small nod.

“What does this mean for the other religious buildings?”

“Nothing. They are all free to continue their plans for building as they intend, so long as it follows the standard guidelines and such.”

“Will there be a time later to schedule a proper historical accounting with you?”

“Perhaps, but it will have to follow standard procedure. I can’t just accept any meeting that comes by.”

“Do you intend to make all of Unity’s history public?”

“It will take time, but we will see how things move from here forward.”

“Does this mean you intend to also perform other archaeological digs for older structures in the area?”

“There were special circumstances around the cathedral that kept it intact. Most structures did not survive the passage of time,” Hammer Strike replied, shaking his head. After a few moments, he noted a lack of questions being moved around. “I see gears have slowed. Should you have further questions, you are free to report them to your superiors who can, in turn, bring them to me. You are all dismissed.”

Hammer Strike sighed as he watched over the personnel of New Unity depart back to their daily tasks. Turning to his side, he looked to those behind him. “Binding, Swift, Wall, you are free to return to your rooms. I’m sure you’d like to get some rest after all of this.”

“One question more before I go, if you don’t mind, Hammer Strike,” Binding said. “Do I need to prepare more contracts, or do you intend to use a different system to help with governance, now that we’re in the future?”

“We’ll need to figure something out, but it won’t be too soon. It will take some time for me to prepare.”

Binding nodded. “Whatever you say. We’ll be at your call if you need us. Come along, you two.”

Wall chuckled as he fell in behind the Unicorn. “Same old, same old. Isn’t that right, Swift?”

“Would you love him if he were any other way?” the mare asked.

“I suppose not.” He grinned. “Still can’t wait to give these soldiers a run for their money, though.”

“Would that be before or after they bid you off like a prize roast?”

“You’re one to talk.”

And so the trio departed as the two continued to exchange their playful barbs that only close warriors seemed to know how to share.

“Yharon, I’m sure Clover has more to show you, so you’re free to return to her. We’ll talk more later.”

Yharon nodded. “If that’s what you think is best, Father.” He frowned. “By the way, Celestia and Luna made sure to get all the,” he cleared his throat, “less than savory tomes out of Unity?”

“If they didn’t, Clover sure did on her return.”

Yharon breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. In that case, I’ll see you at dinner, Father.” He lowered his head and hugged the stallion again in farewell, then departed.

Hammer Strike sighed once more as the majority of the crowd departed to their own tasks. As he looked out to the departing figures, he did note some Gryphons had approached Grif and seemed to be conversing with him.

Grif caught Hammer Strike’s eye and gestured him over.

“Joy,” he sighed as he turned towards Grif and approached.

“Sorry about this, but some of the clan wanted to get a closer look, maybe ask some questions,” Grif noted. “They noticed your … changes.”

“I expected as much, given the obvious nature of them,” Hammer Strike remarked with a raised brow. “I don’t exactly blend in anymore with glowing bits.”

“What did they do to you?” one of the gryphons asked slowly, taking steps forward as he stared into Hammer Strike’s eyes.

“I assume you’re addressing the glowing tech that makes up my eyes.”

“The records talk about the Alicorns experimenting on prisoners and some of the things they were doing. But this?” the Gryphon said. “This is … disturbing.”

“Slaughter was more like it in most cases.” Hammer Strike frowned. “They found ways to … modify the body of most living species. It stemmed from the idea of enhancing themselves, but they took to testing it on ‘lesser beings’ first. Most died after one augment. If they were unlucky, it was two.”

“The Children of Faust were very wicked to you,” the Gryphon said. “Our ancestors could never tell how far they went. No one ever escaped. To think they would do this to their own kin is wrong.”

“Their own were treated with the utmost care in the procedures. Numbing agents and substances to render the individuals unconscious while the surgery took place were used when the patient in question was an Alicorn. Not so for those deemed inferior. It was horrific.”

“How much more did they do, If I may ask?” the Gryphon said, somewhat cowed by his own bluntness. “We never had a full understanding of our ancestors' hatred, you see, only the records.”

“At a time, nearly thirty seperate augments were installed into my body. Out of those, half remain functioning, primarily because if they were to stop functioning I will either go blind or die.”

“You were there when they fell?” the Gryphon asked.

“I watched their empire burn under their own ‘progress.’” Hammer Strike’s tone shifted. “I watched as families were rendered to ash, and fought against their soldiers for my escape.”

“Winds prevent the second born ever falling to their level.” The gryphon spat to the ground beside him. “If you would allow it, I would like to send a report back to the emperor, an example if you will, about the danger of losing one's morality.”

“I will only allow it if you ensure one thing is addressed.” Hammer Strike looked sternly to the Gryphon. “Not all of them deserved it. I was saved by a family who saw the wrongs of their society. And I stayed with them for years before the collapse of their empire. Despite all my efforts, and despite all our planning, I could only save two of them.”

“I will make sure the emperor knows.” The Gryphon nodded. “The sun and moon should not be held accountable for the past. Still, you are a part of our history given life. It would be good for us to understand the past, if at least to avoid the mistakes of it.”

“That would be wise. Considering I had, I suppose, a rule in the past that, had I still known about it, … I don’t know where things would have ended up.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I suppose I used the rule of three. The example I give is the Dragons. Once, I ensure it is understood that I wouldn’t tolerate such acts, but would grant a chance to mend things. Second, I took it further and ensured my acts of aggression stood as a warning to the entire species. Third…” He paused a moment as he took a breath. “I ripped apart their land, burned away their resources, their food, and nearly slaughtered them to their last. Were it not for Bahamut, there would be no Dragons remaining in Equestria today, save for Yharon.”

The Gryphon visibly stepped back from him and gulped. “Your point is well made, Lord Hammer Strike. I will be sure to make it very clear.”

Hammer Strike took a breath. “I may have taken a step too far, but I suppose my point stands. Should your emperor want more information, he is always welcome to come, with scholars I would assume, and request it.”

“Of course.” The gryphon lowered his beak and the crowd quickly hurried off.

“Well, you made your point.” Grif whistled.

“I suppose I got lost in the moment,” Hammer Strike remarked.

“The fear will do them well,” Grif said. “Remind them where we stand.”

“As if the history in the empire doesn’t paint me in a murderous light as is.” Hammer Strike raised a brow.

“I have some things I need to prepare for. I’ll need to talk to you about some events I think are better kept private.”

“Until then,” Hammer Strike replied simply as he turned back toward the castle.

Grif straightened his dress armor one final time. Currently, he was inside a small room connected to the grand hall of the clan compound. Outside, everyone in the compound as well as his attache to Daedalus waited for what was to come. This was not going to be easy, and he hoped he wasn’t about to incite a panic.

“You’re nervous.” Kel’leam strode silently from the side of the room to behold his clan leader with shield in hand. “Don’t be. You’ve always told them the truth, and they’ve always trusted you for it. Why should this be any different?”

“Because I’m about to tell them I unleashed the boogeyman that’s existed for more than five thousand years onto the world,” Grif noted.

Kel’leam cocked his head in confusion. “What’s a boogeyman?”

“A creature who lives in the closet and eats bad children,” Grif said. “The point is I'm not exactly sure how everyone will react, especially when this reaches the homeland.”

Kel’leam shrugged. “You promised you would return the Winds, didn’t you? Who knows? Her power may be needed to bring back the others. If you explain who she’s become, then they won’t have to fear her anymore.” He chuckled. “I just can’t wait to see how they react when we tell them about me.”

“I don’t remember you being so much of an optimist.” Grif laughed

“Death has a way of changing people.” Kel’leam shrugged again. “That, and I can finally be noticed when I want to be. Why shouldn’t I be optimistic?”

“Fair enough.” Grif chuckled. “I should be heading out there. Are you ready?”

“Chesh suggested I use this phrase. I have no idea what it means, but she said it would make you laugh.” Kel’leam smiled. “Beam me up, Scottie.”

True to the prediction, Grif laughed a loud clear chuckle. “She knew I would need that. Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“You bet.”

Grif gave a sigh and slowly stepped out of the small room into the grand hall. He looked out onto his family. The Bladefeather Clan had thrived and expanded exponentially over the last few months. A small smile came to his face as he looked upon all of them. Happy, healthy, and hardy, the Gryphons before him stood proud and tall. Long-gone were the ragged clanless mercenaries he’d taken in. Near the front stood several Gryphons dressed in finer clothing and carrying the sigils of the emperor and the Winds Father. Standing on the dais was the council. Each of the older Gryphons dressed in warm coloured robes. Thallia stood next to them dressed in her own dress armor as his military head. Avalon stood a short distance in front of Grif, wearing a resplendently ornamented robe designed and crafted by one of the many Gryphon seamstresses that had settled within the compound. The white cloth complemented her feathers while golden thread was carefully woven to create intricate flowing designs that passed over the fabric like great fronds blowing in the wind. Her focus hung openly around her neck, and a corona not unlike a fine mist seemed to billow softly around her, as if in homage to her namesake.

Grif gave each a nod as he walked over to Avalon, giving her a proper bow of the head. “You have that voice amplifying charm?” he asked quietly.

“As if you would need it,” she said cheekily. “But yes.”

Grif signaled her to activate it. When she confirmed she had, he cleared his throat and looked onto the crowd.

“My friends, my family, we have been through a lot together, and I’d like to believe I have proved myself to you and gained a modicum of trust. It is on that trust that I ask you all to hear me out entirely before you react.” He paused to let his words sink in. “I promised when I was recognized as Avatar that I would do everything I can to begin bringing us back to what we were. I stand before you today to inform you that I have taken the first step.”

A murmur rose through the crowd at the announcement. What was Grif talking about? What was this step? Did it have to do with the gems? Had he uncovered a clue to the spell he needed to call back the Winds?

Grif went on to explain a very summarized version of his fight, telling them only the details they needed to know. But he held nothing back about his experience with the Black Gale and its newfound freedom. As expected, there was a certain amount of uproar over the claim. The gale had been sealed for a reason, and now Grif had unleashed it on the world again. That would take time to adapt to, even if they were willing to trust the new goddess.

“Grif, now might be the time to tell them about the covenant,” Avalon whispered.

Carefully, Grif went over the essential details of his contract with the deity, being sure to take time to explain each portion. “And now, as proof of this contract, allow me to present the gift that Therra granted me. Kel’leam if you would,” he called, pulling on the link between them.

The air seemed to ripple and waver around the Gryphon for a moment, as though a great heat wave had gathered. That wavering soon gained distinction as it became a white aura that thickened and expanded as it sprouted from Grif’s frame. The first thing to materialize was the great shield. Then came the mighty arm, the powerful armor, the burnished plating, the great talons, and finally the massive Gryphon’s body as Kel’leam hovered above Grif, positively radiating with the divine power of their bond.

He smiled at the gathering and bowed with a flourish. “My apologies for not revealing myself sooner, everyone, but Grif insisted we wait until after he had the chance to explain.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I let Cheshire know.”

“He knew what I’d do to him if he didn’t,” Cheshire said as she appeared next to him on the stage with their son at her side. Uneasy chuckles filtered through the air as Kel’leam kissed her in response to the playful jab.

“Don’t you worry. You’re all invited to the wedding,” Kel’leam promised.

Grif chuckled as he looked at the crowd. “I will work on getting a more accurate report drawn up. And hopefully, I’ll be able to talk with the Winds Father about what this will mean going forward. Until that time, this is all I can tell you. Thank you for coming. I’ll let you know as soon as I have more information on next steps.”

Grif nodded as the clan began to disperse. “I just hope I've done the right thing,” he said quietly.

“You reunited me with my family and you gave new life to one of the most important deities ever to live on this planet. I think it’s safe to say you’ve done the right thing,” Kel’leam noted as he picked up Cú Chulainn and put him on his back.

“The path to hell, Kel’leam,” Grif said as they headed home, “is paved with good intentions.”

“So? Just have Hammer Strike bring you back.” Kel’leam shrugged his wings. “He probably could, you know.”

Pensword looked over the letter he had written to Fancy Pants, reading over it one more time. A lemon inside a magic pentagram had been drawn at the top, a clever signal designed to deceive any spies and mages that might try to perceive his true message by magical means. Only Fancy Pants would understand the meaning behind it, and his wife, being a former member of the guard, would know how to reveal the hidden text. It was strange to be writing using lemon juice, rather than ink, but if the trick could work back on Earth, it should work especially well in a world where magic was the primary means of communication and encoding.

Dear High Duke Fancy Pants, I am writing to invite you and select others of your unique business sensibility to a private meeting three months from the day that I write this letter. I wish to discuss a unique investment opportunity that is sure to prove profitable for all parties involved. If you are to be there, please return a postcard via the Canterlot Railway Station with a message expressing that you wish you were able to see the clock tower at sunset.”

Pensword smiled as he let the juice dry and waited for a time before he rolled it up, sealed it, and placed it in the outgoing mail. The regular service would be slower than Dragon fire, but it would give him time for everything to get settled. There were still loose ends to tie. Next on his list would be something that could prove to be … unpleasant, depending on the time of day, but it had to be done.

Pensword sighed as he rose, stretched, and departed for Ponyville. The sun had begun to trail low as twilight set in, dying the sky rich hues of purple, red, green, and gold. As he alighted in front of the Rich cottage with invitation in wing, he hoped that when he knocked, it would only be Filthy Rich and no one else. He was not in the mood to deal with Diamond Tiara and her mother.

The door pulled open. Much to Pensword’s dismay, a familiar pink mare with purple mane and heavy eyeshadow gazed blandly at him as they narrowed in distaste. “What do you want?” she asked in a surly tone. “If this is about a proposal for the next board meeting, you can bring it up at the school. What’s left of it, at any rate,” she muttered the last part.

“Good evening, Spoiled. To answer your question, I am here to discuss business with your husband,” Pensword responded curtly and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement toward the mare. This was her home, after all, and he knew better than to throw courtesy aside when visiting.

“He’s not interested in supplying the military,” she said coolly.

Pensword raised a brow.  “I’m not dressed in my uniform, and I didn’t bring up anything about the military. As I said, I have a business proposition to discuss with your husband,” he stressed. “Would you mind asking him to come to the door? I would hate to interrupt your time with your daughter, and I know how people like myself seem to offend your … unique sensibilities so. I assure you, this discussion won’t take longer than a few minutes for us to conclude our business, and then I’ll be on my way,” Pensword answered just as coolly.

Spoiled scoffed and turned aside. “Wait there,” she commanded imperiously as her tail snapped dismissively behind her. As she left, the soldier couldn’t help but fantasize about the glorified spanking he was certain was long overdue for the would-be-socialite. And perhaps a few curtailings of allowance for good measure. He smiled at that thought as he imagined the mare’s shocked face. A few moments later, he was ready and able to offer a genuinely warm greeting to the stallion.

“Pensword. It’s been a dog's age since I’ve seen you around Ponyville,” Filthy welcomed. “What brings you around these parts at such a late hour?” He chuckled good-naturedly. “Or would that be early for you?”

“Definitely early for me,” Pensword agreed. “I Had to get some mail out to the post before the last carrier ended for Luna’s shift.” He looked around, “As I’m certain your wife has told you, I wish to discuss some business opportunities with you that are of a more personal nature. If you don’t mind, might we take a walk through your gardens as I go over the details with you?”

“I normally save these kinds of things for the office in the store, but since you’ve gone to so much trouble to meet with me, I suppose there won’t be any harm in hearing what you have to say.” He turned and kissed Spoiled on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon, pumpkin. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready for tonight? I’ve got something special planned for you,” he said meaningfully as he smirked mischievously.

Spoiled blushed. “O-oh, my….”

Filthy chuckled as he stepped out the door and motioned with a hoof. “Come, let’s talk a while. I can afford maybe ten minutes before she gets impatient.” He chuckled again. “She’s a real hooful sometimes, but I love her.”

Pensword nodded and waited for them to be out of ear shot, then gave a quick pitch for the meeting.

“And you intend to show me and these select other investors this opportunity where?” Filthy asked.

“The Thestral Quarter in Canterlot. Should you accept my invitation, I’ll forward the address to you.”

“And how long is this presentation of yours going to take? Time is money, after all.”

“We estimate approximately two hours. More, if we have too many questions. However, in the spirit of absolute frankness, this is to be a private event meant only for you and the other investors. I must kindly request that you leave your daughter and wife behind.”

“And your reasoning for this request is…?”

“Just what I have observed. One of the investors I’ve invited is an Apple family member. Given the friction that’s existed between your wife and daughter and the Apples, there could be bad blood. There is also the matter of security. Children can be very open about what’s going on around them. Your daughter is especially susceptible to this trait when it comes to mentioning how proud she is of you. And your wife…. Well, after crossing swords with her over our donations to the school and the funds’ use, I don’t entirely trust her to maintain confidentiality.

“And while Hammer Strike will not be involved at any stage of this venture, nor its dealings, this is still very much a political affair. My ties to him and public support for the integration of Thestrals has bred no small amount of ill will toward me. There are several Unicorns out there that would love nothing more than to steal from me and keep the Thestrals financially beholden to Equestrian aid and government payrolls. Your wife’s antagonism toward me and the Gryphons is well known, and could easily be exploited in an attempt to steal the details of my operation. Contract magic is expensive, and I would rather not have to invest in its use when it is not necessary to do so.”

“I trust my wife, Pensword, but I can understand the need for security in an affair like this. And I understand your viewpoint, given the previous difficulties that have arisen with my family, particularly involving Miss Dinky and her … charming mother.” He winced at the mention of the mare. “For the sake of your security, I’ll leave the girls out of it. However, should I choose to buy a stake in this opportunity of yours, I insist I be allowed to tell them about it. When would be appropriate to do so can be easily negotiated later. Is this an acceptable compromise?”

“I believe so. As I said before, I just want to make sure that we don’t lose out to would-be-competitors.”

“Then I’m looking forward to receiving the details. Bring them by my office at the store when you have the chance. I’d prefer to have enough advanced notice to arrange my schedule properly.”

“That is acceptable. It will take a few days to finish the last coordinations between the attendees. I’ll make sure to get the information to you as soon as possible. Though as a last request, if you don’t mind, could I have a hair from your mane? In the event you’re not present when the details are dropped off, I would rather enchant the contents, so only you can open them.”

“Fair enough.” It was a simple matter to pass the hair to the Pegasus. “I’ll be keeping an eye out for you.” Then he smiled. “Say hello to the rest of the folks back at the castle for me, won’t you?”

Pensword smiled. “I will.”

Hammer Strike frowned as he sat in the throne room of New Unity, having spent the time to move the throne back into its proper space. Yharon stood off to the side and rubbed his arms nervously. Thankfully, Hammer Strike still managed to have a link set up to send messages to Celestia and Luna, and had requested their presence for the purpose of recovering their memories.

“I know it was necessary, but I still can’t help but worry how they’ll react after I give everything back to them,” Yharon admitted.

“It’ll certainly be interesting.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Since the response I anticipate is leaning toward both: them being happy, followed by upset that you would do such a thing.”

“And hopefully ending with understanding for the reasons? I really don’t need Luna to beat the tar out of me in another sparring match.”

“Probably not going to listen for the first bit, but will get it afterwards.” Hammer Strike chuckled.

“... I forgot how much pleasure you took in our discomfort,” Yharon deadpanned.

Finally, twin flashes of light flared, followed by the diarchs’ arrival as they gazed on the great feathered Dragon in awe.

“A feathered Dragon?” Luna's eyes widened as she took Yharon in.

Yharon smiled timidly. “One of a kind,” he replied.

“Judging by your size, you must be fully matured.” Celestia frowned. “And from Father’s words, the brother we’re supposed to remember.”

“Indeed, he is.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Now, I’d like both of you to step forward and allow him to remove the spell placed over you two.”

Luna stepped forward as soon as she was bid, never quite taking her eyes off the sight.

“This magic was a complex spell I learned from an old teacher in our studies to save Father a long time ago. Its power was amplified by a formula of my own design to affect as wide an area as possible. The original point of casting was the Cathedral, and normally I would have broken it there as well, but the anchor point is no longer so firmly rooted after all the years that have passed. The primary connection of my spell is now tied to two individuals.” He smiled lovingly as tears welled in his eyes. “Two who I am so very glad to know survived.” His wings spread wide as he gathered the mana in the air surrounding him. “It’s time for history to be made right.” He laid a clawed hand on either of the mares’ heads, touching the bases of their horns. “This may be disorienting,” he warned as layer after layer of magical sigils and seals manifested over their foreheads. One by one, each shattered into so many shards of light that gradually faded into the ether in a cascade that eventually left the two mares standing alone again. Were it not for Yharon’s grip, the two would have likely stumbled backward. Finally, Yharon bowed his long neck and pulled back from the pair. “It’s done,” he said.

Celestia blinked and shook her head as the rush of magic swept over her mind in a torrent that swept away the forgeries that had been placed there. The princess’ eyes widened and lost focus as she processed the new information, and she looked almost as though she might faint when, at the last moment, her gaze regained its focus. Seconds later, Yharon found his neck wrapped by two great white wings. “Thank goodness you’re safe,” she whispered.

Tears ran down Luna's eye’s as she approached him slowly. “Little brother.” She buried her face in his feathers.

“And that settles that bit of worry.” Hammer Strike sighed contentedly.

“Oh, no. You’re not getting out of this one,” Yharon said as Hammer Strike was wrapped in the Dragon’s Magic and pulled into the hug. “We haven’t had one of these in far too long.”

“I’d summon Clover to join in, but I have a feeling she’d know what’s going on and would be too busy.” Hammer Strike chuckled.

“We could always pool our power to bring her together,” Yharon said with a wink to his sisters.

“Would that even be enough?” Luna asked.

“Between you three? Barely, and I’m quite sure the results would differ from what you would like.” Hammer Strike smiled.

Yharon sighed. “Ah well, I suppose we’ll just have to go with the old standby. Luna, if you would do the honors?”

“WE SHALL HAVE A FEAST!” Luna crowed.

“We’re moving this to Canterlot,” Hammer Strike added. “I doubt the chefs here are prepared enough for this.”

Celestia giggled behind a wing. “The chefs at Canterlot are barely prepared enough as it is.”

“So, which of us is giving the invite to Mother?” Yharon asked.

“I’ve already alerted her,” Hammer Strike commented.

“Then we’d best alert the kitchens,” Celestia said. “See you later tonight?”

“You shall. Either Clover will teleport us, or I’ll make a rift over.”

Celestia smiled and gave one last hug to Yharon, then turned to Luna. “Then shall we, sister?”

“Yes, let's.” Luna nodded, giving one last hug of her own. Then the two took a few steps back and flashed away.

Yharon blinked and rubbed his eyes to deal with the spots. “They do that because they enjoy blinding people, don’t they?”

“Probably.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “One of the rare times I’m thankful for the robotic eyes.”