Edited by Slayerseba
Exposed
<<>><<>><<>>
Two figures materialized in a passage with cells on either side. One of them wearing a dark cloak hiding most of his features, though a bone white, curved horn stuck out past the hood, and a pair of bone wings lay folded on his sides. A scythe also hung suspended near him in a pale white glow, mirrored by the glow surrounding the being's horn.
The other individual was Rolling Stone, thrashing in the same pale glow that held him suspended above the floor. Though his wild movements slowed down as he noticed his location and those present.
"They can't see or hear us," Mort said before Rolling Stone had a chance to say or do anything.
This became obvious rather quickly to Rolling Stone as their sudden appearance, and the ghost speaking did not elicit any reaction from the ponies around them.
"Just more proof of this illusion," he grunted, grinding his teeth.
Mort didn't reply to that, instead looking at the guards as they investigated the cells for any clue after the break out of the changeling prisoners.
"There is a lot of death here," he sighed, head shaking. "Do you know where we are?" He looked back at Rolling Stone.
"Don't play games with me, ghost," the stallion spat back, glaring at Mort.
A tired sigh came from non-existent lungs as Mort sat down, looking back at him. "What about this looks like a game to you, Rolling Stone? Is it your intangibility to most things around you? The fact you saw your comatose body in the hospital? The fact nopony but me can see or hear you? Or perhaps it is me," Mort pulled away his hood, revealing an eternally grinning skull with glowing red dots deep within the eye sockets. "Of course, I have given answers to why this is, but naturally some denial is expected. I have dealt with many ponies before you who denied the truth before them, and I shall do so again many times over long after you have moved on. But where you differ is that your time has yet to run out, which makes my task all the more difficult as I have very little time to convince you of the truth."
Mort covered his head again, standing back up.
"You see, Rolling Stone. Your time has yet to run out, but the longer you are separated from your body, the greater the chance your soul will be rejected once you return. So, no. This is not a game to me. It never was. It never will be," the usual meek tone of Mort's voice was replaced with an edge as he glared into Rolling Stone's eyes long enough for the stallion to flinch.
"Everything I have told you so far has been the truth. And you can't even begin to understand the number of rules that are bent and broken for me to speak to you the way I am. Rules that have existed for longer than your species have roamed this world, all so you will come to understand one thing. One crucially important thing," Mort paused, blinked. "The lies you, and every thinking creature on this world have been told, and the damage they have caused. So I will ask again. Do you know where we are?"
Rolling Stone snorted, cursing himself over his momentary weakness and glared at Mort.
"The dungeons underneath Canterlot," he said through teeth. "Where they keep the changelings," he paused, looking at the open and empty cells while his fellow guards meticulously scanned every inch of stone, iron and wood.
"Yes," Mort looked at the same empty cell. "Where they kept the changelings. The victims in all of this."
"VICTIMS!?" Rolling Stone bellowed, eyes burning with barely restrained fury. "THEY CARRIED OUT AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK ON THIS CITY, TRYING TO ABDUCT AS MANY PONIES AS THEY COULD AND DOING UNIMAGINABLE AMOUNTS OF TRAUMA ON ADULTS AND FOALS ALIKE! THEY ARE MONSTERS!"
"Unprovoked, you say. Untold trauma on adults and foals, you say. Monsters, you say," Mort shook his head. Pulling his scythe closer to him, he tapped the wooden handle on the floor and the ponies around them vanished.
Now other guards stood at attention near the cells, while several slumped forms lay within the locked rooms, barely breathing while heart rate monitors beeped with alarmingly slow intervals.
"Do they look like monsters to you?"
Rolling looked at the sudden change, then scoffed.
"And now you're not even trying to hide the illusion at work," he barked a humourless laugh. "Changing what you show me while I am there to see it. I've seen better attempts of trickery by foals."
"Empty bluster by a foolish mortal near the edge of death," a two-toned voice spoke, full of disgust and Rolling Stone felt a blood-freezing chill run down his spine as he struggled to see behind him. "So assured of his own ability to tell real from fake, yet unable to recognize a temporal shift while he is in it."
An ash-grey skeletal changeling slowly stepped into view, regarding Rolling Stone with unconcealed disgust as ectoplasm seeped from the being's eye sockets.
"This is the one? This servant of that tyrant?" She sneered at Mort, eyes ablaze with fury.
Mort flinched but held his ground as he looked up at the enraged reaper.
"I have no say in who is chosen. You know this, Astina."
Astina looked at Mort for long seconds, then scoffed as she stepped past him.
"I suppose you don't. Just as you had no say with them," her words came with a razor's edge, cutting deep and Mort looked at the floor in shame.
"We all play our part, whether we like it, or not."
"Tell that to Discord," Astina said with finality, ending the argument as she stepped away, phased through metal bars and entered one of the cells. Standing watch and weeping for the one whose time was running out.
Sighing Mort looked back at Rolling Stone, seeing his confusion before the stallion could hide it.
"There is more at play here than you think. More than you can even begin to imagine. All because of choices made long before your great great grandparents were even born, and they," he looked at the dying shapeshifters, "are the victims of these choices." He shook his head, silent for a moment. "And seeing them now, as they are… Do they look like monsters to you?"
"Or what about him?" Mort added before Rolling Stone could even begin to make any noise, instead bringing to attention the creature hovering near the ceiling and Rolling Stone felt another jolt shoot through his body as he recognized the Terror of Amity Park.
Astina, too, watched the human as he scanned the area, yet he showed no indication he was aware of the two reapers and soul-stripped stallion.
What happened next looked like a scene out of a nightmare to Rolling Stone as Danny Phantom's shadow moved on its own, infected the shadows of the guards on duty, then used their own shadows to engulf them, incapacitate them, and knock them unconscious before any of them could sound an alarm.
'Yes,' Rolling Stone thought, 'that is a monster alright.'
Taking the sick and dying changelings two at a time, Danny Phantom phased them out of their cells, through solid rock and to who knew where until all the cells were empty. Even Astina had vanished.
"What is the purpose of this trickery?" Rolling Stone grunted.
"You will find out soon," Mort informed him, lifting his scythe. "There is still more for you to see," and with a thud of wood on stone, the pair vanished.
<<>><<>><<>>
With the late morning sun shining down on Ponyville, Twilight, Danny and Spike moved through town at a leisure pace as they talked about nothing in particular, while also ignoring most of the stares coming from the ponies around them as word of Lyra's arrest, and the reason for which spread as a wildfire in a eucalyptus forest.
It also came as no surprise to the trio that, as they passed Bon Bon's shop, it was one of the few stores still closed.
Twilight shook her head and remarked she hoped Bon Bon would be alright, while Spike mentioned disappointment over the fact no candy would be sold today.
As for Danny, while agreeing with Twilight, and to some degree with Spike, the reason for his troubled frown lay underneath the store.
Knowing his other self would place Spring Breeze's lifebook there for Bon Bon to find, he hoped it would show her everything she needed to know. Everything she deserved to know.
He also hoped that it would work out for the better, his conversation with Discord still fresh in mind.
"Don't worry, Danny," Twilight looked up at him with a small smile, misinterpreting his frown. "Everything will be back to normal before you know it."
"I hope so," he sighed. "I could use some normalcy in my life right now."
No objections came to his sentiment, and the two continued their walk, while Spike rode on Twilight's back.
After a few minutes in contemplative silence, Twilight steered towards a store with a sign displaying the name: Bed and Scrolls.
Pausing for a moment, Danny read the sign, then looked to the store on the other side of the road directly opposite this one.
"Quills and Sofas," he read the other store front's name, shaking his head while chuckling to himself, following Twilight inside. Unaware of the subtle shift in conversation and observation as ponies near them watched them go inside, adding to the rumours that they had heard just a moment ago.
<<>><<>><<>>
With a loud snap, Spring Breeze's lifebook snapped shut and slowly fell back to the table while Sweetie Drops, now released from the grip of lost history, wobbled on the spot; eyes unfocused and mind still lost in the maelstrom of knowledge poured into her conscious thoughts.
Slowly, bit by bit, her sense of self re-emerged from the turmoil, but not how it once was.
New knowledge asserts itself against long-held beliefs. Answers to questions she never had any reason for asking. Doubt of everything she just saw. Lifelong loyalty was put in question. And a profound sense of disgust, though unsure if this was because her mind was obviously invaded, or because of everything she just saw, and what this meant for herself.
Training kicked in, and Sweetie Drops forced herself to calm down, taking long, slow breaths as she regained control over herself.
Minutes passed as she worked her mind, knowing everything she had seen- No, experienced as if she had lived it herself had to be fake. Yet the life she lived was too detailed, too complete to be mere fabrication. And it was far too familiar.
"Spring Breeze," she whispered. Who was she? Why did they have similar powers? Why did they share the same Mark? What was this mare's connection to herself?
"Wha- who are you?"
Pages rustling near her set off mental alarms, and all questions and confusion were pushed to her subconscious as she turned to face the threat.
On the table, the book that had ensnared her mind only a moment before flipped through several pages, then stopped. And even from a distance, she could see writing appearing from nowhere.
Cautiously approaching the obviously dangerous book, now expecting yet another trap despite her scanner failing to find anything the first time she looked for any magical surprises for her to trigger, she kept enough distance between herself and the book while still able to read what had appeared on the previously blank pages.
At first, she found just a few names. Names she recognized. With Spring Breeze at the top, alongside a name that could have only been of a changelin-k.
Why did she falter on that word?
She knew about the changelings. Shapeshifting monstrosities who were lost completely to the curse. Yet the things she saw, the things she experienced… It could not be real, could it?
More names appeared, and lines began to connect to and from with each new addition to the list, and Sweetie Drops quickly realized what it was she was seeing.
A family tree, starting with Spring Breeze and leading down further and further until-
No.
NO!
"IMPOSSIBLE!" She shouted, leaping back as if distance would change what was written before her. Yet despite her denial, somewhere deep down a faint whisper said: "But what if it is true?"
Slowly, hesitantly she moved closer to the book. Her mind was in turmoil as she stared at her own name on the tree, and then at the many others listed on other branches.
Some of them she knew.
Agents of S.M.I.L.E.
And if this book was to be believed, distant relatives.
"This is impossible," she said. "I need to inform the princ-" Images of a horrific battle filled her mind, friends and family being struck down, and a village destroyed.
Lifelong loyalty fought against what she knew had to be a lie, but felt deep down the truth of what she had seen, and she desperately sought an answer that would put her growing worries at ease but found none.
She gasped when the family tree faded away and pages began to flip, faster and faster until the last page turned over and the back cover lay bare.
And lying in between, a note was left for her to read.
Carefully, with a slight tremble in her outstretched leg, she grabbed the note, read it, and her eyes grew wide.
<<>><<>><<>>
"This is absolutely impossible," Correct Measurement exclaimed as she looked at Tucker's laptop with large eyes. "In-depth analysis of the magical field in real-time, with unparalleled accuracy, done in mere moments."
Tucker, leaning back a bit to hide his smirk from the captivated mare, hit a key on the keyboard.
The screen changed.
"And this is a timelapse of the last few minutes," he explained, and a miniscule fluctuation could be seen in the data presented. "Which, as you see, is not a lot of activity consistent with a near-uniform field. Of course, this is from only a few minutes. Any proper scan would require more time to ensure we get as many reference points as possible."
"Yes… Of course," Correct Measurement agreed, awestruck as she looked at the screen, then the improbably small device connected to the laptop scanning the field, then to the human seated on a cushion next to her. "And you said you made this device?"
"I did," Tucker confirmed. "Just something I tossed together in my free time."
"Something you tossed together?" She repeated, almost shocked. "You mean you didn't spend countless hours, days, months or even years to understand the basic principle underlying the requirements to scan the magical field to make this miracle device possible?"
"I think the last few hours where you explained everything there is to know about this field would answer that question," Tucker shrugged. "Honestly, all I had to work with is the data we gathered from the ponies back at Fenton corp. I just used those datasets as a reference point and worked from there. Have to say, I'm glad it works as well as it does. But then again, I am that good," he boasted truthfully.
Correct Measurement looked at him in a mix of shock, fear and newfound respect while Technal, also present in the room, looked at her idol with stars in her eyes.
"Mister Foley. Should this technology ever become available on this world, many ponies would praise you, lynch you, or a combination of both. This incredible device would make numerous jobs obsolete, while also providing an incredible wealth of knowledge at a level of detail many scientists can only dream of. The things we could learn from observing the magical field directly like this, without any form of danger, and with just a few pushes of a button… It will revolutionise a great many fields of science."
"Yeah, sounds about right," Tucker commented off-handedly. "But right now I am more interested in these wild spots instead of upturning the scientific community."
"Yes. Yes, of course. You are correct," the mare agreed, composing herself.
"Has there been any word on that front?" he turned to Technal who had informed Princess Celestia about their requirements.
"Not yet," she shook her head. "A lot has been going on, and the princesses are busy with all of it, but I don't think we need to wait too long for an answer considering everything else," she shrugged. "Just have to wait."
Somepony knocked on the door, and all three turned to the sound.
"Or maybe not at all," Technal added as she moved to the door and opened it.
A messenger greeted her and handed over a sealed letter.
Taking the letter in her magic and thanking the stallion, Technal closed the door and returned back to Tucker and Correct Measurement.
"So what's the word?" Tucker asked.
"Hold one moment," Technal said as she broke the seal and opened the letter, quickly reading the message.
"A chariot will be ready for us within the hour, taking us to the Everfree Forest," Technal informed him. "There will be a detachment of guards, of course. Providing security for the duration we will be there."
"Excellent," Tucker nodded approvingly. "And it shouldn't take too long for this scan, either. Maybe half an hour, tops, to get all the relevant data. We can use that, combined with the scrolls you have," he aimed at Correct Measurement, "to build a good model of the magical field, and its fluctuations."
"I'll see to it to get them as soon as possible," she affirmed.
"Then by the end of today we should be able to get some answers, and solutions to certain problems we have been running into," he said, avoiding the exact topic to keep Correct Measurement from panicking. "Until then," he turned back to the said mare, "perhaps you could provide us with some more insight into this magical field using the data I have now. No doubt it would prove invaluable once I go and scan the field in this Everfree Forest."
"Yes, of course," Correct Measurement agreed with measured excitement, jumping at the chance to work with such a wealth of information suddenly available and to see more of this techno-wizardry at work.
<<>><<>><<>>
Sitting as still as she could while also shifting nervously on the spot, Lyra knew she had bucked up as she waited in the far too cramped interrogation room.
At least it wasn't anything like those rooms portrayed in the movies, with a single buzzing incandescent light bulb hanging above a scuffed table to light the room, with shadow on the walls where the single poor light failed to reach, all to instil dread in those on the wrong side of the table.
No, this room was decidedly better than that, with proper lights that illuminated the room with bright, but not harsh white light. And while there was a table, it most certainly was not scuffed, dinged, or outright beaten by outraged suspects before being subdued by those interrogating them.
Even then, she had no desire to be here, and knew things would only get worse for her. The suppression ring clamped around her horn proof of that much. Not to mention she was arrested by both princesses, who also had all of her research collected.
Yes, she was truly, utterly bucked.
Without a sound, the door to the room swung open and a lean mare stepped in. She wore a neat suit, with a badge pinned to her chest, identifying her as a royal investigator, while holding a clipboard along with several papers attached to it. And held behind it, her notebook.
"Miss Lyra Heartstrings," the earth pony said with full authority as she looked at the sweating mare, closing the door behind her and taking place on the other side of the table.
"Eep," was all the sound Lyra was able to produce.
The mare showed no reaction, instead placing the clipboard before her and flipping through some of the pages.
"I must say this is a most peculiar case, even for me. Caught red hooved by both princesses, and enough evidence, of your own making, to stack from floor to ceiling. Evidence that is still being studied and sorted out. And then there is this," she pushed the notebook to the middle of the table. "A most interesting read."
Lyra looked at her notebook, trying to swallow something but her throat had suddenly dried up completely.
"Now," the mare pressed her hooves together, looking over them at Lyra, "this would normally be the part where I try to make you talk and get a confession out of you. But seeing the overwhelming evidence, testimony reports of both princesses and verbal confirmation made by mister Danny Manson of your actions in their presence, there really is no need. No doubt any further inquiries among the ponies of Ponyville would provide us with further testimonies regarding your actions and whereabouts during those times. Which, again, is a moot point because you provided us with a full report on where, when and how you made your observations of mister Manson," she tapped the notebook. "Quite impressive, had it been for any other reason."
"I- I- I-" Lyra stammered.
"Which means the only thing that might help you now would be your full cooperation."
Lyra, close to hyperventilating, looked at her notebook, to the mare before her, the clipboard, then her notebook again. Licking her dry lips in a nervous twitch, knowing there was nothing she could say or do to make this all go away.
She wasn't a bad mare. Really. She was just very enthusiastic about her research, nothing more.
Looking back at the mare before her, seeing her patient but calculating gaze, she knew there was no way out of this situation.
As if a switch was flipped all tension left her body and she slumped forwards, head flopping on the table in defeat while she looked with a vacant stare at her notebook.
"May I have some water?" She asked in a small voice.
She had, after all, a lot of talking to do.
<<>><<>><<>>
With a slow movement, Mort stepped through the countless bodies lying in the streets. Some of them moved, others didn't while haphazardly placed fires burned in an attempt to bring some warmth to the sick and dying.
"Tell me, Rolling Stone," Mort said as he stopped, a freezing edge to his voice as he watched a young foal who wriggled himself underneath his mother's leg for comfort while crying without restraint as, mere moments ago, the mare had stopped breathing. "Do they look like monsters to you, now?"
All around them foals ran from sick to sick, trying to help them in any way they could, while also keeping the fires going by burning whatever they could find.
The question was rhetorical, and Mort did not need the stallion to answer. Nor did he feel like another delusional rant from the stallion convinced of his own truth, so he kept Rolling Stone's mouth closed with his pale magic.
"Take a good look, Rolling Stone," he instructed. "See their suffering. See what has become of them. A once proud species, reduced to dying in the streets while their foals desperately try to save them."
Mort moved again, carefully stepping around those lying on the street.
Rolling Stone, pulled along in Mort's magic, had stopped his attempts to break free, looking at the horror around him in disgust.
He never liked the changelings, especially after what they had done. But this… even in illusion, nopony, no creature deserved this.
What was even the point of this atrocity?
No answer could be found as Mort pulled him further into this nightmare, eventually arriving at a far-off structure where the rotten stench of death made his stomach convulse.
But what lay inside made his heart skip a beat as his blood nearly froze.
****
In the hospital, the heart monitor beside Rolling Stone's bed gave a shrill alarm from the sudden cardiac distress, sending the watching nurse in a frenzy as she rushed to the stallion's aid.
****
Corpses lay piled up in all available space, left to rot and decay while glassy eyes stared out at eternity, yet somehow looking at Rolling Stone in anger, disgust and judgment and he tried to look away from the gruesome sight, only to come face to face with something far worse.
"DON'T YOU DARE LOOK AWAY!" Astina bellowed as she stood mere inches away from him, her empty eye sockets burning a fierce red as she grabbed the stallion's head with her magic and forced it back to the rotting bodies. "YOU WILL WITNESS YOUR BELOVED PRINCESS' BENEVOLENCE! SEE WHAT SHE HAS WROUGHT! SHE, AND THOSE WHO BLINDLY FOLLOW HER! THE PAIN! THE SUFFERING! THE HORROR! THE LIES! Overpowering Mort's magic, she grabbed the terrified stallion. "YOU WILL SEE IT ALL!" she roared.
The two vanished.
"Oh Thanasia," Mort groaned. Then he, too, vanished.
<<>><<>><<>>
With a sigh, Danny leaned against a wall as he watched Twilight meticulously measure yet another bed with a magically conjured tape measure.
Sitting on a nearby bed next to him, Spike merely rolled his eyes as Twilight put an X on a checklist she had made after measuring the second bed, and found it not to her liking.
"You know," Danny said to Spike, "it's that I know her, otherwise I would question her sanity."
"Hey, I told you earlier. All the ponies in this town are crazy."
Twilight moved to another bed and restarted her measurements.
"Some more than others, of course."
"Obviously."
Danny watched the mare for a minute, in which Twilight walked around the bed no less than seventeen times while measuring all possible sizes and updating her checklist.
"It's strange, though," Danny said.
"You're telling me," Spike groaned, rolling his eyes as Twilight used her magic to test the firmness of the mattress.
Danny didn't quite hear him as his mind wandered. "In some ways, she's almost like my older sis."
"You have an older sis?" Spike asked, and Danny's mind snapped back to the present.
"Uh, wha?"
"You said you have an older sis," Spike replied.
"Danny has an older sis?" Twilight piped up, and Danny saw her stare at him with perked ears and large eyes.
"I, euh… Yes," he confirmed with some reluctance, cursing himself for letting this slip.
"Why didn't you tell us about her?" she asked, stepping away from the beds and towards Danny.
"Why did you never tell anypony about your brother," Spike asked instead.
"Right," Twilight smiled sheepishly. "But tell us about her. What is her name? What is she like? What is it like to have an older sister? And why hasn't she visited you yet?" she asked eagerly, and Danny already saw the mare grab an inked quill and scroll from the massive collection on sale, ready to take notes while depositing a pair of bits on the counter.
"She's, ehh… Her name is Jasmine," he told them, hoping he wasn't making a big mistake. "And she's about as high strung as you are at times," he looked at Twilight, "which also made living with her a bit of a challenge. As for why she hasn't visited…" he hesitated a bit, obviously disliking the subject. "We kinda lost contact. I haven't seen or talked to her in years now. It…'s something I rather not talk about too much."
Twilight's ears now drooped down, quill held on the scroll mid-sentence, now creating a large blot.
"What? But why?"
Danny grimaced, looking away. "As I said, it's something I would rather not talk about. Especially not out here in a store," he reminded her of their whereabouts.
Twilight looked around, seeing a few other ponies in the store as well. Most of them with their ears turned to them while pretending to inspect either the beds or scrolls.
"Right. Sorry about that," she apologized, putting away the scroll and quill.
"So found a bed meeting your expectations?" Danny quickly steered the conversation away from his hidden past.
"A few," she replied, grabbing her checklist. "But neither of them meet all criteria, so it's difficult to say conclusively. What do you think?" She levitated the checklist over to Danny, who tentatively accepted it, but never looked at it.
"Why are you asking me?" He asked. "Not like I will use it. Besides, when I couldn't find a bed fitting my size, I just bought two and shoved them together. Ya know," he shrugged, "no reason to make it complicated."
"Listen to Danny, Twilight," said Spike, lying on the bed, hands under his head and eyes closed as he sunk into the mattress. "Just buy what works best, and don't worry about the details."
"But the details are the most important thing!" Twilight replied, aghast.
Danny rolled his eyes, hand against his face while Spike merely groaned.
'Yeah, that sounds like Jazz alright,' Danny thought.
"Fine," he shook his head, then looked at the checklist for a few seconds. "This one," he picked one at random.
Twilight looked, frowning. "Are you sure?"
"If it speeds up this whole thing, yes," he deadpanned.
"It does meet most of my requirements," Twilight mused, looking at the bed in question.
"Great, then no reason not to buy it."
"You know what, you're right," Twilight made her decision, beaming at Danny. "Thanks for helping me with this."
"No problem," Danny breathed a mental sigh of relief.
"Now to haggle for a good price," Twilight added eagerly.
"Oh, right. That's a thing, too," Danny groaned to himself. "Just how long will this take?" He asked Spike as Twilight headed for the store's clerk.
No answer came and, looking at the young drake, Danny saw he was fast asleep.
"Perfect," he sighed, sitting down at the foot of the bed.
<<>><<>><<>>
With a creak, the front door opened and the near lifeless form of Jazz shambled over the threshold, swaying and bumping against the door, its frame, the walls and most of everything else near her.
Yet she showed no sign of annoyance, pain, or even any semblance of awareness as she stumbled her way through the hallway and to the living room.
"Couch," she droned with a dead voice. "Couuchhh…"
Flopping down like a wet noodle on the aforementioned furniture the moment she reached it, a groan of displeasure escaped her mere seconds after impact as her broken wrist sent up a jolt of pain.
"Drama queen," Valerie grunted in annoyance, standing behind Jazz.
"My everything hurts," Jazz groaned with little energy.
"Good, better get used to it. That means you're finally pulling your weight."
Jazz, lacking the energy to even glare back at Valerie, settled for another groan of displeasure.
"And don't think you're done either," Valerie said, crossing her arms. "This was merely the beginning. And I went easy on you. From here on out, things will only get harder and harder. So rest while you can. And don't forget to eat. You'll need the energy for tomorrow."
"Why…" Jazz croaked out, little force behind her voice yet dread was abundant.
"You know why."
Groan.
"Puh-lease," Valerie said with disdain. "You think this was easy for me? Try doing this while also juggling going to school, homework and an after-school job to help my father make ends meet."
Silence.
"Thought so."
Pulling out her phone, she tapped the screen a few times, then hit send. A chime came from Jazz's phone a moment later.
"I just sent you a workout sheet with training activities you can do while home, as well as a schedule for what we will do in the coming weeks. I also included a dietary change for you to follow. We need to build your muscles, and do it fast. So any snacks you have lying around, toss them in the trash," a weak "Noooo" emerged from the pillow Jazz had her head buried in. "I've also taken the liberty to have some stuff being delivered here, which should arrive an hour or so from now. You can start with that for now. The rest is for you to do. And I will make sure you do them. Whether it will be done the easy way, or the hard way is entirely up to you."
A crack and pop filled the silence that followed, and Valerie placed a can of energy drink on the table next to the couch.
"And drink this," she instructed. "You need the fluids, and the boost of energy will help as well. Not by much, but enough to get your sweaty and sticky ass into the shower."
Jazz groaned, but little in terms of a complaint as she slowly shifted her position to what could barely pass for upright, and reached out for the can, almost knocking it over as her arm refused to move more than it already had. Then the weight of the can, feeling like an anvil, almost made her drop the sugary boost she desperately needed. But she persevered and managed to get the can to her lips, and took a far too big gulp all at once.
Coughing, sputtering, and flinching in pain from all the unwanted movement, the can did fall to the floor this time, a puddle quickly spilling out.
"Really?" Valerie deadpanned. "Didn't I tell you earlier to take small sips?" She rolled her eyes and left to grab a roll of paper towels to clean up the spill.
While she was gone, Jazz looked at her uninjured hand, seeing it shake and clenched her fingers into a fist.
Clack
"Here," Valerie said as she put another can in front of her. "Don't knock that one over, too. Made enough of a mess already," she grunted as she began cleaning up the spill before it became even worse.
Reaching out again, and now prepared for the unexpected heavy weight, Jazz grabbed the offered can and, slowly, took a measured sip of the terribly unhealthy mixture of sugar and cafeïne.
A few more sips followed before she found enough strength to talk again.
"Just how much worse will this get?"
Valerie, soaked paper towels in her hand, stood back up. "That depends entirely on you," she said. "It's bad now because you went from nothing to all of this right off the bat, which takes its toll. That, and your wrist, is why I went easy on you. It will be worse tomorrow because you will be sore, stiff, and feel everything all the more for it when training continues. But it will continue. No excuses. After a few weeks, things will level out as you get used to it, but you need to keep doing it. If you slack, even for a little bit, it will only get worse in the long run."
"Oh," the amount of dread in that one word almost impressed Valerie. Almost.
Instead, she tapped a foot once, crossing her arms, careful not to make a mess of herself while still holding the soaked mess she just cleaned up, and glared at Jazz.
"You brought this upon yourself, you realize that right? You tried to hunt ghosts back when Danny was still here, failed and didn't try again after that. Then you start this resistance of ours and, knowing exactly what this would mean, instead of preparing for the worst, you instead rely on others for all the heavy and messy work. Now your slacking has caught back up with you with a vengeance, so don't expect any pity from me."
"Nor was I asking for it," Jazz sighed, eyes closed. "You're right. Of course, you are," she shook her head. "It's just difficult accepting it."
"What is? That I am right?"
"No, that I never put in the work needed to do my job. It's something-" Jazz grimaced as if tasting something foul "-It goes against what I believe in. And not something I would ever allow to happen as a psychologist because the well-being of others depends on me doing my job right. But this… this is just as important. Perhaps even more so, and I slacked off," she looked at her plastered wrist, "and I have already paid for it. But it could have been worse. Far worse, had you not been there to save my sorry ass."
"Well this is unexpected," said Valerie. "Some honest self-reflecting and admitting to mistakes made."
"And I suppose I should thank you," Jazz leered at the smirking woman, "but after today, and knowing what is to come-"
"And looking forward to it" Valerie grinned evilly.
"-I'll instead mentally curse your existence and show a fake smile."
"Couldn't ask for more," Valerie commented as she moved back to the kitchen to dispose of the soggy paper towels. "Though," she paused mid-stride, "that smile, fake as it might be, will not be there for much longer. I can guarantee that much," and she left the room.
"I know," Jazz groaned. "Yet I doubt I do."
<<>><<>><<>>
Years had passed by in a blur, yet everything was seen in perfect clarity and Rolling Stone began to question his sanity more and more as one impossibility after another kept piling up, yet his unwillingness to give in allowed him to persevere while Astina forced him to see things that simply could not be.
A village where ponies and changelings lived together.
Ponies and changelings who worked together.
Ponies and changelings who build an entire underground village together.
Ponies and changelings who had foals together.
It was absurd. Impossible. But the worst of it had only just begun as, during a night that lasted too long, the village of Yoke was attacked and ponies and changelings fought together.
They died together.
His attempts to look away, to even close his eyes were thwarted by Astina, forcing him to see it all.
To see his princess fight Nightmare Moon, banish the fallen sister, then not long thereafter, destroy what remained of the village and those in it, killing dozens more.
"Stop this madness!" Rolling Stone grunted, fighting his bonds. "There is no way Princess Celestia would-"
"SHE WOULD! SHE DID!" Astina snapped, eyes ablaze.
"Astina, please stop," said Mort, cautiously approaching her. "Forcing this on him won't help. He doesn't just need to see. He needs to understand. But your anger, justified as it may be, only does the opposite. Please, release your hold on him and allow me to do this."
"AND LET MORE OF MY CHARGES DIE BEFORE THEIR TIME WHILE YOU TRY TO CONVINCE AN UNBENDING MIND!" Astina snapped back, seething.
Rolling Stone began to gasp as the bonds surrounding him began to tighten instead.
"HE WILL SEE THE PAIN AND SUFFERING SHE HAS INFLICTED!"
"And what good will that do when his soul is unable to return?" Mort asked, and Astina first glared at him, then the struggling pony. Then, cutting off her magic, she let the stallion fall to the ground.
"My patience ran out a long time ago, Mort. The rules be damned, I will take her down myself if I have to. Give me one reason why I should allow this mockery to continue? One reason why I should give a damn about Destiny's plans? One reason why this is worth all the suffering. Tell me, Mort. ONE REASON!"
Mort said nothing, looking at the devastation near them.
"I can't," he eventually admitted. "There is no good reason that could justify any of this. Destiny, or not. This is an atrocity that should have never happened," he shook his head and turned away from the carnage, looking back at Astina and, trying to drag himself away as quietly as possible, Rolling Stone. "But it did," he continued, and his scythe stomped on the ground before Rolling Stone's face. "And no amount of denying, shouting or crying will change that. No," he shook his head, "I can't give you a reason. But I can give you hope."
Astina hissed venomously, eyes ablaze with untamed fury.
This time Mort did flinch, and he had to force himself to stand his ground.
"I come from several days in your future. I saw what will happen, the change that has already begun. It won't be easy. It never was, nor would it be, but things will get better."
"The halfa," Astina spat, glowering. "What could that miserable pile of shame and regret do for us?"
"Not just him," Mort shook his head. "The fillies will play an instrumental role. It's why he is there, to begin with. But yes, he will be able to help."
"I'll be the judge of that," Astina sneered, glaring once more at Rolling Stone, then vanished.
Mort sighed sadly, shaking his head.
"I apologize for this. She shouldn't have done this, but I can't blame her for doing so," he looked at Rolling Stone.
"You ghosts are insane!" He spat, trying to put more distance between himself and Mort, but the scythe blocked him.
"Maybe we are," Mort mused, looking back at the destroyed village. "Some of us justifiably so."
"Please. You have me believe any of this means anything to you. All you ghosts do is cause death and destruction."
"Yet a ghost deemed to save your life."
"WHAT!?"
"Foes we are, merely because you believe us to be so," Mort said, and Rolling Stone stiffened, those words reacting with something deep within.
"When we first met, you saw your beaten and broken body lying in the hospital," Mort continued, never looking away from the destruction. "Injuries you sustained in a final stand against a pack of timberwolves while ordering your subordinate, Sound Wave, to escape with crucial information."
"How do-"
"I was there," Mort said matter of factly. "There to guide your soul to the Elysium Fields once you passed," he withdrew his scythe and stomped it on the ground between the two of them. The terrain shifted, and they stood in a clearing Rolling Stone recognized all too well. A multitude of barking and growling timberwolves advancing on a valiantly fighting earth pony. But their numbers were too great, and Rolling Stone saw himself go down as a timberwolf lunged at him. "But your time had yet to run out, and a ghost came to your rescue."
With a ferocious roar, a gigantic beast leapt out past the trees' edge, swinging a massive club of ice, easily knocking away three wolves at once. Following behind the white-furred monster, a terrifyingly familiar entity made itself known as a green glowing hound tackled one of the stunned wolves, grabbing it in its mouth and shook it apart, then immediately running for another.
The fight lasted minutes, with wolves turning to the giant and hound, yet all being knocked down, slammed away, or bitten to pieces. Bright flashes of ice blue lit up the sky as timberwolves were frozen in thick chunks of ice, and spires of frost now added new obstacles for the timberwolves to avoid.
Eventually, the fight subsided and the wolves still able to move fled the area.
The giant stood still for a long moment, breathing heavily while green glowing gashes in its fur healed, leaving no trace of any wound.
Turning around, the giant moved to the limp form lying amidst the broken pieces of timberwolves, looking at the shallowly breathing stallion as he clung with waning strength to the last edge of consciousness.
"Foes we are, merely because you believe us to be so," it said, raising a massive, blue glowing claw, and a cast of ice froze around Rolling Stone's barrel. "Maybe one day you will understand this."
"NO!" Rolling Stone shouted, shaking his head forcefully as he denied what he was seeing. "Lies! I have seen what you ghosts have done!"
Carefully the giant picked up the stallion, and then carried him near the edge of the forest where, later, he would be found by the members of his team and the Element bearers.
"Do not assume all ghosts are the same based on your experience with a small number of them," Mort said, and Rolling Stone froze once again as the words struck in recognition.
"Wha-"
"Tell me, how many ghosts do you think are out there? A hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand?" Mort looked at Rolling Stone as he waited for an answer. "More? Less? Do you have any idea?"
"Wh- what do you-"
"Why not answer this instead? How many creatures, ponies, griffins, donkeys, diamond dogs, dragons, humans, whatever have lived in all of time?" Mort asked, staring at Rolling Stone. "How many of them have died? How many of them remained?"
Rolling Stone did a good impression of a fish on dry land as he tried to say something, anything, but no words escaped him.
"Ghosts outnumber the living in such a gargantuan margin it isn't even worth mentioning. Most of them chose to keep to themselves, leaving you, mortals, to live your lives without interference. The number of ghosts that took over your city was nothing more than a drop in an ever-expanding ocean. Yet this was the only true experience you had with them, so it was all you learned them to be," Mort shook his head, sighing.
"They say ignorance is bliss, but it also causes so much destruction when the ignorant refuse to ask the questions that need to be asked, and instead defend what they know as absolute truth," Mort sighed once more. "So much time is lost. So much life is lost," he looked back at Rolling Stone, empty sockets glaring into wide eyes. "But you still have time. Time to wonder, to learn, to grow, to ask. You still have time to choose."
"Choose what?"
"Exactly," Mort lifted his scythe and slashed two tears in the air. "You now must make a choice," Mort pointed at one tear. "This path will lead you back to your body. Walk through, and you will wake up believing the truth you have lived your entire life, none the wiser." He then gestured at the other tear. "Follow me, by your own choice, and learn the true truth," he turned back to Rolling Stone. "Or choose to believe everything said and done up until now is nothing but an illusion, a lie, and run. But know that whatever the choice you make, it will come at a cost." He pointed at the first tear, "Blissful ignorance, and the misery it causes." He pointed at the second tear, "Or learn the horrific truth, which you will carry with you for the rest of your days," he looked off into the distance. "Or death as you separate from your body and will either move on, or remain as that what you despise."
Mort closed his eyes.
"Now choose," and he stepped through the second tear, leaving the stallion free to make his choice.
<<>><<>><<>>
The day was slowly progressing, but fortunately for an anxious Apple Bloom school had ended without too much trouble.
Keeping Devora's true identity hidden was a difficult task, but with the help of Scootaloo, they managed to avoid disaster. And the unexpected apology of Silver Spoon served to be an even greater distraction helping to obscure any slip-ups Devora made during class.
But now she had another problem, and neither Scootaloo nor Devora could help her with it.
Finding that book Danny had hidden somewhere in the clubhouse.
She would have given a silent thanks to Princess Celestia, had it not been for everything she knew now. But she still thanked somepony for not being the Element of Honesty as it meant she could tell a convincing enough lie to her older siblings as they escorted her back home to make a quick detour to the clubhouse so she could grab some school supplies she had left there the other day.
And now with Big Mac standing guard outside, and with Applejack watching over her inside, Apple Bloom had to pretend she at least knew where to look for her 'school supplies'.
At least there weren't a whole lot of places where Danny could have hidden this book, but one glance at the less-than-organized pile in one of the corners made her hope he hadn't placed it somewhere underneath all of that stuff.
Instead, she moved to the planning desk she and her friends used to plan all their crusades so far, noticing nothing out of place, but with no other idea where to look, she could at least grab a few of the items stored there to give truth to her lie.
Grabbing some papers with half-formed crusades and putting them aside on the table, she then pulled open the drawer and rummaged inside and froze.
Applejack, already at edge, instantly noticed the shift in her younger sister.
"Anythaing wrong, Apple Bloom?" She asked, worried.
"No, nothing," Apple Bloom replied. "Just noticed our cob of corn ain't here."
"Yer, what?" Applejack asked, confused and suspicious.
"Eh, nothing," Apple Bloom quickly denied and tried to dig deeper into the drawer and bumped her nose against the book she knew neither she nor her friends had put there. "There it is," she said excitedly as she grabbed the large book, alongside a small avalanche of papers detailing their well-thought-out crusades still waiting to be tried. One of which, an elaborate plan detailing the three fillies, a manticore and a cob of corn drifted over to Applejack, who grabbed it from the floor and quickly scanned the item.
Lowering the paper, she was not amused.
"Ah better not see ya bringing in any corn an' not eat it, or there will be a whole lot a trouble for ya."
"Right, yes. Of course not," Apple Bloom was quick to agree as she quickly scooped up as many papers as she could, shoved the book in between them, kicked the drawer close with a hind hoof then hurried outside before Applejack had a chance to see the book, or worse, more of her plans.
<<>><<>><<>>
Doubtful conflicted and mentally screaming at himself for willingly walking into an obvious trap, Rolling Stone still couldn't stop himself as he followed after Mort and found himself once again in the changeling city.
Once again standing inside that mausoleum of death, numerous hollow eyes, stared unblinkingly at him and he tried his hardest not to look away as, standing before him, Astina looked at the dead and decaying bodies with tangible animosity.
"Why did you bring him here again?" she spat, not looking away.
"I did not," Mort answered. "This was his own choice."
Astina snorted, glancing at Mort with hate-filled eyes.
"His choice," she turned back to the bodies, and Mort joined her side.
"I know," he replied, voice low and hollow. "But we are all here for a reason. Me to make him understand, and you-"
"Spare me your words," Astina snapped. "I know why I am here," she looked at the open door and the bridge connecting this structure with the rest of the city. And walking across, Danny Manson.
Rolling Stone stiffened, yet didn't dare say a word as he saw the human approach.
"He can help you," said Mort.
"I will be the judge of that."
Coming to a stop amidst the bodies, Danny scowled as he stood silent for a moment, looking at the death around him with rage-filled eyes while his fists shook at his sides.
"ASTINA! I ASK YOU TO SHOW YOURSELF!" He suddenly shouted.
Astina slowly circled around the human, sizing him up.
"I have met Mort, the reaper of ponies. I know you exist in some manner. Please, the changelings need your help. You have been there when they died. You know their suffering. You-"
"And you're the one Destiny chose," Astina sneered, coming to a stop behind Danny. "Fine. Prove to me you're worthy."
Making her presence known, Danny came to an abrupt stop as the air turned frigid and his breath created a cloud.
Danny slowly turned around, and Astina studied his reaction as he came face to face with her
To his credit, he didn't panic nor scream, but he couldn't stop himself from taking several steps back, arms raising in reflex, hands aglow.
"What the buck!?" Escaped from Rolling Stone as he saw the green glow surrounding Danny's hands.
"Observe," Mort told him.
"Phantom," Astina hissed, her voice so cold it could shatter steel.
"Phantom?" Rolling Stone muttered, confused.
"Astina, I presume," Danny said as he took in the creature before him.
Astina moved closer instantly, closing the gap Danny had made between them while her eyes bore into his.
"What do you want?!" She demanded.
"To help."
"Why?!"
"Because they need it."
"From you!?"
"No… from you," he shot back, glaring at her with green glowing eyes and Rolling Stone felt his legs go weak.
For nearly a minute they stood silent, Danny glaring at her, Astina staring deep into his soul.
Looking.
Searching.
She needed to know.
"I have watched for untold centuries," she said."The pain, the suffering, the injustice, all of it. No one helped when they asked, and no one helped on their own. No one!" her voice was akin to a glacial storm. "Not a single one," her tone softened as she stepped away, "until now...." she was silent for a moment, the glowing dots in her eyes' sockets fading, then returned as she 'blinked.' "I am Astina, collector of changeling souls."
Danny relaxed his stance, nodded, and then glanced over his shoulder at the bodies.
"This needs to stop," he said. "Something as atrocious as this shouldn't even be allowed to happen in the first place, and the one responsible must answer for what she has done. But on my own, this is almost an impossible task. I could really use your help. They could use your help."
"To do what, exactly?"
Danny looked back at her. "To confront Celestia."
A hollow laugh escaped Astina.
"Confront the soul stained. If only it was that easy."
"Soul stained?" Rolling Stone repeated, confused, mirrored by Danny.
"The touch of death," Astina said, tracing a hollow hoof over Danny's chest, "held within the soul of the living. Just like you, Daniel Phantom."
Danny's eyes widened, and he took a step back in shock. "You mean… they're like me? They're ghosts?!"
"WHAT?!" Rolling Stone bellowed, disgusted and enraged, yet unheard by Danny and ignored by Astina.
"In a way," Astina said, setting her hoof down. "Only different. They can't become a ghost, like you, their transformation is their physical self."
"What lies are this?!" Rolling Stone demanded to know.
"The answer to questions no pony ever asked," Mort replied.
"This changes nothing," Danny said firmly. "The lies and crimes Celestia committed must be exposed, not to mention the role Luna had in this as well. You can't let your fear of them stop you from doing what is right."
"Fear them?" Astina said in mock surprise. "No, Phantom, I do not fear them. I hate them," her eyes burned bright. "I can forgive Luna for her fall in corruption by Fenrir, but it was her weakness that allowed this to happen in the first place. But the changelings might have been able to recover, had it not been for Celestia."
"Then why do you not want to confront them? Reveal the truth to all."
"Because of that which made them."
"Made them?"
"Ah, of course, you don't know," Astina shook her head. "Life and death do not mix naturally. It's one, or the other, but never both at once. Not unless something, or someone makes it so. Them, you, Sweetie Belle, Dani, Vlad. None of you are what you are through an accident. And whether it was through the push of a button, an illegal clone, or summoning a ghost, you were created because that is what Destiny demanded, for you to happen."
Rolling Stone stood frozen as a statue, mouth hanging open, unprepared for what he just heard.
"My accident was no accident?" Danny said in disbelief. "How, why… and by who?"
"I already told you," Astina said bitterly. "Destiny," she spat.
"What? That makes no sense. We make our own destiny."
"Oh, such a foolish notion. What little measure of control you think you have is nothing more than an illusion. Everything that has happened, happened because it was going to happen. And all happened in response to a previous instance; just one link after the next in this endless chain, binding everything together. Pushing and pulling us where we need to be, even if we don't wish to be there. We're all slaves, Daniel Fenton. Chained from the moment we came to be."
"Fenton?!" Rolling Stone gasped. "What?"
"No," Danny stated firmly, eyes burning. "I refuse to believe that. All of us are free to choose, good or bad."
"Ignorance may be bliss, Phantom. But this does not change facts. And you're a fool for thinking otherwise."
"A fool I may be, but at least I'm no coward," he shot back. "I called you here to help, expecting to find someone willing to make a difference. Someone who knows the pain and suffering that has happened here is still happening like no other. Instead, I find you endlessly crying, but unwilling to do anything about this misery because you believe you have no choice. And in doing so, you are just as much responsible for what happened here, if not more so than Celestia-"
Energy began to radiate from Astina, and Rolling Stone saw a recognizable pale glow slammed into Danny, pushing him back several body lengths.
Danny raised his arms in a belated response to shield his face while Astina slowly, menacingly approached; her eyes a blazing red of fury while the energy radiating off her began to intensify.
"Know your place, Halfa!" She seethed through teeth while the walkway underneath them began to crack and crumble.
"My place is right here," he returned with a growl, pushing towards her one challenging step after the other. "Because I will not stand by idly when others are dying! And instead of making a difference yourself, you are now lashing out at one of the few who are willing to try. And don't tell me it is Destiny that makes you do this, because this is the choice you made yourself; to deny the help the changelings need and to allow more of them to die. And I," he took another step forward. "Will not," another step. "ALLOW YOU," and another. "TO HARM THEM!"
Rolling Stone cried out as an intense light of pure blue white seemed to explode from Danny, yet before he could even begin to shield his eyes the light vanished just as quickly, leaving him with spots in his vision and forcing him to look past them.
A gasp escaped him not long after.
Danny stood with his fist slammed into Astina's muzzle, numerous faintly glowing cracks and fissures spreading out from where he struck and covering half of her body.
Astina, pushed back by the unexpected force, stood cross-eyed, staring at his fist while the damage to her began to heal.
Slowly, Danny withdrew his fist.
"I will fight for them, even if that means I must fight you as well."
"So it is true," Astina said quietly, lowering her hoof as the last of the damage to her form healed itself. "I apologize for my earlier behavior, but I had to make sure."
Danny shifted his stance, obviously confused. "Make sure of what?"
"There are many who say they will do something, but there are few who hold to their word when the task proves more difficult than anticipated. I needed to know which one you are, before entrusting the fate of all changelings onto you. They are but one disaster away from extinction, and I cannot take any chances on good faith alone."
"You tested me?"
"I did."
"By making me fight you?" He asked, then a horrific realization washed over his face. "I just punched Death in the face."
Astina chuckled, shaking her head. "I am not Death, Phantom. We reapers do not kill our charges. We guide their souls after Death comes for them."
"... Then was everything you just said a lie to get me angry?"
"No, most of what I said was true."
"Most?"
"We may be free to choose, but our choices do not come free. And there are rules to follow. Rules neither I, nor my fellow reapers can circumvent without there being a reaction."
"A reaction from what… who?"
"Destiny."
"But you said Destiny doesn't allow you to choose, while just now you said you could. Which one is it?"
"Both," she stepped closer. "I could have chosen not to reveal myself to you, remaining nothing more than a story to my charges and allowing things to continue as they have for so long. Instead, I chose to break this rule and face uncertainty by placing my trust in you, hoping you will hold to your word."
"So, no pressure there, huh?"
"As I said, our choices do not come free."
"But will you face Celestia?"
Astina turned around, momentarily locking eyes with Mort while barely registering the shell-shocked stallion next to him, then looked away into the distance.
"You claimed to have met Mort, the one ponies have as their reaper. Correct?"
"I did, yes, for a short moment. Neither of us expected to do so… Why?"
"He was there when they turned Celestia and Luna."
Rolling Stone was sure his spine should have snapped with how fast his head turned to Mort, while the reaper looked down in shame.
"He made them!?" Danny asked, shocked.
"No, he did not," she turned back around. "As I said, we are chained. Forced to do things we may not wish to do. The only difference between you and I was, I was aware of this, you were not. And while he could have chosen not to aid in their transformation, the alternative would have been even more catastrophic."
"Why do I feel I'm going to regret asking this, but what do you mean?"
"Discord," was all she said.
"Ehh…?"
Astina looked away again. "You'll find out soon enough."
Danny sighed out, dragging a hand down his face. "Always with the unanswered questions," he muttered. "And speaking of which," he stepped around Astina, back into view. "Will you help me, them, and face Celestia?"
"The rules forbid me to interact with the mortal world in any way, other than to help the recently departed."
"Like you're doing now?" He crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow.
"I choose to break this rule."
"So, yes or no?"
Astina walked past him and, in silence, she crossed the bridge leading to the adjacent stalactite with Danny following close behind.
Mort and Rolling Stone, however, remained where they were. The latter too shocked to move and, instead watched from a distance as Astina spoke to somepony unseen to them, then with Danny again. What was said, however, was lost to Rolling Stone as they were too far away to hear. But when Astina vanished without a trace, and the human departed as well; carrying a changeling foal in his arms, and Sweetie Belle following him as well, Rolling Stone's legs finally gave out and he dropped to the floor.
"Wha… What just happened?" He fumbled, his training to keep a clear mind beaten to a pulp as one impossibility after the other was revealed to him, and the voice in the back of his mind shouting everything was a lie, a trick and deceit had grown hoarse. And where his mental armor first held strong, dents and cracks now weakened his defenses to the point of collapse.
'Just one more push,' Mort thought.
"The truth," he answered.
"Wh- what?"
"The truth," Mort reaffirmed. "And potential."
"I don't understand."
"You already have most of the answers," Mort told him. "But past perceptions keep them obscure to you," Mort looked at the shaken stallion. "Let me ask you again," he looked at the rotting bodies, "do they look like monsters to you?"
Rolling Stone looked at the horrific sight, really looked at it, and saw something he failed to notice before.
Despair.
All of them, their hollow, decaying eyes showed nothing but despair.
Lives lived with no kindness, no mercy, no hope.
"What… But wh-" the destruction of Yoke replayed itself in his mind, and pieces began to fall in place. "No, it can't be!" He denied. "The princess would never do something like that."
"Then tell me. Why is there a New Yoke?"
Silence.
"I think, in a way, it was Celestia's way of apologizing," Mort shook his head. "But she never truly made amends, and instead turned one terrible mistake into a mockery, and an atrocious crime."
Rolling Stone's eyes wavered, the warring conflict clearly visible.
"Sh-she said you were there when the princesses were turned. She said they are-"
"Ghosts," Mort finished.
Rolling Stone was silent, looking at the corpses before him. "And what about the human? I saw his hands and eyes glow. And A-Astina mentioned Sweetie Belle, and others as well."
"... Follow me," Mort instructed and left the building.
It didn't take long for Rolling Stone to follow.
"I won't be able to tell you everything. Some things just aren't for you to know, nor do you have the time to hear them. But yes, both Celestia and Luna are partial ghosts. It is why they are what they are," Mort stopped halfway across the bridge and looked up at the Murgröna. "And as for Danny, that is a different story entirely."
"... Astina called him Phantom… and Fenton."
"She did, yes."
"Does that- Is he…"
"They are one and the same."
"Yet he calls himself Manson… The name of the one he-"
"He did not kill Samantha Manson," Mort quickly cut him off, a surprising edge to his voice. "That atrocious act was committed by another, and the blame was put on him. Even though he himself believed it to be true to an extent. He blamed himself for her death, It is why he ran and hid. And what eventually drove him to this world."
"But why is he here? And that was Sweetie Belle I saw, one of the missing foals."
"As you just learned, Danny is a ghost. Or half ghost, to be precise. And while he keeps his powers hidden from you, for obvious reasons, he doesn't keep from using them when the need calls for it," Mort explained, having crossed the bridge to the next stalactite and moved up the spiral walkway, bringing into view the Hive and Rolling Stone came to a stop.
While having moved through the city before, held in Mort's grasp, he never truly saw the city. His attempts to break free and the countless bodies lying in the streets demanded too much of his attention. But now, seeing the logic-defying city carved out of those stone spires hanging above a seemingly endless chasm took his breath away.
Mort, noticing this, looked back at the stallion.
"Could a monster build this?" He asked as he saw him gawking at the imposing creation.
In the distance, they saw Danny cross another bridge, still carrying a changeling in his arms, and Sweetie Belle keeping pace beside him.
"And to answer your question. When Danny learned Sweetie Belle and her friends had gone missing, he used all his abilities available to him to find them, which brought him here. Since then, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Danny have worked tirelessly to save as many lives as they can."
Rolling Stone was silent, watching the tall biped move out of sight as he followed a curved path up.
"Why did you bring me here?" He asked eventually.
"To test you."
"What?"
"Please follow me," Mort said instead, resuming walking.
Rolling Stone looked out into the city one more time, then followed after Mort.
"Remember what I told you back in Ponyville?" asked Mort. "It is time for you to learn a truth that will put your loyalty to the test."
"Meaning?" Rolling Stone said just a bit too quickly.
Mort's eyes glanced back at Rolling Stone, but he didn't say anything and instead they crossed another bridge and moved down a walkway before Mort replied.
"I have met a lot of ponies throughout the millennia. All of them, in fact. All of them were unique and interesting, and they taught me a lot. One of those things is the recognition when one is truly at peace with their circumstances, or if they merely pretend to be for one reason or another. It is why I allowed you to choose back then. To give back control over your own fate," Mort stopped before a chunk of destroyed stone blocking the path, and both saw a frost giant lifting it up with a grunt of exertion before carrying it away.
Rolling Stone jerked back in reflex and recognition of the behemoth.
Mort barely seemed to notice the ghost as he continued onwards, following the same path as Wind Chill.
"I know that you are not fully convinced of what I have said, and what you were shown. But that is alright," Mort half sighed. "Nor was I expecting this to be a simple affair. After all, ponies are good, and changelings are bad. The princesses are infallible, and ghosts are the incarnation of evil. This is a truth you lived your entire life, the foundation of your convictions, blinding you to the true truth," Mort stepped off the bridge, watching Wind Chill deposit the debris on the floor. "But deep down you know it to be false. Luna fell to corruption, and ponies go to prison for various crimes. These are undeniable facts. And then there are the changelinks who are desperately trying to survive, and a ghost saved your life. Even if you won't believe it, you will remember it. That is the whole reason I brought you here, Rolling Stone. To see the truth, and for you to decide what to believe… Who to believe. And what to do once you have made your decision."
Mort looked back, seeing Rolling Stone stand unmoving on the bridge, not even reacting as Wind Chill stepped through him while his face clearly showed the conflict waging within.
Mort's pale magic once more surrounded the stallion, lifting him up high enough to see a partially covered, but still recognizable image on the ground.
"I will now return you to your body. Once you wake up, you will recall all that has happened. What happens next is up to you. You can choose to believe it was nothing more than a fervent dream, or choose to look for the truth shown to you. You might even choose to share what you saw with your fellow ghost hunters and the princesses. Though it would be difficult to convince them, as you have been in a coma for the entire duration. One way, or the other, you will make a decision, and shape the world around you with it. Whether it will be for the better or worse is for everyone to find out."
"Wait, what!?"
Mort shook his head.
"There is no more time to wait, Rolling Stone. Choose well, and until we meet again, goodbye."
Rolling Stone's world went white as he felt himself pulled away. But before he was completely lost to the force that took him, he got one last look at the skeletal pony and the image he stood on.
An image of a pony and a changeling shaking hooves.
Then everything washed away in white and Rolling Stone was gone.
<<>><<>><<>>
Deep in the Dark Zone, a quaint house with green grass and white picket fence floated amidst the rubble of the former masses of land, concrete, ice cream, and various solid liquids. Most of which were on fire with bees shooting lightning from their stingers.
"GHRAAA!" Discord roared as he fired another burst of uncontained chaos magic in one of the larger chunks, finding no relief from his anger as he watched it implode into a supernova.
"OF COURSE IT IS GONE NOW! OF COURSE, THE ELEMENT TOOK IT! OF COURSE, I HAVE BEEN PLAYED THE FOOL AGAIN!" He slammed a fist into the air, shattering it.
"Of course, I'm just another pawn," he seethed through gritted teeth.
"AND FOR WHAT?! DESTINY'S LATEST PLOY? NO! I REFUSE TO BE A MERE PUPPET! THERE HAS TO BE A WAY TO BREAK FREE! TO BE THE MASTER OF MY OWN CHOICES, MY GOALS, MY LIFE!!"
Another chunk of debris blew up.
"There has to be a way," he said, almost pleadingly.
"Perhaps there is."
Discord whirled around, glaring at whoever thought it wise to sneak up on him, and found a young black and white stallion standing before his home.
"If you are willing to listen, we have a proposition," the same voice said, coming from a pulsing medallion hanging from the pony's neck.
<<>><<>><<>>
Hours had passed since Sweetie Drops' experience within the book and finding the note left within.
At first not moving for an undetermined amount of time as shock and a maelstrom of questions kept her rooted on the spot, she then spent the remainder of the time sitting alone at home, just watching the time tick by on a clock.
Every now and then she did glance at the book and notes lying before her on the table, unsure why she took them with her, but knowing she couldn't leave them down there either.
The book, after she carefully examined it before picking it up, showed to be completely blank. Any and all traces of the family tree gone. And the notes left her with few answers either.
Though it was the second note, the one the book itself revealed to her, that left her anxious, and she reread it time and time again, half expecting more text to appear somehow.
Finally, the clock struck eleven, and she pushed herself off the couch. Not sure of what she was about to do, but knowing she needed to do it.
Quickly equipping her saddlebags and putting both the book and notes inside, she quietly slipped out of her house and made her way to the edge of town.
It took her nearly an hour to reach her destination, keeping from the sight of any prying eyes, either peeking through the curtains as fear still held the ponies despite today's pretenses, or of a most vigilant Maudalina Pie out on the prowl.
But now she was here, alone, standing in complete darkness save for the light of the moon, before the ravine separating her from the castle of the two sisters.
'What am I doing? Of course, this is a trap,' she thought.
Still, this did not stop her.
"Hello," she said. "Your note said to meet you here. That you knew about me, and the truth of who I am… That I am not cursed…"
Silence.
Silence.
"You know," a strangely familiar voice suddenly spoke up, coming from nearby and Sweetie Drops spun around to face the forest behind her, seeing nopony. "I half expected you not to show up. Glad to see half of me was wrong."
A pair of green glowing eyes materialized, and Sweetie Drops took an involuntary step backwards, breath caught in her throat.
"But my other half really hopes I'm not making a really big mistake," and Danny Manson faded into view.
"Hello, Sweetie Drops. It's time you and I have a frank discussion about secrets kept."