//------------------------------//
// Two Princes 
// Story: Fury of the Storm 
// by HK-FortySeven 
//------------------------------//

A few cheery calls from the sky ship’s avian crew heralded the vessel’s descent, bringing it’s height to, by my rough estimate, about half a kilometre above the ground, a fraction of what it was before. It was fairly obvious that they did this to allow everyzebra aboard to sight-see, but I certainly wasn’t about to complain about getting a much more detailed look at this foreign land. There was a protest to be made, however, in the fact that I was now not alone in my observations. Before, I seemed to be the only zebra who gave a damn about observing my surroundings. Now that the Princes were also observing the land this close to our presumed destination, all of a sudden the other chosen found the land far more interesting than their petty, self-aggrandizing drama.

Though I suppose Zelac was something of an exception. From the beginning, he was very excited about all of the new sights, but not enough to override his fear of heights before this moment, when everyzebra decided to start doing it. That still makes him guilty of meekly bending the knee and following the herd, but that’s by far the lesser sin when compared to the other self-absorbed cretins I’m forced to share space with. Although, I was legitimately surprised to see Zakurai looking down at the landscape with unhidden interest, even a bit of excitement. Though I didn’t care enough to decipher what was beneath Zabraxas’s neutral mask.

Turning my eyes back to the lands around us, Zelac at least has the wherewithal to stay mostly quiet beside me as his head darts all around, greedily drinking in the sights. I hadn’t noticed this at the sky ship’s prior height before, but the path I saw stretching from that settlement in the plains, the one with the trees, was no path at all. Rather, it was two straight lines of metal, joined at equal distances by wooden boards beneath. The actual hoof paths were simply trodden dirt, and wound and snaked exactly like I expected them to. That begged the question of what purpose those metal lines served, if they were not some kind of path.

I would get my answer only minutes after wondering. As our flight continued, I saw something on the lines in the far distance, emitting a plume of smoke that gave away both it’s presence and the high speeds it was travelling at. My eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise when I saw what was using that metal-lined path: it was an enormous machine! A steam-driven vehicle moved very quickly along the special path, it’s wheels locked onto the equidistant metal lines and finally revealing their purpose as rails. A loud steam whistle sounded out as it passed underneath the sky ship, carrying the faint smell of coal smoke as it travelled. Strung behind it was a surprisingly large quantity of large, box-like carts that it somehow pulled along with ease under it’s power, each a little smaller than the vehicle itself and of a fairly uniform size. Each one was joined to the other in segments like a centipede, and had their own set of wheels anchored to those rails. The one at the front was a rail-cart full of coal, seven more had windows indicative of passengers, and the final nine were for transporting cargo, not dissimilar to how merchant vessels did.

What a curious invention. A land-bound transport ship, with the flexibility of being modular? I could certainly see the utility such a vehicle would provide. Zelac, of course, loses his mind upon seeing the vehicle, beside himself with foal-like glee and gushing with questions I don’t have answers to. I let him get it out of his system.

Either way, now that I knew the purpose of those ground rails, I can’t help but note how the sky ship was following their general path. The obvious inference is that they must lead to major towns and cities, no doubt servicing their equivalent of ports. The plains and grasslands slowly turn to a yellowish green as the sky ship approaches a very large gorge with a similarly large river flowing rapidly through it. A single large bridge crossed it’s length, carrying the ground rails in it’s centre and the hoof paths along the sides, each different path on the bridge separated by guard rails.

I blink a few times at the lands beyond the gorge. I wipe my eyes and shake my head a bit to ensure my vision is working correctly. And upon verifying that my eyes were not, in fact, deceiving me, my mouth hangs slightly agape at the unbelievable sight before me.

The lands below us were lush, to a degree I thought was absolutely impossible. Great rolling fields of thick, healthy green grass dominated the right side of the ground rails, stretching out far into the distance and broken up occasionally by patches of beautiful, vibrant flowers and groves of large, thick trees that all bore dense, leafy green foliage. The flowers and trees were all of species I’d never seen before, much less thought were capable of existing. To the right of those ground rails was an enormous, darker green forest of even larger and wilder looking trees that itself stretched out for a great distance. The unkempt, sun-blocking density of the forest’s foliage stirred my primordial senses of danger the same way other natural Zebrican dangers did. And the smell of the plant life reached my nose during my observations, the sheer healthiness and palpable fertility of it all almost suffocating in how juxtaposed it was to the rest of Zebrica.

I’ve never seen so much green before. Even the Ridge of Cultivation, one of the Alchemist Peaks, isn’t as lush and green as this. I never would have imagined that a place greener than that could possibly exist. None of this seemed real.

And yet, it remained a constant as the sky ship continued it’s path, crossing yet another river with smaller, individual wooden bridges for the ground rails and hoof traffic. Said paths and ground rail converged into a moderately sized town, with tall, colourful structures of various designs all arranged around a much larger and red-roofed circular structure, it’s very design language completely foreign to Zebrican standards. My eyes, however, were quickly drawn towards a truly bizarre and out of place structure near the town: a towering crystalline tree with structures built into it, prominently displaying a six-pointed star as part of it’s design. The sky ship, however, was not aiming for this strange tree, instead continuing it’s path along the ground rail towards the now much closer mountain.

And with the sky ship now closing in on said mountain, my eyes widen even more at the enormous city I could now see built into it’s side. Even from this distance, the sheer opulence of the city far and away eclipsed that of Zebrat: it wasn’t even a contest. I’m certain that even the Zhaanephi capitol, the secret ‘holy’ city of Zhar-Toba, would pale in comparison to this, even in the feverish imaginations of their faithful. This must be the Equestrian capitol of Canterlot that Zakurai spoke of.

Beyond the beautiful, glimmering white marble of it’s construction, the colourful, spiralling- and bulbous-headed tall towers, and the liberal use of gold, fine fabrics, and glittering gems to decorate the structures, there was also the matter of what the city did with the great waterfall cascading down the side of the mountain. Part of that water was funnelled into large, saucer-like reservoirs that poured like overfilled ewers into yet more reservoirs below, all arranged in a decorative stack of cascading waterfalls. From the final basins in the stack, the water was channelled into artificial rivers that flowed through the city itself, until those finally fell as one last series of waterfalls from the city’s edges, emptying into a lake far below and bathing the land beneath the falls in a fine, windblown mist, creating a constant rainbow that, from this height, was completely circular. It was, in and of itself, another display of power and opulence: the kind that had the power to either carve out it’s own rivers and waterfalls, finance such an endeavour, or more likely, both. Indeed, the volume of water needed for the entire display was, quite frankly, impossible to source from a mountaintop of all places, at least not with the means I knew of. Elysium only knows how they had accomplished it anyways.

All along the mountain, three parallel ground rails spiralled up it’s diameter along with the normal roads, and passed through stations in the outlying large towns near the city, themselves mounted into the mountain wall just like the city itself: it’s unique conception of suburban sprawl, no doubt, given the similar design language. Finally, the ground rails were carried by stone-buttressed and reinforced yet skeletal wooden bridges, and the roads were carried by beautiful smooth stone arched bridges, as both finally terminated into the presumed city of Canterlot.

As the ship began it’s descent towards the impossibly grand city, slowing it’s pace to effectively dock with it, I spare a look at the other zebras. Zelac was speechless, though I expected him to be elated beyond measure when he recovered from the shock. The other chosen were, of course, blown away by the sights. Zakurai looked legitimately excited to be here. Indeed, he even looked humbled at the sights, which was a surprising thing to see in a zebra, let alone a Prince. As for Zabraxas? Well, I’ve been in enough lovers’ spats and relationship drama to see envy disguised as disdain when I see it. Seems he doesn’t like the idea of another species being better than us, equine or not. Very unlike his fellow.

Hah. Were he not born a Prince, he would be a fantastic Zhaaneph.

But the sliver of amusement I draw from my musings is only a small ebb in my appraisal of the reality of the situation before me. I will not deny it: I am incredibly nervous about these “ponies”. How could I not be? Ignoring the vast and healthy land they presumably held claim to, beyond their large towns that looked wealthier than most Zebrican cities, one look at the impossible mountain city before me was enough to make me deeply nervous. What kind of species could create grand works like this? Was it a function of a strange power they held? Was it a consequence of sheer determination to succeed and flourish? Was this all fostered due to a unity that zebrakind can only dream about? Was it all of that? A mixture? Or was it something else entirely? I did not know.

And that was what worried me the most: the utter lack of information. And I wasn’t sure I would like what little answers I would get when I finally beheld these “ponies” for myself. I steel my nerves as best as I can and continue to look on as the sky ship continues it’s descent, trying not to let the anticipation get to me. I had only limited success.

I hated unknowns. And I was plunged into a land that was, in and of itself, a complete unknown. But I will endure through this. I have to. If not for me, then for her.

The sky ship begins it’s final descent at last. There was no proper dock like there was at that odd shanty city, so they were making do with landing in the enormous open courtyard before the great castle-palace that had to be the seat of whatever power ruled here. Already I could see shapes moving around as the vessel descended: they had to be these “ponies”. I lean further in, intent on drinking in every detail that came into focus.

The very first thing that stuck out to me was their colours. So vibrant and diverse in palette, almost as if reflecting the vibrancy of their land itself, and with not a single stripe or other coat pattern to speak of. Their physical shapes were extremely zebra-like, though rather small: the size of an average mountain zebra, in fact, though there were plenty of outliers. Their manes and tails were sometimes patterned, and sometimes not, but were every bit as colourful as their coats. There were marks on their flanks, but not the abstract and meaningless yet unique marks that me and my people are all born with. No, these were firmly defined, very explicit pictures of objects and concepts, some recognizable and some not, appearing almost as if they were dyed or tattooed into place.

But the most striking detail was in their appendages. And the most prominent example was in the ones who had wings. Wings! Entire feathered wingspans, sprouting out from their backs, just behind their withers! Far too small to carry their weight, and yet they did so not only with ease, but with grace! Some remained grounded however, and as we neared that ground, I could instantly tell why: some of them outright lacked these wings. Indeed, some of them had no extra appendages at all, seemingly no different than I or anyzebra else.

But the other wingless ponies had a feature that I immediately recognized. And immediately feared.

Horns.

Straight, uniform, each with a gentle, spiralling groove, and varying only in length. And each of the horned ponies only possessed one of them, all in the same place and angle on their foreheads. But there was only one reason they would possess horns: the same reason the abadas possessed two.

Sorcery.

In that moment, I lean back away from the railing, almost by reflex. I’ve encountered abadan sorcery before, at the hooves of the whitehorn abadas. I’ve seen their golems and their sorcerous powers, emanating from those horns of theirs. More importantly, I’ve seen what that sorcerous power can do firsthoof: how it assaulted zebra bandits and Imperial Legionnaires alike, with power not at all dissimilar to what the Princes themselves were capable of wielding, and wielded with much lower power yet far greater finesse than said royals.

Of all the Zebrican races, they were the ones I knew the least about, and the ones I had the most reason to fear, along with all other zebras with functioning brains. Even then, I was at least insulated by the knowledge that abadas almost never left the caves they called home, allowing me to sidestep the threat they posed for the most part and simply observe when others either ignored or neglected the threat, or in the case of the Legion, deliberately attacked and took prisoners in spite of it.

And yet here was an entire segment of these ponies’ population, simply waving those dangerous magical horns around without a care in the world, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to them!

I have to avoid the horned ones. I knew the second I saw them that I had to avoid them. Abadan sorcery was bad enough: who knows what twisted foreign sorcery they can wield? Actually, no: I had a good idea of at least some of what they could do, and that little was unquestionably worse than what the abadas were capable of. Sorcery would perfectly explain the strange mountain waterfall, to say nothing of how they managed to build this grand city! Hells, I’m not sure these winged ponies would even be necessary for the city, given the mere existence of these sorcerer ponies! And with my luck, they might even possess sorcery that can reveal what I am! The fears I’d suppressed before begin to well up again, no longer fully pinned under the weight of my curiosity and determination. All around me, the mood noticeably turns with the other zebras, too: they were also frightened of these horned ponies. And with good reason.

With the notable exception of Zelac and the Princes. The former was entirely taken by foal-like excitement and curiosity, a massive smile splitting across his face as his eyes danced with stars: either in defiance of his good sense, or in the complete absence of it. Zabraxas was noticeably uncomfortable and on edge. But Zakurai didn’t look surprised at all. Indeed, he looked as if he had expected this outcome, and somehow even looked glad to see this! I don’t know what drugs he concocted to recover from his dreams, but whatever it was, it’s clearly impacted his survival instincts!

Or maybe he knows something I don’t.

The sky ship finally makes landfall, it’s broad side facing towards the large doors of the extravagant castle-palace. Soldiers or guards of some kind began forming up into lines, flanking the path from the ship to the doors. Their placement was as much to keep watch over the sky ship and corral it’s hoof traffic towards the castle-palace, as it was to keep the slowly gathering crowd of civilian pony equines from interfering. These pony soldiers all had the same uniform colour palettes, wore golden and ornate platemail armour, and carried beautifully crafted spears. But strangely enough, their armour did not offer as much coverage as the scale mail of the Imperial forces, nevermind the honourguards. Most glaring of all was how their entire undercarriage was completely exposed, with nothing but a strap underneath to secure the entire main plate! It was almost as if their armour was more ceremonial than functional. Was this just another show of their opulence? Was it telling of a weak, performative military, engendered by a lack of true opposition? Or were these just a special class of guard, with their true military forces equipped differently? At this stage, I could not guess.

“Welcome to Canterlot, everyzebra,” Zakurai speaks up, amusement and excitement lacing his words. Everyzebra’s attention is drawn to him in that moment, and he continues to address me and the others now that he had our attention. “In a few moments, the leaders of Equestria, along with the leader of their hippogriff allies, will be out to greet me and Prince Zabraxas.” His tone becomes more serious. “None of you are permitted to leave this ship. But all the same, you are expected to leave a good impression on our hosts. Keep your heads about you, and you may well be of pivotal aid in the start of a fruitful new understanding between our people.”

With that, he and Zabraxas took their leave, taking a number of their honourguards with them as they headed below deck. Their eyes gave off that neck-tingling glow all the while, and it persisted even after they left my sight. I heard and felt the sky ship’s cargo platform lower to the ground, and looked down to see the two of them waiting just outside the ship along with six honourguards, their eyes still aglow and the sensation still present.

“This is amazing!” Zelac squeals, leaning over the railing a good distance. “Look at them all! They’re like us, but-but—! Ohh, what are their leaders like?! Oh Lord I should have asked to go with them!”

I let him gush to himself, and continue looking out towards the doors of the castle-palace. The crowd continues to build over the minute or so that passes before I hear the trumpeting of brass horns, followed by a loud proclamation in that same foreign language, possibly announcing the arrival of these foreign leaders. I think I can hear the Princes’ names in there too, transliterated in a bizarre enough way to cast doubt on what I heard. The crowd falls silent at the announcement. Taking a breath, I brace myself for what’s about to come, though the slight tremble from all this tension refuses to leave.

The great doors are wreathed in a multicoloured glow, and swing open shortly after. A red carpet is rolled out from the door that travels all the way to the sky ship’s base, and I can see several figures exiting the doors, walking along said carpet. They must be the leaders. As they walk closer to meet the also-walking Princes in the middle, I’m able to make out the details of their appearance with reasonable clarity given the distance, the individuals themselves full of their own surprises.

There were twelve figures in total, arranged into two rows of six. Ten were ponies, one was a bizarre avian quadruped—one of those ‘hippogriffs’, no doubt—and the other was so comparatively small I almost didn’t realize it was a twelfth figure. Nevertheless, it was still too far away to identify, save for it’s purple colour. Ignoring said twelfth individual, all of the figures present were mares, except for the one horned stallion in the front row. Indeed, the front row looked to be comprised of nothing but leader figures, including that presumptive ‘hippogriff’. If I didn’t infer such from their regalia, I certainly did from the races of the pony mares in the front: each of them possessed both wings and a horn, and were for the most part noticeably larger than their cohorts, nevermind the other ponies in the crowd. Were they the pony equivalent of the Princes, perhaps?

The most striking one was the massive white mare, taller than even myself or Zabraxas without factoring in her enormous, spear-like horn. Her multicoloured rainbow of a mane blew constantly in an unseen, ethereal breeze, and her large wings were extended out like those of a swan, lending her an almost otherworldly kind of grace and poise. She wore a golden peytral and crown with prominent pink gems in the middle, and had matching golden horseshoes, all while an image of the sun adorned her flanks. Despite her intimidating stature, she projected a kindly, warm, and almost motherly aura about her, though the look in her rose pink eyes betrayed how guarded she truly was about this meeting.

Next to her was a smaller, dark blue mare, about the size of a larger plains zebra. But her body was far slimmer, and feminine to an almost unreasonable degree. Her purple-bordered and ethereal blue mane was like a star-filled sky as it flowed freely in an invisible breeze, just like the white mare’s mane. Her flank bore a mark of the crescent moon atop a black background that matched the colour and theme of her peytral and crown, broken up only by her silver horseshoes. She looked forward at the approaching Princes with an impassive, regal look. But in those blue eyes was something beyond naked royal disdain: I could see a calculating intellect and a discerning wisdom smouldering behind her gaze as she looked over the Princes and the airship, and I couldn’t help the light chill that ran up my spine when her eyes briefly scanned over myself and the other prisoners. This one immediately struck me as the most dangerous.

The contrast between her and the bright pink mare next to her couldn’t have been more stark. In terms of build, they were incredibly similar, but the pink one had this amorous aura to her, bordering on the faintly erotic. Though her mane was normal compared to the ethereal ones of the other two mares, it was still very long, very well maintained, curled near the ends, and came in large, longitudinal stripes of three bright colours: violet, pink, and gold. Some kind of crystalline heart marked her flanks, oddly enough. Though her regalia—peytral, crown, and horseshoes alike—were all gold, the peytral especially was much thinner than the other ones, putting more of her coat on display. In terms of sheer femininity and attractiveness, she easily outclassed the blue mare, and quite possibly all other pony mares. Her eyes were on the pinker end of purple, and held a certain nervousness I see most often in the eyes of the younger and more naïve. She walked close to, and took noticeable solace in, the blue-maned white stallion by her side, clearly her mate. Though he only had a horn, it was quite long, and he was as large as an imperial zebra. He had a confidence and protectiveness suggestive of military training, borne out by his more decorated suit of gold and purple armour and his rather muscular build.

And then there was the final royal mare, with a bright purple coat and a darker purple mane, streaked with pink highlights. Her build was noticeably normal, her mark was some kind of six-pointed star, and of the royals, she was by far the most modest, wearing only a crown. As for the look in her purple eyes? Well, she looked about as excited as Zelac did to be here: she was trembling with barely contained excitement and her eyes danced with stars, much like his. She looked to be the most bothersome of the bunch.

Finally, there was the back row of pony mares plus the one unidentified purple figure. However, despite how striking some of them looked, I didn’t have the time to fully appraise them, nor the presumed ‘hippogriff’ in the front row, as the entire group came to a stop before the two Princes at last. I focused my attention on observing their interactions. Silence hung as they looked on at each other, and there was nothing to do but wait until either one of them made a move.

But move, they did.

Zakurai made that first move, dipping into a polite bow and presumably introducing himself in their language. I never thought I’d see a Prince bow, but it was a smart move given the circumstances. Zabraxas, on the other hoof, did no such thing, silently staring at the foreign royalty, much to the chagrin of his much more diplomatic cohort. Fortunately for him, the white mare picked up right away on the tension that Zabraxas’s faux pas created, bowing and introducing herself to Zakurai in turn to defuse things. The two rose, shook hooves, and the rest of the gathered foreign royals took turns introducing themselves. Occasionally, Zakurai would stop to translate things into Zebrikaans for Zabraxas’s sake, but I couldn’t make out the words from this distance.

It’s strange. I thought Zakurai’s easy and personable manner was just a façade, covering over the foul manner of yet another entitled bastard of a Prince. But the more I observe him and his open laughing and joking with these royals, particularly with that quadrupedal avian, the more I start to wonder if this manner of his may actually be genuine.

Either way, he seems to have made a good first impression, though that blue mare looked somewhat unconvinced. She also glared at Zabraxas as if he were a misbehaving foal, which I’ll admit was rather amusing. The purple mare shook Zakurai’s hoof very vigorously, and gushed with excitement as she spoke rapid-fire. The other five normal mares behind her all made their acquaintance with him as well, though I’m still confused as to why they are even here with the leaders. Are they royalty, perhaps? Zakurai’s expression lights up with brief surprise and Zabraxas becomes visibly uncomfortable as the unidentified figure also makes it’s introduction, and I finally identify it as it shakes hooves with the more diplomatic Prince.

It’s a small, purple dragon.

The unexpected wave of longing and regret hits me full force the moment I identify it. The two share a little laugh. A brief flash of myself and Cinder laughing with each other appears in my mind’s eye, overlaid onto the scene. The purple mare gives the dragon a small hug that it returns, the two sharing a familial smile. Another flash of me and Cinder doing the same thing appears. I force myself to refocus, righting my wilted ears with a small head shake and a few blinks before anyzebra could notice and comment. And just in time, too: the group was now moving towards the castle-palace. No doubt to continue their business inside.

So, this land has dragons of it’s own? I wonder how similar they are to ours, or indeed, how different they are. Do they also have a Dragonlord? And if they do, is it a different Dragonlord than the one back home? I certainly hope so. Pyroclast was as ineffectual and effete as rulers came, especially for dragons of all species. Me, Cinder, and the rest of her family often joked at his expense, and there were plenty of dragons outside of the Glasslands that disliked him to some degree as well. It was a very common way for us to form rapports with the odd dragon in our travels.

I miss Cinder.

The absolute most emotion I allow myself to express is a slow, saddened snort, easily dismissed as something else. The rest is all bottled up for later. I refuse to show any of it here, of all places. Not to these zebras. Absolutely not.

I will survive this. I will get her out.

The assembled royalty passes beyond the threshold of the doors. Already I can hear Zelac exclaiming and waving down at the crowds, a fair few of the ponies doing the same back to him. I suppose that’s better for my patience than his constant questioning. Though I do end up surprised and stepping back when some particularly brave winged ponies dart forward from the crowd and get into his face, though they can only indulge in a short bout of mutual excitement before their flying soldiers pull them back into the crowd.

I should be observing these ponies as well. Anything I can learn will be a benefit at this point. If nothing else, I needed to distract myself from thinking about Cinder.





To say Twilight was excited to finally meet Prince Zakurai would be an enormous understatement. After all of her written correspondence, filled to the brim with knowledge of his faraway homeland, nothing was going to stop her from getting even more details! She could write three books just with what was in her letters: who knows how many she could make after a chat in pony! In zebra? Oh, goodness. That’s going to be a bit confusing.

“I suppose you must hear this quite often, your highnesses,” Zakurai says as the group continues walking, his head craning around to scan the castle interior. “But this palace of yours is beautiful. I’ve never seen anything quite like it before.”

“I’m sure that yours is nothing to sneeze at, either,” Celestia replies with a gentle smile.

“It certainly isn’t,” he responds with his own smile. “But it’s very different to yours. I suppose that’s what has struck me the most.”

“Sure struck me when I first came here, too,” Novo interjected with a knowing smile. “I know the feeling.”

“It’s a shame we’re on such a tight schedule. Otherwise, I’d have quite liked to see your palace as well, your majesty.”

“Just Novo, dearie,” she replied. “Never did like all that ‘majesty’ stuff..”

“Hah! Then I’m in good company, Novo.”

They bumped hooves with a laugh. Those two had really hit it off from the very beginning, acting as if they had been old friends despite only meeting now. Still, Twilight would be remiss if she didn’t spare a glance at the parasprite in the room: his fellow Prince, Zabraxas. She’ll admit, her first opinion on him wasn’t very positive, given that letter Prince Zakurai had sent before. She had hoped that meeting him in pony—goodness, she’ll need a different way to express that—would have shown him to be better than her first impression. Unfortunately, he seemed to be every bit as obstinate in the flesh as he was in the letter. He’s never once smiled, or done much of anything beyond just stare at everypony with mild disdain. In fact, just being here seemed to irritate him.

He finally spoke in that flat monotone of his, getting Prince Zakurai’s attention. Unfortunately, whatever he said didn’t go over well with his fellow Prince, if his turn of mood was any indication.

“Something the matter?” Luna spoke up, her tone unamused. She had been the most skeptical of the two from the beginning, but Twilight wasn’t quite sure why.

“Forgive me, your majesty,” Zakurai replies, as diplomatic as ever. “He’s quite dead set on dealing with this... Anonymous of yours as quickly as possible.”

The mood noticeably turns the moment his name was uttered. For her part, Luna’s mood remains unchanged.

“Everypony and everygriff present wants nothing more than to see him dealt with. But he will not be dealt with at such a reckless pace. He will be dealt with at the proper time, when we are properly prepared, and not a moment sooner.”

She spoke directly at Prince Zabraxas, and the disdainful tone she took did not go over well with him, especially as Prince Zakurai translated her words. He did not respond further, choosing instead to glare at her. She was utterly unmoved by his gaze, returning fire with a flat, unamused expression: the kind a parent would adopt for a colt throwing a tantrum. For nearly an entire minute, they stared at one another like this. Until the zebra broke first, snorting with annoyance and walking away from the situation as he says something in his language. Prince Zakurai’s didn’t translate it. Given his sour expression, that was probably for the best.

Twilight took that opportunity to try and defuse the situation.

“So! A-are you two staying long?”

“As much as I would love to stay longer for all the sights and hospitality,” Zakurai sighs, happy to take the olive branch, “I think all we can afford is a day, given our... circumstances.”

With her wings extended, Twilight wrapped her foreleg around his withers. “Then we’ll have to make your first day in Equestria the most memorable one!”

“It already is,” he responds with a chuckle. “But I won’t protest if you wish to outdo yourself.”





Twilight and her friends went out of their way to give the Princes a full tour of not just the castle, but a good portion of Canterlot as well. They took in the sights, spoke to several ponies, sampled different food, and so much more: whatever would give them the best first experience with Equestria possible. In a way, it reminded her of what they had done for the Equestria Games inspector, before she had become an alicorn, and Twilight had the feeling that her friends felt the same way, too. The hardest part of the entire experience was keeping her questions to herself for now: she reasoned that she could ask him as many things as she wanted once they were on the way to his homeland.

The only thing they couldn’t visit yet was the royal gardens: the place where the statue of Anonymous was being kept.

By the day’s end, the two visiting royals were very eager to sleep for the night: they had complained about sleeping poorly the night before, and wanted very much to catch up on it. To that end, Celestia gave them the dignitary’s suite, just opposite of the room Twilight shared with her friends.

“Your majesties, this has been one of the most... fascinating and illuminating experiences I believe I’ve ever had,” Zakurai says as the group travels to their suite, their last destination for the day. “I will absolutely have to think of a way to repay this... overwhelming hospitality of yours. But for now, I am in dire need of some rest, as is my fellow.”

“Then I hope the suite is to your liking,” Celestia replies.

“Princess, after all I’ve just witnessed, I’m having trouble imagining how it wouldn’t be.”

He was not disappointed when they finally arrived at said suite. And for the first time, Prince Zabraxas’s expression shifted to that of relief. And then concern. He looked at his fellow Prince, and he looked back. Given the changing expressions on their faces, there must be some kind of conversation happening right now, but Twilight couldn’t see or feel any sign of it. Was this that special telepathy that Zakurai had written to her about? Either way, said Prince hid his newfound concerns under a smile as he turned back towards everypony.

“I hate to end this day on a more business-focused note, your majesties,” he begins. “But if possible, I would like to begin solving this Anonymous problem of yours, first thing tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Luna replies with a small nod. “We shall fetch you once we are prepared. Pleasant dreams, good Zakurai.”

He looked away for a moment at the mention of good dreams. That tell did not escape Luna’s notice.

“To you as well, fair Luna,” he ends with a slight bow. “We shall see you all in the morning then, shall we?”

Once everypony had said their farewells for the day, the Princes retreated to bed proper, their room watched over by their honourguards in addition to the usual royal guard. Twilight and her friends went to their room next, more than ready to get some rest of their own after today’s tiring yet very productive events.

Before she even knew it, Twilight had fallen asleep.





I ‘wake’ in an unfamiliar yet incredibly comfortable bed, in a luxurious room I do not recognize. The yellow sun hung overhead, as if imitating a chandelier with it’s tendrils. Jumping off of the bed, I make my way to the window to get my bearings, and it comes as quite the surprise to see that I’m in the city of Canterlot. Of all the places this strange dream world could have conjured up, this was what it came up with? Well, a city was not short on places to hide, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain, especially after the last dream.

The last dream...

Taking a breath, I steel myself not just for evading the Princes again, but for a possible encounter with that alien. My attention is drawn, however, by the shadowy equine figures I can see walking the streets, going about their business. My gaze turns upwards to gauge the moon’s progress across the sky, but I’m more than a bit shocked to see not one, but two moons up there: one was the usual moon, on it’s way towards the horizon to herald the arrival of said Princes, and perhaps even the alien. The new one, on the other hoof, was much larger and markedly different: instead of the perfectly smooth surface of the usual dream moon, this one was pockmarked with craters, and indeed, looked almost identical to the moon from the waking world. It shone brightly in the sky, bathing everything in it’s pale light, and it was surrounded by a familiar purple-bordered and ethereal blue mist, twinkling with stars.

It was identical to the mane of that blue mare.

I instinctively take a step away from the window upon realizing this, and silently tell the sun to retreat further back into the room and reduce it’s light, which it does right away. I hide behind the wall, peeking out from behind it to continue my observation of the foreign moon. While I could feel that same piercing sensation from it’s light that I felt in that blue mare’s eyes, it’s attention was not on me. There were small, star-filled and twinkling tendrils reaching down from the moon’s mist, gently undulating in the air as they touched various parts of the city, lifting up and touching another part whenever they were done with what they were doing. If this moon does indeed belong to that mare, I wonder where she could be? I don’t see a major connecting line, like mine or the Princes. Nor multiple strings like the alien, for that matter.

Regardless, it’s stark differences to the suns doesn’t alter the sheer power I can feel radiating from the lunar body. But it’s nothing like the destructive power of the suns I know all too well. This foreign, ethereal power held no hostility, created no pressure, and caused no destruction—at least, not by virtue of merely existing. I can’t fully describe how it’s power feels, but it’s far from unpleasant. Indeed, there was an... allure to it I hadn’t expected to feel, and it was drawing out an old and deeply held... desire. An attraction. A craving. A... hunger.

A hunger?

I pull myself away from the sight, pressing myself against the wall next to the window. The yellow sun was visibly agitated, but it seemed to calm when I willed it to, though it took several seconds for it to settle. The strange craving I feel ceases when I stop looking. I’ve definitely felt this hunger before. But where? When? I know it’s not a natural sensation, but something deep within me begs to differ.

I feel the familiar pressure of the Princes, and see the telltale glow of the light from their suns filtering through the window, casting a separate set of shadows. I peer back out the window to see where they are, but I feel that strange hunger return when I do, despite not looking at the moon yet. I pull away, and experimentally reach a hoof out to the window, testing a suspicion. Sure enough, the moment that the moonlight shines onto my hoof, I feel the hunger return. I will need to keep that in mind.

Just then, I hear a loud, booming voice from outside, belonging to a mare. Flinching, I pin myself against the wall, keeping out of the window’s view. The moonlight becomes brighter and more intense, but so does the light of the Princes’ suns in response. Taking a breath, I look out of the window, the intense moonlight hitting my face triggering an even stronger sensation of hunger. It’s far from the worst feeling I’ve endured, and it was a small price to pay to see the one linked to the moon descending from it’s surface. It was that blue mare! However, she was not connected to the moon like me and the Princes were to our suns. Indeed, she seems to have taken the ethereal mist surrounding the moon back into her mane again, as well as terminating all of the starry connections she had made to the city beforehoof. But the moon’s light still held that same, hunger-inducing power.

She used her wings to glide towards the suns, the picture of regal grace and poise. Her voice still boomed and reverberated at it’s incredible volume, her tone carrying an authority that no Prince could pretend to match. And she did not sound happy to have intruders here in this dream realm. As she neared the suns, her expression shifted to that of shock: she no doubt saw the Princes themselves. But she quickly shifted back to anger as she flew beyond the window’s viewing angle. Nothing for it but to move elsewhere to get a better vantage point: I had to learn what little I could from this encounter.

The intense sensation of hunger abates as I leave the moonlight, though it’s incredibly abrupt ending was a rather jarring experience. More concerning to me was how the yellow sun was having a very difficult time containing itself: it’s tendrils dug into the walls like a finger or a claw might, dragging deep, burning gouges into the wall as it pulsed and flared. I’ve never seen it do anything like this before. My silent demands for it to calm itself go unheeded for several seconds, but eventually, it does indeed begin to settle.

This is concerning. If my own exposure to the strange moonlight can cause this kind of effect on it, I’m sure I don’t want to know what happens if the sun itself becomes exposed to the light. Making a note to myself to avoid exposure to the light as much as I could, I leave the room with the sun floating close to my back. It takes me over half a minute to navigate this foreign Equestrian house layout, but I do find the path to the roof in the end. And after sternly ordering the sun to stay put in the shadows, I push the door open and step out into the open, gritting my teeth at the fresh wave of hunger as I look out towards the two Princes’ suns.

I couldn’t tell much from this distance, but the loud, demanding voice of that mare made it clear that there was an argument going on. Even if I could tell what was going on, my attention would have been drawn to the Princes’ suns regardless: each one had a vortex of light surrounding them, siphoning directly into their cores. It was the moonlight, no doubt about it. Was this connected to the hunger I—?

A sharp gasp leaves me at the full-body shiver that radiates out from my back. When I look back, I see the yellow sun rising into the open from the door, actively disobeying my order.

The sun’s core dilated and I could physically feel it’s elation as it emerged into the light. The moonlight began to swirl around it in an identical vortex, funnelling into the core: the reverse of how it ‘wept’ power before unleashing it. An involuntary, shuddering groan escapes my throat as I can feel that odd hunger being satisfied, and I nearly drop to my knees right then. I felt fulfillment on a deep spiritual and metaphysical level, beyond anything I’ve felt before. It is pleasurable in a way I cannot even describe: easily comparable to sexual pleasure, but scratching a wholly different itch I had not even been cognizant of beforehoof. It was incredible. Sublime. Rapturous. It was, it was...

I remember this feeling now.

The pleasure turns to ice in my veins as I realize what’s going on. Where there was once indescribable satisfaction, there is now only an old and deeply held terror. That feeling was the main impetus for me to tear myself and the sun out of the intoxicating moonlight, returning down the way I came. I could hear the booming voice of the blue mare again, full of renewed anger. And I felt the moonlight’s piercing quality sharpen to a needlepoint as it became intensely bright and unmistakably focused. Focused onto this place. 

She knows.

I’m in a dead sprint before my mind fully catches up to my survival instincts. Even then, things pass by in a panicked blur. I move to different buildings, cross streets, run under bridges, anything I need to do to escape, sticking to the shadows and avoiding any and all light as I go. The light may as well have been the magma of a dragon’s volcano in my mind’s eye: right now, it was every bit as lethal to me.

The building I had been in before is ripped from the ground, wrapped in a cerulean glow. The matching glow emanates from the horn of the Equestrian royal, flying nearby and scrutinizing every square millimetre of the structure for any sign of my presence. By then, I had taken cover in an alleyway, nearly an entire block away. The sight is all I need to keep moving, putting as much distance between me and that mare as I possibly could.

Tracking how long I’ve been making this escape is the very last thing on my mind right now: all that mattered was my progress. Every errant yell I hear from her is another spur to keep moving. I hadn’t realized it before, but the focused sensation of the light was visible now as a concentrated ray of moonlight, now searching the area like some kind of spotlight. The mare followed closely behind this light, with no intention of giving up her search. She was moving far too fast for the Princes to keep up, and I can’t help but hate how well her wings served her here.

I held a lesser hate towards the sun riding on my back. It just had to disobey me in that crucial moment, didn’t it?!

It was as I ducked into another building to find another lightless path to continue my escape, that I stumbled and nearly fell due to another wave of pressure hitting me with full force. I immediately recognized it as the pressure caused by the alien sun. And no sooner did I make this connection, than I heard the loud blaring of a horn in the distance: a deep, terrifying sound I am certain has never been made by any instrument before. Certainly in character for that alien.

I never thought I’d feel relieved to see him return again.

Instantly, I feel the focused sensation of the moonlight abate, as if it were also knocked off-balance by the alien presence. The mare’s voice yells out again, but this time I detect fear in it’s tone, compromising the royal authority it carries. The harsh and bright green light I expected to see is more subdued and shadowed this time, filtering through the windows of the building and casting everything in an eerie gloom, as if it were the calm before the storm.

It’s only when I peek out of the window to gauge any new sights that I realize just how literal that observation was.

An enormous, fulminating black storm cloud approaches in the distant sky, coursing with lightning and glowing a deep, ominous green from within. Occasionally, a ray of the true, unnatural green light breaks free from the cloud cover. The blue mare flies forth in the sky, illuminated by the ray of moonlight, and I can see the Princes’ suns racing towards her in the distance, trying to catch up. Finally, after coming close enough, the largest sky ship I’ve ever seen in my life emerges from the massive cloud. It’s design, and the strange twin lightning bolt iconography decorating it, are identical to the sky ships that fled over Farasi. The alien stood proudly at the bow of the ship, but at this distance, I could only tell due to the multiple streams of power linked to him, his sun still buried deep in the cloud cover somewhere.

He speaks with a similar volume to the blue mare, his tone jovial and malicious and his voice slightly distorted in a bizarre, almost electric fashion. The mare yells back at him, and I can think of no other instances where the threat carried in somezebra’s tone alone was so direct, so promising, and so frightening by it’s own virtue. But he simply laughs back, either refusing or unable to take her seriously. And as he laughs, his own tone shifts to a threatening one as well. It’s terrifying for a very different reason: not for it’s promise to do terrible things, but for it’s promise to delight in causing whatever he is promising, with no possibility of mercy or reprieve. Between the two, I don’t know which type of threat scares me more.

His sun finally emerges from the cloud, it’s light easily drowning out the moonlight. The mare grunts in discomfort and the alien exclaims in surprise, but his tone quickly becomes malicious again as he makes his next move. His sun splits apart into pieces, rapidly orbiting an intense, arcing core of his fire-lightning power, and he does far more to the moonlight than what the yellow one had so stupidly, inadvertently done. The sun was somehow pulling every ray of moonlight towards itself in a concentrated beam, devouring every single bit of it and growing even stronger and more powerful for it. The mare yelled out in pain, a note of terror colouring her voice as the alien gave a triumphant, maniacal laugh.






crack


The ears of the guards flicked at the sudden cracking sound, and the ones that turned to face the statue of Anonymous had their eyes bulge in alarm at what they saw. A crack had begun to form on the knee of the statue, and it was slowly spreading up along his leg. Two of the guards took off to warn the princesses and call for backup immediately, while the rest turned and pointed their weapons at the imposing statue, ready for anything to come.

As if any of them were a match for the evil that dwelt within.





But the siphoning of the moonlight did not last for long: the suns of the Princes interceded, physically blocking the stream of power with their bodies as the two Princes flew up to flank the lunar mare. Zabraxas rode atop a greatsword of power, while Zakurai had sprouted great wings of flame, completely unmoving and instead relying on jets of fire from under their wingspan to propel him. Zakurai yells something at the mare, presumably telling her to escape while they dealt with the alien. Recomposing herself, the mare flies back up to her moon while the two Princes flew up to deal with the alien.

He sounded legitimately frustrated at the interruption, even somewhat angry. This would not end well for them, I could already tell.

The Princes lash out with their respective powers: enormous blades and chains of energy, and great streams and explosive balls of fire. But they were like frail embers compared to the chaotic, splintering bolts of fire-lightning that rained down upon them from the fragments of the alien sun, shredding the cityscape behind them to pieces. It’s all the motivation I need to reach for the yellow sun and begin escaping this nightmare in earnest, taking full advantage of the distraction. The two Princes were battered back by the hailstorm of destruction, and that was without the alien even lifting a digit to attack.

But that changed as the yellow flame enveloped my body. He was pulled up into the air more than he flew, as if he were a marionette yanked by the strings, yet he was still in full control of his flight. His arm reached up, his sun crushed back together into a single unstable mass again, and it began to funnel a blinding quantity of power into his outstretched hand. The energy elongated and took shape, forming into an enormous, building-sized spear of unstable power. Unable to thrust such a thing at his present size, he instead uses the sun’s connections to pull it back and stab it into the ground, right between the two Princes. It bites into the city with an enormous blast, evenly split between kinetic energy and it’s sheer power as it destroyed several buildings in the blink of an eye. But rather than retrieving it, or splintering it further to continue the assault, the towering shard of volatile, arcing energy remained planted in the ground, and it’s numerous solar connections continued to funnel incredible amounts of power into it. In the span of only seconds, it’s width and brightness had more than doubled, and I could hear a very high-pitched electric whine coming from it as it’s arcs became longer and more destructive, and the dark clouds from before began to be sucked into orbit around it. Indeed, a strong wind had developed outside, pulling incredible quantities of air towards the spear in an intense, tornadic vortex, strong enough to pull that enormous sky ship into it’s orbit and break it apart into pieces under the sheer force, adding to the developing ring of electrified and burning debris.

Simultaneously, a second energy weapon—an enormous hammer—was forming in his hand next. I realized right then what he was about to do.

With my realization accompanied by enormous fissures of green power snaking through the city streets before me, I immediately turn and jump at the yellow sun, accepting the assistance of it’s tendrils as I scramble to enter it’s black core, desperate to escape before the unimaginable destructive blast kills me. I pass through without a moment to spare, the sounds ceasing abruptly as my vision fills with nothing but yellow. A second later, a deafening, otherworldly BANG painfully rips through the air all around me, turning my vision green. Cracks and tears split across the very fabric of this reality itself, carrying the loud roaring noises of complete and utter destruction as the fissures bleed with that green power: tiny windows back into the annihilated city. The cracks quickly sew themselves back together and once again bring utter silence as the colour returns to yellow, then to white.





Twilight woke to the sound of two stallions screaming. The two Princes screaming.

Bolting upright in her bed along with her friends, she moves quickly by way of a teleportation spell. When she appears inside the room, she sees the two zebra royals collapsed onto the floor, feverishly tended to by their guards. They whirl around at the flash of the teleportation, brandishing their weapons, but they’re batted aside with Twilight’s telekinesis as she rushes over to Prince Zakurai’s side.

“Zakurai!” she exclaimed. “What happened?! What’s wrong?”

His only response was a pained groan. The zebra’s eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, and he was suffering from a serious nosebleed.

The flash of another teleportation spell was heard behind her, and she turned to see a very rough looking Princess Luna appearing in the room next. She began calling out in their language, her tone caught between angry and concerned. Her eyes widened in surprise upon seeing Twilight.

“Princess!” Twilight exclaimed. “What’s going—?”

“Later,” she barks. “Give the Prince a portion of magic, now!”

Dumbfounded, she looked on at her running to Prince Zabraxas’s side, barking orders in Zebrikaans that the shocked honourguards obeyed after a momentary delay. She grimaced as she fed a small thread of magic into his prone body, the display serving as the push she needed to do the same to Prince Zakurai. Gritting through the crawling, dull ache that his drain on her magic caused, she was nevertheless pleased to see the injured Prince stir beneath her, his groan becoming relieved instead of merely painful. His eyes became focused and lively once more, though he winced and hissed with pain as he clutched his head before his eyes drew up towards Twilight’s.

“Princess?” he wheezed, breaking into a small, wet fit of coughing, expelling small droplets of blood with it.

Exclaiming his name again, she pulled him up and gave him a hug, her magic cutting off. “Are you okay? Are you okay?”

“Not in the slightest,” he coughed. “Th-though I’ll admit, you’re helping quite a bit.”

His ears flicked towards the doors as they opened, the other Elements as well as more guards and some medics rushing in to lend assistance. His head turned towards Zabraxas and Luna when he heard the former coughing and wheezing as well, with Luna’s firm, guiding voice saying something to him, almost as if reciting a chant or a mantra.

Twilight backed away as the medics came in, and the honourguards offered the Prince potions he was only too happy to imbibe.

“So,” came Applejack’s voice as she trotted up next to Twilight. “Y’all wanna tell us what the hay just happened?”

Still shaky, the Ponish-speaking Prince rose to his hooves with the aid of his guard, recovering much quicker than she expected. Even his nosebleed had stopped. Just what was in those potions?

“I’m afraid,” he exhaled, “You won’t like the answer.”

“Try me,” she pressed.

“Well,” he sighed, “There’s no delicate way to put this, so I’ll just be blunt.” He coughed again. “We just fought a battle with your Anonymous in our dreams. And lost.”

“You what?!” Twilight exclaimed.

“Though not without preventing his premature release,” Luna interjected, her hoof pushed away by Zabraxas in favour of his honourguard helping him up. “In that, you were successful. Had you not interceded, we would have been faced with the worst case scenario.”

Twilight’s stomach dropped and her blood ran cold. Anonymous was about to escape?

“Are you well enough to hold a conversation, good Prince?” Luna continued.

“I’ll need a few minutes,” Zakurai replied.

“Then you will have them. I believe there is much we need to discuss.”

“You’re right,” he sighed. “Though I believe I should start with an apology.”

“Accepted. Now stop fussing and let the medics treat you two.”

Zakurai called out to Zabraxas, who immediately stopped shooing away the medics. Though not without a frustrated word of his own. Even as injured as he was, he still held onto his pride and ego.

Twilight’s head spun with worries and questions all the while. They fought him in their dreams? He was about to escape? What in the hay was going on here?