Marks of the Moon

by Moonatik

5 - Grim Fate

The sun crept over the horizon and cast long shadows across the forest floor, yet the bitterly cold air nagged at me.

These woods were often quiet, except for the crunch of the leaves beneath our hooves and the occasional chirp of birdsong. As sunlight encroached further, it filled the forest with a soft red glow, but as it reflected off of the thin layer of ice and snow coating the ground and the foliage, it somehow made it appear even colder than before. As a wild gust blew through my cloak, I pulled it closer to my body, my breath coming out in foggy puffs of mist. Part of me was surprised at how much light and wind could reach through the soaring tall trees. I hurried along. I found that moving quickly warmed me up compared to walking slowly or staying still.

“Grim, slow down,” my mother called from behind. “You’re rushing ahead again.”

“Mum, I told you,” I said, hopping over a thin icy stream that ran through the path. “I'd rather be writin' spells at home and I want this over and done with soon as possible.”

“You’re learning how to forage whether you like it or not.” Mum called back, carefully crossing over a pair of dry rocks amidst the stream.

We were from a part of the world far from everything. No industry, no large-scale trade, no advanced technology, no cohesive infrastructure, nothing but small farming villages separated by vast stretches of untamed wilderness. Cartographers barely bothered mapping it, diplomats barely bothered with missions to it, and bandits barely bothered raiding it. What was there to chart, to bargain for, or to plunder, anyway? Yet in spite of the… unsophisticated nature of such a society, a single law is imposed upon us all: Magic in all its forms shall not exist in the Firtree Villages.

For the Fate family, a tight-knit family of mages who’ve lived on these lands for centuries, this forced us into the margins of an already marginal society. The whole point of the Firtree Villages as a political entity was to solve problems that a single village could not solve alone, but as outcasts, we were alone. It made us strong, forced us to be strong, led us to learn magic that even the civilised world would gag at. When you skirt on the razor’s edge of annihilation every single day, it’s not like you have a choice. But we prefer it that way. If it’s perilous freedom or being “secure” and restrained, we’d pick the former every single time.

“I can forage just fine, Mum,” I threw her an exasperated look. “Gloomy's better at it, why dintcha bring her out instead?”

“And if Gloomy isn’t around and you need dragonsnap for a healing potion?” Mum said, catching up to me. “What kind of matriarch would you be then?”

As the first born of my siblings, I was at the front of the line to become the next family matriarch, but we didn’t see it this way. Our family sought mastery over life and death as our ultimate goal and we understood the soul to be eternal, so matters of inheritance or the thought of passing things down to later generations weren't on our minds. It was simply the case that now we faced death and as long as we did, the family would need new leaders from the younger generation.

Given her age, my mother was remarkably vigorous and energetic. It was rare for ponies to live terribly long out here, but our willingness to use magic to prolong our lives gave us a notable advantage. Me and her were the same height, had the same build, though her face displayed certain signs of age, light wrinkles, the occasional scar, and so on. Her mane was like mine, black and long, yet her coat was a considerably lighter shade of green compared to me, resembling muted moss more than anything. Both of us were equipped well for the forest, thick cloaks around our bodies, sturdy boots on our hooves, and packed saddlebags strapped to our sides.

“I said I can forage just fine, Mum,” I grimaced, picking up my speed a little.

“When were you last out foraging anyway?” she says, quickly matching my hastened pace. “Can't risk you forgetting!”

“I'm not gonna forget how to forage-”

“Hang on!” Mum stopped, putting a foreleg out in front of me. “We're close.”

I hadn't noticed until then, but the air of the woods had changed considerably. Gone was the chilling purple glow of the wider woods, as it had given way to a sickly green fog, the pungent scent of decay pervading the whole environment. I heard the croaks of frogs and toads, the chirps of small birds, the trill of insects, and the light trickling of water. The ground beneath our hooves, still coated with frost, had notably softened and taken on a wet, muddy consistency, made evident by the clear trail of deep hoofprints left in our wake. All the trees had morphed from tall and domineering to gnarled,  twisted things, their branches reaching out erratically as the surrounding vegetation had also grown denser and was drenched in a thick layer of moss.

A smirk creeping onto her lips, Mum advanced forward steadily. “Now, dragonsnap isnt hard to find if you know what you’re doing. Here especially, everything’s green and muddy, but dragonsnap’s usually bright red or orange. Sticks out like a sore wing.”

Following closely, I huffed. I wanted to groan that I knew all of this already, but in truth a refresher was well needed. It was only by luck that my eyes wandered around the swamp and I spotted a mass of bushes off on the side accented with little red flowers. 

“Like that?” I said, pointing in their direction.

Mum’s ears perked up, her head spun around to where I pointed. “Aye! Exactly like that!” she beamed. 

She rushed over to the bushes, trampling over smaller shrubs and crushing fallen branches beneath her hooves in her hurry, which slowed down to a steady sneak as she got closer. Mum was often moody, such a thing came with age, living in this environment, and raising children like me and my siblings, but when she found success in a forage, in potion brewing, or in spell crafting, she lit up with an infectious joy that I couldn't help feel myself.

I followed, and as I got closer the flowers themselves came closer into view. Appropriately shaped like the head of a dragon and about the size of a unicorn’s horn, the petals displayed bright shades of red and orange, and at first glance they seemed like an ordinary flower, the sort of thing a wealthy pony would use to decorate their garden. In the single bush in front of us there were around a dozen. On closer inspection, however, I noticed that the leaves came together to form a trap-like shape, with sharp thorns lining the inside of the trap and a thick orange nectar dripping from its “maw”.

I was familiar with these plants as I’d picked them before and used their nectar in potion brewing. Their healing qualities, when combined with certain other ingredients, is unmatched. Even the raw nectar makes for an effective salve, burning away dead flesh and speeding up blood clotting around wounds.

Mum turned back to me, a hoof raised. “Careful around dragonsnap, the name’s not a joke. If you disturb it it’ll-”

The dragonsnap snapped at Mum. She quickly yoinked her hoof away, avoiding the attack.

“-do that. Heh,” she smirked.

Mum’s horn lit up, her aura engulfed an empty jar she had kept in her saddlebags. Quickly, she brought the jar under the flower, grasped the stalk of the flower in her magic, then easily pulled it out of the bush and into the jar. Already, the flower was leaking nectar into the jar. 

She turned around, smiling at me, presenting the jar. “See, love? Now, you get one.”

Hoping to examine the flower more closely, I leaned my head forwards. Foolishly, in retrospect! The flower shot out and nearly bit my snout off. I pulled my head back just in time. My teeth grit as I seethed at the pesky plant. Flaring magic in my horn, my aura grasped the stalk and violently ripped it from the bush. Now with the limp plant in hand, I felt a flash of triumph until its precious resin leaked out onto the ground. 

“Agh!” I groaned, scrambling to shove the flower into Mum’s jar.

Mum giggled. “You’re supposed to have a container ready before you pick it.”

“Yeah, I know-” 

A sudden rustle stopped me. I gasped and jumped sideways. Not that far off, I saw a mass of bushes moving slightly before slowly coming to a stop, little bits of moss and small leaves falling to the ground around the bush. I felt no wind in the air and couldn’t hear the telltale sound of any animal I knew. An uneasy feeling crept over me. What little movement I saw was far too much to have been made by a small animal, and the bushes were easily large enough to conceal a stallion.

"Did you hear that?" I shuddered. I felt a surge of magic flow into my horn, my eyes were fixed on the bushes. 

Mum poked her head up, her ears pointing towards the bushes. "Aye," she whispered, "best to stay back. Be ready for a fight, but don't go looking for one."

I looked back at Mum for half a second, then shot my gaze back at the bushes. Another rustle. Quieter this time. But the whole bush shook. I was sure that something was in there. Watching us. The thought made me shudder. I felt my teeth grit and my lips curl. Already anxiety and curiosity were getting the better of me. Tentatively, I made a step forward. Then another. Before I knew it I was gently walking towards the bushes ahead.

“Grim,” Mum whispered. “Stay back.”

I crept closer to the bushes. They stank like festering carrion. The whole swamp was quiet, deathly quiet. Not even the buzz of flies you’d expect to hear with such a smell. Only the squelch of my boots against the mud and the shimmer of magic in my horn made a sound. I sucked in heavy breaths of foetid swamp air through my teeth. Smaller details like snapped branches in shallow footprints and scattered leaves came into focus. Whatever it was, I knew I had to be prepared.

"Grim, where’re y’ going?” Mum’s voice was louder that time.

Not far from the bushes the stench became so potent I could taste the rot. It made my fur stand on its ends. My steps became uneasy. Yet I was undeterred. If there was something in there, I’d want to know what it is and if I needed to kill it before it jumped at us.

“Grim, get back here, now!” she firmly demanded, voice raised again.

I stopped my muzzle mere inches away from a wide dark gap in the bush. I peered in closer, my need to know fully conquering any sense of safety. At first, nothing, only empty blackness. Far darker than it should’ve been, as if light simply ceased to exist inside the gap. The daunting black seemed to extend endlessly.

Until suddenly I saw two burning green eyes staring back at me.

It lunged and screamed. I ducked, it whizzed over my head. Had I hesitated at all, it would’ve ripped my head clean off. I spun around and recoiled at the horror that stood between me and my mother.

“What in the unholy name of fuck is that?” I gasped.

It was an earth pony, but nothing like any pony I’d seen before. Definitely a stallion. Deep sanguine coat. Stringy mossy hair. Glowing green eyes locked on me in a feral stare. A black-toothed grin that stretched the whole width of its snout. Wood grafted onto the skin up its legs and across its head. Ivory claws on its hooves. Mud, blood, and grime splattered across its body and especially around its mouth. Like a pony had been fused with a timberwolf or some other ungodly beast. The sight alone was enough to make me stagger backwards. Let alone the feral growls and the deathly stench.

“You,” it breathed, saliva leaking between its putrescent teeth. “Next.”

The monster pounced. Fast enough to clear the distance in less than half a second. Arcane power burst from my horn to form a shield. But instead of the monster slamming into the shield a chunk of earth twice its size launched out of the ground and into its underside. The chunk splattered to pieces, the monster thrown upwards and backwards. It landed on its back, groaned, then rolled to its hooves. Its head spun around, and it flinched at the sight of my mother. The monster saw the blazing light engulfing her horn and, perhaps more intimidating, the burning rage on her face.

“Get away from her, you bitch!” Mum hissed.

Growling, the beast charged at Mum. Her horn flared and launched brilliant streaks of magic into the earth. Thick vines shot out of the ground and grappled onto the monster, dragging it to the ground, halting its advance. The monster thrashed and slashed against the vines fruitlessly, their grip unimaginably tight. Lightning crackled in Mum’s horn. She threw her head forwards, and unleashed a full-on thunderstorm onto the monster. The electric surge paralyzed the monster as horrific savage screams were forced out of its maw. The blinding light and shrill screams overwhelmed me, and I recoiled back.

Yet Mum could only keep her electric assault up for so long. Only ten seconds in, the magic ceased streaking from her horn. She faltered back, pants passing through grinded teeth with eyes clenched shut. The monster prepared to charge. Without thinking, I unleashed a blast of magic at the beast. It stumbled but remained standing. It spun around and glared at me, then dashed in my direction.

I fired bolt after bolt yet my magic had practically no effect. As it rapidly approached my magic changed for the defensive and I projected a shield. Only for it to tear through the shield like it was made of paper and it tackled me before I’d even processed what happened. I felt like I’d been hit by a train, immediately forcing all the air out of me and definitely breaking something as it forced me to the ground. My back in the mud, I couldn’t move, its hooves were pressing down on my legs. I struggled and briefly saw its long coal black tongue lick its cracked lips. It bore its teeth and lunged for my throat.

A hair’s breadth away from death, it was yanked away and sent hurling. Mum had grabbed its tail with her magic and saved me. I rolled right way up and stumbled to my hooves. Some distance away Mum and the monster brawled. Fire spewed out of Mum’s horn. It slowed the beast but didn’t stop it. Physically and magically I was weak. All I could do was struggle to charge a spell in my horn and stagger forwards. Mum sent a blast of magic into the earth that launched tall wooden spikes up to impale the beast. Only it dodged and weaved between every one of them. Mum nearly had another spell charged until the monster barreled into her. Moments later she was pinned down.

“Grim, get out of here-” Mum’s shout was cut off as the monster slashed into her throat.

“Mum!” 

Fear filled me for a moment which was quickly replaced with furious rage and determination. Power, raw unrelenting power surged into my horn, more power than I knew I was capable of channelling, and I quickly discharged it at the beast. The recoil nearly threw me off my hooves. But the blast catapulted the beast off of Mum and far across the swamp. I saw the beast splash into a pond.

Its head surfaced, even with the distance between us its glare pierced through the dark fog. It leaped from the pond and charged. I had to act quickly, magic in my horn I prepared another blast. Until I spotted a fallen tree to my side. I would’ve smirked if my rage wasn’t so all-encompassing. The beast had cleared half the distance between us. I redirected my magic to lift the tree from the ground. The beast got closer. I heaved and felt my horn strain from the weight. The beast was in pouncing range. I’d lifted the whole trunk off of the ground.

And I swung.

There was a loud, sonorous crack, whether it was the tree itself or some part of the monster I couldn’t tell. Yet it was thrown clean off of its hooves and sent flying. It crashed into another tree and fell to the ground flailing and uncontrolled. With the whole length of the trunk now in my grasp, carrying it felt so much easier. The monster struggled to its hooves and hastily limped towards me. Easily enough time for me to ready another blow, and strike.

The monster was thrown into the mud. Handling the trunk became effortless. Every time the monster shakily got back up, I hit it again. Harder and stronger each time. I’d knocked out teeth, claws, parts of its wooden armour, even ripped off bits of flesh as I frantically yet precisely hammered it to ruin. It didn’t take long before the monster could barely stand. It looked ready to flee. It wouldn’t. 

Fiery hatred powering me, I made one last devastating swing that broke off a chunk of the trunk and launched the monster towards the pond. 

With a splash, the monster sank into the pond. I saw its head surface as the rest of its body kicked frantically. That was the perfect chance. The tree still in my grasp I thrust it into the monster’s torso and held it underwater. Seeing beneath the murky and mossy surface of the pond was difficult but the sight of the monster’s frantic, desperate kicks and grasps was unmistakable. It slashed and roared and swallowed untold amounts of filthy swamp water. I must’ve unknowingly stabbed it with a sharp piece of the trunk as blood streaked to the surface. Every time I felt like it was making headway I thrust the tree in harder. No chance of escape.

Over the course of a minute, the monster’s panicked kicks slowed. They became sad little pushes rather than kicks. Soon they’d stopped completely, bubbles flowed out of its hanging mouth, and the beast went still.

My magic faded, the tree fell and crashed into the pond. The monster’s lifeless body then floated to the surface, limp as a ragdoll. I’d finished it. I’d killed this bastard and absolutely proven myself a capable mage. I just needed to get back home so Mum and I could patch ourselves up, the dragonsnap wasn’t going anywhere. Finally allowing myself to smile, a quick laugh escaped my lips. “Alright, Mum! The bastard’s dead!” I shouted.

I didn’t hear a reply.

“Mum?” I shouted again, turning around. 

Then my heart sank.

“Mum!” I ran over to Mum, who was lying still on the ground. 

I must’ve already known what had happened but denial remained at the forefront of my mind. Yet the closer I got, the more blood I saw mixed with the mud, the better look I got at the deep gruesome cut on her neck, and her motionless form became more stark and unsettling. This pony I’d known and loved as long as I could remember, the most important figure in my life…

“No, M-mum you can’t- Not-” I got down on the ground and put my hooves around Mum, barely choking out coherent words. 

I was supposed to be ready. Living out here was supposed to be hard. You were supposed to expect death could claim you at any moment. We chose this life on the fringe and we were supposed to accept the consequences. Yet when I was staring those consequences in the face, words failed me.

Lips trembling and eyes watering, until I collapsed forwards and devolved into a broken sobbing ruin. “Mum… You- No, please… Just, Mum…”

It would’ve seemed that in our struggle to conquer death, death conquered us. As it had since the dawn of time, and as it would until the end of the universe.

“No.”

Once more the feelings that left me crippled were thrown aside by anger. Anger, that ever-powerful emotion that carries the otherworldly power to force you to do things you’d never do otherwise. And usually this anger found an outlet in my horn. I stood up. Teeth grinding so hard it hurt. I aimed my horn up, and I released a long, strained…

“NO!”

Bright brilliant bursts of golden magic shot skywards. The light illuminated the entire swamp and the boom of the magic combined with my defiant screams produced a sonic cacophony that made even the sturdiest trees shake. As if I had fired a harpoon that had pierced the heavens themselves. That harpoon quickly caught something. I reeled it in and directed the arcane stream towards my mother. Her eyes shot open glowing orange. Her skin writhed. Her muscles convulsed. Her lips juddered. Gurgled whines escaped her lips. The gash on her neck started to close. I could feel my own blood beginning to boil in my veins, my muscles straining to their breaking point. My horn, my body, my soul all felt like they were on fire.

At least until my vision went blurry, and my mind went woozy. The light faded from my horn, and I collapsed on top of Mum’s motionless body.

I had nothing left to give except tears. The fire that raged within me had been reduced to a dwindling smoulder. No matter how hard I thought, which wasn’t very hard as whatever mental capacity I had was drained, I couldn’t think of a reason to get up. Nor could I find the physical energy to move. I was prepared to lie here for the rest of my life.

Then I felt Mum’s chest heave.

I shot up. My breaths turned fast and frantic. The horrible wound on her neck had closed entirely, a thick fleshy scar in its place. I put my hoof to her neck. I felt a pulse.

Her eyes inched open, pupils unfocused at first until they fell on me. She uneasily brought her head off the ground. Her breaths came out strained and raspy, her limbs shivered. But she was there. Back from the dead.

“G-Grim?” she wheezed. Tears in her eyes she smiled at me, I smiled back, and we wordlessly embraced each other in a hug.

“After that, we stayed in the woods for a bit. Must’ve held that hug for three or four minutes, bawling our eyes out. I hadn’t even realised I’d gotten me cutie mark until we were back home and I took my cloak off. Have to assume it was the resurrection spell that did it.” Grim sighed to herself, her eyes had drifted to the floor. “That's about it. What d'ya think?”

Only then, after finishing her story and looking up at the fillies, did Grim notice their reactions and her eyes went wide.

All three of the Crusaders were veritably speechless, still and silent as statues, long wide stares between infrequent blinks as their mouths hung open.

“That-” Scootaloo finally said, sounding unsure of herself. “That was intense.”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom murmured. “I- yeah.”

“Wait,” Sweetie broke from her stare. “You’re from Firtree, that’s in northern Griffonia! How’d you end up in Equestria?”

Grim scoffed, “I ask myself the same bloody question every night! Though if you have to know, my family all thought I was destined for something more than sitting in the woods after showing off all that magical talent. Most mages, including unicorns, need to use ritual magic to resurrect somepony, the whole thing was a pretty big deal. So once I was old enough I set off north to- to…” she paused, her eyes staring into the middle distance for a moment. She looked back at the fillies. “Let’s just say it’s a long story and leave it there, aye?”

A door flung open. “I’m back!” came the voice of Sol Nightshade. “And look who I found while I was out!”

“Hello!” said the thestral mare waving by Sol’s side. Exceedingly short, dark silver coat and long silver mane (tied into a bun, of course), wearing a form-fitting blue uniform with silver accenting. Everypony recognised her instantly.

“Warmaster Selenite?” Grim and the Crusaders said in sync.

Apple Bloom shot to her hooves, her brow furrowed. “You!?” she snarled. “Why in the applebuckin’ name’a hay did you bring her here?”

“Hey,” Sol cast Apple Bloom a glare as he put a foreleg around Selenite. “That’s my wife you’re talking to.”

“Huh?” the fillies gasped in unison.

“Hold on,” Sweetie rubbed her temple. “The ‘Selenite’ in that smelly guy’s story was the Warmaster Selenite?”

“Smelly guy?” Selenite raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mean P-”

“Holy cow, pleasure to meet you, Warmaster!” Scootaloo leaped off the sofa and trotted up to Selenite.

Selenite smiled. “Nice to meet you too-”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Apple Bloom shouted, causing Scootaloo to skid to a stop. “You actually like this- this- tyrant!?”

A cacophony of various voices all speaking at once followed Apple Bloom’s insult.

“What? Pfft, that’s ridiculous!” from Scootaloo.

“Woah, that’s harsh!” from Sweetie.

“That’s my wife,” from Sol.

“Hohoh! This kid’s brave!” smirked Grim.

“Hey, I’m right here you know,” from Selenite herself.

Scoffing, Apple Bloom forced a single laugh out. “Harsh? Heh, harsh? How’s putting my sister in prison for ‘harsh’? How’s stealing the farm that’s been the pride of our family for decades for ‘harsh’? How’s trampling on our whole way of life for ‘harsh’?”

“Like she’s personally responsible for every bad thing that happens in Equestria!” Scootaloo turned around and walked towards Apple Bloom.

“Oh come on, she’s responsible for every last sunblasted bit of it!” Apple Bloom spat back, throwing an accusatory point at Selenite. “She’s Nightmare Moon’s right-hoof-mare! Her number-one minion! Her evil accomplice!”

Scootaloo leaned up towards Apple Bloom. “Not everypony in the army is a bad pony! Most just want to protect and strengthen Equestria!”

“She is the Warmaster! Top dog in Nightmare Moon’s whole rogues' gallery!” Apple Bloom retorted. “She’s the worst of the wor- Hey, Scoots, why ya defendin’ this no-good lunatic after everythin’ she’s done?” 

“Because out of all the ponies close to Nightmare Moon, she’s one of the better ones!” Scootaloo replied. “Rainbow Dash told me so, and she’s actually been in the Lunar Guard! I think she’d know-”

“Seriously now?” Apple Bloom leaned closer, her eyes narrowing as her and Scootaloo were practically touching muzzles. “Yer soundin’ like a lunatic yerself!”

“Girls!” Sweetie Belle leapt between her two friends, separating them. Panting out heavy breaths, she exchanged quick looks with her two rowing friends. “Please, for goodness sakes, just calm, the heck, down. Okay?” a pause, ensuring her friends had heeded her words. “Okay.”

Ever since Nightmare Moon ascended to the throne, Sweetie Belle had been desperately trying to keep politics out of her friends’ relationship to middling success. Easy enough when they were younger fillies, but it was becoming harder and harder as they grew into opinionated, argumentative adolescents. Each of them had a different experience with the new regime which had moulded their perception of it.

Apple Bloom sighed. “Look, I just-”

“Drop it,” Sweetie said.

Scootaloo put a hoof forward. “Are we really-”

“Drop it!” Sweetie demanded.

“Can’t I just say I miss my dang sister!?” Apple Bloom yelled, then she sighed as her friends went silent too. 

It had already been years since Applejack had been locked up for resisting the nationalisation of their family farm, with their meeting now reduced to weekly prison visits. In a way, Apple Bloom was glad her sister wasn’t around to see what was being done to the nationalised farm, the name “Sweet Apple Acres” being just about the only thing that hadn’t changed for the worse. The lunatics even started growing strawberries on their land, strawberries!

Biting her lip, Scootaloo crawled up onto the sofa and put a leg around Apple Bloom. “Sorry, AB, I know it's hard being separated from your family. I hope your sister gets out soon,” she said. 

Sincerely, at that. She knew the Apple family simply wasn’t complete without Applejack and saw how her absence hurt her friend. But when it came to her desire to join the Imperial Foal Scouts, her awe of the Shadowbolts, and her admiration of the Lunar soldiers who’d held back and defeated the Everfree monsters, Queen Chrysalis, King Sombra, the Storm King… Well, she tried to keep those thoughts to herself.

Right in the middle was Sweetie Belle. Her curious position had left her ambivalent towards Nightmare Moon. Her parents lauded the economic growth of the last eight years, yet her sister’s business teetered on the brink in the face of new competition. Monster attacks from the Everfree were no longer a concern, arguably at the expense of her own liberty. Countless friendly thestrals had moved into town, but scarily armoured Night Guards patrolled the streets constantly. With so many conflicting thoughts, she often wondered how much easier it would be to declare an ideological allegiance and shut out anything that contradicted it.

Just as quickly as it had flared up, the tension between the three fillies had subsided, and they shared a smile. Moments later, Sweetie's ears spun towards a far-off part of the room. Selenite was speaking with Grim in a hushed tone that was difficult to hear. As Sweetie turned her head to look, the other two followed her eyes.

They only heard vague, hushed snippets of Selenite’s voice. “Ponies really aren’t meant to know…” which fell into an indistinct murmur. “If you’re in a public place like this…” which too faded from earshot. "A lot of ponies would scream for blood if they knew…" which caused Sweetie to flinch a little, until it too became inaudible.

Suddenly, Sol crashed onto the sofa with the fillies, pulling their attention towards him. “Yo,” he said, lazily lying back.

“Hey again!” Scootaloo smiled.

“Howdy,” Apple Bloom sheepishly waved. "Hey, uh, just so you know ah don't hate you for bein' in the Army or nothin', I don't got a problem with ya-"

“Just my wife you have a problem with?” Sol said assertively with a glare.

Feeling her face sink, Apple Bloom’s eyes danced around the room. “Uhh-” she stammered.

Sol snickered and made a ‘calm down’ gesture with his hoof. “No, I get it, kinda. I’m not brave enough for politics myself and, well, I’m sure the Empire has to do all sorts of nasty stuff, but out of all the ponies who could be Warmaster, I’m glad it’s her,” he explained. “Not that I’m biased or anything,” he said with a sarcastic smirk.

In the corner of her eye, Sweetie spotted the mysterious book on the table being wrapped in a golden arcane aura, then she watched it be whisked away by Grim who was hastily scurrying out of the room. Just before Sweetie was about to point this out to the other ponies, Selenite sat next to her husband. Even with five ponies on the same sofa each of them had plenty of room to themselves, even discounting their small figures.

“What was up with her?” Sweetie said, referring to Grim.

Selenite snuggled up to Sol as he put a leg around her. “Miss Star had business elsewhere. Did she tell you anything before we got here?”

“You mean Polar?” Sweetie said, still unaware of her true name. “Uhh, no, not really. We heard her mumbling about that book, she called us stupid, and because we asked she told us how she got her cutie mark.”

“Ah good,” Selenite said, becoming a little less tense. “Well-”

“Ooh! OOH! Warmaster!” Scootaloo shot up and exclaimed, which surprised Selenite and irritated Apple Bloom. “Warmaster, how did you get your cutie mark?”

“Prolly by killin’ somepony,” Apple Bloom murmured, glancing to the side.

Selenite giggled. “Nothing of the sort! I’ll happily tell you my story.” 

“Aw sweet, really?” said Scootaloo.

Selenite grinned earnestly. “Of course, for it is an inspiring story! A tale of heroism in the face of daunting odds, of standing by your principles no matter what, and a demonstration of what young inspired ponies can accomplish when guided by their faith and determination!”

Sweetie leaned in with a hoof to her chin. Scootaloo’s eyes and grin went wide and her wings flapped frantically. Apple Bloom crossed her hooves and quietly scoffed, her eyes rolling.

“Cast yourselves back thirteen years ago, to an Equestria banished to memory…”