//------------------------------// // No Ponies Awkwardly Explaining // Story: There are No Ponies in Equestria // by TheDriderPony //------------------------------// It wasn't easy, being everyone. Okay, so maybe everyone was an exaggeration, but sometimes xey certainly felt like it. It was one thing to be a changeling. To not be tied to any one face or name or personality. It was another thing entirely to be every changeling, everywhere, all at once. Having one mind spread across so many bodies was... an experience. It was something The Hive knew xey'd never be able to explain properly to another former human. The closest xey'd ever come to accurately describing it was comparing it to being the Dungeon Master of a tabletop game. Within the world of the game, you’d have five or six player characters who were the heroes, and the DM who was the king. And the DM who was the merchant. And the village elder. And the bandit leader. And the orphan girl. And the evil dragon who gets seduced by the bard to join the heroes side. The Dungeon Master is all of those and more and all at once. The main difference between being a DM and being The Hive was that the DM had only a single mouth and stream of thought with which to roleplay at once. In Rainbow Falls, the part of xem that was Orange Sorbet finished ringing up a customer and smiled as they left him a tip. The multitasking ability came as naturally as breathing. A dozen conversations, a hundred jobs, a thousand relationships: no sweat. Whether it was a feature of changeling biology, a blessing from the cursed dice that had brought xem to Equestria, or just the magically souped-up leftovers of Charlie the Human’s ADD, xey didn't know.  It came so naturally, that sometimes it was hard to remember what it felt like to be just... one person. Just Charlie the human. The Hive wasn’t sure how much of Charlie was actually left. One day for everypony else was a thousand days of new memories for xem, after all. From a certain subjective viewpoint, xey had more life experience than all the princesses combined. Most of the details xey knew for certain came from a battered old journal, reinforced by the part of xem whose sole job was to reread it every day. It painted a picture in broad strokes, but sometimes The Hive wished that Charlie the human had bothered to write more about their family, their childhood, their hometown. So many “obvious” details they’d never considered penning down, all lost now. Xey didn’t even know whether Charlie’s full name had been Charles or Charlotte. Near a public park in Manehattan, the part of xem that was April Showers giggled with her girlfriends as she dutifully watched little May Flowers stubbornly struggle to scale the part of the slide she was meant to be sliding down. When xey put on a persona—fully let xemself be filtered through a mental lens into a specific he, she, or other in a way that truly had no human comparison—it was almost like being a single person again. The part of xey that was actively he or she could tune out the rest, like focusing on one conversation in a noisy room. But the full scope of xem was never more than a thought away. But there were certainly upsides to living, seeing, doing so many lives at once. For one thing, boredom was a thing of the past. If any part of xem felt like zoning out while cleaning or waiting in line or guarding an empty corridor, there was never a shortage of other, more interesting viewpoints to pull back and shift focus to. Usually from the parts of xem hanging around main characters and canon events. Whatever part of xem was actively Spike the Dragon was a very popular perspective of interest. At the moment though, there was enough upheaval in Equestria to keep every part of xem occupied, especially since the part of xem that was Spike the Dragon was enjoying something of a slow day. Spike sighed as he allowed his wandering mind to drift back to the part of xemself that was currently himself; not disconnected in any way, but still an individual. It was a quiet day in the Castle of Friendship for the first time in a while. The local gawkers had finally gotten the message that their favorite princess wasn’t going to be making any surprise appearances and had gone home (with only a few stragglers needing motivation from the roof-mounted defense system). Thus, despite the wide-reaching effects of the Revelation, Spike found himself falling back into his usual habits; namely, cleaning the castle, cooking snacks, and tidying up after Twilight. Tasks that were made so much easier by the fact that he could have four or five instances of himself helping out at once, leaving one of himself free to take the time to properly get to know the real side of his adoptive sister. “Okay, your turn,” he said around a mouthful of gem chips. “Villains edition. Discord, Sombra, Tirek. Go.” Twilight, lounging on her throne in a way that spit on the very idea of noble bearing, blew a raspberry. “Really going for the throat aren't you? Alright... even reformed I don’t think I could make anything last long-term with Discord, so he’d have to be the one night stand. I bet he’d be a very selfish lover, but that’s manageable if it's only for one night. Sombra... marry, I guess. Never saw much of his personality, but if anyone could reform him I'd probably have the best chance. Which leaves Tirek to be killed: honestly no big loss.” She levitated a few potato chips into her mouth and washed them down with a fruit punch flavored potion to neutralize their natural poison. “Here’s a hardball for you. Classic Spike ships: Ember, Thorax, Rarity.” His answer was immediate. “Marry Rarity, one night stand with Ember, kill Thorax.” Twilight blinked in momentary stupefaction. “Wow, no hesitation, huh?” The part of The Hive that was Spike shrugged. “Your hardball was more like a slow pitch. You’re gonna have to try harder than that.” “Fine.” She sucked on her straw for a bit more potion. “Still, marry Rarity? I thought you weren't into her now that all the masks are off.” “I'm not gonna pursue her,” he countered, “but she's Rarity. She’s objectively hot.”  Twilight nodded in agreement. “True. But killing Thorax? No moral indecision at all?” “He's as much a part of me as any other changeling. ‘Killing' him would be like deciding to delete a Tumblr alt account.” He lifted another fistful of chips but paused as a thought struck him. “Wait, Spike/Thorax is a popular ship?” “In certain circles,” Twilight replied distractedly as she peered into the depth of the chip bag, searching for any decently-sized specimens among the broken bits. “Your circles?” “Not me, no. Personally, I always shipped—”  Twilight choked on her words, her eyes going wide as her mouth clamped shut like a spring-loaded trap. No reaction could have made him less interested. “Shipped what?” “Nothing,” she said, suddenly finding her punch far more interesting. “Nevermind.” “Come on, you can't leave me hanging like that!” “No. It's… embarrassing.” As if the growing blush on her face wasn’t already a testament to that. He mentally ran through some options, and it didn’t take changeling cloud computing to come up with the worst possible answer.  “It was Spikelight, wasn't it?” She said nothing, but the look of pure mortification was answer enough. “Do you still...?” “No,” she shot back immediately. “Absolutely not. I would never. You're like a brother to me. That ship died the day I got involved in the dynamic.” An awkward silence filled the room. Spike chose to distract himself with the part of xem that was watching a play in Manehattan. Twilight coughed pointedly, bringing him back to the moment. “Which, uh, reminds me of something. Something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about for a while.” Noting the seriousness of her tone, he sat up straight and gave her his full attention. “Yeah?” She fidgeted in her seat. With her ears pressed back against her head and her eyes darting like the prey species she technically was, it didn’t take an emotional sixth sense to see how profoundly uncomfortable she was.  It took a few false starts before she finally found her voice. “I’ve been doing some thinking,” she started. “About what you said. Back when we thought it was just the seven of us who used to be humans. You said that you’d been Spike ever since the day he… you hatched, right? During the entrance exam?” He nodded. “But I didn't show up until a few weeks before canon started.” Twilight took a deep breath, held it, and released it. “So that means you know…” She hesitated again, chewing over her words in obvious discomfort. “You knew the Twilight that was here… before I arrived, right? The original Twilight Sparkle.” He nodded, and she sighed, paradoxically both relieved and more tense than before. “Was she… I mean… could you tell when I… stepped into her shoes? Was it obvious?” Another benefit of the unique perspective being The Hive provided: he, as xem, had had plenty of time to prepare for tough conversations like this. He hopped down from his chair and put a comforting arm around Twilight’s shoulders. The touch seemed to help her focus. “You want the truth? No. I couldn’t tell. It wasn’t like I was looking for inconsistencies or anything, but there was also a lot of plot happening right around then that I was more focused on, so anything weird or out-of-place I just chalked up to that.” He shook his head and gave her a cheeky smile. “Either you’re just that good of an actor, or your personality and original Twilight’s were so close that the distinction is kinda meaningless anyway.” She smiled, but it was a brittle thing. “Thanks, it’s… something, I guess. A small bit of closure. It’s just a nagging thought that gets stuck in my head sometimes. Everyone’s a human now, but there were definitely ponies here at some point. But what happened to them? And why?” She shook her head. “Philosophy’s not my strong suit, so I try not to think about it, but sometimes…” “...you can’t help but wonder,” he finished. Twilight nodded and a moment of reflective silence passed between them.  “You’ve probably met more humans than anyone else,” she mused. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas about what happened to all the ponies? The real ponies?” He did. Xey did. And xey’d had a lot of time to speculate and a lot of data to work with.  “I’ve got a few.” He cleared his throat before beginning. “From what I’ve seen, there’s broadly three kinds of ways humans show up in Equestria. The first is the Reincarnators. People who died one way or another and got reborn as a pony with all their old memories. The second is the Transmigrators. People who, through magic portals or cursed stuff or fringe science, suddenly found themselves in Equestria in the body of a pony who never existed before that moment. The third are the Understudies. People who got dropped in the middle of some existing pony’s life. Those are my names for them, at least. The Red Fist and the Illumi-Nots have different ones, as well as a few more categories for the weird niche cases, but it’s that last group that no one likes talking about.” He stole a handful of Twilight’s chips and tossed them back before regretting it immediately. While Twilight swore the nostalgia was strong enough to power through the poison, potatoes and draconic taste buds were clearly something that nature had never intended to interact. Spite tasted better. “The other two don’t have any big moral concerns, it’s only the Understudies that have the lingering question of what happened to the mind, the personality, the soul that inhabited the body before them. The Red Fists like to say that those ponies died—heart attacks, strokes, aneurysms: things that wouldn’t leave visible damage—and that a human soul jumps in to take over so quickly that no one notices.” He shrugged. “It’s possible, but kinda grim. Personally, I prefer the Illumi-Not’s theory.” “And what’s that?” Twilight asked. “That the Understudies are really just a special case of either Reincarnators or Transmigrators whose memories were locked until something triggered them. They didn’t replace anyone, they just got their own lost memories back.” It wasn’t a perfect answer: it had holes and there were contradictory cases, but believing it to be true was a hope he had to have. Everyone else only had to worry about displacing a single soul, but there were hundreds of changelings (many already in the middle of infiltrations) when xey had woken up.  But unless the scientists and philosophers came to an agreement, xey probably wouldn’t be getting an answer anytime soon. The part that was Spike shrugged and continued. “There’s a couple other ideas that get tossed around: lots of variations on other Equestrias and split timelines and stuff where the local pony gets booted to one of them when a human arrives. But it’s really all speculation any way you slice it.” Finding his mouth a bit dry from the monologue, he reached over and snagged her bottle of potion-punch, taking a long slurp despite her noise of protest. The taste was rather sour, but the burst of emotion it sparked in Twilight was a decent flavor: surprised amusement with undertones of exasperation.  As he tried for a second sip she pulled the bottle from his grasp and laughed as she lifted it beyond his reach with her magic. “Go get your own! Pinkie made this special just for me.” “Then she can make you some more. Share!” He kept up the lighthearted scuffle for another minute or so, long enough to take the edge off the somber and depressing mood. Existential dread tasted revolting. Twilight coughed and took another drink to ease her laugh-wracked throat. The straw growled as it sucked up the last few drops. “Great. Now neither of us get any.” She set it back on the table and ran her hoof through her mane, unknowingly filling it with crumbs and oil. “Well, at least I know there’s more options. I’m sure someone will figure it out eventually and worrying about it until then is unhealthy. It’s not like I could change things now even if I knew.” Spike nodded, her opinion echoing his own. “Yeah. These are the lives we’re stuck with so we might as well make the best of them.” “Still,” she rubbed her chin in thought. “Bumping ponies between alternate timelines. I hadn’t thought of that one at all. I wonder what Starlight thinks about it, given she’s the resident expert.” “Couldn’t say. You’d have to ask her.” “True, true.” Twilight nodded along for a moment before pausing. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her around for a while.” “Me neither,” Spike replied before he was struck by the oddity of that statement. He hadn’t seen her. In fact, xey hadn’t seen her. Across hundreds of bodies in dozens of cities, not one part of xem could remember seeing Starlight Glimmer in a couple weeks. As Twilight continued to speculate, the part of The Hive that was Spike pulled back into the greater xem to better focus. Several other bodies doing less important things also stopped to help search through the last few weeks of thousands of memories. Things had been so chaotic, maybe xey’d just forgotten? While no few parts of xem sorted through memories for a flash of non-Twilight purple fur, the rest of xey’s bodies perked an ear up for anyone who might know of her whereabouts. It wasn’t likely that anyone would be talking about her at that exact moment, let alone one close enough to be overheard, but the odds of any random chance got better the more bodies xey threw at the problem. Besides, Starlight wasn’t just anybody.  There were a couple of hits. A group in Canterlot debating her strengths in a death battle. A visitor to Our Town asking about the whereabouts of her Staff of Sameness. But nothing recent. Nothing about the pony, rather than the character.  Except for one. In a distant corner of Ponyville, in a special section of a bar dedicated for minors who were still awaiting paperwork proving they were allowed to drink, the part of xem that was wiping down the counter eavesdropped on a conversation between two junior patrons. “—ight Glimmer? You could ask her.” Diamond Tiara shook her head. “I don’t think she’s that kind of counselor. If I was the one having a problem, maybe, but…” she trailed off, uncertain, idly swirling her mocktail rather than drinking it. “There could be some crossover,” Silver Spoon pushed. “Marriage counseling is sort of like a friendship problem, right?” “I guess. But it’s not like anything’s changed. If anything, that’s the problem. Mother- Spoiled—I don’t even know what to call her now—she keeps acting like nothing’s changed. Insisting on it. Doesn’t want a radio or any other new inventions in the house. Shuts the windows when someone starts singing a song from back home. And she absolutely freaked when she heard me call Filthy “Richard” instead of Father.” She took a sip of her drink, but from her expression it didn’t have the bite she was looking for. “I feel like I’m going crazy. I finally get a chance to be my own person and she’s right there, ready to shove me back in a Diamond Tiara-shaped box.” “Maybe… she’s scared?” Silver Spoon offered. “She is losing her daughter. Kinda. That has to hit hard.” The pink filly rolled her eyes and made a dismissive snort. “I doubt it. She’s not being all smothering or loving or whatever. I think that’s just who she is. She’s not putting on an act like we were; her base personality just is HOA-president Karen. She doesn’t know how to be anyone else.” Silver Spoon frowned. “That almost sounds like… are you sure she used to be human too?” “I am. She knows cultural stuff and famous people—what little we were able to pry out of her—but I just don’t think she cares. I overheard her and Richard talking one night; she’s been a pony more than twice as long as she was a human. Either she barely remembers it, or it’s the kind of memories she’d prefer to forget. Either way, it leaves me stuck playing ‘Mommy’s perfect princess’ whenever I’m at home.” Silver Spoon slid to the edge of her barstool and reached over to pull her friend into a one-armed hug. “Hey. If it gets too bad, you know you can always come and stay at my place. We may not actually be little girls, but that’s no reason we can’t have an extended sleepover.” Diamond Tiara snorted, but smiled. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Spoons.” Then, in most unladylike fashion, she knocked back the rest of her drink and slammed the glass on the counter. “Hey! Waiter! Get me another! A double! And one for my friend!” “I still can’t put any real booze in it,” the part of xem that was Pitcher Pour reminded her. “Whatever. Put some sugar cubes or something in it. Maybe a big enough sugar crash will remind me what a hangover feels like.”  As he went off to make their drinks, he half-listened in on their continuing conversation, though with dwindling focus as, while interesting, it clearly had nothing to do with the search for Starlight. “That said, Spoons, you may have a point about finding a counselor or a therapist or something. She’s been reaching out to other ponies who think the same way, and I think there may be a bunch more of them who don’t like change than I would have thought.”   Meanwhile, at the exact same time Pitcher Pour was listening in, other parts of xem in various cities were putting out feelers in their local information networks. The Hive as a whole didn’t care much for gossip beyond the practical usefulness of it, but the parts of xem that were Loose Lips, Rumor Weed, Spilled Tea, and Horse’s Mouth lived for it.  But while rumors moved at the speed of light, it still would take time for their social circles of retirees, teen fillies, office drones, and well-to-do socialites to make the rounds and get back to xem, so in the meantime xey pursued other avenues of investigation. Likewise at the exact same time, another part of xem was arriving at the School of Friendship. It wasn’t likely that Starlight would actually be in her office, especially with the building being unoccupied while society settled from its upheaval, but it was worth a look. Xey had bodies to spare, after all. This particular body was more drone than most, still dressed in generic changeling black without expressing an identity. A backup body, one of many kept in stasis in strategic mini-hives in case anything unfortunate happened to another body and a quick switcheroo was called for. It was the closest one xey had to the school. The doors were unlocked as it made its way through the silent, studentless corridors. Even if Starlight wasn’t around, her office might still hold a clue to her whereabouts. Or at least a note, if xey were lucky. But with the lack of any easy answers, it was all too easy to speculate in wilder possibilities. Maybe she'd remembered that she'd arrived in Equestria with someone and left on a quest to find them. Maybe she and Trixie had extended their trip and were still out partying somewhere (it wouldn't be the first time). Or maybe she’d just disliked being Starlight so much that she’d ditched the identity as soon as she could and started a new life elsewhere. She was, after all, an expert in fake cutie marks. With a new generic mark and a bottle of mane dye she'd be unrecognizable.  Despite the many benefits of a hivemind intelligence, changelings were not immune to distraction. As a result, the undisguised body was so caught up in its musings that it failed to notice the sound of voices until the doors to the cafeteria slammed shut behind it and the voices abruptly stopped. A pregnant moment passed as a pair of compound eyes met four shocked pairs.  Then, pandemonium.  “Changeling!” someone screamed. “I mean, the old kind! The bad ones! You know what I mean!” Yona reared up in panicked fright, flipping the table and sending what looked like a tray of sandwiches flying. Smolder and Gallus took to the air, the latter backing off to a safe distance while the former gathered a threatening mouthful of fire and brandished a long metal pole like a spear (though her intimidation factor was somewhat lessened by the half-cooked cheese sandwich skewered on the end).  Silverstream, unflappably peppy as always, was the only one to not move. But she did squee and dance in place. “Oh, Wowzers! I didn't know there were any of that color of changelings left. This is so cool! Are you here to apply for the school? We’ve got one changeling already—Ocellus—do you know her? If you’re from the same hive, does that make you one of her relatives? Oh, I wish she was here so she could introduce us!”  Along with distraction, changelings were also not immune to panicked reflexes. Which was precisely why that part of xem did the most familiar action when in the presence of these particular non-ponies. It became Ocellus. The burst of green fire brought with it not just a bluer carapace, but the unique perspective of Ocellus’s mental schema. She was quick to duck behind a trash can while also raising her hooves in surrender. “Wait! Wait! It's just me! I can explain!”  Unfortunately, her desperate cry only served to sow more confusion. Yona and Silverstream looked at her surprised bafflement, while the pair of flyers looked even more on edge.  “Wait. Friend Ocellus was black Changeling?” Yona asked.   Smolder rolled her eyes and growled. “No. That's one of the bad ones pretending to be her to trick us. Duh.” “Oh. I understand now.” “No you don’t!” The changeling called back desperately. “I am Ocellus!” “Oh! Then that’s good.” “Don’t listen to her! She’s lying!” “That’s bad.” “I’m not lying!” “That’s—” “She is!” “Wait—” “I’m not!” “Yona head hurt…” “Are too!” Gallus landed by SIlverstream, his head mimicking hers swiveling back and forth between the two sides like a tennis match. “What do you think?” “I don’t know. She sure acts like Ocellus.” “Sure,” he shrugged, “But changelings are good at that.” “Are they? I’ve never seen a changeling try to be a different changeling before.” He raised his claw to object before realizing he didn’t have a comeback to that. “Huh. Me neither.” He turned his attention back to the argument which had devolved into a back and forth of “nuh-uh” and “ya-huh” while Yona sat in the middle holding her head in her hooves. He decided to take pity on her and put a stop to things. “Hey Ocellus.” “Nuh- oh? Yes?” “You remember that one time after Professor Fluttershy’s class about weasels when I came for a surprise visit and walked in on you—” “Gah!” she yelped, blushing furiously. “No! I mean, yes! I mean, no one needs to know about that! You promised!” Gallus grinned. “Yeah, it’s her.” Smolder still didn’t look convinced, but lowered her spear. The sandwich fell off the tip with a sad sound. Ocellus poked her head out from behind the trash can and cautiously re-emerged. “Soooo…” she started, idly kicking a hoof but unintentionally kicking a sandwich in the process. “How was your summer break?” “Nuh uh,” Smolder countered. “We’re not just gonna move past that. Explain.” Ocellus sighed. “Couldn’t be that easy, huh? So I am me, just… also not. It’s complicated. There’s more to changelings than I—we?—I told you. This is going to be hard to explain.” And embarrassing, and awkward, but they were her friends and they deserved the truth. “We got time,” Gallus said as he picked up a sandwich off the floor and took a bite. “Looks like classes got canceled for some reason.”   The part of The Hive that was Ocellus winced. “That… might be even harder to explain than the other thing.”  Meanwhile still, back at the castle the friendship Twilight was speculating aloud. “—that, but you’d think she would’ve told me if she was going to extend her trip. I know Trixie knows a message spell. Oh, that's another option. Have you asked Trixie? She might know. I could—” “Twilight,” the part that was Spike interrupted.   “—send a- What? Did you find her already?” “Nah, but I did figure out that thing you thought we were forgetting the other day.” “Well, that's good.” A beat passed. “What did I forget?” “You forgot about the Student Six.”   Twilight blinked, froze, then shifted through several emotions so quickly she created an entirely new flavor never before documented by changeling-kind before she settled on resigned embarrassed. “Oh, right. Them. In my defense, I wouldn't be the first.” It did not take long for Ocellus to learn that convincing her friends that she was, in fact, Ocellus, had been the easy half of the problem. The real challenge was trying to help them wrap their heads around the idea of a hivemind. She’d had numerous metaphors ready… all which faltered thanks to Equestria’s general lack of science fiction media to use as a reference. They were making headway, but it was a foreign concept to try and convey. “So you are Ocellus?” “Right.” “But you're also Thorax?” “Right.” “Even though I've seen both of you in the same room together?” “Right. Same person, multiple bodies.” “Yona still not understand. Was Ocellus pretending to be King, or was King pretending to be Ocellus?” The changeling groaned and rubbed her eyes. This was going nowhere. “Okay. New metaphor. Imagine there's… an Enchanted library. It's filled with hundreds of books, and all of them are blank except for the first page that has a list of stories. You pick one, and the book fills with that story. But because of the library's magic, you can put down that book, pick up a totally different one from another shelf and keep reading the same story from the same point you left off. Different book, same story, you follow?” It wasn't perfect, but it was better than her next best explanation of having multiple accounts on the same website. “Maybe?” Gallus scratched the base of his crest. “But how's that relate to changelings?” “The Hive is the library. This body is a book. Ocellus is a story.” Silverstream gasped as her eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh! I think I get it! It’s like a hermit crab changing shells!” Ocellus shrugged. “Sure, if that helps it make sense to you.” “Yona still not understand.” The yak smiled. “But Ocellus is Ocellus, even if they are sometimes not Ocellus.” “Yeah, I guess the details don’t really matter,” Gallus agreed. They all turned to Smolder, who rolled her eyes and huffed. “Fine. She’s Ocellus. Even if she’s weirder than usual. I still want to know why you never told us. Aren’t we all supposed to be friends?” The changeling winced. “Well, for kind of more or less this exact reason. It’s complicated and confusing and when we met, changelings were only just starting to get accepted. I knew I’d tell you eventually, but there never was a good time until, well… I guess you don’t know cause you were on vacation, but there’s been a lot of changes in the past few weeks.” She sagged a little. “And now I’ve gotta figure out how to explain all that mess to you. Okay, so—” “Hold on a sec,” Gallus interrupted, raising a claw. “Does anyone else hear music?” They all quieted down and strained to listen. There was definitely something like music in the distance. The beat of a drum kit and not much more. “Probably just one of those Heartsong things happening in town,” Smolder dismissed. “I dunno,” Silverstream said, “I’m usually really sensitive to those but I can’t feel any harmony magic.”  “Song getting louder,” Yona added. And she was right. A muffled guitar had joined the drum, but getting clearer every second. Those among them with sharp ears could almost make out lyrics. ‘Yes, I’m let loose! From the noose! That’s kept me hanging about!’ Gallus turned towards the door. “I think it’s coming from inside the school.” Smolder readied her improvised spear again (now sandwich free). “And getting closer.” “I still can’t hear it,” Ocellus complained as she discreetly morphed her ear frills into tufted batpony ears. They swiveled for a few seconds before locking in on the cafeteria doors. She frowned. “Wait. That sounds… familiar.” ‘I've been looking at the sky! 'Cause it's gettin' me high! Forget the hearse 'cause I never die!’ The music had grown loud enough that everyone could hear it. There were two voices singing it, the feminine of the two trailing a fraction of a beat behind the masculine one. “I don’t know the song, but that voice sounds weirdly familiar,” Gallus noted. “You too?” Smolder asked. “I can’t put my claw on it, but something about it makes me annoyed.” “Where do I know that from?” Ocellus muttered, retreating partially out of herself into the larger xem to try and jumpstart a memory with a broader perspective. ‘I got two lives! Cat's eyes! Abusin' every one of them and running wild!’ The music boomed, sounding like it was coming from right outside. 'Cause I'm back!’ Something pounded at the door. ‘Yes, I'm back!!’ The group of friends shrunk into a defensive cluster. The door shook as another blow hit. ‘Well, I'm baaAAaaAAck, baaAAaaAAck!’ Ocellus’s eyes went wide. “Uh, Twilight? We might have a problem.” “Well, I'm back in black!” The doors burst open with supernatural force, slamming into the walls like thunder to herald the arrival of the most unforgettable figure of their young lives. “That’s right COZY'S BACK!” The music carried on in instrumental as one and all gaped at the new arrival. Her cerulean mane had been enhanced with a combination of black and purple stripes, but there was no mistaking those ringlet curls. She looked to be in fine form; more like she’d come from a day at the spa than an incarceration in a maximum security prison. She graced them all with that manic grin that still haunted some of their dreams, brimming with pride and self-confidence in her own rightness. “Hellooooo Friendship School!” Cozy Glow, junior villainess and winner of the 'Most Likely to Decorate the Palace Gardens Someday' award, crooned, “Guess who’s back and read to—hey!” Her smirk faltered. “Where is everyone? How am I supposed to do my big comeback reveal if there’s no one here to witness it but the Diversity Squad?” After a moment of silence, she shrugged and continued. “Ah, oh well. No stopping now. Hi there, Friendship the Next Generation. Did ya miss me?” “C-Cozy Glow!” Silverstream gasped. “That my name, Pinkie-but-a-bird, glad you remembered!” “What are you doing here?” “You're supposed to be in Tartarus,” Smolder scowled. Cozy shrugged. “Didn’t like it. Bad neighborhood, terrible neighbors, and the nightlife there was completely dead.” The record hissed and clicked as it reached the end of the recording. She glanced around and took in the mostly empty lunch room. “So did everyone, like, flunk out or something? I spent a week planning this and I am honestly disappointed in my reception.” “They extended summer break due to… circumstances,” Ocellus said tersely. Cozy clicked her tongue. “Should have thought of that. Should have planned for that. It would have worked just as well to do the whole entrance in the middle of Ponyville instead of—whoa!” Cozy ducked as a sandwich sailed through the air, barely clipping one of her curls. The flying footlong continued on its flightpath until it reached an unplanned collision with the portable record player she’d left sitting in the doorway. “Hey! Rude!” she snapped. “I was talking. And watch where you’re throwing things! Do you have any idea how much a custom record costs?” Gallus rolled his eyes. “I literally could not care less.” “Well it’s a lot! Even if I did get it for a discount because everybody loves the adorable, two-faced, omnicidal Cozy Glow.” “Loves you?” Smolder gagged, “Nocreature loves you! You're a wanted criminal! A monster! A villain!” “A beloved villain, thanks,” she preened. “But that's all in the past now. It’s all about fresh starts and new beginnings these days, so I figured why not do the reformation thing early? Beats a future as a lawn ornament. I even got a royal pardon and everything.” She reached into her mane and pulled out a scroll with an official-looking seal. “Signed and sealed by Celestia herself. All charges dropped, record expunged.”  “No way that’s real,” Gallus protested. “Gotta be fake.” “Real as the beak on your face, birdboy.” “But you tried to destroy Equestria!” “Oh, that? Nah. Don’t worry. I was only pretending to be evil.” Her claim was met with a deadpan stare. “Pretending.” “Yep. If I really wanted to destroy Equestria, there's a bajillion easier ways to do it than flushing all the magic down the drain. I mean that’s just stupid.” She landed, and her expression took on a melancholy, distant look. “But that was my role to play. Just following the script.”  A moment of confused silence passed, save for one member who knew exactly what she was talking about. Ocellus approached cautiously. “You knew the canon?” Cozy nodded, then looked up, eyes curious. “Yeah. I didn’t think the changelings were a part of—” “We are,” Ocellus said quickly, “But I don’t think the other creatures are.” “Oh. Oh.” Her eyes widened as she glanced at the others. “So they don’t—” “I was about to tell them.” “Um, Ocellus?” The casually conversing pair turned Silverstream who looked confused and wary. “Are you… friends with Cozy?” The changeling shook her head. “No, but you could say we're in the same situation.” “Is Cozy changeling too?” Yona asked. Cozy barked out a laugh. “Now that would be something. No, if I could shapeshift I definitely wouldn't be walking around looking like this.” She tugged on one of her curls and let it sproing back into place. “I'd much rather be a hippogriff.” Silverstream perked slightly at that. “Or maybe an anthro Yak. One with an absolute huge pair of—” “Children present,” Ocellus hissed at her with a glare. “...Horns. Huge pair of horns.” Yona nodded knowingly. “Yona understand. There is ancient yak saying: always be yourself. Unless you can be a yak. Then be a yak.” “See? Best girl gets it. Though while we’re on the topic, lovebug: you got any kind of changeling magic you can use to induct me into the hive, vampire style?” “What? No.” “Shame. Could Chrysalis do it? Is it a queen thing?” “I— it's not— No. That's not a thing. I can’t turn you into a changeling.”  “Come on,” she pleaded, slipping back into her saccharine persona like a glove. “I already rejected my humanity for power. I’m more than happy to reject my equinity for a buggy cure to body dysmorphia.” “What’s a humanity?” Silverstream innocently asked. The redirect proved a suitable distraction for the pegasus. “That’s right. You all don’t know yet. Kinda surprising token normal horse hasn’t told you yet.” “Who?” “Sandbar is home with his family, adjusting,” Ocellus clarified. “Goody,” Cozy giggled, her devious smile returning. “That means I get to be the one to tell you. Take a seat kiddies, as Aunt Cozy tells you all about the great invasion that happened right under your noses.” “We’re all literally older than you,” Smolder grumbled. “Do you still need me to intervene?” Twilight asked. She’d prepared a number of emergency contingencies, ranging from a net gun to a few wide-field combat and suppression spells, depending on what kind of intentions the filly villain returned with. “Nah, looks like you can stand down. She comes in peace.” Spike hopped back onto his mini-throne and grabbed some more chips. “She’s explaining the whole human thing to them. Saving me a lot of trouble.” He winced. “Though I keep having to run damage control and correct all her exaggerations and intentionally misleading phrasing.” Twilight nodded and sat back down, carrying away her various preparations in a field of pink magic. “Well, that's good. Maybe she can make some friends for real this time. Still no luck finding Starlight?” “None. She’s off the grid.” “Well, I'm sure she'll turn up. She's a smart mare. She can take care of herself.” “...and they were eating potatoes! Potatoes! Throwing them back like hayfries!... or, I guess, it’d be gems in your case.” Ember rolled her eyes. Why did ponies always have to be so dramatic? She leaned back and tried to get comfortable in her throne, with little luck. She’d been fine with her dad’s old throne (even if it dwarfed her, but she knew she’d one day grow into it) but that contentment had died the day Spike had introduced her to cushions. For all that she liked to criticize the ponies for being weak and soft… they were really onto something there. She’d even parted with a chunk of her hoard to pay a pony craftsman to make a custom throne for her, though she hadn’t heard any updates from him in a few weeks. Maybe he needed more gems. That was one of the perks of being Dragon Lord; having more gems than she could stuff herself with. What better way to show off just how big her hoard was than by having some of it turned into a fancy chair? A hoard with back support (and fire-proof cushions). And if she ever got tired of the throne, she could always just eat it and buy another.  But rulership wasn't all lava flows and daisy agates. Sometimes she had to do actual work. Normally, it was just mediating between various arguing dragons, but sometimes there was also diplomacy with other nations. Which was why she was struggling to stay focused as she listened to some pony go on and on and on about whatever. She'd only let her in at all because she thought it was Twilight, Spike’s adopted clutchmate and Ponylord of Ponyville, but after a few minutes she’d noticed the lack of wings and realized it was actually the other purple one. Star whatever. Who was still rambling about… something, and pacing a rut in her floor. “I’d think it was a changeling takeover, but they'd never announce it like that. Thorax never said Chrysalis was into big song and dance numbers. And they never had the kind of numbers to replace everyone even before the reformation and population boom.” Something about ponies being weird. But ponies were always weird. That was kinda their thing. And this was getting boring, so she decided to cut the chase. “So did you actually want something or did you just come all the way out here to try and bore me to death?” Starwhatever actually stopped talking for a second and shot her a glare of… something. Anger? Desperation? Hunger, maybe? Their squishy faces were always hard to read. “I’m here because I need your help. Something’s happened to all the ponies back home, even the princesses and my friends, and I can’t fix it on my own. I need allies. I need friends.” Ember shrugged. “So ponies are being weird. That’s not new. Spike’s told me a lot of stories about his adventures. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’ll blow over in a week.” “Normally, yes, but it’s been weeks and I’ve never seen something as bad as this before. Not even in the other timelines… nevermind.” She shook her head. “Whatever’s going on, it’s like everypony’s been replaced with strangers. I have no one to turn to except friends of friends and even those are hard to come by. Please, won’t you help me?” “Again, really not seeing how it’s my problem.” The pony seemed to wilt at her words. She sighed. Why couldn’t diplomacy be solved through trial by combat? That’d be so much easier. “Look. You ponies tend to panic pretty easy. I’m sure it’s nothing. Go home. Talk with your friends. Like half of your friendship problems get solved when you make them talk to each other, right? If you get invaded by… I don’t know, living gem monsters or something, I’m your dragon. Cracks, I’ll bring a whole armada with me. But “my friends are acting weird” is a pony problem, not a dragon one.” Starpony sighed, but nodded and raised her head. “Fine. Fine! If you won’t help, there’s others I can go to. Sorry for wasting your time.”  As she turned around and started to leave, Ember called after her. “And tell Spike to come by sometime. He hasn’t visited in awhile.” The pony turned back, fixing her with a complicated expression. “Sure. Will do. If he ever starts acting like himself again.” Ember felt the blood turn to obsidian in her veins. Like she’d had a bad crash into the ocean and suddenly there was no air and her wings didn’t work. “Hold up. You didn’t say Spike was involved.” She rolled her eyes. “I said all my friends, Spike included. He’s acting just as unnatural as the rest of them.” Ember jumped from her throne and glided over to land by the pony’s side. “Tell me what you need,” she demanded. “I— what?” Starlight—that was her name!—stammered. “I thought you said you weren’t going to help?” “That was when it was a pony problem,” Ember explained slowly, as if to a hatchling. “Now Spike is in trouble, so it’s a me problem. And since I’m Dragonlord, that makes it a Dragon problem. Now tell me what you need to fix him. The Dragonlands are at your disposal.” Starlight replied with one of the few pony expressions Ember could recognize without fail.  A victorious grin.