//------------------------------// // XIV // Story: Stories of a Warden // by Rosencranz //------------------------------// Volume 1 XIV “Bound for your distant home, you were leaving alien lands. In an hour as sad as I’ve known, I wept over your hands.” -Alexander Pushkin, Bound for Your Distant Home Smoke. Ash. Heat. Fire. Ash swirled across the clearing, plumes of it exploding from the inferno. In the wind and rain, it slicked into the mud under Roads’ hooves. The nexus had worked exactly as he expected it to. The storm and the flames roared in his ears, but over the sounds of chaos he was just beginning to make out something else. Screams. A high pitched keening was cutting through the din, sharp cries echoing from the heart of the conflagration. A sudden realization hit him. Princess was still alive. The energies of the organic nexus must have been able to match those contained in the gem. Even though they were--in effect--enhancing the strength of the flames, their restorative properties were counteracting the fire’s effect on Princess. Which meant that if somepony didn’t get her out of there before the gem ran out of energy, Princess would survive. Survive, and most likely murder all of them. Slowly. Vindictively. Roads shuddered. When he looked back up, he caught sight of Chief staring into the flames. Maybe he would know what to do, maybe he could think of some way to get Princess out of the nexus. Roads galloped over to him. “Chief!” he shouted as he ran. “It didn’t work! She’s still alive! The nexus is keeping her alive!” Chief glanced over as Roads approached him. His eyes were wide, his face grey, his brow furrowed. Roads could almost see the cogs turning in his head. He was about to open his mouth again when a change came over the other pony. Chief’s jaw tightened, a look of determination rising in his eyes as he began to walk past Roads, towards the stump. “What are you doing?!” Roads cried. Surely Chief couldn’t be about to do what Roads thought he was about to do. Surely not. Not even Chief would willingly-- “Getting her out,” he grunted. “Gotta kill her.” Or maybe he would. Roads stared at him for a moment as the other pony marched past him. Is he insane?! If Chief charged into the inferno, the energy from the nexus would be split three ways. Between healing him, healing Princess, and fueling the fire, even a nexus as powerful as that one would be drained within a few minutes. And if it ran out of energy before Chief could get out... A horrible nausea rose in his stomach. “Wait!” he called. Chief turned. “What?” Just as Roads was about to tell him to stop, something Summer had said one night in the cave echoed through his mind. “If Chief wants somepony dead,” she had told him, “They die.” Roads realized he wasn’t going to change the other ponies mind. He couldn’t stop Chief. But he could help him. “The fire won’t die until either the gem runs out of energy, or you toss it out of the nexus. You won’t be able to leave the nexus if you don’t. You’ll be burned too badly.” Roads hoped the information might help him. And hopefully, it could change Chief’s mind, too. “Get Princess and the gem out of the nexus. Got it.” Or not. Roads frowned as Chief charged past him. But at least the earth pony knew what he was getting himself into. Or, Roads hoped he did. If he didn’t, Chief was in for a rough surprise. Something moved to Roads’ left. He jerked, twisting around, afraid it might be a guard. The unicorn placed her hoof on his shoulder. “Relax. It’s over.” “Not quite--” Roads said. Summer didn’t seem to hear. She peered around the clearing, searching for something. “Wait, where’s Chief?” she asked. “In there,” Roads replied, pointing to the stump. Summer blinked. “What?” “He just walked right in.” “He did what?!” she shouted. “Why?!” Roads explained to her--as briefly as he could--what was going on atop the gargantuan stump. Just as he was finishing, a second set of screams erupted from inside the nexus. Roads felt a cold sweat break out across his body. If a pony like Chief was screaming... Summer shifted beside him. “Is that...” “Yep.” Summer’s brow furrowed. Before he could stop her, she turned, and began to make her way towards the stump. “What are you doing?!” he cried for the second time that day. “He’s dying, Roads! He needs my help!” she called over her shoulder as she trotted away from him. “Stop!” he called, sprinting to catch up with her. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pulled her away from the nexus. “Let go!” she said, struggling against him. “He needs help!” “Listen, Summer, stay here. As soon as you set foot in the nexus, he’s dead.” She peered up at him. “What?” “If the nexus has to start diverting energy to you, it’s going to run out, fast. It’s already probably getting pretty close. And if it does, everypony still inside the inferno dies. Everypony. Yourself included. There’s nothing you can do,” Roads said. “So... what? We just sit here and do what? Wait? There has to be something,” she protested. “There isn’t. Just wait.” “For what?” Just as Roads was about to respond, something burned and screeching came flying out of the flames, landing a few feet away from the stump. “That.” Summer pushed away from him, dashing up to it. Roads followed her. “It’s Princess,” she shouted. “It still has a horn!” It still had a horn... and it was still making sounds. A pitiful coughing erupted from its throat. Summer glanced at Roads. “Looks like we’ve got to finish the job ourselves.” Her horn lit, and a large rock lifted off the ground beside her, wrapped in a blue aura. Looking down at Princess, Summer hefted the rock above the other pony’s head. “Don’t look, Roads.” Roads closed his eyes. “Please...” a rasping voice begged. Roads opened his eyes again. Princess was still conscious, if just barely. A ragged, weak voice slithered from somewhere deep within a charred throat. “Please don’t...” Summer glanced at her sides, then back down at Princess. “Not a chance,” she said. “Please... I was just trying to do what was best... I was just trying to protect them--” “Roads?” Summer asked. “--please--” “Yeah?” “--put me back in--” “Close your eyes, Roads.” He did. There was a muffled thump, and Princess screeched in pain. Another thump, this time accompanied by a sickening crack. And then all was still. Roads opened his eyes, and vomited. He felt sick, sore, and tired. He glanced up at Summer. “Is it over?” “It’s over.” Roads nodded, and sat back on his haunches. He groaned, pressing a hoof to his forehead. “I’m so tired, Summer. I just want to--” Something warm and hard thumped against his shoulder. He blinked. “What was--” “The gem!” Summer cried, pointing down to the glowing stone that had just collided with Roads. Roads’ heart jumped. Chief was still alive! He turned to look at the giant stump. It was covered in ash, leaking smoke, half-burned to a crisp. A few small fires burned here and there, crackling quietly, but the inferno was gone. It had died with Princess. Getting to his hooves, Roads charged over to the steps at the stump’s base. He raced up them--slipping once as a burned patch gave way under his hoof--and clambered onto the scorched top of the trunk. Coughing as the taste of smoke filled his mouth, he peered through the debris, searching for Chief. He took a step forward, walking into the haze, but stopped as a familiar tingling spread across his forehoof. He looked down to see the lacerations left by the chimeras sealing before his eyes. With a yelp, he leapt backwards. Chief might need whatever energy the nexus had left. As Summer charged passed him, he caught her by the tail, pulled her away, and told her so. With a huff, she sat down next to him, peering into the haze. As if on queue, the storm strengthened. Wind ripped through the woods, clearing away the smoke as the heavy rain quashed the few remaining patches of flame. As the air cleared, Roads caught sight of Chief laying in the center of the stump. He nearly vomited again. Chief--or what was left of him--was lying on his side, breathing slowly. He wasn’t moving much, but Roads could tell he was breathing. Mostly because Roads could see his lungs. “Close your eyes, Roads...” Summer breathed. He did. As dry heaves wracked his body, he fought to keep them closed. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, don’t-- His eyes flicked open. Catching a glimpse. A ribcage laid bare in the open air. Viscera splayed around the rear legs. A forehoof missing. Eyes rolling in a fleshless skull. His eyes clamped shut again. He tried not to think about what he had just seen. It didn’t work. He gave another heave. Turning, he pressed his head into Summer’s shoulder. She wrapped a foreleg around him. As she bent her neck and nestled her face against the side of his head, he heard her breath, cool and quiet, brush past his ears. His heart slowed a bit. His stomach calmed slightly. After a moment, he felt her lift her head again. “Wait a minute,” she breathed. “Look.” Roads shook his head, eyes clenched shut. “No way.” “No, Roads, look. He’s healing.” Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes again, turning once more to inspect Chief. He gave a small sigh of relief. Some of the skin was back, and even a bit of fur. All of the organs appeared to be in their proper places. He even had all of his hooves now. As Roads watched, Chief’s hide slowly grew back over thickening flesh, his coat steadily growing out again. Face, eyelids, mane, all gradually returned to Chief’s face. Before a minute had passed, he was at least recognizable again. After another, his eyes fluttered, and in a third, he was on his hooves again. “Chief!” Summer cried, galloping out to him. Roads followed her, feeling a weak tingling as a few of the cuts on his legs slowly healed. Summer threw her forehooves around the bigger pony’s neck. Chief just grunted, annoyed. As he watched them embrace, Roads realized that the tingling was fading. He peered down to see that only a few of his lacerations had healed. The nexus was out of energy. “Are you okay?” Roads asked. Chief nodded. “Fine.” “Did it hurt?” As soon as it left his mouth, Roads realized it was a stupid question. Chief didn’t seem to care. “Used to it,” he said with a shrug. Summer gave a bitter laugh Roads didn’t understand. “Of course you are,” she said. She seemed to freeze in the hug, as if realizing what she was doing, and she drew away from him quickly. Frowning, she shot him a glare. “What the hell were you even doing?!” she demanded. “I had to--” “You had to do nothing! You could’ve died!” Summer shouted, growing louder as she spoke. “Did what I had to.” “You should have asked first. You should have gotten my permission before trying something like that!” “Didn’t have time.” “You should’ve made time!” she cried. Chief shrugged and walked away, trudging towards the steps. “Worked, didn’t it?” Summer glared furiously after him as Roads stared at her, confused. “What are you staring at?” she snapped. As she spoke, Roads noticed her eyes were glassy and red. “Summer, are you--” “No.” “I didn’t even fin--” “It’s the smoke.” “Okay.” Her eyes flickered away from him, and for a moment, she stared intently at her hooves. Seeking to fill the silence, Roads cleared his throat. “So, what do we do now?” Summer seemed to regain her composure at that. “Now we bring the body back to Catalpa, and see how the rebels are doing. If they’ve won, we get Catalpa to give us our supplies so we can fix up the zeppelin and be on our way. If they’ve lost, we’ll have to steal the supplies ourselves.” “Princess’s dead and the guards’ll be busy. Won’t be hard.” Chief peered at Summer. “Princess is dead, right?” Summer nodded. “As a doornail.” Chief gave a satisfied grunt. It reminded Roads of the sound a normal pony might make after a large meal. “Good,” he said, and made his way down the blackened steps to the base of the trunk. Roads and Summer followed. They watched as he made his way around the trunk and found Princess’ body. For a moment, he just stood there, staring down at it, a somber, inscrutable expression etched onto his face. Then, with a grunt, he reached down, grabbed it around the seared, crumbling midsection, and hefted it over his back. Then he silently marched off into the forest. Sharing a glance, Roads and Summer trailed after him. “So,” Roads asked as they tramped through the underbrush, “are we really taking Willow and Aspen back with us?” “Guess so,” Summer said. “It was our end of the deal. And it’s really no skin off our backs--we’re not exactly lacking in space on the zeppelin.” “But what will they do? Where will they live?” “Don’t know, don’t care. It’s not my problem, Roads,” Summer said as she ducked under a low hanging tree branch. “Don’t you care at all what happens to them?” Roads asked. “Not particularly.” “After all we’ve been through, with their help?” “Roads, ‘all we’ve been through’ is about seven days of unproductive cartography.” “We started a war!” Roads protested. Summer rolled her eyes as she swept away a patch of thorns with a blast of magic. “It’s not a war if it only lasts for a few hours. We started a skirmish.” She turned and peered at him. “You really oughta get out more.” “Not a chance! Not if this is what happens. As soon as we get back to Equestria, I’m never leaving my house again,” he said. He stared at her through the trees. She sounded earnest, but he didn’t believe she was quite so unphased. Nopony came out of this many successive brushes with death without thinking something of it. Well, unless that pony was Chief. But Summer was no Chief. Roads was sure of that. “Don’t be so sure,” she said. “Time spent stateside tends to get boring after you’ve experienced real living. Trust me, I know,” she said. He could practically feel the weight of experience in her voice. “After this, I don’t mind boring. I think it might be nice to have something be boring. Mix things up, you know? It’d be such a change, it might actually get exciting.” “Boring would be exciting?” Summer asked, eyebrow cocked. “Yeah.” “You sound like Willow,” she said. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Roads replied. “He’s just so naive,” Summer said. “It’s frustrating.” “Nothing wrong with that,” Roads objected. “I used to be naive.” “And you’re still frustrating.” Somewhere in the forest beyond them, Roads heard Chief give a low chuckle. He rolled his eyes. “As if you’re really all that bothered.” “Maybe I am.” “Hot and bothered, maybe.” Summer shot him a look. “Says the stallion who blushes and gets all flustered every time a mare looks in his general direction.” “‘Looks in my general direction’?” he asked, as he trotted up to the bank of a small stream in between him and the rest of the group. Crouching, he prepared to leap over it. “Is that what you called that?” he continued. “Because where I’m from, we called that hookin--augh!” he gave a shrill shout as a burst of magic caught him mid-jump, sending him crashing into the water. He crawled up onto the bank to the sound of Summer’s laughter. “Hilarious,” he said. “Absolutely hilarious.” “Oh, I know,” Summer replied, in between chuckles. Reaching down, she pulled him up over the edge of the bank, back onto even ground. “I tend to be--” “--unnecessarily violent?” Roads interrupted. “I was going to say ‘humorous’,” Summer said. “Well then, you were going to be wrong.” Summer snorted. “How would you even know, you barely ever leave your--” “We’re here,” Chief interrupted. Shoving aside a few saplings, he emerged from the woods onto the banks of the island’s main river. The other two followed him, peering down the length of the river to the city below. Even from a distance, they could tell something serious had happened. Roads frowned as he surveyed the damage. One edge of the city blackened and burned. On the banks, ruined houses, collapsed and charred. On the wind, the smell of smoke and corpses... Roads shuddered. Princesses, how he wanted to be home... “Better get down there,” Chief said. The three started off down the bank, trekking down towards the city. As they drew closer, they found it abandoned. The islanders that normally milled about at the edges of the city were gone, debris strewn in their wake. The heavy rain had turned the streets to mud, and in the center of town, the river had risen, lapping at the banks. It would flood soon. Roads suddenly realized why there were no houses close to the river, only fields of crops. Fields of crops, and nopony to tend them. As they progressed further into town, they found it as deserted as the outskirts. Roads glanced at Summer. “Where did everypony go?” “Not a clue,” she said. “Civilians might be in the forest,” Chief pointed out. “How do you know?” Roads asked. “It’s where I’d send ‘em.” Summer nodded. “If they’re alive, that’s where they’ll be.” “So... what then? Do we go find them?” Summer shook her head. “It’d be best to find Catalpa.” She glanced around at the destruction around them. “If she’s still alive, that is.” “Keep moving,” Chief said, eyeing their surroundings. And so they did, following silently behind the earth pony, staring at the wreckage around them. A building toppled here, a field trampled there, and all around them, the smell of smoke in the air. It wasn’t long before they came to the edge of a fork in the river, across which, just upstream from them, spanned a massive wooden bridge. Across the water, on the opposite bank, the city lay in ruins. Southwest Bank, Roads realized. It must be. That’s where Catalpa said they were keeping the civilians, where she said she would be. His stomach fell. Here was where the smoke was coming from. There was hardly a house still standing. Everything here was blackened, burned, trampled. As the three moved up the bank and to the bridge, they began to see bodies. First sparse, scattered across the bridge, one or two corpses stuck through with a spear, or brained by an axe. Then, as they delved further into Southwest Bank, more. Many more. Ponies’ remains, crushed under the remains of their houses. Ponies’ corpses, strewn across the streets. Ponies’ bodies, burned and mutilated as their Princess. Roads shuddered, casting his eyes downward. Beside him, Summer gritted her teeth and kept on. Chief just kept marching. Just another day, just another walk through just another destroyed village. Nothing to see here. Just keep moving. And so they did. They kept moving, as smoke burned at their eyes and caught in their throats. As the wreckage thickened and they were forced to strain and crawl and climb over it. As they grew covered in soot and blood from homes that weren’t theirs and ponies they didn’t know. They kept moving. Roads tried to keep his nausea down. It didn’t work. Some ponies just can’t handle the stench of scorched flesh. “This way,” Chief said to him, as he struggled to stop dry heaving. He turned to see yet another wall of destruction, where houses had been knocked down intentionally to form an impromptu barricade in the street. It stretched, long and tall, in both directions, merging with debris that had been created with less defensive intent. “Up and over,” Summer said. There was an edge of exhaustion in her voice. Roads wanted to look over to her. He wanted to say something. Explain something. Just a skirmish? He wanted to ask. Just unproductive cartography? But that seemed petty. There was an eviscerated corpse next to him and a barricade before him and scoring points in an irrelevant argument somehow seemed irreverent. Perhaps he should say something meaningful, something poignant. Something about the fleetingness of life and the value of love or family or working hard or respect. Something to capture what was around him, to make sense of it. Some magical combination of words that would somehow, some way, put just the right perspective on things like the viscera of the dead pony next to him coagulating in the open air, or the half-fleshless head he’d just stepped over on his trip over to the wall, or the fact that everything around him was dead and for some reason he was still breathing. Something, anything, to cast it in a light that showed the heroism and the goodness in it, or at the very least, the necessity of it all. None came. There was nothing he could say. Just “up and over,” and “find Catalpa” and “live another day.” So, he turned, spat on the ground to get the taste of vomit and smoke out of his mouth, lifted his head, set a hoof against the rubble, and started climbing. It was easier than climbing the mountain. More hoofholds. Still, though, he had to stop every foot or so, to circumvent a spear or a sharpened edge of debris. Or a body. The rebels--or were they guards? he couldn’t tell, they all looked the same dead--had managed to keep most of them from making it over the barricade. Roads turned, and looked over to Chief. The other pony was already at the top of the pile of debris, Princess’ body slung over his back, face and chest streaked red and black. He looked, for all the world, like an angel of death, standing atop a pile of rubble and corpses. He looked, to Roads at least, almost happy. Content. At ease. Death among death. Roads just kept moving. Just above him, right between him and the top of the barricade, a body was gored on a spear that jutted out of the rubble. Roads brushed it aside, averting his eyes. He wondered why it didn’t disturb him more. He wondered how he was getting used to this. He wondered what it would be like coming home after this. He reached the top. After pulling himself over the edge of the top of the barricade, he got to his hooves, looking out below him. He gave a sigh of relief. The destruction had not reached the other side of the barrier. What remained on the other side was approximately half of what looked to be the town’s bazaar, mostly untouched. Untouched, and filled with ponies. Ponies, milling about the square. Ponies, repairing armor and weapons. Ponies, standing guard. Ponies, tending to the wounded. A hush fell over them as they looked up at the Equestrians standing on the barricade, silence slowly spreading among the crowd as one by one heads turned, tilted, regarded, evaluated. They stared up at the Equestrians-- No. Not the Equestrians. Not Roads, cowering atop the destruction, desperately trying to start dry heaving again. Not Summer, sitting beside him, tending once more to reopened wounds. Not those two. The islanders weren’t staring at them. They were staring at Chief. Chief, towering above corpse, pony, and debris alike. Chief, unscathed, covered in the blood of others. Chief, holding the corpse of their despot. They were staring at him. Staring at him... and cheering. At him, at the corpse on his back, at the fact that the ponies coming over the barrier now weren’t there to kill more of them. Roads wasn’t sure how they could tell it was Princess. Maybe they had been warned. Something about it bothered him. Something about the idea of cheering for the death of another pony, about the thought of applauding a monster standing on a pile of destruction sent chills down his spine. There was just something... wrong. But it didn’t matter. He just had to keep moving. Keep breathing. Keep calm. He looked down and realized he was standing in intestine. As he scrambled away, a feeling of anxiousness shot through his already-distressed stomach. This was wrong, it was all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was just supposed to be Princess, nopony else was supposed to die how could this have happened what went wrong it was supposed to be different I didn’t want anypony dead I didn’t want to have murdered-- He pressed a hoof to his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Don’t freak out, he thought. Breathe. Taking a deep breath, he started down the mound of debris, following Summer and Chief, trying--failing--to not think about the corpses on the other side of the hill. Progress was faster than before. This side wasn’t covered in spears and bodies, it was just dirt, clay, and pieces of homes. Before long, he was on unbloodied ground once more, standing beside Chief as the earth pony pulled aside one of the islanders. “Where’s Catalpa?” he grunted. The islander stared from Chief’s face, to the corpse on his back, to the ponies around him. Finally, he raised a hoof, pointing up towards a ridge above the eastern banks of the central riverbed. Roads followed the line of his foreleg with his eyes, peering up to see a familiar terrace. The pony was pointing to Princess’ keep. Roads felt the hair at the back of his neck prickle and raise. The door to the keep had been burned and broken apart, and smoke poured out of the opening from somewhere deep inside the keep. Smoke in an empty lair. Blood pouring from an open wound. Roads gritted his teeth. Now that it was over, now that Princess was gone, something about seeing her old quarters left him with a cold, disturbed twisting in his chest. Brushing his mane--now limp and dampened with rain--out of his eyes, he turned to see that Chief and Summer had started off without him. Summer glanced over her shoulder. “Taking your time, Roads?” He blinked. “What?” Summer jerked her head, gesturing towards down the main path of the bazaar to another one of the islanders’ massive wooden bridges. “We’ve got somewhere to be! Come on, I want to get back to Equestria by nightfall.” He nodded, and trotted after them, head down, shoulders slackened. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Summer flashing him a perplexed look. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it again, turning once more towards the bridge. He followed her, trying to shut out the sounds of the still-revelrous islanders behind him. The cheering reminded him of Princess’ screams. It wasn’t long before they had crossed the bridge, and made their way to the dirt ramp that led to Princess’ massive terrace. As they drew closer and closer to the keep, the smells of smoke and death thickened, the scent of conflict, as heavy here as it was in Southwest Bank. Roads shuddered. He hadn’t expected anything different--there was no way Catalpa could have entered the keep bloodlessly--but still, the aftermath of the conflict bothered him here almost as much as it had back on the riverbanks. Ignoring the exhaustion that was beginning to set into his legs and back, he trudged up the ramp. Mud splashed as he walked, coating his sides and forelegs, and he cringed in disgust as dirt spilled across his wounds. He couldn’t remember ever having wanted more desperately to take a bath. And preferably a warm one, he thought as he shivered in the thick rain that still fell across the river valley. A few more moments passed, and the trio came to the charred and shattered remains of Princess’ once-grand keep door. Roads’ brow furrowed. Scattered around the broken planks were ponies from both sides of the conflict, lying gored, burned, and dead in pools of their own blood. Roads fought the urge to close his eyes as they walked carefully over the debris. Covering his nose to try to block out the smell, Roads pressed closer to Summer as they moved cautiously into the keep. She turned back and caught his eye, then glanced around at the destruction around them and shot him a knowing look. Still, though, she said nothing. Instead, she and Chief moved carefully, deliberately, further into the hallway. Suddenly more attentive, they both scanned the room as they moved noiselessly towards the heart of the keep. “What are you--” Roads started to ask. “--shh!” Summer interrupted. He realized the two were being quiet for a reason. They didn’t know what was to come. The ponies down at the marketplace might have known if Catalpa had headed this way, but they had no way to be sure she was successful. And if she hadn’t, if Princess’ troops were still holed up in some secured room near her quarters... Roads couldn’t be sure how they would react to seeing three Equestrians carrying around the corpse of their ruler. But it probably wouldn’t be to their benefit to find out. They crept further and further towards the throne room, making their way silently through the confusing maze of side-rooms and narrow hallways, all empty save for the mangled remains of the dead. Every so often Summer or Chief would quietly crack a door open and peer inside, searching for friendly ponies, and each time, they would shut the door quickly, give a small shake of the head, and move on. After Summer left one door open too wide for too long, Roads realized what the small shake meant. Corpses. He tried not to look into any doors after that. Finally, as they found the entrance to one of the hallways leading into the throne room, the sounds and voices of other ponies began to reach their ears. Summer and Chief exchanged glances as the latter reached to the ground to draw a spear out of the forehooves of a dead guard. Just in case. Slowly, they made their way down the hallway, half-dreading what they might find. As they drew closer, the sounds grew louder. By the time they crept up to the doorway, the sounds of shouted conversations and bellowed orders rung in their ears. Chief poked his head around the corner, quick and silent as an arrow in the night. When he pulled back again, he gave Summer a nod. She nudged Roads, pulling him to his hooves, and the three walked into the massive room. Voices quieted. Heads turned. Ponies stilled. A shrill silence descended over the troops. The dictator had returned to her throne room. It was not as she left it. The massive throne had been toppled, it lay in pieces strewn about the floor. Half of them lay in the fire pit at the center of the room. The glowing, enchanted map had been stripped from the walls in preparation for Summer’s payment. And, of course, it was full of rebel troops. The ponies wavered, parted, and out from between them Catalpa strode forward. She glanced from Summer, to Chief, to the body on Chief’s back. “Is this... is it her?” Chief gave an affirmative grunt. “It’s her,” Summer added. Catalpa stopped moving, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “Finally,” she whispered. When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with a fierce determination. Her face twisted into a look of exuberance and victory that Roads might have believed was true had he not seen the exhaustion she had worn beforehand. Gritting her teeth, she spun to face the horde of rebels behind her. “Princess is dead!” she announced. The rebels cheered. Roads winced. “Today is truly a shining day, a glorious day for our city!” she continued. Roads frowned. This was a shining day? This was glorious? Memories flashed before his eyes. Princess, screeching in the flames, burning alive... “Today, our oppression ended!” A wet thump, cutting off dying pleas. “Today, our new nation was born, rising upon the backs of the soldiers who fought so valiantly to bring it to fruition!” A mountain of debris, broken old homes slicked with gore. “We move forward on this grand day, into a bright and shining future!” A massive inferno, searing away the flesh of his friend. “We can look forward now, and see greatness ahead!” Dead yellow eyes, peering into his. He choked, then. He couldn’t take it. “Greatness for our people!” Roads turned away. “Greatness for our children!” He walked to the door. “Greatness for our new nation!” Roads pulled it open, shuffled through the doorway, and slammed the door behind him. He moved aside, sat against the wall, and closed his eyes. Through the door he could still hear Catalpa’s voice, muffled so that he couldn’t tell what she was saying, interrupted periodically by whoops and cheers. He pressed his hooves against his eyes. The death, he could handle. The gore, he could look away from. The murders, he could rationalize. But to glorify it? To put it up on a pedestal? No. There was only so much Roads could take. He felt sick again. He had felt that way all day. A hoof pressed against his shoulder. He glanced up. “Slacking off, spec?” Roads gave a tired smile. “Hey, Summer.” She sat down next to him, nudging him with an elbow. “It gets better, you know. Easier.” Roads sighed. “What? Killing? Massacres? That gets easier?” “No.” “What then?” “Shutting it all out. Not letting it get to you.” Roads gave a bitter snort. “Great. Good to know I won’t be too bothered the next time I kill somepony.” Summer rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Roads glanced over at her. “So, what? I just shut it out? Turn my brain off and ignore the fact that half of this island is dead and a lot of it’s my fault?” “Well, if you put it that way... yes. Absolutely.” Roads groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. He was starting to get a headache, a dull throbbing in his skull. Princesses, he needed a drink.“Do I even want to though? Even if I could--” “You can.” “Even if I did, do I really want to just... forget? Lock it all away? Act like nothing happened? Like it didn’t even mean anything?” he asked. “It’s not like that. It’s just like... you just don’t think about it. And if you do, you don’t worry about it, or what it means, or what it makes you, or any of that bullshit. You just stop caring. You stop letting it get to you,” she said with a shrug. “If I did--if I stopped caring about all of the damage I’ve done--I wouldn’t be any better than Chief or Princess.” Summer narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you lump those two together like there isn’t any difference.” “Isn’t there?” “No.” “But--” “There isn’t.” “You could make the argument that--” “No. You couldn’t. Do you want to know the difference? Chief is alive, Princess isn’t.” “That’s it?” “That’s the only difference that matters,” she said. With a sigh, she leaned against him, resting her head on his foreleg. He hastily moved his foreleg away, wrapping it around her shoulder as she shuffled a bit closer to him. Roads frowned. “You know, it didn’t even bother me until now. When Princess was still around, when my life was on the line, I didn’t even care.” Summer snorted. “You call that not caring? You were practically bawling in the cave the night after you--” Roads shot her a look and she quieted. “I didn’t care like this. It didn’t bother me like this.” “We do what we have to to survive, Roads. And after that’s all done, we do what we have to to cope.” A thought flashed through Roads’ head just then. There was whiskey in the supplies that the islanders took. I wonder there’ll be any left when we get them back. “That just seems... I dunno. Messed up, somehow.” Summer let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s all pretty messed up.” “Wow. Great. I feel so much better now.” “As though there was really anything I could say to make you feel better?” “I mean, you could have at least tried something like, you know, ‘it’s not your fault’ or ‘you had no choice’ or something. You could’ve put some effort into it.” “It’s not your fault,” Summer said flatly. “You had no choice. There, feel better?” “No.” Summer laughed at that. “That’s because I can’t make you feel good about killing. I can only tell you how to deal with it.” “I don’t know if I can.” “You’ll have to. It’s that or go crazy.” Roads snorted. “That seems a bit strong.” Summer cocked an eyebrow. “For most ponies? Sure. For you? Doubt it.” “Hmph. Maybe.” He sighed again, pressing his free hoof to his forehead. “I’ll try.” She glanced up at him. “Good. That’s life, you know? Get tough or get broken.” She chuckled at that. “Goddesses, I sound like Strongsteed right now.” He blinked. “Whatever happened to him?” “Not a clue,” she said with a shrug. “I’d assume he’s still off in that pit. I’d imagine it’s not very pleasant down there now that the rain’s picking up.” Roads peered down at her. “What are you--” “What?” “Are you--” “No!” “Are you smiling?! Talking about Strongsteed down there half-drowning in muck?” She shrugged again. “Hey, I never pretended to like the pony.” “Still, though...” “Still, nothing. We can go dig him out and take him back home with us. Assuming he even wants to come, that is,” she said. Roads cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t he?” “Dunno. He’s crazier than a cockatrice, though, so it wouldn’t surprise me.” “I seriously doubt that he would--” The door swung open and Chief burst through the doorway. “Speech’s done. Catalpa’s getting supplies. Get moving.” He began to turn around, then stopped, twisted back, and peered at them. His eyes flashed first from Roads, to Summer, leaning against his chest, to the grey foreleg around her shoulder. He frowned. “This again?” “It’s not nearly what you’re--” Roads started to say. “Get moving,” Chief grunted again. And with that, he turned and stormed through the door. Roads and Summer exchanged glances, then burst into tired chuckles. “So glad he’s still around,” Summer said. “Definitely.” “All right then,” she said, drawing away from him. “On your hooves, spec.” Wearily, Roads got to his hooves and followed her through the doorway. He entered the throne room again, peering at the bustling troops around him. Looking forward again, he caught sight of Chief up ahead, speaking with Catalpa, Willow, Aspen, and a broad-shouldered, rust-colored pony with wounds on his fore and rear legs. Behind him, a few rebels loaded crates of supplies marked “Royal Expeditionary Aggregate” onto Chief’s old, makeshift sled. As he drew closer, their voices slowly became understandable. “...drove ‘em back after they mounted uh final assault on the keep,” the rust-colored pony was saying, “an’ after that there weren’t much left of ‘em. The ones that were still breathin’ all retreated into the woods. I figure we’ll send somepony out with the body to tell ‘em Princess’ dead, an’ that should pretty much break their resistance, an’ if it doesn’t, well, we’ve got more stallions left anyway.” “You won’t have our help with them, Redbud.” Chief told him. “We weren’t counting on it,” Catalpa said. “We’re just hoping to get you out of here as soon as possible. Even the rebels aren’t particularly keen on having Equestrians around, and as soon as the thrill of Princess’ death wears off, they’ll probably go back to blaming you for what happened.” Summer’s ears perked up at that. She stared at Catalpa, then glanced nervously around at the rebels around her. Roads could practically hear the cogs turning in her head. “Well, that depends on you. Have you got all of our supplies together?” she butted in. Catalpa jerked her head, gesturing to the sled behind her. “It’s all there. What’s left of it.” Summer scowled. “The Aggregate takes missing equipment out of my paycheck,” she muttered to Roads. “And the map?” she said aloud. “I packed it myself. It’s rolled up in one of the crates.” “Well, great then. We’ll just be off,” she said, turning hastily. Roads could feel the urgency in her voice; none of them wanted any further conflict. It was time to get the hell off of this island. Catalpa nodded. “Farewell, then, Equestrians. You’ve done us a great service, and I am truly proud to--” “Yeah, right, no problem,” Summer interrupted. “Willow, Aspen, you ready?” she asked. “Yep,” Willow replied, gesturing to the thick packs both of them were wearing. “Alright.” She turned to Catalpa. “Best of luck with the whole island thing, hope to never see you again.” And with that, she turned and marched towards the door. As soon as her hoof touched the wood, the door burst inwards slamming Summer aside. Through the doorway rushed a brownish blur trailing a mangy, unkempt mane and screeching violently. Within an instant, it was upon them, and by the time Roads’ brain had registered that it was a mare, she had tackled Aspen, sending both of them to the ground in a mass of flailing limbs and shouting. Roads noticed Chief tense, but before he could move, Redbud had tossed himself into the fray. In an instant, he subdued the mare, holding her with one good limb as he dragged her away with the other. She was screaming something, but over the shouts of the ponies around him, Roads could barely hear what. The mare shouted and thrashed, lashing out at Redbud until finally Chief seized her as well. With one last, furious jerk, the mare sent them all tumbling onto the floor once again, then fell silent. There was a moment of stillness as everypony wondered what had happened. The silence was broken as Redbud gave a low groan and rolled out of the pile. “Check her,” he wheezed. “She’s got a knife.” As Chief got to his feet, leaving the mare on a heap on the ground, they saw he was right. She had a knife. It was currently lodged just under her ribcage. She was lying spread-eagled on the floor, mouth agape, blood leaking from the knife wound. It pooled around her in a glinting, malicious oval, glimmering with the light of the fire. It was thick enough that Roads could see his face in it. Around him, everypony bustled to help up the fallen, but Roads just stared at the body. They heard a gasp as Aspen got shakily to his feet. He was covered in nicks and cuts, and had a deep laceration in one of his forelegs, but he didn’t look grievously injured. “It’s Dogwood’s wife,” he breathed. Dogwood? Who was Dogwood? Roads didn’t know. He just stared at the body. “Dogwood?” Summer asked. “One of the guards who tried to kill me after I took Princess’ crown. I had to stab him after he wouldn’t let me go. He was just too upset about his daughter.” “His daughter?” she asked. “What about her?” “She died the night you broke out of the city.” Roads’ heart stopped. That mare... The mare he killed in the forest... this was her mother. She had the same eyes. Roads wanted to break down, then. To just lay down, close his eyes, and go to sleep. Sleep, for the rest of the day, the rest of the month, the rest of the year, it didn’t matter. He just didn’t want to think anymore. He didn’t want to think about having gotten an entire family killed, or half a city killed, or even getting Princess killed. He didn’t want to think about nexuses, or ley lines, or chimeras. He didn’t want to think about his father or Summer or Chief. He didn’t want to do anything. He just wanted to lie down and sleep forever. Instead, he just stared at the body. “What was she saying?” Catalpa asked Aspen. “I’ve got no idea,” he responded. “‘Yuh killed mah husband’,” Redbud choked. “Now could--ah--could somepony help me up?” He stretched out a foreleg, and Roads realized he had a gaping wound in his chest. The knife had found purchase. “Redbud!” Catalpa gasped. “Mmm?” he asked. His eyes were half-lidded, and he seemed to be having trouble keeping his head upright. “Your chest!” He lazily, he peered down, looking himself over. “Oh,” he said simply. “So that’s what that was.” He looked up at Catalpa again. “S’probably not good.” And with that, his eyes rolled back and he flopped back down onto the floor. The group rushed over to him, peering down as Chief knelt over him, checking his breathing. “He’s still alive,” Chief said finally. “Barely.” “Is there anything you can do?” Willow asked. “Bring me the medkit.” Across the room, a glowing aura enveloped the red wooden box affixed to one of the crates and whisked it over to Chief. “Thanks.” “No problem,” Summer said, trodding up to them. Chief slid the top off the box and inspected the contents. He looked up at Catalpa, frowning. “The medical supplies are mostly depleted.” “How much did you take?!” Summer demanded. “Not much! None of our medics knew how to use most of the stuff in there!” “Didn’t have much to begin with,” Chief grunted. “I’ll try. Need help with this, Summer.” Summer obliged, and a few lengths of cloth hovered out of the box, then pressed themselves over most of the wound. Reaching into the box, Chief drew out an antiseptic wash, moved the cloth aside to rinse out the wound, then let Summer cover and pressure it once more. He then grabbed a length of thread and a needle, and set to work stitching it up, pausing every so often to direct Summer to move the cloths or clean away blood so that he could see. Finally, he finished, bandaged Redbud’s chest, and stood. “Is he going to be okay?” Catalpa asked. Chief shrugged. “For now, maybe. Could go either way. Depends on how much blood he loses. If he survives, it’s infection you’ll have to worry about.” “Is there anything more you can do?” she asked. “Here? No,” Chief said flatly. “If we were at home we could take him to a healer and he’d be fine, but I don’t know healing magic, so there’s not much else to be done,” Summer added. “If you were at home...” Catalpa said, thinking. Her eyes lit, suddenly. “What if you took him with you then? Carried him right back to Equestria, with Willow and Aspen?” “He’ll probably die on the way,” Chief said. “And if he stays here, he’ll probably die of infection!” Catalpa protested. “We’re already taking Willow and Aspen,” Summer pointed out. “How much more do you want? We’re not your taxi service.” “Please,” Catalpa begged. Roads’ frown deepened. It was a little bit disturbing, hearing Catalpa beg for something. She had the demeanor of a pony who always got what she wanted, either by force or by argument, and this just seemed... unnatural. He wanted to turn, to help the situation, but somehow he found he just couldn’t get his limbs to work. “How would he get back? With monsoon season setting in, he’d be stuck in Equestria for months,” Summer pointed out. “Surely he could... stay there? For a while? It’s better than death, isn’t it?” “But where would he live? What would he do? You can’t exactly just come to a whole different country and expect everything to be just fine,” Summer said. Now where have I heard that before? a tiny, detached part of Roads’ mind wondered. The rest just kept trying to shut itself down. “He won’t know anyone, he won’t have anywhere to--” “He could--he could be a diplomat!” Catalpa said hopefully. Roads cringed. “A diplomat?” Summer asked flatly. “Really?” “Yes! I’d--I’d had an idea. Earlier. I’d thought about trying to open up trade routes with your country. I thought it could be profitable--” “Sound ridiculous,” Summer said. “There’s no harm in trying,” Catalpa protested. “I’d already explained the whole thing to him. You’d just have to tell him what happened when he wakes up, he could take it from there. He’s very capable, he’ll be able to handle everything.” Summer cocked an eyebrow. “You sound like you’re trying to get him elected. That’s not how this works.” “Please. He’ll die, otherwise.” Summer glanced at Chief. Chief glanced at Summer. There was a brief pause as they stared at each other, both seemingly thinking the same thing. Finally, the earth pony shrugged. Nodding, Summer turned back to Catalpa. “Fine. We’ll take him back with us and get him to a healer. As soon as he wakes up, he’s Willow and Aspen’s problem. We don’t take strays.” Catalpa breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means.” “Right, whatever.” Summer glanced over to Chief. “Load him up on the stretcher. Let’s get out of here before somepony else gets stabbed.” Turning, she led Chief, Willow, Aspen, and Redbud out the door. Roads heard them go, but he didn’t look up, didn’t see them. He just kept staring at the body. He felt a hoof on his shoulder. He finally managed to turn his head, and found himself staring at Catalpa. “Time to go, Equestrian,” she said softly. Mutely, he nodded and headed out the door, heart pounding. Shut it out, he thought. Shut it out. He didn’t care about being different from Chief anymore. He didn’t care about being callous. He didn’t care about remorse. The eyes were in his head again, deathly and piercing, and he wanted them out. He caught up to Chief’s sled as the party made their way into the hallway, and covertly slipped the cover off one of the crates on the back. Reaching in, he felt around until he found a weighty flask that sloshed with promises of relief. He drew it out of the box, clamped the lid back on, and ripped the stopper away. He took a drink. The taste was foul, at once metallic and bitter, but he didn’t care about the taste. Eight drinks later, he didn’t care about much else. He lagged behind the rest of the group, sipping away at the whiskey, listening silently as Willow and Aspen chatted with each other and Summer held a one-sided conversation with Chief. “...and a huge steak. Like, the size of your head,” she was saying to him. “Definitely the first thing I’m doing. I know the perfect place, there’s this shop in Canterlot, right on the edge of the Market district...” Roads knew the place she was talking about. He wanted to butt in, to say something, but somehow he just couldn’t come up with the energy. Another drink. He was starting to feel better. “I mean, life in a box is better than no life at all, right?” Willow was telling Aspen. “It would be just like being asleep in a box. And you’d have a chance, at least. At any moment someone could come along and bang on the top and say ‘hey, whatsyername, come out of there...’” Roads hadn’t a clue. He took another drink. It didn’t matter. Everything was going to be fine. They were going home, back to Equestria, and everything was going to be fine. Just ignore the half-dead pony leaking blood all over the cargo, it was all going to be okay. Finally, they crossed the massive hallway to the great, burned, shattered door. Roads stumbled through the debris, desperately working to keep from tripping and braining himself on a log. After making his way outside, he stood still for a moment, letting the rain wash over him. He closed his eyes, angling his head up to the sky. Drops of cool water slaked across his coat, washing away blood, dirt, and filth. A cool, easy wind blew through the valley, ruffling his feathers as a peaceful fog drifted over his mind. He opened his eyes to see the entire city laid out before him. Peering across it, he took in the view in pieces. To his right, workers moving easily around the banks of the river... Pitching himself into the river, clearing the haze in his brain... A gargantuan wooden bridge, creaking and leaning in the wind... Crossing the bridge, sprinting with his friends away from the guards... A blackened patch of homes, no longer smoking, the rain had put out the fires... Trekking through debris, trying not to be sick... To the left, homes still intact... Taking refuge in a home that isn’t his--hiding--a scream... Green fields steadily irrigating... A magic duel, an engine and a unicorn, fields set ablaze... A pit, half covered in bamboo and leaves, holding his fellow Equestrian... Lodged in a wall, Summer bleeding out on the ground... Beyond that, the ramp that would take them out of the city... Leaving... He closed his eyes, and smiled. He was leaving. Finally. “Roads! Let’s go!” He turned to see Summer beckoning him down the terrace, down to where a ramp would lead them into the field containing Strongsteed’s pit. Mutely, he trotted over to them, once again taking his place at the rear of the group as they trekked down the ramp, onto the riverbanks. They followed the bank into the fields, and crossed through burned batches of crops until they came upon the pit. Summer peered curiously over the edge. “Strongsteed?” “Summer?” A curious chuckle drifted up from the pit. “You’re still alive?” "Yep,” she said with a smirk. “Surprised?” “Yes,” Strongsteed replied earnestly. “What happened? How did you get back here? I’d assume you’re in a hurry, the guards will probably be here any minute.” “There aren’t any left,” Aspen said. “Not really.” “Ah. Well, I guess Princess will have to take care of you personally, then. That should be entertaining to listen to,” Strongsteed said. Summer’s grin widened. “She’s dead. We killed her.” The scream that burst from the pit sent Roads diving for cover. Bloodcurdling and feral, it set the hair on the back of Roads’ neck on end. He pressed his hooves over his ears, desperately pawing at his own head. Shut it out, shut it out, shut it out-- “No!” the voice screeched. “You can’t, you can’t do that! You can’t that’s impossible!” “Shut up!” Summer yelled over the sounds of his shouting. She turned to Chief and Roads, wide eyed and frowning. It seemed she hadn’t expected that response. “You’ve let it loose, what did you do?!” “Shut up!” Summer yelled again. A burst of light flew from her horn down into the pit, and Roads heard a yelp as it struck Strongsteed, knocking him senseless. “We killed Princess, and now we’re headed home. I can explain on the way. You coming?” she asked him. “No,” the voice croaked from the bottom of the pit. “I’ll go nowhere with you. I’m staying right here, where it’s safe. Where it can’t get me.” Roads heart jumped. “It?” he asked, darting over the edge of the pit. Summer grabbed him and pulled him away. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “He’s crazy, he wants to stay here. Let’s go.” “The thing that comes in the night--” Strongsteed called to them. “I just want to hear what he has to say--” Roads told Summer. “The dark thing in the dreams--” Strongsteed shouted. Summer jerked Roads away from the pit. “Not a chance. We’re leaving, and he can stay here and scream all he wants.” “The thing Princess saw--” “I need to hear this!” Roads said, struggling as Summer hauled him away from the pit. “The thing I saw--” “We’re leaving, that’s an order!” she said as Aspen grabbed him under his other foreleg, helping her pull him away. “You’ve seen it too, I know you have--” “Just--let me--listen!” he said, struggling drunkenly as the two pulled him away. “It told me you’d seen it--” “It’s over, Roads!” Strongsteeds’ voice faded as they dragged him further away from the pit. “It never stops...” Strongsteed said, and then he fell silent. Roads could hardly hear him anyway. He stopped struggling, and Summer and Aspen let go of him, allowing to move on his own once again. Focusing hard, he tried to walk in a straight line. He had dropped the flask a while ago, as soon as he finished it, and he didn’t want anypony around to know he was drunk. Somehow he doubted Chief would approve. Falling back once again, trailing behind the sled, Roads followed the pack up the ramp and out into the forest. Strongsteed’s words echoed in his head as he trudged along behind Chief, listening to the rhythmic snapping of foliage falling beneath the bigger pony’s hooves. The dark thing in the dreams... Why did that seem familiar? Roads couldn’t tell. Had he read about it somewhere? Heard Strongsteed mention it before? He knew he remembered something, some reason why that mattered, but at the moment, he was too far gone to recall much of anything. Roads sighed, and gave up. It didn’t matter. He could sort it out later. He let the thought drift off into the fog of his mind so that he could once again enjoy a peaceful numbness. Home. He was finally going home. Back to his books, his papers, warm meals. Back to civilization, where things made sense and he never had to worry about being murdered. He fixed the thought in his mind, letting it fill up his focus, letting everything else fall by the wayside. None of it really mattered, not now. He could deal with it later, when he was sober. At the moment, he was enjoying taking Summer’s advice. Summer... One more reason to be happy about going home. For a moment, he wondered about how that would play out. What would happen to the two of them, back in Equestria? The thought made him nervous. He let it fall by the wayside as well. He was sure it would all be alright. What was the worst that could happen? He could trust Summer... “Alright, everypony, this is it!” she called from up ahead. “I’ll climb up to the zeppelin and bring her down, everypony else get ready to load up!” Roads looked down and realized he was standing in sand. They had reached the beach already. He’d been so lost in thought he hardly noticed. Looking up, he caught sight of Summer shimmying her way up the group of ropes that anchored the Zephyr to the land. Within a moment, she reached the top and disappeared from view. After a second or two, the zeppelin slowly began to descend, drifting down towards them until it finally hit the ground with a muffled thump. Summer’s head popped up from over the edge of the undercarriage wall. “Load her up!” she called. Roads walked over to Chief and grabbed a crate, watching as Willow and Aspen gently picked up each end of the boards Redbud was resting on and gingerly carried him over to the zeppelin. As Roads carried his crate over, a blue aura enveloped the boards and they hovered slowly over the side of the undercarriage and floated over to one side of the floor. Roads pushed open the undercarriage door and dumped his crate into the center of the floor. Beside him, Chief did the same. Turning, Roads went back once more and loaded another crate, and another, and another, until finally the zeppelin was loaded. With work split between him, Chief, Willow, and Aspen, and only half of the crates even remaining, it didn’t take long. Glancing over his shoulder at Chief, Roads climbed into the zeppelin. Willow and Aspen followed along behind him, then Chief, who took one last, long look at the mountain towering in the distance before climbing in to meet them. With everypony finally on board, Summer let the zeppelin rise a few feet into the air, then cracked open the repair crate and set to work fixing the engine. Roads trotted over to meet her as she slid open the panel above the controls to reveal the empty core of the zeppelin. Summer sighed as she looked over the twisted, broken ends of copper wire where Roads had blindly ripped away at the gem. “You really did a number on this, Roads,” she said. Roads shrugged. “It was dark, I could barely tell what I was doing,” he told her. “Yeah, well, you could have at least avoided ripping out the flux maintenance rod.” “Well, sorry, I’ll try to be a little more careful next time I’m saving your hide,” he said. Summer rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She looked up at him suddenly, alarmed. “Roads...” she said nervously. “Where’s the engine...?” Roads’ eyes widened. “I... I think I left it in the cave...” A look of anger flashed across Summer’s face, only to be replaced by a look of sheer exhaustion as she pressed a hoof to her head. “I can’t believe you would--” She was cut off as Willow tapped her on the shoulder. Both she and Roads looked up to see him holding a glowing gem, half covered in wire. “I grabbed it as we were leaving and stuck it in my pack,” he told her. “I thought it might come in handy.” Summer opened her mouth, then closed it again. She stared at Willow for a second, then leapt to her hooves and threw her forelegs around him. “Thank you,” she breathed. “It was no problem,” Willow said as she drew away. “I mean it was heavy, but--” “It was no problem,” Aspen finished for him, then pulled him away. “I need to talk to you for a bit,” he said quietly as the two walked away from Roads. Roads and Summer exchanged glances. She shrugged. “Probably talking about what they’re gonna do with Redbud once they finally get back to Equestria,” she said, turning away from Roads as she set to work fixing the engine. “Right,” he said, watching her. “Oh, and be sure you don’t cross the control wires with the stabilizers,” he said, eyeing her as the soldered the gem back into its place. “I know,” she told him. “I wasn’t going to.” “I mean, it just looked like you were about to.” “I wasn’t.” “Okay. Also, you might want to try meshing the output column with the startup pump.” “I don’t have enough copper for that.” “But that means you’ll have to start it manually every time,” he pointed out. “That means I’ll have to start it manually this time. I can fix the rest back in Equestria.” “Can you even perform a manual startup?” “Yes.” “Are you sure? Because--” Summer whirled around, facing him. “Roads! I know what I’m doing!” “I’m just trying to help!” he protested. “Well, be quiet. Shut your mouth,” she said, holding up a hoof, “or I’ll shut it for you.” Roads said nothing as she turned back around. He sat, silent and still for a moment, watching her. “You’re definitely going to need to mesh that output column.” Before he could react, Summer whipped around, pouncing on him. She sent him to the ground, landing on top of him, pinning him to the ground with her forehooves. Leaning forwards, she brought her face up to his, looking him in the eyes. “Roads,” she said, her forehead nearly touching his. “Be quiet.” “Or what?” Roads asked. “You’ll--mff!” His voice was cut off as she kissed him, hard, forcing his head back against the ground. “There,” she said as she drew away, “I got you to stop talking. Now stay that way.” Roads blinked. Whatever he had been thinking about before was gone, lost in a haze of euphoria and alcohol. Between the kiss and the whiskey, his mind seemed to have shut down. “Right,” he said, getting to his hooves and moving shakily across the floor. “Right.” He sat down a ways away from her, still watching her work on the engine, trying to get his head to stop spinning. His mind kept flashing between memories and thoughts, between the death, mystery, and despair he was leaving behind, and the brighter present, between guilt and hope, violence and peace, death and life. He was finding it hard to make sense of anything. It was all just too much for his whiskey-addled mind to handle. Finally, he simply sunk back against the wall of the undercarriage and closed his eyes. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter now, what had happened. He had the present. He had the ponies in this zeppelin, he had a home to get back to. He could forget, like Summer said. Everything was already beginning to fade. It was going to be alright. He was going to be alright. He hadn’t been in the past, and he doubted he would be in the future, but now, here, drunk in a hot air balloon with three islanders, a guard, and a cartographer, he felt fine. The present was good enough, and that was what he could focus on, just for a bit. Just let go, and live now. He would survive. Roads opened his eyes again. He looked at Summer sliding the cover back over a now-fixed engine. He looked at Chief, staring at the sea in the distance. He looked at Willow and Aspen, chatting, curled up together on the floor. He looked off onto the horizon, where home waited for him to return, bruised, bloodied, and alive, and took a great breath of the salt-slicked sea air. He would survive. They started turning, moving away from the island. Summer was at the controls, deftly steering the Zephyr away. Towards the maelstrom, where brooding clouds, swollen and ready for monsoon season, swirled and waited. Waited for them. They drew closer, and as the wind picked up and grew to a dull roar, Roads glanced over to Summer. She had tied herself down to the controls, and was staring eagerly at the storm. Glancing over to him, she gave him a smile and a wink. He smiled back, for he knew what she knew. He understood, now, why she smiled at the maelstrom, why she smirked at the storm. He understood, now, the glee on her face as they steered once more into the breach, once more into the storm. He understood, now, what it was that she knew. What they both knew. They would survive.