//------------------------------//
// Divine Decree 
// Story: The Immortal Dream 
// by Czar_Yoshi 
//------------------------------//

I had to hold myself back from running out into the rainstorm. This wasn't the only time Ironridge would experience inclement weather, I told myself. And when I asked, the others agreed: usually, downpours like this blew in every four to eight days. Waiting as long for a storm as this one had been was unusual, and apparently I already missed one on a night I didn't leave the Ice District.

That I was tired didn't dissuade me as much as it should have, and neither that it was almost dawn. Common sense told me to wait, but it couldn't find an effective argument to counter my curiosity, leaving me in a forced limbo as the part carried on. The most convincing thing I was able to tell myself was that if I bailed on the party now, I wouldn't be able to ask Lalala about her spirituality or unusual eyes, couldn't find out more about Saturn and Mandlebrot's opinions on batponies, and probably would make myself so tired that I'd still be worn out tomorrow when I wanted to investigate Princess Coda.

But, of course, I was too distracted by thoughts of the Night District to indulge any of those questions, and so dawn arrived and the party disbanded and I left the mansion with everyone else who didn't live there, completely unfulfilled.

For once, I was glad I had my clothes, the storm still raining in full swing. Rivulets of water ran along recesses in the cobbled stone streets, deep enough that I could see it even though it was supposed to flow through the stones and under the road. Hot rain spattered against my coat and bounced off my back, turning the usual inferno into a very pleasant, slightly cool shower. More for the others than me, since they weren't wearing anything. None of them seemed to mind a bit.

We boarded our trains, and I set off to the east, the rising sun turning the clouds from an empty orange to an empty gray - it was eerie, seeing the rising light from the city refract in the falling rain. My train was empty too, the pre-dawn rush hour long since passed, and the weather keeping ponies home to boot. Some passengers were dry, and others, like me, were soaked. I considered taking off my sodden coat to air out my fur, but the train was so humid, that would probably backfire, even as wet as I was. And even if the crowds were sparse, I was very much still in public.

Sometimes, the train sped through tunnels, and other times, it traveled outdoors, rain hammering on the roof and covering Ironridge in a misty malaise. I had a city-side window, but the view was just a great big fade-out into nothingness, all details vanishing into blue and gray.

Kind of like my own emptiness. With my imagination, I could reach out and touch that rainy landscape, painting in buildings and whatever else I could conceive of that might be there beyond the haze, just like I did for my mask. Except it was all in my head; there was a real city out there, and it was infinitely more complex than any caricatures my imagination could project against a screen.

I wondered what that said about me, both the mask and beneath it.

It had been a while since I last took off my mask, and I had a growing list of things to do when I did. Chiefly, revisiting whatever I had hidden from myself about Corsica's special talent, that kept bugging me when we talked in the Sky District. But true privacy was elusive in Ironridge, so it would have to wait.

Just like everything else, apparently. I sighed. Once, recently, my life had been a lot more dreaming and a lot less doing. Now, my dreams were suddenly all within reach at once, and I was paralyzed tripping over myself, trying to chase them all. Why couldn't these things space themselves out more? Not like I could complain about choice, but it was like being served your five favorite foods at once, and knowing you couldn't eat your fill of all of them.

Coda? Night District? Learning about batponies? Searching for a way down to the ether river? I had never learned to manage a problem like this before. All the lessons my life had taught me were about being patient and resilient. Plenty about having too little, but nothing about having too much.

My train rushed through the Ice District, deposited me at the station nearest to Jamjars' house, and roared along on its way. I saw myself home, grabbed a snack, showered for real, and slipped into my room. Corsica was already there, sleeping. Seconds later, I was too.





My cheek stung, and I was covered in snow. My legs ached, but my heart was pounding, and I could hear Nicov gloating. I was back in Icereach, brawling with the yaks, and apparently getting my butt kicked as usual.

"Huh huh. Ponies so spirited." Balthazar appeared beside me, nodding towards Corsica and Ansel, who were arguing as usual.

"I wish spirit could make up for muscle," I mumbled, finishing checking myself over and sitting up. "Any one of you can take all of us one versus three, and we've been at this for months."

"Hmm," Balthazar mused. "Yak warriors train for long time to get good. Pony Halcyon already much better than science ponies who never see sky. It like yak proverb about big fish in small pond, except hard for Halcyon to see own size because she big shark in exclusive hangout pond full of carnivorous beluga whale. Put Halcyon in big ocean, and she still scary shark."

I nodded, feeling like something was off about that metaphor, but not well-versed enough in sea life to place it. "Still..."

Balthazar frowned for a moment, and then brightened. "Ah! Yak have best idea. Halcyon just need to learn special secret technique. Then will surely be much more powerful. Come!"

I trotted eagerly after him, wondering what he had been holding back from me... both in the past and present. I didn't remember this dream, or learning any secret techniques from him that went above and beyond general combat wisdom.

Not all of my dreams were things I consciously remembered, of course. No one could perfectly recollect every minute of every day. Sometimes, I dreamed of things I remembered in hindsight, but had completely forgotten before being shown them.

We moved to a less-occupied section of the parade grounds, and Balthazar nodded for me to stop, then faced me. "This technique about keeping balance while carrying heavy load," he explained. "Halcyon want to block yak? Yak heavy. Pony cannot shoulder all of yak momentum by self. But can still move yak in direction pony want if smart. Balthazar show how to make momentum work for-"

"Boss," Darius called, the colored stripe on his shaggy bang flapping as he stomped closer. "We've got an ask from the embassy. They want a maintenance check on the anti-air crossbows, and are being pushy about it for some reason."

Balthazar gave him a funny look. "Ambassador hit head? No need for crossbows. Icereach in middle of allied airspace."

Darius shrugged. "Apparently some high-tier defense job got replaced in Infinite Glacier recently, and the new top brass want to know what they have to work with. Mind doing this now? It needs your seal of approval."

Balthazar chuckled. "Top brass have strange priorities. Huh huh. Pony Halcyon come too! See crossbows. Very interesting."

I sighed, annoyed at having been pulled away from the lesson, but internally I relaxed. Now I remembered this dream. Icereach used to have several giant wooden siege weapons mounted near the rocket silos, but for some reason they had been replaced with sleeker, metal cannons about six months after the avalanche. This was a prelude to that.

The dream fuzzed a little as time skipped by, and then we were by the silos, Balthazar and Darius looking over a bank of heavy wooden machinery angled to the northeast and protected from the south and west by a low stone wall. They were about half buried in snow, and the wood looked frozen solid.

"Hmm." Balthazar inspected them with a rumble. "Maybe good that yaks came out to check. Try to fire."

Him and Darius pulled out a giant bolt of ammunition, stuffed it into a launcher, and started to wind it up. The machine moved in cracks and lurches, each one coming with a spray of breaking ice that had built up around a joint.

"Can't aim it," Darius warned. "The turntable is buried in snow."

Balthazar nodded. Then, after two tries, he released the firing trigger.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then something cracked and something else caught at the same time, and the bolt discharged, flying only a few feet before landing in a snowdrift.

Darius punched the weapon. With another crack of ice, it discharged the rest of the way.

"Hmm!" Balthazar looked pleased. "Crossbow not explode when used. Ambassador will be pleased."

"It also didn't work," Darius pointed out.

Balthazar shrugged. "This true. Will probably need better maintenance regimen to actually work if needed. Or maybe not be made of wood and covered in snow."

"Right," Darius said. "Let's go draft a report, then get some others to help shovel this snow..."

"Huh huh," Balthazar chuckled. "Always fun to watch bureaucrat ponies read report written in yak grammar. Makes worth it to learn to write."

I followed along, disappointed. "No secret technique training, then?"

Balthazar gave me an apologetic look. "Balthazar tell Halcyon even bigger secret: yak job boring. Sit around and flex all day. When have too much to do instead, is exciting! Time like this good to relish. Soon over and can sit around and train again."

I nodded.

"In way, is like yak secret technique for stopping too much momentum from bigger foe," he went on. "If science pony throws self at problem just like problem throws self at science pony, is too much and science pony gets knocked over. But if catch problem, move problem, and stay standing up? Problem get slower and slower. And remember, is no use having problem if not enjoy solving it. What is point of fighting if not for fun?"

My dream faded away, but I didn't open my eyes quite yet. Back then, I hadn't really understood what Balthazar was talking about, but it was much more relevant today: he enjoyed periods of having too much to do. He, like me, had spent years sequestered in Icereach, doing the same things all the time. And if he were here now, in my shoes, he wouldn't be struggling to balance a million different goals of hunting Aldebaran and deterring Egdelwonk and exploring the Night District and all. He would be enjoying the fact that he had them.

Which meant... what? That if I smiled and embraced it, I'd suddenly find the capacity to do everything I wanted at once? Doubtful. Even his positive outlook hadn't let Balthazar finish my lesson that day.

Maybe it just meant my situation could be enjoyable, and I didn't have to physically change anything I was doing, just my outlook? And then I'd have a better time?

Thanks for trying, dream-Balthazar, but I needed something a little more concrete than that, like physical multitasking ability, or a way to be in two places at once. Besides, it wasn't like I could literally just make myself like something I didn't-

My train of thought trailed off. Actually, that was exactly how I worked.

I stared at nothing, feeling a little hollow. I didn't have to be in this situation of being frustrated by my limitations at all, because I could just become someone who enjoyed being in that situation. And it was smart, too. I had this ability, so why not use it to become the happiest version of myself, the version best suited to my environment? Something in me pushed back against the idea, and it wasn't logic. Logic was trying to talk me into it.

But... I remembered the me from several years ago, before the avalanche, when Ansel and Corsica had been an item and I had been a third wheel. I made myself like that, too. I put up with the uneven ground and the teasing and complaining and cold shoulders for so long, and now, I felt like I was staring that version of myself in the eyes. Empty eyes. That wasn't me anymore. I didn't want to go back. I felt like if I did, I'd lose something. Something small and delicate that had grown up precariously sheltered from a storm of nothing...

I grabbed my blankets and sat up, shaking. What was I thinking? Where were these thoughts coming from? I looked around for my bedroom, for my posters and piano and nightstand and all the things I had collected to ground myself in what made me me. But that room was countless miles away. I was in Jamjars' house, sharing a spare bedroom with Corsica, who was still sleeping across from me. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached out a hoof, reaching for something solid to grab onto, reaching for me, like I was going to blow away-





Halcyon's mask came off.

She sighed, holding it in her forehooves. Physically. A hoof-sized chunk of emerald crystal, cradled in front of her, polished yet uncut and shimmering with a light that didn't glow.

Corsica was still asleep, and Halcyon trained her ears on her to make absolutely sure she'd know if that was about to change. A constellation of stars glowed in the distance around her, just like always, although these were concentrated much more below than above. Most of them in the direction of the Ironridge crater. The closest one was on Corsica's flank.

"Don't worry too much about what defines you," Halcyon whispered to the mask. "That's for you to decide. It's your privilege. Your right. Because you exist. Because I made you. And you don't need me anymore to make changes. You can do it on your own, just like a real pony. You're already much more real than I am. Speaking of, go find a real god to rely on. One who also exists, unlike me. You deserve better than Nothing."

She lifted the mask to her face and put it-





-back on.

I felt electrified and completely lucid. The foggy, doubtful thoughts were completely gone. I held up my hooves - crimson, like blood - and they were empty. A small part of my brain realized I couldn't remember what they had looked like when my mask was off. Only that they were holding the mask.

Or, perhaps more accurately, holding me.

I got up in a trance, and wandered the house, preparing for my work shift. All throughout it, I thought about what made me me. Only the tables were turned; the me on the surface was suddenly real. The idea that my mask was an act? Now just a fading illusion.

The mask was real. Something tangible, more than just an idea to be entertained. I had seen it with my own eyes. Or... the eyes of whoever else used this body before me, and still controlled it when I wasn't around. Whose memories I apparently shared, because I could remember parts of having the mask off, when they let me.

I wondered how long ago the mask - I - had been made. Had it happened in an instant, or was it a gradual process? During the Aldebaran incident, was I still me? What about my research into the chapel? Becoming friends with Corsica? What about the avalanche? Even if I could trust my memories, exactly when I had started to think of myself in terms of a pony wearing a mask was lost in a haze.

But thinking about becoming the version of me from before the avalanche... That's what started all this. That's what made the emptiness feel so much closer, what made my mask fall off just now.

I stared hollowly. I had just celebrated my nineteenth birthday party, and I might realistically be two and a half years old.

Ansel literally died during the avalanche, and was now a different person, a changeling or something similar. Corsica barely knew me at all from before that, beyond my face. Mother didn't interact with me all that much. I knew I had changed a huge amount during that time, but I had never considered that, like my brother, I might actually be a different pony.

My thoughts drifted to the chapel, and to the light spirit. That holy power... I couldn't even begin to guess how a batpony who didn't want to be herself anymore - perhaps one who had just lost her world to an avalanche - could literally create someone else to become. But what if she had asked the light spirit, on that darkest day when she went down to pray, the day before Corsica awoke?

What if... I was drawn to the chapel, and the light spirit, and the ether river, because it was the means and moment of my creation? My memories of my time with the light spirit were hazy, the way they got when old me was hiding something behind the mask. If that something was her asking the light spirit to make her someone different, someone who wouldn't have to live with her feelings...

Everything made beautiful, perfect, terrible sense. I knew who I was. I knew where I had came from, and why. I knew why I always cared so much about this. It was a flawless explanation.

I should have felt terrified, and I did. Not everyone can see their entire life in such perfect clarity, know the true purpose for their existence and creation. And yet, I also felt an immense and unquenchable hope: now that I knew these answers, I could rest my hooves on a solid foundation. I knew that I really did have reign to do whatever I wanted and be whoever I wanted, that there was nothing lurking beneath that didn't want me here. Nameless fears that I could never justify, quantify or explain boiled away like mist in the sun. I was free.

...And with my freedom, I was bumping Princess Coda to the top of my priority list. Maybe now I knew why I was fascinated with the idea of divinity - because I was literally made that way instead of born from a mortal womb - but it didn't change that this fascination was a part of who I was. I knew that. And I was going to follow it.





"Hey, Jamjars?" I asked, sharing a seat with her on the train on our way to work, unable to sate my eagerness with patience alone.

"Hmm?" Jamjars looked up, deep in thought but quickly putting those thoughts on hold. "What's up?"

I tongued the inside of my mouth, picking the question I figured I was most likely to get an informed answer on. "Do you know anyone called Howe?"

"Ah!" Jamjars brightened. "As a matter of fact, he's one of my oldest business partners, though we haven't worked together for at least a decade. Fat pegasus, impressive mane, that's the one you're thinking of?"

I nodded. "I ran into him in the Sky District the other night, and he mentioned knowing you."

Jamjars sighed wistfully. "Those were the days. He helped put me on the map. A good stallion, if hard to understand at times. His verbal ticks are endearing, but 'my darkness was darker than yours' gets a little dense at times..."

"How credible is he?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Exactly as credible as whoever's paying him," Jamjars said. "Of course, he has an affinity for shady employers, so usually not very much. He's a propaganda artist, so you can imagine some types of clientele are much more lucrative than others..."

Internally, I sighed. That probably meant this Princess Coda was a fake. But still... "You said you worked with him, though, right?"

Jamjars chuckled. "You think I made it big in the city by refusing advantages when I saw them?"

I looked away, still resolving to at least go up there and take a look.

"As a good and responsible caretaker, I probably ought to chastise you for associating with him at all, to be honest," Jamjars went on, leaning closer and lowering her voice just a little. "But you're an adult and I more or less got you foisted on me and I certainly wouldn't mind seeing someone like you follow in my hoofsteps, so who am I to complain? More power to you. And between you and me, Howe can be very credible when he wants to be."

My ears flicked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's also a professional informant," Jamjars whispered. "Working with every seedy organization he can get his hooves on gives him a pretty good picture of the underworld. Keep that on the down-low though. He's been doing it long enough that it's started to become an open secret in certain circles, but there are still plenty who don't know."

I squinted. Never mind why Jamjars was telling me sensitive information like this, that didn't add up in the first place. "So bad guys know he might be a spy who would out them to anyone who pays well enough? How's he still alive? I've only met one group of criminals, and they didn't mess around."

Jamjars shrugged. "Because anyone who knows that also knows who he works for, and she's scary enough to keep everyone more or less in line."

"Really? Who?" I let my voice rise a little.

Jamjars kicked me. "Enough about that on public transit. That mare one seat over and back just finished her conversation, and I don't want to chance us being in a whisper's earshot."

I started, looking around and realizing there was, in fact, a mare who wasn't talking to anyone right where Jamjars had indicated. How did she know that? How was she that aware?

Part of me wondered if she was cheating with unicorn magic, but that was a quitter's explanation. I wanted to be able to passively measure a crowd to tell who in it might be able to overhear a quiet conversation. Quietly, I bumped Jamjars up on the list of mares I wanted to be like.





Smile and wave. That was my job for three weddings back to back, that and throwing rice at ponies, and I did it admirably because I had a reason to smile. I looked at the celebrating guests, at the stallions with slicked-back hair and the mares with frilly gowns, chattering and eating appetizers and soaking in the party. Did they know what it was like to feel this way? Certainly, they were happy, and I somehow felt that happiness more than last time, like a sixth sense had been unblocked that let me touch the happiness in the air. It was more real. Or maybe I had always been able to read it, but my ideas of what was real and what was an act were suddenly rearranged.

The newlyweds, in particular, I realized, maybe did feel the way I did. There was an air of embraced purpose around them, of a weighty decision and satisfaction with their answer. Of stately revelry, excitement, and peace.

Between the ceremonies we worked quickly, not even doffing our dresses to save time, replacing drink-stained tablecloths and sweeping up rice from the floor and roll-out carpets. The catering company Jamjars brought in managed their own affairs with the grace of a well-maintained machine, refreshing the food from the shadows. Everything was good.

"You're in high spirits," Thumper remarked between the second and third ceremonies, and we shoved together against a portable wall, making an opening for the catering crew to take some of their empty food carts away.

"Got a good sleep last night," I replied, which was more or less true.

We finished the final ceremony, the last guest departed, and Jamjars gathered everyone around as the catering crew took their leave. "Three more happy couples," she sang, pulling several jingly bags out of her mane and chucking one at each of us. "Good work, everyone. Here's your payday. Let's get anything that'll stain into the wash, and leave the rest of the cleanup for tomorrow. Our next booking isn't for four days, so there'll be a day off in there, too. Enjoy!"

I caught my bag nimbly, checking inside and finding it full of Ironridge coins. Not like I needed a pick-me-up right now, but was I going to complain?

Although... I looked sideways at Jamjars. "You keep money in your mane?"

Jamjars shrugged and bounced her poofy locks. "It's practical. Plenty of space. And who's got room for pockets on a dress this slim and stately?" She turned, showing off her figure.

I blinked harder, confusion successfully overtaking my good mood. "You don't need pockets. You've got a horn. Why not just carry the money out to us?"

Now it was Jamjars' turn to give a funny look. "And keep it floating around during the entire wedding?"

"No," I tried to explain, "you keep it in the back. Right?" I pointed to our work area behind the fake walls.

"And just leave it sitting around for anyone to take?" Jamjars chuckled and turned toward the empty food tables, lighting her horn and getting to work. "Oh, you."

"Wait, you had that in your mane for the whole day?" I blinked even harder.

Thumper thumped me on the back. "Welcome to the Jam Clan. This is how we roll."

I shook my head and got to work as well, digesting this bizarre and fascinating new information. Under a certain insane logic, it was actually a pretty safe place to hide things, I supposed, provided you were crazy enough to do it. But never again would I be able to see Jamjars' mane and not wonder what other secrets it concealed.





We finished our work. My dress was packed away, my coat and boots back on where they belonged, though I hadn't yet ruined my perfect mane styling and reclaimed my usual scruffy mess. I was feeling pretty tonight, and between the style and my coat, I probably looked really important.

The storm was gone, but the streets were wet. I looked up at the sky, traces and wisps of cloud lit from below by the bright city lights. The stars were hard to see, but the moon was visible. I judged I had an hour and a half, maybe two hours before Coda's ship set sail, assuming they left at the same time every night and that was them I had seen taking off when I was there with Corsica.

I could make it if I ran, right? And I could run up a mountain for two hours after working all night and running myself to the bone the night before, right? I stretched my legs. They felt really good, just like the rest of me. I was still riding the emotional high.

Time to pay Coda a visit, then. Worst case, I got there too late and gave myself some really good exercise.

I bolted to the nearest station, slipping onto a train just as it was leaving. Rush hour was in full swing, and the train was packed, so I hid in a puddle of shadow, wishing my ears would stand up straight so I could more easily poke them out and listen to the world. I counted off stops, watched as the crowd of ponies ebbed and flowed, and eventually got off two stops early. This one was underground and had an elevator, and since the roads were a lattice of switchbacks, I'd make up any horizontal distance while gaining height, too.

The elevator topped out, and I set off on hoof, the city wet and humid around me. It was like breathing a cloud, the air so saturated that stormwater couldn't evaporate even though it was hot, and I willed my mane and tail to stay together and not fall apart from the conditions. At every intersection, I went up and east, my eyes searching out the platform in the distance that marked the entrance to the Sky District. My legs worked hard to make the climb, but they didn't quite burn, even though I was going at a full gallop. It was like I had a cushion behind and beneath me, buoying me and pushing me along.

It was just being in shape and having a positive attitude, I knew. And yet the superstitious side of my brain kicked on and insisted this was real magic, that a goddess was helping me along because I wanted to meet her.

As I reached the platform and started the long climb up the broken lift tunnel, I forcibly slowed my thoughts and tried to check my expectations. What I was really here for was to sate my curiosity and meet a group who was handing out free money in exchange for prayers of adoration to a probably-fake goddess. A group that reeked of fraud, hailed from the Griffon Empire, and because of that just might possibly have ties to another group of ex-empire fraudster pirates I had a vendetta against. The odds that it was actually a legitimate goddess were a million to one, and even if it was, the odds that it was the same power as the light spirit - the one that really mattered - were essentially zero. I couldn't think up any explanation for how that might be the case, no matter how implausible.

Breathe, Halcyon. Focus on what you're getting yourself into and have a plan. Once you've found them, what next?

Well... Jamjars had clout. If I learned something about where Aldebaran was, I might be able to ask her to do something. Something more than I already knew, at least. I remembered meeting the Composer on my first night here, before I even set hoof in Jamjars' house. We both knew each other were in Ironridge, and roughly where: the Composer had been following Lilith. That meant I probably didn't have any element of surprise to lose by blindly stumbling into something. And if the Composer was on the team of one of Jamjars' rivals, anything I found up here probably wouldn't change how safe I was from my affiliation with her.

And if it did, I always had a nuclear option, a get-out-of-jail-free card: Egdelwonk had given me an employment contract stating he got to me first, that would become valid when and exactly when I wanted it to be. Not like I remotely liked or trusted him, but I was all but certain he could beat Aldebaran in a political fight. And he had made a point of telling me Ironridge's moonlighting laws only applied to multiple jobs inside Cold Karma, as if he knew I'd wind up working for Jamjars' wedding agency and wanted me to know that wouldn't get in the way. And he already had Corsica and was stalking me, so it wasn't like I could be rid of him by not taking the contract. The point was, if anyone tried to get an angle on me I didn't like, it was on the table.

I huffed, climbing, my breath running short as the stairs flew by, no amount of conditioning and high-altitude breath training quite able to surmount a challenge like this. Now I was thinking like... I didn't know, but I was thinking differently. Focusing on how I could use other ponies to get me out of my problems, instead of how I could solve them myself.

My life had just gotten so much clearer, so much more confident. There should be something I could do for myself, too, beyond playing smart with bargains and tactics. I was cool enough to run up a mountain. I was cool enough to... well, maybe not be a real pony, but be a whole lot more real than I had always thought of myself as before! Surely there was something I could do...

I stopped for breath and doubled over, panting. My bracelet gleamed at me in the dark.

You know...

Experimentally, I turned it on, and then a little higher. A thin line of green flame flickered along its width. I pushed it slightly more, and the flame spread to my body, suffusing me in a wandering, undulating, ethereal glow. The fire didn't char my clothes, and it didn't curl my fur, but it did cause me to steam intensely for a moment, all the water that had soaked into me burning and evaporating away.

I blinked, checking my reflection in a puddle formed by some stuck debris. My mane styling had survived, intact.

This bracelet... I held my leg up, studying it. Mother told me I would know long before pushing myself to a point where it hurt me. But how could I trust that when I couldn't trust what I knew? That was how I felt before. And using it still felt bad somehow, like I was embracing something that wasn't meant to be embraced, as if it fed on my confusion and turned all possibilities into their worst forms. I imagined myself using it, and I imagined myself burning, because that could happen, and the unknown was scary.

Both scary and wonderful, though, because things lurking in the unknown could be good or bad. Likely, there were many of both. That was why I both loved and feared it, exploring as a scientist and pondering as an adventurer and daydreaming of that distant horizon.

I knew, logically, that this rush I was feeling couldn't last. Something bad would catch up with me, bring my life back into it usual balance of things I was running toward and things I was running away from. Things I couldn't explain or couldn't deal with would start poking holes in my perfect new understanding of who I was and where I came from. But those hadn't happened yet.

So, maybe, while my emotions were still in harmony and I had the privacy of this tunnel, while I wasn't afraid, I should see what I could do so that I would know when I needed to.

My bracelet was already burning, the fire already running up and down my body. I thought about it... and then I let it go out.

This bracelet had definitely been with me since before the avalanche. And it had never hurt me since then, not counting the time I let it go out while it was protecting me from a storm. My fear of it, my worry about what it could do, belonged to the old Halcyon. The pony beneath the mask.

I could show her there was nothing to be afraid of, maybe. Of course, her fear might be founded and I might be wrong, but Mother said otherwise and I trusted her judgement. But...

No. I would respect the old Halcyon's fear, and not push the bracelet just because I could. Maybe if I needed it, but everything she was had been wiped away to create the blank, empty potential that I had been inscribed on in turn. Standing there, looking at the bracelet, I felt sorry for her. For the pony who couldn't live with losing her friends, and made way for me, instead.

I wasn't going to fear the bracelet myself. But honoring the nightmares of my forebearer, the fears I had grown up in and only just started to cast off after the Aldebaran incident, was the respectful thing to do. And even if she wanted to disappear into the quiet and dark, this was a part of her I could hold onto.

After all my struggles to understand who I was, to choose what I wanted to be and then to become it, to prove that I existed, it didn't feel right to just let her fade into nothing.

I grinned a little, feeling like I had made the right choice, and kept climbing.





This time, I was smart and took the lift. It helped, knowing where to look for it. The lift attendant looked like a chatty fellow who was more there out of habit than compensation, but I suspected my dignified appearance had him cowed into submission. Probably just as well. I was almost there, and was psyching myself up for either disappointment when I was too late, or a world of possibilities if I was on time.

I rose into the skyport, retracing my steps towards the outer airship dock where Jamjars had caught me the night before. A glimmer of pink shone in the distance through a broken window, a hint that my quarry hadn't yet left for the night. As fast as I could without getting weird looks, I began to run.

Finally, I approached a boarding ramp that was in better condition than most of the others, an airship clearly visible behind it. Like the Aldebaran, it had an unusual design with a set of wire hoops hanging above it in place of a dirigible, but where the other ship had a storm cloud, this one had a burning, blazing comet of magical energy, violet-pink fire that crackled with black lightning and faded to black around the edges. Clearly a different power source, but I would put all my new wages on the underlying technology being similar.

Two bizarre ponies guarded the boarding ramp; at first I took them for batponies with unicorn horns. But on second glance, their wings were fake, and on third, the leafy bunches on their ears probably were too. Good fakes, but fakes all the same. Odds were, they also had fake fangs and slitted contact lenses, just like I could use to turn my eyes normal for a change.

"Hello," I said, carrying myself with a refined gate and adopting a voice that was important, but not presumptuous.

"Welcome!" one unicorn said with a bow.

"The Lady Coda bids you welcome," the other added, kneeling in respect. "Have you come to offer a prayer of love and admiration?"

Play it cool, Halcyon. "I heard there was money involved."

The first unicorn straightened up - I guessed she was around thirty, and the latter a stallion of fifty. "The Lady Coda does solicit the population's love and respect, but only so she can pay it back a hundredfold," she said. "Material wealth in exchange for your love is a small price to pay for the utopia to come."

Something about this felt... off. And not 'I'm about to get robbed' off. Aldebaran had operated smoothly, earned my trust and admiration, and then conned me. And after the fact, Ansel had made a big point of calling them amateurs for losing our trust at all when the con was in progress. Aside from the costumes, these ponies looked and sounded respectable, but it was almost as if they were desperate. Like they couldn't afford to run a long con to get what they wanted, and had to offer money straight up to attract anyone. Or, maybe, like they were attempting a hustle without knowing how those worked.

I studied them, and got the impression I was dealing with ponies who were out of their league.

Now, a true master con pony could create that impression deliberately to try to fool folks who had seen this before like me, but I couldn't fathom what they would gain from that when set up in a town where literally anyone could wander by. Why not just prey on the ponies who would fall for it and let the smart ones get away?

...Maybe that was what they were doing. Maybe a setup like this raked in whatever they were angling for without needing professionals at the helm. Or, maybe, these were legitimate believers and not con ponies at all.

"I'm interested," I said, nodding slightly. "How does this work?"

The unicorns both bowed, pointing me down the ramp. "Come right on board," the mare beckoned. "Our ship is open to all. Someone will guide you to an altar, where you can make your prayer and be compensated."

I stepped past them, a wary surrealness settling over me. This was something I had never done before. If push came to shove, I had no idea what I'd be up against and what I'd do about it. But apparently they were angling for civilians in general, here, so if this was a trap designed for ordinary folk... Well, I was far from ordinary.

The ramp entered the ship through a door in the side, depositing me in a room that looked more like a festival than a trap. Colored lights and decorations were everywhere, along with a snack table and plenty of ponies, unicorns dressed like batponies outnumbering ordinary citizens about two to one. This room stretched across the ship from side to side, a panoramic window taking up the opposite wall. To my left, towards the prow, a row of doors lined the wall. To my right, along the other wall, a line of tall, fancy booths had been set up, pleated velvet curtains covering their entrances. Two looked occupied, telltale rumps and tails brushing against the insides of the curtains.

Several chairs, potted plants and a posh rug decorated the room, and from the amiable chatter taking place all around, it felt more like I was in a social club than the seat of a trap. I relaxed a little, and after seeing several ponies grab things from the snack table, I took a cheese cube and several cookies for myself. Not a proper meal, but I was quite hungry after the climb.

"Greetings," a solemn stallion said to me, yet another unicorn dressed like a batpony. He had droopy eyes and big robes, and looked more like a serious, elderly pontiff than a changeling mercenary revolutionary. "Is this your first time visiting Izvaldi?"

I nodded.

The stallion smiled an old, welcoming smile. "The altars to Lady Coda are in those booths," he said, pointing to the row I had observed earlier. "Offer your love, and she will bless you with the wealth you desire. Of course, true faith asks nothing in return, but the ponies of the world are jaded after looking out for themselves for so long. So, think of these riches less as compensation for your love, and more an apology for our extended absence from a land in need."

I nodded again. "Okay."

He bowed. "This ship is a home to all faithful. Please, enjoy your time here."

And then he wandered away. Curiously, I checked a few of the doors to the left first, some instinct telling me to finish my exploration before doing anything that might steal my attention for a while. Some were closed, but one was slightly ajar. Inside, I spotted Howe getting a shoulder massage from another dressed-up unicorn.

I blinked. He noticed me and winked back. "The Howenator gets paid like a king, baby!"

Okay, then. Actually, that might feel kind of good, if it didn't involve letting someone else touch my body. Even with my clothes on, I wasn't the most touchy-feely. And I imagined any good masseuse wouldn't want to work on me through a thick coat. And that was assuming I trusted them in the first place.

Glancing around once more as I wandered toward the booths, I noticed a distinct demographic trend among the clergy: almost all of them were old. Anywhere between fifty and eighty seemed the norm. I only saw one who looked as young as the mare at the entrance, and she was already older than Jamjars.

That was interesting. Usually, I'd expect young up-and-comers to be running a con.

Uncertainly, I entered a booth, the curtain swishing closed behind me. Inside, with just enough room for me to stand before it, was an altar shaped like a graceful, life-sized pegasus mare. Carved of simple stone, she sat on her haunches, forelegs reaching toward me and wings spread, head tilted back and mouth open in song. She was featureless, and yet very pretty.

I leaned in for a closer inspection. Her mouth was hollow, a dark tube receding into the wall. Probably meant to carry my voice, and there was someone on the other end listening? Or maybe that was where the money came out. Additionally, the carved stone was slightly rough, and here and there I found a hair of fur stuck to it, all different colors.

Was... this statue meant to be embraced? Was that the reason for its pose? If I hung myself in its arms, my mouth would be right next to its. A perfect position for my voice to carry.

That was weird. More like something the newlyweds at Jamjars' weddings would do than a goddess and her subservient. Although Coda was supposedly a princess of love...

Well, my kind of love was better. I wouldn't hug the statue, but I had come all the way out here. So, I summoned my thoughts, my feelings, my hopes, and just in case this wasn't a con and was actually real, I stood and addressed the statue face to face.

"Hey," I whispered, loud enough that I hoped it could hear. "I spent... a long time looking for who I wanted to be. And, I think I've still got a lot longer to go. I have ponies I look up to, ponies I want to be like, ponies who trust themselves to be themselves and aren't ashamed of it. And for the longest time, I wanted to be like those ponies because I didn't feel like I was anything, myself. I hadn't formed yet, I guess. I still don't know if I know what all these words mean, I'm just saying them. The point is, I'm searching for who I am, and who I want to be. Recently, I've started to feel like that's really possible, instead of a distant daydream. But, what kept me going all that time, was an idea I had that even if I couldn't understand myself, didn't know why I was afraid of the things I was or what I could do with my future... Even if I didn't know that, I felt like there might be someone bigger than me out there who could see all my problems and their answers, and I wouldn't have to understand anything because they'd make sure it would be alright. I think, now, I'm growing, and maybe I'll be alright on my own now. But whether you exist or not, whether you're real or not, belief in something like you is what propped me up long enough to get this far. And, basically, I owe you one. It probably wasn't you, but maybe you're like that to other ponies. So, thank you. Even if you're a fraud, it's still a lie that can get ponies where they're going. But, between you and me, I believe there's at least something out there. And I might even say I know it for a fact."

That was it. I had said my piece.

I wasn't sure if anyone had heard it. Maybe someone had, but it was just a con pony who wanted... I dunno, for me to stroke their ego badly enough to pay me for it. But even so, I had at least said it for myself. Finally, I could put a name to so many unidentifiable feelings and desires I had struggled to understand during my days in Icereach: searching for a higher power was a way to believe that my questions had answers.

Now, I could believe that on my own. But for everything they might have done in creating me, and for everything my belief in them had done to keep me steady, I still felt like I owed one to the powers that-

A hoof reached through the curtain and tapped me on the shoulder.

I jumped, startled, and spun around, opening it. Right, money-

"Excuse me, madam." A unicorn cleric bowed. "The Lady Coda has been touched by your prayer. She extends you an invitation to meet with her in person."

I blinked. What if this was real? "Right now?"

"Please." The cleric bowed again. "If you would follow me..."

I wandered after her in a daze. I didn't dare speculate. I just walked.

We stepped through a door adjacent to the altar booths, and into a wide, dim hallway, a bigger curtain separating me from the room beyond. Waiting for me were Howe and two other clerics.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, focusing on the pegasus.

He stretched. "You know, I ask myself that a lot these days. But this time, the answer's crystal clear: Coda's got herself a whole lot of epithets, and she thinks the Howenator does a better job belting them out than any of these geezers here. You ready for the introduction? This is an earful."

I swallowed and nodded.

"Proudly presenting..." Howe bowed toward the curtains. "Her most royal and high ladyship, goddess of love, scion of Izvaldi, last immortal of the east, daughter of empires, child of miracles, keeper of the seven oaths, lady of the pink flame, she who is without peer or equal, wise and magnificent, benevolent goddess, only alicorn of the north, final note in the song of destruction, her mother began it and she shall stop it, champion of the people, sailor of the four continents, beloved monarch, steward of the holy throne, raised by the pink maiden, collector of epithets, not a piano though it's a common mistake, undefeated in combat, trouncer of evil, basher of corruption, she who smites injustice and spiders because they're gross-"

He took a huge breath. "Averter of ruin, three cheers for her for she is good, hunter of sphinxes, first of her name and second to nobody, three inches shy of being able to ride the roller coaster in Goldoa because she's short for her age, shame on those heathens who run it, no wait that's not a good title, actually keep it because more titles are good, devourer of sandwiches but only when they have no crust, crosser of Varsidel without getting robbed by pirates which is harder than it sounds, shredder of guitars, none have wooed her but many have tried, smarter than that Chauncey guy but pretty too, captain of Verdandi, the one and only alicorn princess of love, Coda!"

Howe bowed so hard that his head was under a foreleg, striking a dramatic pose. The lights flashed, and the curtain swept aside.

Beyond was a room that was lit in purple around the edges, but dim in the center, wide and likely taking up the stern of the ship. In the center, against the back, was a contraption - a throne, actually - that sent my head spinning.

First, someone had taken a pipe organ, king of all instruments, and tipped it on its back. Instead of pipes that opened in whistles, however, its pipes snaked out and became metal tubes, ribbed and looking vaguely organic, that piled over each other and crawled up a wall and along the ceiling, until they traced down and disappeared into another wall. With a start, I realized they were likely hooked up to the altar statues I had just been praying to.

Second, someone had built a statue atop the organ. Or more likely attached one there, because it was a statue I had seen before: the alicorn statues hidden away in the mountain hideout, near Ludwig's room and the Nemestasis machine whose function I had never learned.

At least, this had once been one of those statues. But the rock had been snapped at all of its joints, and put back together using bolted metal braces, making it hold a different pose. This statue was reclining, one feathered wing spread over the organ's vertical keyboard, as if it was going to play. The gem in its necklace, instead of being empty, glowed with a pink-black fire, and a spiky crown had been wedged into its head, above its eyes.

The statue held the throne itself, protecting it with its chin and shoulder, and on that throne lounged a filly with a violet-pink coat and a black mane with sharp pink highlights. She looked around twelve or thirteen, except was an inch or two larger in all proportions, not like she was deformed or had a growth spurt but just like she was big. On her forehead was a long, sharp horn, and at her sides were wings more full-fledged than most adults. She watched me with intense curiosity.

"Lady Coda." The clerics bowed, and Howe struck a pose. "The devotee you asked after."

"I see." Coda looked me over, her voice sharp and clear as a bell. Then she got up, spread her wings, and swooped, making a show of doing several flips on her way down to the ground. Her horn lit, her aura pink with a black outline, and it briefly scanned me. "Yes, this is indeed the one. Fascinating." She regarded me. "I am Coda, though you likely gathered that from the introduction. What did you think of my epithets? I penned them myself."

I blinked. "They were impressive," I said on autopilot.

She waved a full-sized wing at her attendants and Howe. "Leave us. I desire private discourse with this mare."

They bowed and retreated, leaving me alone with an alicorn.

She had been deliberate about showing off her flight and magic. Very deliberate. Go figure that as soon as I decided it would be fine if this goddess was a hoax, she would turn out to be real.