It has just rained, the grass is still wet underneath her. She doesn’t mind. She is happy.

His hoof is a livewire as she holds it. Sparks, up her foreleg. Through her heart. She leans, rests her head against his shoulder. Feels his breath, soft on the top of her fiery red mane. She nuzzles his neck gently. He presses his cheek against her forehead.

They sit on the hill, looking out over the forest. Out at the sunset. Breathing air still crisp after the rain. Resting just behind his house.

Our house, she reminds herself. She keeps forgetting. But she gets a rush from remembering. It’s nice, owning something with him. Being joined to him. Through property, through marriage, through love. He is hers. She is his. She is happy.

Into one of them. The other stares into the distance, sapped of color, lacking a pupil. Blind. A cruel scar from a duel long ago. Offputting to some, but she doesn’t mind. She loves him just the way he is.

A lightness in her chest. Every time he says it, the same feeling. Never diminishes. Never fades. In sickness or in health.

The sun sinking over the horizon. Fading. The sky turning bloodred. Celestia ending a day’s work. An uneasy twilight settling over the woods. In the distance, a roar.

She presses against his side, he turns to face her. She closes her eyes, kisses him softly.

A forest set ablaze. A sky full of smoke and dragons. Air filled with screams and roars. She doesn’t want to look at this. She turns away. Looks back to her husband. Closes her eyes.

Terror now. The fire closes in. She whirls around. His house--their house--is on fire. Crumbling. Dying.

She calls out his name. Dashes towards the house. Pulls open a door. Scurries inside.

Flames and haze all around. She coughs from the smoke. She can’t breathe. She calls his name again. No response.

A cracking above her. A roof set aflame. The supports are burnt through. Half of the roof falls to the floor, just before her. She looks up. The other half is coming down.

She turns, dashes through the door. Dives free of the collapsing house. Outside. Sweet, clear air.

She pulls herself to her hooves. Looks back. A void where the house was. A tattered hoof sticking out of the rubble.

Everything grows blurry. Tears in her eyes. She drags herself to the hoof. Clears away some of the debris. He is still alive. Barely.

He is badly burned. Some of his face is gone. His forelegs aren’t bending as they are supposed to. His lower half is trapped beneath a smouldering beam. Something is coming out of his stomach. His blood on her arms as she holds him. What’s left of him.

“Because you deserve it.” A voice coming from behind her. Regal, dignified, hateful. “Because I can.”

She turns. Celestia stands before her. Flanked by two ponies. A blue unicorn. A grey pegasus. The pegasus is holding a bloodied mare. Choking the life out of her.

The Princess looks around. Smiles at ponies burning, ponies dying. “I like it. It suits me. Who knew letting the dragons stay in Equestria would be my greatest triumph?

The Princess laughs a horrible, evil laugh. Walks towards her. She is growing hazy. Her features fading away. Drifting into shadow. The fires around her die out. The ponies behind her disappear. Night falls. She is all alone, surrounded by darkness.

Darkness, and a shadow. A haze with one cursed eye. A dark mist floating above her. It whispers to her.

Volume 1]

“Who knows what intimacies our eyes may shout,
What evident secrets daily foreheads flaunt,
What panes of glass conceal our beating hearts?”
-Arthur Seymour, Betrayal

He was working the early shift as Princess’ personal guard, which he hated. He was sleep deprived, which he hated. And he was sore, which he hated.

What he hated most was the Equestrians who killed her. They had bashed her against a tree. Broken her spine. Left her mangled body for the scouts to find.

He wanted payback. Vengeance. He wanted to find the Equestrians and tear them apart, piece by piece. To hear their backs snap, just as they had done to his daughter.

But here he was, stuck on guard duty. Guard-Captain Redbud had offered him the day off, on the condition that he not leave town. The Captain didn’t want him chasing the invaders on his own. But he had decided to stay, to go to work. If he sat at home, all he would have to think about would be his daughter.

And he couldn’t stand that. Not yet. His mind hadn’t been working since... since they had shown him her body. He hadn’t shed a tear. He had just looked at her--only once--and his heart stopped cold. He wasn’t sure it had started beating again, yet. He didn’t particularly care.

He felt as though he were asleep. Maybe in some sort of fog. Everything was numb. Nothing really seemed real, except his anger. He couldn’t focus, could only barely comprehend what was going on. There was only one thing on his mind.

But he couldn’t. Not yet. He had a job to do. Well, technically he had Aspen’s job to do. Ordinarily, the other pony would have taken this shift, but he was out hunting for the Equestrians. Doing what Dogwood should have been doing.

But the Captain had assigned them where the Captain had assigned them. There was no use arguing. Dogwood didn’t have the energy anyway. He had been awake for nearly two days straight. He had worked all day the previous day, and had just been coming off his shift when the pegasus attacked them. He had been just about to go to sleep when the scouts came to his house.

And he hadn’t been able to sleep since. So he worked. He didn’t have any other options. So now, he stood, and waited, and watched Princess sleep.

She was splayed out in the bed, her broken leg tightly bound in the medical supplies they had confiscated. She kept jerking and muttering, mumbling about the Equestrians.

He watched her for a moment. Gods, this was boring. He almost wished someone would try something. Break in and attack her, or something like that. Maybe try to steal from the treasury in the adjacent room. At least that would be interesting. At least it would give him something to do besides think about--at least it would give him something to do.

There was a knock at the door. A lean, tall mare poked her head into the room. Dogwood recognized her. Her name was Catalpa. She was a member of the Council, the group of elders who used to run the island, back before Princess arrived and took over. Now their job was mostly just to bicker with her. And if he remembered correctly, Catalpa was damn good at her job.

Dogwood looked down and nudged her good foreleg. She awoke with a start, and sat up. She was pale, trembling slightly. She blinked once, and seemed to remember where she was, regaining some composure. She pushed the linen sheet off of herself and got to her hooves.

Catalpa’s brow furrowed. “It was tough. They were magical fires. You should know.”

“I started them to protect you. If I had let the Equestrians have their way, the whole city would have been burned down by now.”

“If you had let the guards help you, you wouldn’t have burned half of it,” Catalpa said.

“You failed to handle them. The guards failed to stop them from leaving. Perhaps if you had worked with the ponies you trained, rather than taking the Equestrians’ presence as a personal challenge--”

“Maybe if I hadn’t done what I have, you wouldn’t be alive,” Princess interrupted.

“How do you even know? The Equestrians did nothing to us before you brought them here. They didn’t even know we existed.”

Dogwood blinked. She was defending the Equestrians? The notion sent waves of anger ripping through his stomach.

“It was only a matter of time. The day before they attacked, we tracked them to this side of the island. They had found Strongsteed’s old camp, for heaven’s sake. I had to be preemptive.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know that they would’ve attacked unprovoked--”

“That’s exactly what they were sent here to do! I’ve got information. I know what Celestia’s planning. She’s a murderer and her minions are no better.”

Dogwood finally spoke up. “They murdered my daughter,” he said. “For no reason. None at all.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she said. There was a slight shimmer in her eyes. Tears.

He scowled at her. Her eyes flickered to the ground and she turned away from him.

“Regardless,” she continued, “Nearly half our crops are gone. When the fires
spread, several ponies lost their houses.”

“It doesn’t work like that. And even if I did, I’m burned out, too spent from fighting the Equestrians.”

“And yours seems to be dealing with Equestrians. Who, notably, also use magic.”

“You told us you were a Goddess because you could use magic. The Equestrians can use magic--one of them even has a horn. So either you aren’t a Goddess, or all Equestrians are. Which would mean that you are, or were, one of them.”

Princess’ entire body tensed. A look of wrath passed over her face and a dangerous silence settled over the room. He could practically hear her thinking, raging internally. Then she calmed suddenly.

Delightful. Dogwood’s blood was boiling just from being in the same room as somepony who sympathized with the Equestrians. He drew a spear and took a menacing step towards Catalpa.

To her credit, she never even blinked, even as Princess signed what might as well have been a death warrant. If Princess wanted you dead, you died. And then the guards told everypony you had been exiled.

“Kill me, and you start a revolt. Nopony will believe that I’ve been exiled. The Council won’t take kindly to having one of its members murdered. Kill me, and blood flows in the streets.”

Princess smirked at her. “I have dealt with revolutions before. I can deal with them again.”

“The other half fears you. What do you think they would do if it came out that you weren’t a Goddess? That you were merely an Equestrian, just like the invaders?”

“Some, but not enough. If you kill me, you start a war. A war that won’t end well for you, or for our people.”

Princess opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had turned pale, a stunned expression across her face. She blinked a few times, trying to gather herself. Trying to think of something to say, something to do. Some way to regain control.

Dogwood just stared at them, perplexed. One was siding with the Equestrians, one was an Equestrian. He didn’t know who to trust.

Then he remembered seeing the Equestrians--the ones who murdered his child--after Princess was done with them. And he knew who to side with.

“You could tell them I was acting alone. Against your orders, even. And you were too burned out to stop me.”

Catalpa nodded. “It’s true. You could try that. Are you willing to take the risk that I might make it to the door before he can catch me. Willing to take the risk that I came here without witnesses? Willing to take the risk that everypony will believe the lie?

Dogwood felt Princess’ eyes flicker over to him. Sizing him up. Wondering how fast he could run. He was confident he could catch her, but he wasn’t sure. Catalpa had long legs... it would be a gamble. Princess’ life would be riding on his legs. A part of him hoped she would let him kill her anyway. He wanted to try. The feeling of sinking his spear into anypony who sympathized with the murderers would be worth the chance.

“Let me go--and authorize a treasury withdrawal to compensate for everypony who lost their home and crops--and the knowledge that you are Equestrian stays within the Council. You still get to lead. For now, at least. The Council doesn’t want bloodshed any more than you do, even if we would win. It would be like killing family.”

“As if you knew what it was like to lose family,” Princess muttered, just loud enough for Dogwood to hear. “Alright,” she said finally. “Go. Come back later for your treasury allocations. But know that if you tell anyone outside the Council what you know, I will have your head.” She gave a quiet snicker. “I think it’d look good on my mantle.”

“Yes, Princess.” Dogwood wasn’t sure, but he could swear he heard a shade of derision in her tone.

He turned to Princess as behind him a door closed. “Is it true?” he asked. “Are you one of them?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she sat down on her bed, cradling her head in her hooves. She was pallid and trembling, her ears drooping. There were dark circles under her eyes. Suddenly, she didn’t look like the powerful Goddess he was used to guarding.

It struck him suddenly that Goddessess probably shouldn’t need protecting. How had he not realized that before?

“I’m Equestrian,” Princess admitted finally. “But I’m not one of them.”

“I’m tired, Dogwood. So tired. I’ve ruled this city for two hundred and thirteen years. I’ve seen the growth of our town from a tiny river village to a sprawling metropolis. I’ve seen the rise and fall of nine different generations. I’ve made friends with children, and watched them die as senile old ponies. And then gone out and made more. Through it all, I’ve never changed. And now, I’m tired.

He didn’t get to think for long, though. The door opened again. He turned to see Aspen stride in, his spear at his side. Ugh. Of all the ponies to see right now.

Dogwood could not stand Aspen. He was sympathetic to Strongsteed. He doubted Princess constantly. He had questioned the danger of the Equestrians, up until the point the body was found. And even then, he hadn’t stopped questioning.

And on top of it all, he was always prancing around like a damn queen with his coltfriend Willow. Just looking at the two of them made him sick. He said they weren’t together, but he knew what was going on. He saw the way they looked at each other. And it never failed to piss him off.

Aspen glanced at him. “Guard-Captain Redbud sent me. He says you’re relieved of your shift. You’re supposed to meet Willow to help hunt the Equestrians. You’d best be on your way.”

Aspen looked confused for a moment, then said, “He, uh... he said he didn’t want you going alone. That’s why you’re going with Willow. He’s waiting for you at the edge of town. You should really get going.”

Dogwood narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were the one going hunting with Willow. What happened?”

“I gave it up. Told Redbud I’d take my usual guard shift so that you could go instead. I figured it would mean more to you, given, uh... you know...”

Dogwood closed his eyes, letting a sigh hiss out between his teeth. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Princess is asleep. There’s not much for you to do.”

“Okay.” Aspen took his place next to Princess’s bed. “Good luck out there,” he said as Dogwood walked out of the room.

Huh. Out of all the ponies who could have given up a chance to hunt the Equestrians for him, it had been Aspen who did him the favor. He felt almost indebted to him. Almost.

Somehow, he doubted Aspen just wanted to do him a favor. It seemed more likely that he was just too much of a coward to risk a showdown with the Equestrians. Aspen probably just thought he was saving his own hide--by sending him to die in his place. Strange, he must’ve thought he’d sent Willow to his death, too. Some coltfriend he was.

Not that it was important. Dogwood was getting his opportunity to sate his bloodthirst. And that was all that mattered. So what if his chance came from Aspen’s cowardice?

Although, it was funny that Aspen had thought he’d needed to lie about it. The shifty expression on his face, the oddly cautious movements, the careful parsing of his words... he must’ve been trying to cover up his fear.

“Stop him!” he heard Princess scream as behind him a door was flung open to reveal a wide-eyed Aspen, shoving something green into his pack.

“Hey, what the hell are you doi--” He was interrupted as Aspen dashed passed him. “Son of a bitch!” he shouted as he charged after him.

As they rushed down the long corridor, he began to gain on the other pony. Dogwood was putting every ounce of energy into his speed, fueled by his rage. He didn’t know what Aspen was doing, but if he was going against Princess, he was siding with the Equestrians. Them or Catalpa. Either way, he was working with the ponies who killed his daughter. Which meant he had to die.

Aspen slowed when he got to the door, pausing to open it, but Dogwood didn’t slow down. He body-checked the other pony, sending them both crashing through the door, onto the terrace outside. Dogwood rolled to his feet, drew his spear, and looked up to see that Aspen had done the same, and was backing down the terrace away from him.

“Let me go, Dogwood,” he said, inching away. “Let me go, and nopony gets hurt.”

“Don’t do that again. I’m warning you. You know I’m better with one of these than you are.”

Dogwood charged him, flailing wildly, focus and technique gone, replaced by rage. He felt a stinging rise up his foreleg as Aspen knocked his spear aside, whirling around to strike him in the head with the butt of his own. Stars exploded in his vision, and he fell to his knees. The world was spinning. He closed his eyes, trying to gather himself.

When he opened them again, Aspen was gone, sprinting down the terrace. Bastard. Grabbing his spear off the ground and pulling himself to his hooves once more, he surged after him.

Aspen made his way down the terrace, cutting across a bridge. Headed for the burned fields in the river basin. Dogwood skidded to a halt, peering over the edge of the terrace. If he could make it down to the ground from here, he could cut Aspen off.

There was a five meter drop between it and the next ledge. If he landed poorly, he would probably break a leg.

Which wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d get to see his daughter again. He jumped.

He rolled into the landing, sending shockwaves through his body, but keeping his legs intact. It hurt, but he was too angry to focus on the pain. He hopped off the ledge, falling another two meters to the ground, landing hard on his hooves. Hoofsteps rang out from behind him, and he whipped around to see Aspen slide to a stop in front of him.

“How did you--” he started to say, but he was cut off as Dogwood lunged forward, raking his spearhead across Aspen’s right foreleg.

The other pony winced and stumbled away, drawing his spear once more, careful to hold it with his left hoof. There was a dangerous look in his eyes, like that of a cornered animal. A look Dogwood ignored. He advanced slowly on the other pony--on the traitor.

“Please, Dogwood, you have to understand, they’ve got Willow--” Aspen was cut off again as he was forced to dodge a spear thrust.

He levelled his spear at Dogwood. “Don’t make me hurt you, Dogwood, just let me--”

Dogwood lashed out again, sweeping the flint spearhead across where Aspen’s head had been a split second before. He struck again, and again, growing frustrated as Aspen ducked and dodged everything Dogwood could throw at him, backing up to stay just at the edge of his range.

And with that, he retaliated. Dogwood blocked the first blow. He dodged the second.

The third struck him in the neck. He dropped his weapon, and looked down to see a spear shaft jutting from under his chin.

He tried to talk, tried to say something to his murderer. All that came out was a faint gurgling. There was a metallic taste in his mouth. Something warm was spreading over his chest. He couldn’t breathe in; there was something in his lungs.

The world tipped sideways and he hit the ground, his vision growing dark. Through the haze, he could just barely make out Aspen standing over him. A sudden calm came over him, just as Aspen ripped the spear out of his throat. He didn’t have to fight anymore.

He could see the other pony running away from him, could see his neighbors looking from him to Aspen. He felt their eyes upon him. A crowd was gathering. A fog was rolling in.

His wife burst through the bystanders. Knelt by his side. Tried to say something to him. He couldn’t hear anything, only the blood pumping in his ears. The last thing he saw was his wife’s face.

_________________________________________________________

Roads was worried. Everything hurt. Everything. His hooves, his legs, his wings. He felt sore, bruised, and tired.

Even his lines felt strange. It had been twelve hours and they still hadn’t returned to normal. Though they had lost their attunement to the nexus when he was asleep, they had begun to re-attune to Summer. Even now, he could sense her, walking around on the other side of the cave.

He stared at her, trying to piece together what was wrong with his lines. Could it be the Lotus? Perhaps he’d eaten a particularly potent fruit. Or maybe actually casting magic had damaged his lines somehow. As far as he knew, nopony who wasn’t a unicorn had ever actually channeled magic--what if his lines just weren’t made to handle it? Or perhaps all these months of breaking his ley patterns with Attunement potions had--

Roads felt his face grow warm. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring for so long.

“What--uh, no. No! It’s nothing like that. It’s just... I could feel you.”

Summer put on a faux frown. “Really? You don’t want to?” She sighed. “Disappointing.”

“Yet somehow you still manage. Really, though, what’s up with the staring. It’s kinda creepy.”

“I was just thinking about my lines. They haven’t reverted back to--they haven’t ‘healed’ yet. Instead they just realigned to yours. And now I can sense you. Or, your lines, anyway,” Roads explained.

“Not really. I’m starting to worry they won’t ever go back to normal. In which case I’ll never fly again.”

“Well, yeah. But it’s useful--most of the time. And I need to be able to fly to do my job, back in Equestria.”

“Well, with a break as bad as yours, you wouldn’t be able to for a while, anyway. If I were you, I’d try not to worry about it. Although, I don’t guess trying will help you much. Worrying’s kinda your thing, isn’t it?” Summer asked.

“Hmph. Yeah. I guess it kind of is. Not a great ‘thing’ to have, I guess.”

He rolled his eyes and nudged her with his elbow. He felt a slight tingling sensation as the rest of his lines slid into alignment with hers, and he became completely attuned to her. He gave a slight gasp. Summer stiffened next to him.

“Nothing, it’s just... when I touched you just then, I got attuned to you and it feels... weird. Not like being attuned to the nexus, or being aligned to somepony. It’s kind of... clearer. In a way that’s hard to describe. And it’s no so much like my lines are sensing yours as it is that they’re sort of... echoing.”

“Huh. Weird. Makes sense though. I get the strangest feeling that there’s... there’s something next to me. I mean, you’re there, obviously, but it feels different... Wait, I thought you said you were already ‘attuned’ to me, or whatever,” Summer said.

“No, not attuned. Just mostly aligned. A few... uh--‘strands’ I guess you might call them--of my lines were still following the nexus’ alignment, and a couple more were just completely free. But now it’s... different. It’s hard to explain,” Roads said.

She shrugged. “Alright. Not like I’ve got anything better to do.” Summer got to her hooves, and turned to look at Roads, who had done the same. “Now what?”

Roads stared at her, incredulous. “You never learned basic energy channeling?”

Roads sighed, pressing a hoof to his face. The things he put up with. “Alright, whatever. I know you know telekinesis. Channel that.”

Roads groaned. He really needed to start associating with more ponies who had actually been to a magic school. Or at the very least learned the basics of sorcery. But then, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Summer ducked away from him. “Woah there, Casanova. Remember what we talked about?”

Roads rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that,” he said. “Just bear with me.”

He put his hoof on her horn again, and felt a slight pressure run through his lines as she started the spell. Roads looked across the room, found a rock, and then focused hard on it. Come on, he thought to himself. Just like with the nexus. Just flex and focus...

A wavering glow formed around the stone. Roads focused a bit harder, and the light grew.

She gritted her teeth and he felt a little more magic surge into his hoof and flow into his lines. He let it move through him, out the other hoof, binding the rock. The stone floated into the air and Roads cracked a wide smile. He floated it a few feet towards the entrance of the cave, then took his hoof off of her horn. The stone continued to hover.

Roads stared at it, wide eyed. I’m... I’m still casting the spell? His mind scrambled to come up with an explanation. Perhaps her magic managed to become self sustaining and draw off of the energy of my lines. Or maybe the surge of energy she gave my kickstarted my lines into temporary activity.

Either way, he was starting to grow exhausted. He let the stone fall to the ground with a heavy thump.

He turned and looked at her, a bead of sweat running down the side of his brow. She stared back, eyebrows raised.

He grinned at her. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be able to do something like that. Might just be worth never flying again. Maybe.”

He frowned, and sat back against his rock once again, lost in thought. He stretched out his unbroken wing, inspecting it for a moment, staring at the hole Princess had burned in it. His wings...

He had always taken them for granted, but now that they were burned, broken, and useless, he felt a strange sort of hollowness. It was almost as if--

“Hey, have we got any food left?” Summer asked him, breaking his concentration.

“Just like a spec,” she sighed. “Guess I’ll have to go ask Chief where those banana trees are.”

“Good luck,” he called after her as she trotted to the back of the cave in search of the earth pony.

Hollowness. Right. His wings had always been a reminder of his old life, of where he came from. Of his father. And as much as he hated it, it was a part of him. Losing his wings felt like cutting out part of his identity. Did it matter that it was replaced by a new--and rather inexplicable--propensity for magic? A loss was a loss.

Was he even the same pony now who had boarded the zeppelin five days ago? Was that a bad thing? All those nights spent loathing himself, spiteful and isolated... He had wanted to change. To become somepony else.

And now he was somepony else. Somepony different. A flightless pegasus. A secondhand magician. A pony capable of survival. Capable of defending himself.

A pang of guilt ran through him. Did it matter what he had been before, if what he had become was a killer? In Equestria, they would lock him up for what he had done. Here, they had tried to execute him. To put him down like a wild animal. And the only reason they hadn’t was because he had beaten them at their own cruel game.

He knew what Chief and Summer were capable of. He’d seen and heard plenty of that. And he had thought he was so different, so much more innocent, so much more moral. Until he got the opportunity to kill. Was everypony else as bad as he was? Were there murderers lurking in the hearts of his fellow Equestrians, just waiting for the right situations to show themselves? Was social stability the only thing that separated pony from beast? Were ponies kind to each other not out of purity of heart, but only out of fortunate contexts?

He wasn’t sure which was worse--that he might be a homicidal aberration, or that everypony might secretly be as vicious as him. Either way, he felt utterly disheartened.

“Hey,” a voice called from the other side of the cave. “What’s wrong?”

Roads looked up to see Willow peering at him from across the fire, a concerned look etched into his face.

“Why do you care what’s bothering me?” he asked, sitting down beside the other pony.

“You’re not supposed to. You’re supposed to hate me. You’re supposed to want me to feel bad.”

“Not really. I mean, what if I weren’t tied up? That would totally defeat the purpose. What kind of prisoner isn’t tied up?” Willow asked.

“You’re missing the point. I’m saying you should feel bad for being tied--for being a ‘prisoner.’ You should be angry at me.”

Roads sighed. He clearly wasn’t going to get anywhere with that. “And your eye? It’s bruised, swollen half shut. That’s my fault.”

It was true. Even in the shade of the cave, whenever Willow moved his long brown mane out of his face, Roads could see the black eye he had given the islander.

“I punched you! I tied you up! I hurt your friends! You should hate me. I’ve been horrible to you.”

“Lots of ponies are mean to me. I’m still their friend anyway. You’re not even the worst. You don’t even want to do mean things. Some ponies do.” Willow fell silent for a moment, thinking. His frown deepened, and for a second, Roads thought he might cry. Then, suddenly, a cheery expression returned to his face.

“But I try not to think about it,” Willow continued. “And so I don’t! I think about other things instead. And then I’m not sad and they’re not sad and everypony can be friends again.”

Willow chuckled. “You sound like Aspen. That’s what he always says. He says I should be angry. He says I should always hit back. But I think maybe that means I’m not any better than them. And besides, usually Aspen hits for me. But I try not to think about that either.”

Roads got the sudden urge to give Willow a hug. He managed to resist. “Willow... what if I told you I was worse than those ponies.”

“What if I told you I had killed--had murdered--somepony. What would you say then?”

“The mare who died the night you came back into town. Is that who you--are you talking about her?”

Roads stared at him for a long time. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything. Willow seemed so eager to forgive, to forget. Yet... Roads didn’t want to be forgiven. Didn’t deserve to be forgiven.

And, even more frightening, what if Willow didn’t? What if even Willow couldn’t accept that? How could he ever live with what he had done, if it even got to Willow? What hope would there be that he could forgive himself?

Willow looked away from him, thinking. “Why?” he asked after a moment. “She was a nice pony,” he said quietly.

Waves of guilt rushed over Roads. He sat down against the wall, cradling his head in his hooves.

“I don’t know what happened. I was scared. Seeing things. Hearing things. And then... there she was. I didn’t even think. I barely saw her, but I didn’t miss. And then she was just... dead. And there was nothing I could do.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still not looking up. He just stared into his hooves.

“That doesn’t fix anything. That doesn’t change what I did. And it doesn’t excuse it.”

“He says the way you tell the bad ones, though, is if they do the same things twice.”

“Aspen is smart like that. He says a lot of things. When he gets back, you should talk to him. He’ll make you feel better. At least, if you’re anything like me, that is.”

“I don’t think I’m very much like you, Willow. I’m not really sure anypony is.”

Willow smiled at him. “Well, thanks!” He paused for a second, thinking again. “You know, I think I have an idea of what Aspen would say, if he were here. He would ask you if you would do it again.”

“No. Well, yes. Sort of. Um... He would ask, if you were in the woods again, and it was dark, and you heard a noise... would you look first?”

“I thought so. And then Aspen would ask, ‘Do you know what a bad pony would say to that question?’”

“A bad pony would say he would do it again, just the same. A bad pony would say he didn’t have a problem. A bad pony would say he did the right thing.”

“So that’s it? That’s all? That’s the only thing that separates a bad pony from a good one? A desire to change? To do better next time?”

Roads sighed. “I want to think you’re right. I really do. But... I can’t help but think that there’s something more to it than that. That there’s got to be some element of foresight. Of intention. That right and wrong aren’t determined solely by how we feel about the things we do. It can’t be that simple. That black and white.”

“Well, if that’s the way you want to think, I guess you’re always gonna be miserable.”

Roads chuckled at that. “I guess I am. Although, even by your standards, I’m still a bad pony.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I held you captive once. Do you hold it against me?”

“Well,” Willow said. “That is between you and her. And Aspen and I try not to be involved. When we can.”

“Oh, we do. But that doesn’t mean we like it. We don’t really like being guards. But we also want Princess to like us. She controls everything, after all. And the ponies who she dislikes... they usually end up disappearing--that’s a euphemism for dying, by the way--so, it’s in our best interest to do what she wants.”

“So, that’s it then? You serve Princess, and in return, she doesn’t kill you? That’s your only option?” Roads asked.

“The ponies all the islanders elect to talk to Princess for us. It used to be that they controlled everything, until Princess showed up. Now they’re mostly just figureheads,” Willow said.

“Sometimes they stand up to Princess. They tell her what the islanders want, and try to keep her in line. Usually it doesn’t work. Only a tiny fraction of the guard is loyal to them. Only enough to keep Princess from doing away with them entirely--she says she doesn’t want to be bothered with a civil war.”

“So... this whole time... the islanders have just been following Princess out of fear? And because there weren’t any other options?” Roads asked.

“And because they’re afraid of Equestrians. And Princess always says that she’ll keep us safe from Equestrians. And most ponies believe the Council is to helpless to defend us. So, we do what Princess asks of us. And usually it turns out well.”

“Well...lately... ever since you, uh... showed up, more ponies have been siding with the Council. I don’t know how, or why, but apparently they’re getting stronger. There are a lot of rumors going around. Aspen and I don’t really know what to make of it. We try to stay impartial.”

Willow smiled. “Yeah! All we really want is for everything to turn out alright.”

Roads laughed at him. Somehow, their conversation had made him feel better. Lighter. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m gonna need it. Especially now that my wings are all, uh...”

A tree? Willow had jumped a mental track somewhere that Roads couldn’t quite follow.

“No, Willow, it doesn’t have anything to do with trees. Look, there are these things called ‘ley lines’ and they--”

Willow laughed. “I don’t think you’re really a tree. That would be silly. Trees can’t even talk, usually. I just mean, you’re like a tree. But with magic instead of lightning.”

Roads blinked. “What? You realize, trees don’t make lightning, right? It’s generated by clouds.”

“Okay, look. Summer and Princess have their own magic? They make it, like thunderclouds make their own lightning, right?”

“Well, the thing I noticed is, magic is kind of like lightning sometimes. Unless it really has to, it goes wherever is easiest. Because it’s energy. They’re both energy.”

“Well, the thing about lightning is that it likes to hit trees. Because it wants to touch the ground. And since it hits the trees, that must mean it’s easier to touch the ground through the tree than through the air. The tree passes the lightning easier.”

“Right, exactly. ‘Cause it’s structured different. Well, you’re like a tree, now, but for magic instead of lightning. You used to be air--and you could fly and stuff--but now you’re stuck on the ground. Except, you’re stuck on the ground and you’re ‘a better conductor.’”

Roads blinked. Willow had guessed at the theory of ley fragmentation and conduction just by watching thunderstorms?

Well, he supposed it wasn’t that unheard of. If a pony thought about magic like they thought about other forms of energy, they might be able to come to the same conclusions Willow had.

He supposed the basics of magic weren’t much different than the basics of physics. Which made him wonder--if more ponies would think about magic as a type of energy, rather than some mystic force, would they be able to pick up the basics of spellcasting more quickly? He made a note to look into it when he got back to Equestria. If he got back to Equestria.

“Well... that’s pretty close, actually. I mean, your reasoning is strange, but your conclusions are pretty much in line with the basics of ley theory.”

Willow smiled at him. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“You could explain it if you wan--” Willow sat up suddenly. “Aspen’s coming back!” he exclaimed.

Pressing his hooves over his ears to block out the magical shrieking, Roads turned to see Aspen standing at the entrance to the cave. He looked bruised and worn, a deep gash in one foreleg, and streaks of blood in his dirty-blonde mane. He leaned against the butt of his spear, clutching Princess’ crown in his injured forehoof.

“Guys,” he said over the whine of the tripwire. “I think I just started a war.”

Stories of a Warden

by Rosencranz

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