Lost Legacies

by AkibaWhite


Episode 06: Imaginary Place

Coarse Thought designed by Therrizen

Young Feather Quill designed by Ponky

Edited by Cynewulf

In the cozy guest room of the Ponyville Library, a pale white glow pushed back against the all-encompassing darkness of night. At its center was the mystic necklace known as Pearl, floating over the exposed chest of the slumbering Derpy Hooves. Letters made of light danced in the air just above the surface of its gemstone as a familiar observer looked on in dismay.

"It's gone," whispered the ghostly mare who stood at Derpy's bedside. "The partition . . . it's been totally destroyed." She looked on with wide eyes for a moment or two longer before falling back into her armchair and letting out a heavy sigh. "There's no longer any room for doubt." Her violet eyes narrowed. "Amber has the Lion's Sigil. That's the only possible explanation."

The mare bowed her head and closed her eyes in thought. Even so, those thoughts soon began to spill over into words. "This is paradoxical. Screw Loose wouldn't dare take your life, yet she threw that fireball without even knowing if Amber was inside you, much less the Sigil." Her eyes opened once more. "But she had to know. That fireball was a bid for freedom, not an attack. Only a defensive reaction from the Sigil could destroy Applejack's barrier, and it could only be there if it was inside you. Screw Loose couldn't have had anything else in mind." She raised a single eyebrow. "How would anypony know all of that? Even I didn't recognize the Sigil . . ."

The mare pondered her questions in silence for a while longer before reaching a verbal conclusion. "No matter—it changes nothing. Pearl, Bonding State." The necklace floated across the room and into the ghostly mare's chest as if it were falling into a body of still water. The glow of its magic now flickered from behind the irises of the earth pony mare, as it had before. "You're in more danger than I'd at first believed," whispered the mare, genuine concern evident in her voice, "but there's only one way to undo what I've done."

The pages of the mare's giant leather-bound book flew open on the bedspread. The light from within emerged once more and wreathed about the form of the softly snoring Derpy Hooves.

"The reading is from the Lost History," intoned the monochrome mare. "First Book of Kings, Chapter 18, Verse 28." The shadow of her armchair grew longer, though the lights in the room remained the same. "Let us be attentive."

~

My Little Pony: Lost Legacies
"Imaginary Place"

Derpy Hooves awoke to the sound of dripping water. The air around her felt moist and tasted stale. When she opened her eyes, however, she saw the back of another pony's lids and soon realized that she wasn't in control of her breathing either. The nature of her situation dawned on her quickly.

Cross?

The response came back slow and groggy. "Is that you, little fairy?"

Cross! Derpy exclaimed, her spirit soaring. I was so worried about you, but you're alive! You're okay!

Cross coughed twice before he spoke again. "Yes to the first. As for the second . . . well, see for yourself."

Concern entered Derpy's heart when she felt the sharp pain caused by Cross's cough. That concern did not depart from her when Cross opened his eyes. The room was just as dark and dank as Derpy had imagined it, illuminated only by a faint greenish glow coming from somewhere out of sight. All four walls plus the floor and ceiling were composed of uneven stones, black as night in color and rough to the touch. Water dripped from the gaps in those stones at random locations, almost as if the entire room were submerged and leaking. Considering the lack of windows, that might very well have been the case. The only other visible feature was a barred metal door on the opposite wall.

Cross moved his forelegs, causing the chained manacles that encircled them to rattle in response. "I don't know about you, but being locked up in a place like this is a tad far from my personal definition of 'okay.'"

Where are we?

"Can't say for sure," Cross replied. "I woke up here same as you, though—if I had to guess—I'd say we're probably inside the Black Spire. The Hundred own the place, and this doesn't look like the Estate." He laughed weakly. "Cheeky bastards must like playing with fire. I do dearly hope they get what's coming to them."

Cross? asked Derpy, unsure of how to say just what was bothering her. It feels . . . different in here. Inside you, I mean.

"I imagine that I'm still on the mend from Lord Deeds's handiwork. Don't mind the pain, little fairy. 'Tis nothing that won't heal in time."

That's not what I mean. You feel . . . Derpy searched for the right word. It scared her when she found it. Empty . . . lost even.

Cross smirked. "Well I have lost, Derpy. These are some decent restraints holding me down, nothing like those rusty relics that Iron Bound thought adequate. Even if I could break free, I'd never be able to contend with nearly a hundred adversaries unarmed. And as for Deeds . . ." He breathed a heavy, painful sigh. "I'm not the type of stallion that he'd suffer to live. I believe this is where my story ends, little fairy. Even if you're here for me, I'm afraid there's not much for you to do but offer a bit of comfort for my final hours."

Cross! declared Derpy in a reproving tone.

"I know," said Silver Cross. "Not the most enjoyable task . . .or the easiest, all things considered."

I don't believe you! Remember when you thought everything was hopeless back at the canyon? Derpy huffed indignantly. If you'd died there, you would have never met Harvest or ate that awesome dinner at the Estate! You can't give up just because the going got tough again! You've gotta fight through it!

"Until what?" Cross replied. "And for how long?"

Derpy had to think on that for a moment. "U-until things get better! Until you get to those Green Pastures . . . right?"

Cross chuckled darkly. "It's been a while since somepony used that promise to give me strength. Feather certainly knows better than that."

Huh?

The imprisoned pegasus stallion sunk low, coming to rest on the bunched iron chains holding him to the floor. "You don't know what it means for there to be a Black Spire here, do you?"

Derpy tried to shake her head but soon realized the futility of the impulse. No, not really.

"Do you have time for a story, Miss Hooves?"

A vortex had appeared in Cross's thoughts. Derpy moved away from the black abyss, but found herself pulled toward it regardless. W-what kind of story? she stammered, fearful of the open maw. Cross?!

~

Back in the Ponyville Library's guest room, the ghostly mare recoiled from the Lost History. Shimmering sparks flew from the pages as its pure white aura began to run black and violet. The dark colors coursed through the magic stream like blood in water. The pages themselves turned back and forth in chaotic fashion, the shadowy magic tendrils drew closer to Derpy's head, and the mare at her bedside could only stare in fearful disbelief.

"W-what is this?"

A cloaked form, blacker than night, rose up beside her. A pair of luminescent violet eyes shone forth from underneath the cowl. "Hi, Sissy."

The monochrome mare yelped and fell out of her armchair, landing on the wooden floor with a dull thud. She lurched away on her back, too rattled to properly stand up. "Screw Loose!" she exclaimed when her voice caught up with her thoughts. "How did you get in here?!"

The shrouded pony sauntered around the armchair and flashed a brilliant smile beneath her reptilian eyes. She lifted a glittering object from the folds of her attire. "Same way you did."

Suspended from the silver necklace draped about Screw Loose's hoof was a pendant identical to Pearl and Amber, save for the black obsidian gem at its center. Light of the same violet hue as the cloaked pony's eyes shone from within, easily identifying itself as the source of the magic stream's corruption.

The owner of the Lost History's mouth fell open. "You found Obsidian?" Her eyes grew even wider. "Then you have the Spiral."

Screw Loose nodded briskly, allowing the pendant to fall back into the depths of her cloak. "And you said I'd never amount to anything."

The monochrome mare rose to a standing position at last, using the wall as support. "I should have guessed—there's no other way for you to know the things you do. How long have you had it? Since we met?"

Screw Loose grinned defiantly. "I'll never tell."

The monochrome mare deliberately slowed her breathing in an effort to regain composure. If Screw Loose is projecting through Obsidian, she thought to herself, then she can't remove Derpy from this room—she'd have to be here to teleport. The mare felt her heartbeat normalizing. She won't risk a fight with me either, not here at least. So . . . She regained control of her expression and glared at her opponent. "Why have you come?"

Screw Loose giggled. "I've been watching you play this little game with Derpy Hooves for a while now." She rolled her eyes. "It's the only thing on the Spiral tonight and it's boring me to tears."

Apprehension tugged at the monochrome mare, though her face showed nothing. Her enemy was too casual, too playful, even for an eccentric monster. "Go find some royal knights to play with then, unless you'd like me to alert the two standing outside."

Screw Loose whistled. "Ooh, gutsy. You'd blow your own cover just to get rid of little old me?" She turned about with a laugh and approached the Lost History. "Relax, Sissy. I was just about to leave anyway."

The mare raised an eyebrow. "You were?"

"Yep," said Screw Loose as she examined the rustling pages of the magic tome. "I've gotta spice up your lame vision-quest-thingy after all. Can't do that if I'm standin' here chattin'."

A dread realization dawned on the monochrome mare. "Wait!" she exclaimed.

"The reading is from the Lost History," declared Screw Loose. "Book of Origin, Chapter 11, Verse 1." She sneered at the mare moving to stop her. "Let us be attentive."

The cloaked intruder dissolved into a cloud of black smoke that dove into the glowing pages of the Lost History. As soon as the last wisp had vanished within, the cover snapped shut to show the shining glyphs of a magic lock on its surface. The shadowy violet aura did not fade with the book's closing—it wreathed about Derpy's sleeping form just as its white counterpart had when the book was open.

The remaining mare reached for it reflexively only to find her hoof repulsed with a loud pop. She winced at the foolish mistake, and a sense of panic began to rise within. The wrecked partition inside Derpy's mind was problem enough. Now, she'd have to try and force Screw Loose out of the Lost History. Was this an expenditure of magic that she could afford? She swallowed audibly. "There's no other choice," she declared, bolstering her resolve for the task ahead. "Screw Loose doesn't have the mental stability to control the Lost History. It's probably tearing itself apart right now. If I don't get in there, Derpy might . . ." That thought wasn't helping. "She might . . ." Her voice trailed off as she felt the keen edge of a blade against her neck.

Spike the dragon, stalwart guardian of the library, held his sword to her throat and stared at her with a mix of fear and anger. "Who are you, and how did you get in here?" he growled. The blade pressed harder. "Answer me!"

~

When Derpy had—with some difficulty, it must be said—finally fallen asleep that night, the last thoughts on her mind involved fear of the coming morn. She would have to live with the threat of violence hanging over her head. She would be expected to go about her business while a dangerous criminal lurked in the shadows, waiting for her guardians to slip. Derpy could scarcely imagine such an existence, but her current predicament dwarfed even those concerns.

Derpy had dreamed of Silver Cross—she could remember that much at least. She'd woken up just before falling into deep, dark hole in his mind, but not to the comforts of a warm bed. Presently, Derpy fell through the open air underneath a sunlit sky. Cold wind whipped at her mane and tail, buffeting away any sense of grogginess from her sudden awakening. She spread her wings to try and slow her rapid descent, only to hit the grass with a resounding thump in the next instant.

Amazingly, Derpy felt no great pain aside from having the wind knocked out of her. She remained flat on her back, coughed, and drew in a deep breath. The sky above was a picture of pristine beauty, its sapphire expanse unmarred by the presence of clouds. The sun in particular shone forth with a glittering prismatic splendor that warmed Derpy's chilled body even by its appearance. The pegasus mare squinted. Had the sun always looked like that? She squinted harder. Something was blocking her view—something spear-shaped.

"Stay right where you are, young lady," said a gruff voice.

Derpy pondered that instruction for a moment. The spear-shaped thing blocking out the sun was indeed a bronze-tipped spear. So were all the other pointy objects hovering about, each of them held by the ponies that had her completely surrounded. They were clad in matching sets of burnished bronze armor and stared at her with a variety of expressions, though most of them were quite serious. Derpy took another look at the razor-sharp blades and reached a conclusion. It was probably a wise idea to remain still after all.

"Wow," she said with a smile. "Y'all are really good at sneaking up on ponies. Are you royal knights?"

A whisper arose from somewhere out of sight. "Royal? What, like the Patriarch?"

An imposing earth pony stallion with a salt-and-pepper coat responded. "I'll be asking the questions here. Now, what sort of barbarian are you?"

The dangerous situation might have frightened most ponies, but Derpy felt no fear. It was the middle of a bright and sunny day, and these ponies didn't look like villains at all. Because of that, she returned an indignant frown. "That's rude! My name's Derpy Hooves, and I'm not a barber . . . thing." A look of innocent curiosity arose on her features. "At least, I don't think so."

A palomino unicorn stallion bearing a short chestnut mane snickered. "Watch yourself, Legate. She's a quick one."

The massive stallion referred to as "Legate" remained stone-faced. "If I desire your opinion, I shall ask for it, centurion." He continued to stare down at Derpy with fierce hazel eyes. "Allow me to make this easy for you, little mare. I am Hind Sight, Legate of the Fifth Legion and loyal defender of Equitopia. The hill you rest upon is part of the capital's final defensive line; it is not a place where you should be. The civilians are safely ensconced within the city walls, and you look nothing like our foes." He snorted. "If you are not a traitorous spy, then what are you?"

Derpy failed to follow most of the Legate's words, but something about the way that Hind Sight called her "little mare" sounded awfully familiar. "Um, I'm a pony . . . but Silver Cross said I'm a fairy too."

More snickering emerged from the ranks, but one pegasus stallion lowered his spear. His coat and mane bore deep shades of brown and black respectively while his pale eyes looked at Derpy in shock. "My apologies, Legate," he blurted out, composing himself quickly. "This is my doing."

With a nod from Hind Sight, the spears rose up and away. He turned his stolid gaze on the pegasus stallion. "What is the meaning of this, Silver Cross? The battlefield is a place for noble conquest, not . . ." The barest hint of a smile tugged at his grimace. "Personal conquests."

The stallion called Silver Cross flushed red with shame. "She is . . . an overzealous admirer, sir, nothing more. I shall return her to the city."

"You shall not," declared Hind Sight. He motioned for the rest of the centurions to return to their duties. "Our enemies lurk just beyond these hills—they might descend on us at any moment. I need each and every able-bodied warrior at my command, and that includes my best swordspony." Hind Sight turned about and began to march away. "Miss Derpy Hooves is your responsibility, Centurion Cross. I expect you to manage her and your post until we reach the Green Pastures, understood?"

Silver Cross returned a smart salute. "Yes, sir!"

The palomino unicorn stallion had remained in place. He leered at Derpy with a look that made her feel very uncomfortable. "Damn, Cross," he sighed. "First Purity and now rabid fangirls? I've created a monster."

Cross's eyes narrowed. "Back off, Coarse. I don't have the patience for you right now."

Coarse Thought offered a broad smile and did as he was instructed, albeit with dramatic flair. "Nod's as good as a wink, old chum. Don't be a stranger if you need any . . ." He glanced at Derpy as he passed. "Help."

Derpy rolled onto her hooves, a look of pure disbelief on her face. "Your name's Silver Cross?"

The brown pegasus stallion looked back at her with apprehension. "It is."

Derpy shook her head. "You don't look anything like him, though." She stared at his side only to find a blank area that increased her confusion. "And where's your Cutie Mark?"

A hesitant smile appeared on the stallion's face. "I don't know what Silver Cross you're used to, little fairy, but this one has a job to do." He offered a hoof to help her up. "Let's find some dinner—I make it a point never to be grilled for information on an empty stomach."

~

The hillside that Derpy had fallen upon turned out to be a difficult location for the pegasus mare to wrap her head around. It was one of many such hills that surrounded Equitopia, the capital of a once-great empire. The city rested at a lower elevation, contained within a roughly triangle-shaped depression that rendered the skyline invisible to the plains and forests beyond the hills. The capital's buildings reminded Derpy of Canterlot, shining brilliant white in the sun and at one with the natural geography. Meticulous waterways and lush gardens could be seen at every elevation while crisscrossing roads and bridges indicated that the city had a layered infrastructure several levels deep.

Upon the hills surrounding the capital was what the Legate had called the "final defensive line." The ten legions of Equitopia formed a wall of soldiers at the highest elevation. Barriers of wood and iron faced out to the plains and forests of the countryside beyond, both they and their makers standing ready to protect their home. For now, however, the flatlands beyond the hills seemed calm and empty, though an attack was expected to come at any moment.

"Every nation that bordered the Empire launched an invasion at the same time," explained Silver Cross as he placed a crabapple core in a nearby basket. "They'd become allies in secrecy and attacked without warning. We did our best to repel them of course, but our armies never stood a chance fighting a war on that many fronts."

Derpy Hooves sat across a small campfire from him, munching on a stick of wild celery that the foragers had gathered and listening with rapt attention.

The oddly-colored Silver Cross looked out to the sun as it neared the horizon. "The decision was made early on to pull the legions back and tighten the empire's defenses. Still, none of us imagined that we'd have the capital at our backs before the end."

Derpy tilted her head to the side. "The end?"

Cross smiled. "Our enemies attacked for a reason, you know. What do you think those are?"

He waved a hoof in the direction of an obelisk that stood at the edge of the depression, black, smooth, and geometrically perfect all the way to its pointed tip high above the white buildings. It was one of eight identical structures, each of them strongly resembling what Silver Cross—the gray-and-white Silver Cross—had called the Black Spire.

Derpy had been trying not to look at them; her head hurt whenever she did. "Why would they be afraid of Black Spires?"

Cross held his head high, proud of what he was about to say. "'Tis natural for unbelievers to fear the Experiment. It has ever been the divine cause of Equitopians to forge an earthly paradise from this broken world. When the Spires are lit mere hours from now, their holy flames will wash away our enemies and transform this land into the Green Pastures, a place where unhappiness will be naught but a memory."

Derpy struggled with an inner sense of dread brought on by Cross's proclamation. "I thought you were supposed to find the Green Pastures."

Cross stoked the campfire with a blackened twig. His expression darkened considerably. "There was a time when I tried to, little fairy. Now I fear that I may not see them at all."

"Why not?"

Cross stared into the flames wistfully. "My grandmother said that fairies only appear near the end of one's life, a final gift for a life well-lived." He snorted. "Grandmother was the only one who could see hers, but she certainly passed away soon after. I can't say that I've lived my own life well at all, yet here you are, a sure sign that the end is nigh."

Derpy's expression soured. "Don't say that. I think you've done a lot of good things, and you're not gonna die. You're the toughest guy I know!"

Cross smirked and brought a hoof to his chin. "Toughest guy you know, eh?" He paused and stared at her for a moment. "Would you like to know a thing or two?"

Derpy looked back at him quizzically.

"About my life of doing good things?"

"Yeah," Derpy replied, missing the sarcasm completely. "You never really talk about what happened before we met."

"The other me?" asked Cross.

Derpy winced. "Something like that." The future you, she thought. An earlier mental debate over just where she was and who she was speaking to had led her to the plotlines of several time travel novels she'd once read. A younger Silver Cross who was still a soldier and a bunch of Black Spires that he wasn't afraid of? That sounded like time travel to her, strange coloration or no. Derpy hadn't come up with a reason for her going back in time yet, but the explanation sounded better to her than anything else that came to mind.

Cross whickered playfully. "The ways of fairies are strange indeed. It surprises me that my past eludes your knowledge, but if you wish it, I can remedy that." He placed a hoof on the bronze helmet at his side and watched the sun touch the tip of a far-off mountain. "I was born right here in the capital to a small family of just my father, mother, and grandmother. My father died before I was two seasons of age, killed in a border skirmish as a loyal soldier of the empire. I can't even remember his face. Grandmother died about a year later, and my mother disappeared soon afterward. Somepony once mentioned something about the stress of raising a child on her own, but I never saw it coming. A state orphanage took me in and sent me to school. That's where I first heard about the Green Pastures . . ."

Derpy's vision began to blur as Cross told his story. She blinked several times to clear it, but found herself looking at something that couldn't possibly have been before her.

[Temple of the Forefathers - Seventeen Seasons Ago]
An elderly earth pony stallion bearing a thick white mustache underneath a pair of large round spectacles paced back and forth in front of a blackboard at the front of the room, the various colors cast by the stained glass windows at the back playing across his features with every step. "The Green Pastures of the Tome are easy to mock. Who could imagine a paradise on Earth? Who can believe in a place where nopony will ever cry again? Indeed, it is hard to believe that such a place exists. Even so, since the time of the founding, Equitopians have believed not that it must be found, but that through adherence to the wisdom of our sacred Tome, it can be made." He pointed a hoof at the colts and fillies sitting behind rows of joined wooden desks. "Do you remember, children, the tale of Hearth's Warming Eve?"

"Yes, Mister Scroll," answered the students.

Dusty Scroll began to tell the tale he'd spoken of, seemingly ignorant of the affirmative response, but the children listened anyway since they always preferred a story to a lecture. There were, however, a few exceptions.

A unicorn filly with a bay coat and white mane winced in pain. Somepony had pulled on one of her pigtails . . . again. She turned about to find the culprit, a stocky earth pony colt, looking straight at the blackboard, his face the very picture of attentiveness.

The filly gave the colt an angry glare. "I know it's you," she whispered. "Stop it."

The auburn colt didn't take his eyes off the front of the room. "Stop what?"

The filly felt her throat tighten up. She knew that she couldn't prove anything if she told the teacher, and confrontation wasn't exactly her strong suit in the first place. "You know what," she shot back before turning back to her desk.

Not two seconds passed before she felt it, a sharp painful tug on her other pigtail. Tears welled in her eyes. What could she do? This bully wasn't scared of her or the teacher. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? She even heard him snickering at her for not turning around this time.

"Stupid hornmonger," said the colt.

"Hey," whispered another colt, this one a brown-and-black pegasus. He turned from his position next to the distressed filly and raised an eyebrow at her assailant. "Is that fun?"

The auburn colt looked him in the eye with an arrogant smirk. "What do you care, featherbrain?"

The pegasus colt responded with lightning quickness, pulling the quill pen from his desk and stabbing it into the offender's hoof. The would-be bully yelped in pain while the pegasus colt threw a quick smirk his way before turning back to the blackboard. "Just curious," he quipped.

The auburn colt forgot himself and stood up from his desk shouting, "Why I oughta—"

"Mister Fields!"

The earth pony colt twitched upon hearing his name. "Y-yes, Mister Scroll?"

Dusty Scroll stared down his muzzle at the miscreant from the front of the room. "Is there a problem here, young sir?"

The brown-and-black pegasus colt raised his hoof. "Actually, Mister Scroll, he just stole my pen."

The auburn colt froze. He'd been in the middle of pulling the pen out of his hoof and now stood there with the object between his teeth.

His accuser radiated solemn innocence. "He's been making fun of your mustache this whole time too, Mister Scroll. I think he should go to the headmaster's office."

Fields sputtered incoherently. "N-no I . . . You filthy—"

"Mister Fields," interrupted Dusty Scroll. "You can either march down to the headmaster's office and explain yourself or take a whooping from my cane in front of your classmates. Your choice."

Giggles coursed through the classroom as the sullen auburn colt made his way to the door. The filly he'd been pestering stared in shock at the pegasus colt, who already wore a look of studious attention as if nothing had happened.

"Thank you," she whispered as Dusty Scroll resumed the tale.

Only the pegasus colt's gray eyes turned to her. "No problem. He was annoying, and I really like this story."

The filly blushed and returned his gaze with her own green eyes. "My name's Feather Quill."

"Silver Cross," said the pegasus colt with a cocky grin. "Hoof-stabbing extraordinaire at your service."

~

"Miss Hooves?"

Derpy blinked and found herself once again sitting across the campfire from Silver Cross.

The pegasus stallion leaned forward. "Are you quite all right? You've been listening this whole time without saying one word."

Derpy glanced at the sun which had dipped a bit lower on the horizon. "I was there."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I could see what you were talking about," said Derpy. She recalled this sort of thing happening before with Applejack, but it hadn't been anywhere near as vivid or complete. "It was like I was standing there watching it happen."

Silver Cross whistled. "Truly? And here I was lamenting the absence of a bard."

Derpy Hooves giggled.

Cross stoked the fire and smiled. "Oh come now. That was barely even chortle-worthy."

Derpy waved a hoof. "No, it's just . . . I never thought that you and Feather would be so cute together."

The flames reflected brightly in the almost colorless eyes of Silver Cross. "She was my first real chum, and the daughter of a Legate as it turned out." His smile faded a bit. "A stallion among stallions that one, he took me under his wing and very nearly made me a part of the family. Those were good times."

The statement reminded Derpy of the turn her own life had taken after moving into the library, before she had to worry about Screw Loose.

Cross stared directly into the fire as he continued. "A few seasons later, he returned home from a campaign in the north stricken with an incurable illness. Feather and I had to watch as this mighty warrior, a stallion I'd come to idolize who'd slain scores of battle-hardened foes in the course of his lifetime, fell by the hand of an invisible enemy. That stallion deserved a better fate and Feather deserved to grow up with her father at her side, but it was not to be . . . not in this broken world."

[Florentine Aqueduct - Twelve Seasons Ago]
The high arches of the Florentine Aqueduct towered above the capital of Equitopia, running straight through the northern half of the city before terminating in a series of distribution channels at its center. Feather Quill sat on the marble edge of the lower channel, looking out over the metropolis bathed in moonlight. Tiny orange torches dotted the darkness here and there, looking for all the world like a cloud of fireflies drifting about on a summer evening breeze. Water lapped gently against the sides of the channel behind her, disguising the hoofsteps of an approaching pegasus colt.

Silver Cross sat beside her in silence, staring off at the lights of the city same as she. Minutes passed before he decided to speak. "'Twas a good sendoff they gave him. Nearly the whole city turned out to pay respects."

"Doesn't matter," said Feather Quill. Her horn shimmered as she spoke, evidence of a lack of inner composure. "Dad's gone, and there's nothing they can do about it."

Cross sighed. "But they did want to, Feather. All of Equitopia grieved with you today, and I know they'll stand by you in the days ahead." Cross stiffened as he saw a tear roll down Feather's cheek. Truthfully, he was repeating things he'd heard her father's friends say at the funeral. Cross himself felt just as lost, sad, and angry as his friend at what had come to pass, but believed that it was his responsibility to make things right. Unfortunately, he hadn't the slightest idea how.

"What am I gonna do, Cross?" Feather sobbed, tears streaming freely from her emerald eyes. "Everypony's looking at me now, saying that I need to 'honor his memory' and 'live a life that would make him proud.'" She shuddered visibly. "And all I want is for him to hold me just one more time, to tell me everything will be all right." She shook the tears from her face and turned away. "It won't be! And even if it is, Dad won't be here to see it!"

Her words numbed Silver Cross to the core. He felt hollow, weak, and helpless in the face of his friend's sorrow. He was mad at himself besides, for being nothing but a colt like any other with only words at his disposal to confront feelings that were far beyond their reach. However, a tiny flame burned in his heart. Watching Feather's suffering over the past few months had sparked it, and the fire caught at last when he heard the eulogy given for this stallion that had been a father to them both. He'd realized then that no speech, no matter how impassioned, could be a fitting farewell for the passing of a hero. There was only one thing that he could think to do, and Feather's tears pushed away the last of his hesitation.

Cross rose to his hooves, walked to Feather's side, and wrapped a foreleg around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest. She cried harder as he did so, but made no attempt to pull away. "Everything will be okay," Cross said with as much certainty as he could muster. "I'll make sure of it, even if I have to go away for a while."

"W-what?" Feather managed between sobs.

"I'll make the arrangements in the morning to have one of your father's friends take you in. After that, I'm signing up with the legion." Cross fought back against his own trepidation at the thought and soldiered on. "They'll send me abroad for field training before the week is out. Actually, it might be a few seasons before we see each other again." He looked down into her questioning eyes with utter seriousness. "But I will inherit the legacy your father left behind. I won't allow his death to be meaningless, and I will become every bit as great as he once was . . . no, even greater. So . . . " Cross couldn't avoid tearing up himself as he stared at Feather's glistening face. "Don't feel bad anymore, Feather. Just live your life the way you want to, and one day I'll be back to live it right by your side."

Feather seemed overwhelmed by his words, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. However, a moment later, she pressed herself close to him and wrapped her arms around his back, weeping softly into the fur of his chest. Cross held her in return and the feelings of weakness and hopelessness that had plagued him just moments earlier vanished from his heart. In that moment, he knew that he was himself. In that moment, though he had not the words to describe it, he knew that he loved her.

~

Derpy's face flushed bright red as Cross continued his story. She'd never even imagined that her companion felt that way about Feather Quill. In fact, if his future self still held those feelings at all, he hid them very well. That thought brought on a slew of other questions. If these two were so close in the past, what happened to make Feather so acerbic toward him in the future? For that matter . . .

"Where is Feather anyway?" Derpy wondered aloud.

"In the Legate's tent, most likely."

Derpy cocked her head to the side. "Huh? Why isn't she here with us?"

Cross looked up from the fire as if hearing Derpy for the first time. "I never promised a happy ending, little fairy. You see, the day of her father's funeral was the day I decided on my purpose in life, and I pursued it like a stallion gone mad. I spent my recruit phase under the instruction of Hind Sight, who wasn't a legate then. To this day I think only an officer as patient and stern as he was could have fashioned me into a proper soldier. Thanks to him, I made centurion in just two seasons, earning a reputation as a prodigy of the blade along the way. Even so, it was some time before my unit returned to the capital. I didn't see Feather Quill again for another year-and-a-half. We were recalled after our commanding officer died in battle against a griffin scouting party. The word at the time was that Hind Sight, who transferred soon after my training was complete, had not only become a legate, but would be taking personal command of the Fifth Legion."

Derpy felt another vision coming on as she listened to Cross, but she began to feel nauseous and lightheaded. One of her eyes drifted to the setting sun on the horizon and noticed celestial object blink out of existence for a moment before reappearing in the next. Cross continued with his story, apparently unaware that anything strange had taken place. Derpy felt a chill run through her body. What if this isn't time travel? she thought. Am I going crazy?

~

From the viewpoint of the two creatures standing in the Ponyville Library's guest room, only a few seconds had passed.

"Well?" growled Spike, still holding his sword to the monchrome mare's throat. "Out with it!"

The panic in the mare's face drained away, leaving only despondence in its wake. "I'm sorry, Spike." Her eyes flashed pure white for only a moment, but it was enough.

Spike stepped back as if he'd been punched in the face, dropping his sword in the process. His eyes rolled around in their sockets before he groaned and toppled over with a muffled thump.

The mare regarded the newly-unconscious dragon and sighed. "I hate taking the memories of others, but I can't have you knowing about me just yet." She whirled back on the locked Lost History and thrust out her chest. "Pearl, assume Servant State."

The silver necklace and it's smooth white pendant emerged from her body and hovered in midair. "READY," it said in its quiet feminine tone.

"Release magic lock on Icon," she whispered. "Employ Obsidian countermeasures."

"WORKING," said Pearl as it hovered over the Lost History.

The mare walked further up the bedside and placed an ear close to Derpy's chest. "Estimated time to completion?"

"UNKNOWN. LOCK STRUCTURE INCONSISTENT WITH OBSIDIAN SIMULATION DATA."

The mare listened intently and realized that Derpy's heartbeat had become erratic. Her own heart skipped a beat in response. "I don't care how you do it, Pearl, but do it fast!"

~

[The Forum - Six Seasons Ago]
On the eastern edge of Equitopia's capital city rested the Forum, a giant circular plaza of paved travertine surrounded by massive colonnades four columns deep. At midday, the area was packed with shoppers perusing the stores betwixt the innumerable columns, open-air vendors who may or may not have had permits, and orators who preached the gospel of the Sacred Tome or argued about its particulars in equal measure.

A finely-groomed Silver Cross stood in the shade of the colonnades near a cafe prized for its casual atmosphere. He'd grown into a fine stallion in his time away. Wiry muscle rippled across his rugged features, his long black mane and tail swayed in the breeze, and his stance remained at the crossroads between relaxation and readiness at all times. The golden laurel of a centurion adorned his head, shining not quite as brightly as his expectant smile. Today was the day, after all.

"I'd settle in for a long wait, Cross," said a voice from outside his field of view.

Cross turned about to see the palomino unicorn stallion named Coarse Thought sitting at one of the ornate stone tables.

The unicorn waved a joking salute. "I don't care who you're waiting for—nopony's going to recognize you with that smile on your face."

Silver Cross returned the jest with a raised eyebrow. "Don't you have other ponies to bother, centurion? I've never seen you wanting for company."

Coarse Thought bounced out of his seat, ran a hoof through his chestnut mane, and offered a roguish grin. "I am shocked that you think I'm here to rain on your parade, old chum. D'you have any idea how long we've been marchin' around the countryside together?" He gave his well-groomed companion a playful punch. "I'm here to show some support for my main stallion on his big day! Now what's so wrong with that?"

Silver Cross's eyebrow never faltered. "You just want to know who it is that I'm meeting."

"That's where you're wrong, bucko," replied Coarse Thought. "I couldn't care less who she is, but I've got to see the mare that can turn the head of Cross the Markless." Silver Cross glared at him, causing Coarse to cough nervously. "Sorry about that, chum. Bad habit. Still, I never thought I'd meet a blankflank hailed as the best swordsman in Equitopia, much less serve in the same unit with him. D'you think your girl's into that sort of thing?"

Cross motioned with his head toward the crowd. "Why don't you ask her?"

A vision of beauty advanced toward them, a unicorn mare with a coat of deep orange and a shimmering white mane. Her green eyes were of a shade so strong that they could be seen even at this distance. Her graceful gait radiated an air of refinement laced with the barest hint of sensuality.

Cross's wings shuffled nervously as his smile grew helplessly wide. "That's Feather Quill, I'm sure of it."

"That's who?" exclaimed Coarse Thought. His expression jumped straight from amusement to horror. "Oh crap."

Cross gave his "chum" a reproving look. "Is there a problem?"

Coarse looked into Cross's eyes and flashed a smile that looked terribly fake. "No! No, why would there be?" He began to back away. "I've got to . . . uh, there's a . . . um . . ." He let out a faux cough. "Excuse me."

Cross barely had time to think about his rapidly departing compatriot before hearing his name called by the sweetest voice he'd ever known.

"Cross? Silver Cross, is that really you?"

Cross turned around to stare directly into Feather Quill's radiant emerald orbs. It was a good thing that he'd prepared himself for this moment—seeing the object of his affections after so long would have stolen his breath away otherwise. He allowed his joy to escape only in a warm smile as he announced, "'Tis I, fair lady. And you—OOF!"

Feather Quill interrupted him with a giddy squeal and threw her arms around his neck. "Good Lord, it is you! It's been so long, I was afraid I wouldn't recognize you!"

His childhood friend's perfume carried the brisk airy scent of Lunar Tear flowers, and the warmth of her sudden embrace made the last six seasons feel like a fleeting dream. Cross was about to return the gesture when she pulled away and gave a playful bat of her eyelashes.

"You do remember me, right?"

Cross barely stopped himself from laughing. "Of course I do, Feather. I'm the one who sent for you in the first place, which was not the easiest of tasks." Seeing obvious confusion on Feather's face, he elaborated. "It's been more than a year since you stopped responding to my letters. I had to send a singing telegram just to get your attention."

Feather giggled. "That did seem weird even for you, Cross, but your letters stopped coming. If you were still sending them then . . ." She put a hoof to her chin in thought, but the answer she found brought obvious displeasure to her expression. "He must have thrown them out with the junk mail." Feather huffed. "I'll have to have a word with him when I get back."

"Him?" asked Silver Cross. The word disturbed him in this context, as did Feather's glib response to a year of missed letters.

Feather Quill waved a dismissive hoof. "Oh, nothing you need to worry about. Is this the cafe you wanted to try?"

Cross nodded.

"Seems nice," commented Feather as she walked toward it. "Well come on then, slowpoke. I don't have much time before my next appointment and we've got a lot of catching up to do."

~

Coarse Thought waited in the colonnade for all of the 15 minutes it took for Feather Quill to leave at a brisk trot. He grimaced. This kind of situation wasn't his cup of tea, but he couldn't leave a fellow centurion hanging. When Silver Cross exited the cafe, he stepped boldly forward. "So, how'd it go?"

Cross shook his head. His wandering eyes and wavering mouth were textbook signs of confusion. "She didn't remember. I mean, she remembered who I am but . . ." He caught himself and gave Coarse a sour look. "What do you care anyway?"

Coarse Thought laid a solemn hoof on the bewildered stallion's shoulder. "Cross, my friend, you should have told us who she was. Anypony in the unit could've warned you."

Cross's expression waxed uncertain. "Warned me about what?"

"You know how your old pal Hind Sight is taking command of the Fifth tomorrow?"

Cross nodded.

"Well Miss Feather Quill is our new scribe. You know, the pony who writes down all our splendiferous deeds?"

"I know," Cross replied. "She told me as much."

"Did she tell you she's sleeping with the Legate?"

Cross's mouth fell open. "Y-you mean Hind Sight?"

Coarse gave his comrade's shoulder a sympathetic pat. "It's worse than that, but like a good solid arrow wound I suppose it's best to get it all out at once." He gave Cross the most serious expression that he'd ever managed. "She's his adoptive daughter too."

Cross backed away and smiled half-heartedly. "You're joking. I left her with a friend of her father's. That can't be right."

Coarse shrugged. "Her father's friends have got friends of their own, you know. Now I don't have the whole story, but the scuttlebutt is he took her in pretty young. In fact, it would've been right around the same time that he transferred out of the Fifth." He sighed heavily. "I hate to break it to you this way, Cross, but rumors about those two have been flyin' around for a couple of months now. If you'd spend less time training and a little more time with your jolly old messmates you'd have already heard."

Cross could only stare at his comrade in disbelief. He wanted to latch onto the fact that this was all rumor, but he knew in his heart that it explained Feather's attitude perfectly. That same heart sunk low with the realization, and even in the familiar arches of the Forum, Cross suddenly felt completely lost.

Coarse put a comforting arm around his shoulder. "All right, come on, chum. Like any honest field medic would say, I can't cure you, but I know a way to dull the pain. The pubs are ready to receive thy woes and I shall not let you drink alone."

Cross allowed himself to be pulled along by the earnest but misguided stallion, all the while wondering why the sun didn't seem as bright in its cloudless sky.

~

Derpy Hooves looked at Silver Cross with watery eyes as the campfire burned low. "I don't believe it. She forgot your promise?"

Cross shrugged and stared off toward the fiery red colors of the setting sun. "I was a fool to think that it meant the same to her as it did to me. Feather never wanted me to live up to any sort of legacy, she just wanted somepony to be there for her. I wasn't, so she found somepony else."

Derpy's feeling of nausea intensified. "But your teacher? Her . . . kinda-sorta dad?"

"Oh I was hurt, little fairy—don't get me wrong," said Silver Cross. "But Feather was happy. From the time she began serving in our unit right up till today, I've never seen a happier mare in my life. Who am I to pass judgment? I set out to return a smile to her face and that's what happened. It's just that I wasn't the one responsible."

He turned to Derpy with a casual smile. "Of course, as a soldier I was expected to suck it up and carry on. So I did. I threw myself into my duties, determined to make a name for myself as one of the greatest soldiers who ever lived. And I kept at it, hoping that somehow, someday Feather would change her mind. I hoped that every time I saw the Legate's arm around her shoulders. I hoped that every time she called me by a foalhood nickname and then did the same for the next centurion she passed." He gave a snort and looked into the receding flames. "I hoped that every time I passed by their tent on night patrol and couldn't get the sounds of their lovemaking out of my head."

Derpy shuffled her hooves. "I . . . I don't know what to say, Cross. That sounds horrible."

"Oh, it wasn't as bad as all that," Cross replied. "I still had my integrity after all. My heart loved only one mare, and I lived my life by the commandments of the Tome. It was a great comfort, so much that I believed it was all I would really need." His smile faded. "I had no idea how far out of its way this world would go to pull one of its enemies down."

Derpy opened her mouth but stopped short of speaking. The grass was blowing against the wind. A nearby tree had different kinds of fruit on the same plant. The celery stalk she'd eaten earlier was whole again and at her side. Cross's ominous statement was foreboding enough, but the impossible changes in the environment were making her very afraid.

"It happened on the night that Hind Sight and Feather announced their engagement," Cross continued, oblivious to his companion's discomfort. "I did a poor job of hiding my depression at the news, which of course prompted Coarse Thought to think he had a friend in need. He invited me to a tavern that same evening to meet another friend of his, an earth pony mare named Purity. I knew what Coarse was trying to do, but I went along with it out of respect for the kind gesture." He shook his head. "I just wish I'd known that he paid a prostitute—who just happened to be his childhood friend—to make that gesture."

[The Aquarius Tavern - Two Seasons Ago]
Silver Cross marched out the curtained entryway of a tavern on the outskirts of the Equitopian capital, his feathers ruffled and teeth gritted in righteous indignation. "How dare he," the pegasus stallion seethed, unable to contain his thoughts as he made for a nearby alleyway. "How could he sit there and act like the Vow of Preservation carries no weight with me? Coarse is the one soldier in the entire centuria who should know better!" Cross stopped amidst the tall buildings that rose in dark columns on all sides, his position faintly illuminated by the flickering candlelight of an aging streetlamp. His legs shook and he felt hot even in the cold night air. The sensation worried him greatly. Coarse's prodding was to be expected, however extreme it had proven tonight. Something else was eating at him, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Mister Cross!"

Silver Cross turned to see that the earth pony mare named Purity had followed him into the alleyway. The luscious tresses of her stylized mane tossed about on her shoulders as she ran, their pink and crimson colors contrasting sharply with her cream coat even in the dim light. Her gorgeous body deftly straddled the line between athletic and voluptuous while her eyes, resembling nothing more than a pair of glittering amethyst gems, looked straight into Cross's as she caught up to him.

When she spoke, her voice carried the cadence of a country-born noblewoman, equal parts rustic and refined. "Why the sudden departure, centurion? Coarse said you could use some company tonight."

Cross snorted and turned his head away. "I've no need for your services, madam. Even if I did, I'd seek them myself—I've no need of thoughtless intermediaries either."

Normally, a woman of the lower class would heed the wishes of a soldier. Thus, it surprised Cross when Purity sauntered back into his field of vision, her gaze never leaving his. "Now listen here a minute," said she, her expression one of stern reproval. "You're right about Coarse—he did offer payment for this evening, and he's an oaf besides." She lifted her fine-featured head and actually looked down at Cross. "But I refused to take it. I'm here as the friend he promised you—anythin' else I get up to is my own decision."

Cross stepped back. The feeling of heat was stronger now, but he did his best to ignore it. "Be that as it may, you'll not be 'getting up' to anything tonight, Miss Purity. As a follower of the Sacred Tome, I hold myself to a higher standard."

"So I've noticed," Purity replied, closing the distance he'd gained with confident stride. "Coarse underestimates you, just as you underestimate me."

Cross's buttocks touched the wall, forcing him to stop lest he assume an undignified position. He felt embarrassment at the show of cowardice and chose to express it as anger. "I don't see how. You're a whore. You sell your body—a sacred treasure—for monetary gain when it should rightfully belong to your chosen husband. About which part of that am I mistaken?"

A smile played on Purity's full lips. "Oh, you're pretty much right on all counts, sugar." She raised a hoof to his chest. "Now that you've told us what we both know, how do you think I feel about that?"

It had been years since another pony touched Cross there who wasn't punching him. He lost himself in her soft touch for a moment before stammering, "H-how you feel?"

"Well I'm the one who chose to live this way, aren't I? Do I look like a lowborn to you?"

Cross shook his head, unsure of how to deal with the beautiful mare's actions. "N-not in the least, madam."

Purity continued her exploration of Cross's form by tracing the muscles of his upper arm. "It's said that mine is the oldest profession. Do you know why that might be?" The question was rhetorical. She gave Cross no time to respond. "Ladies of the evening exist because there's a need for us, centurion. There always has been and always will be." She pressed against Cross's left bicep with gentle force. "Are you going to tell me that you're not a stallion in need?"

Everything in Silver Cross's moral code instructed him to flee from this situation, but Purity had managed to pique his interest. He'd never imagined that such a mare could be this well-spoken, and his logical mind wanted to know what sort of point she was making. The rest of his body certainly didn't mind the attention either. "I have a feeling I'd be insulting your intelligence if I said that I lack the same desires that torment the hearts of lesser men. Even so, I pride myself on controlling them."

Purity removed her hoof and looked at Cross with serious eyes. "Coarse told me what happened today. How much of that perfect control of yours rested on your hopes for Feather Quill?"

Cross chafed at the mention of Feather's name. He felt a sense of mild betrayal at the thought of this mare knowing his secret, but more than that it simply hurt. The conscious thought of Feather marrying another stallion cut through to his isolated heart like a meat cleaver, crude but effective. He lowered his ears. "I'm not looking for pity."

Purity gave a coquettish tilt of her head. "Does a doctor pity her patient, or does she heal him?"

Cross opened his mouth to respond but found himself cut off as Purity stepped forward and nuzzled his neck.

"Does a priest pity his charges, or does he offer them comfort and rest?"

Cross's inhibitions were melting before her touch, but nothing about the sultry mare's tone had changed at all. He knew it in a way that scared him. He knew it in a way that excited him.

"Does a mare who sells her sacred treasure leave behind the desire to give it to a stallion truly deserving of her?"

He knew that between the two of them, she was the one in control.

Purity nibbled daintly on his ear and whispered into it, "Do you desire me, Silver Cross?"

A savage voice answered inside him, making his lips press against hers.

That voice answered, Yes.

~

The evening sun set lower on the horizon, only a sliver of its golden majesty still visible against the rapidly-descending night. Derpy Hooves breathed heavily, her eyes wide in astonishment.

Silver Cross stared right back at her from the other side of the campfire's smoldering embers. His displeasure made itself plain in his half-lidded eyes and tight-lipped frown. "You saw that too, did you?"

"Purity wanted to do something nice for you," Derpy gasped. Her mind was reeling from a brush with Cross's innermost thoughts, laid bare by Purity's advances. Whatever connection enabled these visions was growing stronger. "But you felt . . . you felt . . ." Derpy couldn't believe the word that leapt to the forefront of her thoughts, but voiced it anyway. "Hollow."

Cross toyed with his sword and scabbard, rocking the weapon back and forth on its tip as he spoke. "For a moment's respite, for carnal pleasure, I gave up all that was left of me. By doing something that means so little to so many, I violated myself to the core and condemned my future to life as a living blade. The world had victory over me, and what's worse . . ." He stared at pommel stone with cold, angry eyes. "I delighted in it."

Those words made the situation crystal-clear to Derpy Hooves. The way Cross felt and the reasons why were familiar to her. She regained composure, finally able to reduce the cyclone of chaotic thought to a few simple words. "You hate yourself," she whispered. "And not just 'cause you made a mistake." An image of her old apartment flashed through her mind. "You hate everything you are."

"Perhaps," Cross droned as his eyes followed the sword. A smile crossed his sullen features. "But it hardly matters now. Behold." He waved a hoof toward the city.

In the darkness of nightfall, the Black Spires surrounding the capital glowed with a faint violet light. As the sky grew dimmer, the glow replaced the sun, turning the city and all that surrounded it into purple silhouettes on a ever-blacker canvas.

Derpy felt her heart gripped by fear, as if a predator were about to swallow her whole. "Why are they doing that?"

Cross stood up from his seat, one hoof still resting on the hilt of his upright sword. "The Spires are magic beacons, the means by which Equitopia shall reshape the world. Every generation of our people from one to the next dedicated their lives to their improvement and refinement, all for this day." His smile was genuine, as was the pride in his voice. "That light means that the fires within them have been lit. At any moment, a roaring blaze will catch and the old world will burn away, leaving nothing but perfection in its wake." He turned to Derpy. "You and I will soon be standing in the midst of the Tome's promised land, the Green Pastures."

Derpy couldn't believe what she was hearing. This didn't sound like the Cross she knew. "You think these weird towers will fix you? That they'll make things okay between you and Feather?"

"Of course they will, little fairy. There is no unhappiness in paradise, and that includes my own." Cross laughed. "It seems I was wrong about you, Miss Hooves. You're not here for my demise." His wings spread wide. "You're here for the world's."

The wind picked up, blowing grass, manes, and tails about as it gained speed. The light of the Spires began to swirl about the capital, forming a cyclone of magic energy in just a few seconds time. Ponies all across the defensive line laid down their arms and began to cheer. Some jumped for joy, others embraced, and still others ran to and fro, wanting to be with those close to them as the moment of truth drew near.

"Cross!" shouted Coarse Thought as he ran to their position. The unicorn stallion stopped just short of running into them, breathless with excitement. "Can you believe this? We're living the dream of all our moms and pops, all the way back to the founding! This is really happening! We made it, chum!"

Cross turned to the horizon and shouted above the wind. "Do you see this, enemies of paradise?! Do you laugh now, here at the end?! We have beaten you and the world you love so much! Bear witness to the birth of a new world, the world we rightly deserve!"

As Derpy looked on, the whirlwind of violet light compressed inward. Tighter and tighter the cylinder grew as it neared the city center, ending in a tiny ball directly above the Florentine Aqueduct that shone like a second sun. Derpy shut her eyes, unable to watch.

"VICTORY!" shouted the masses.

OMMMMM

The noise was loud, louder than any thunderclap Derpy had ever heard. It hit with physical force, shaking the earth and knocking everypony to the ground. When Derpy opened her eyes, she saw nothing at first. The grass was still beneath her hooves, but the ball of light had disappeared, leaving total darkness in its wake. What next appeared in this black void was fire. An otherworldly flame of stark crimson spread from the city's center, coursing its way through the many layers of roads and terraces as water spills forth from a broken dam. Only seconds passed before the entire capital was wreathed in its embrace.

Cross rose to his hooves, a look of euphoric glee on his face. "A new world is being born before our very eyes," he gasped. "It's . . . I can't believe how beautiful . . ."

Then came another sound, faint and unrecognizable at first. Derpy strained her ears to get some idea of what she was hearing. Upon success, she immediately wished she hadn't. It was not one noise—it was many. They were hearing a chorus of screams, a wailing choir of shrieking souls. Derpy could see them now, the shadows of ponies burning in the streets. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. Her stomach turned in on itself at the hellish sight, causing her to double over in pain.

"H-have no fear, little fairy," said Cross, uncertainty having replaced the pride in his tone. "The s-spell is running its course. Just another moment or two and . . . and . . ."

Derpy saw it for only the moment that Cross had mentioned, a black ball of swirling liquid rising up from the aqueduct. With an earth-shattering CRACK it expanded, covering the city and snuffing out the flames in less than a second. It spread onward regardless of what stood in its way, forming an obsidian tidal wave that rushed out from the capital in all directions. Nopony even had time to brace themselves. Derpy cowered in fear as the wall of black water washed over her and everything within reach, but found that she had no trouble standing in its midst. Though it appeared to be water, the substance had little mass, and its passing had all the impact of a strong drizzle. Derpy felt next to nothing in its presence, but Silver Cross and his compatriots were another matter.

Derpy watched in astonishment as the color drained from their bodies. Reds and blues. Greens and oranges. Every shade of color washed away from the Equitopians, leaving only white, black, and gray in their wake. By the time that the wave had finally passed, the only color that remained was in the irises of their eyes—they had all turned red.

Silver Cross stared at his gray coat and white mane in the flickering torchlight, turning about in place as he did so. "What . . . what is this?!" he shouted, though the sound was lost among the nearly identical panicked cries coming from all around.

"This isn't the way it's supposed to be!"

"Where's the city? I can't see it!"

"I feel sick! Oh Lord, I'm gonna throw up!"

That last exclamation wasn't unique. Derpy and Cross watched in horror as monochrome ponies all around them began vomiting, but what came out wasn't the contents of their stomachs. Black sludge, very much like what had just washed over them, spilled forth from mouths howling in pain.

Coarse Thought was one of them. He reached out with a shaking hoof and gurgled around the viscous ooze splashing from his lips. "H-help! Help me, Cross!"

Silver Cross backed away slowly. His own mouth had fallen open in sheer terror, but nothing issued forth from it.

The black sludge kept coming, each pony disgorging more than could have possibly fit in their stomachs. The vile material did not rest on the ground where it fell. It reached out with thick oily tendrils, latching onto the colorless bodies from whence it came. It covered them inch by squelching inch, forming a second repulsive skin as it seemed to devour its victims. Derpy recognized it now. This was the very same substance that had been leaking from the bodies of the timber wolves at Sweet Apple Acres.

The shrieks of torment reached a fever pitch. One by one, the red eyes of the consumed ponies burst into gouts of crimson flame. The effect was taking place all over the final defensive line, evidenced by a circle of red lights several miles in diameter that now surrounded the lifeless city. After several seconds had passed, the fires burned low. However, they did not die out.

Derpy looked at what remained of the Equitopian legions, frozen stiff in absolute terror. Their bodies slumped forward for a moment, red flames flickering from their eye sockets. When the newly-formed creatures stood up straight, they only vaguely resembled what they'd been just a short time ago. The shambling four-legged monstrosities now seemed composed of nothing but the black sludge. Gaping maws with jagged teeth opened and closed in places where they shouldn't have been. Sheer white claws and crooked blades pushed through their liquid flesh at impossible angles. As for their dispositions, they did not simply look hungry. They were the very embodiment of hunger.

In the distance, Derpy saw one of the abominations dive on a surviving pony, engulfing the poor creature fully before it even had a chance to scream. "Cross?" she managed with a tension-locked jaw. "Cross, we have to run! They're gonna kill us!"

Silver Cross stood stock still, his eyes fixed on the transformed Coarse Thought, who was now identical to the rest. "They failed," he whispered, watching the myriad mouths on the surface of Coarse's slick skin snap at thin air. "We all failed."

"Cross!" Derpy shouted, wanting very much to snap him out of his daze but unwilling to move an inch closer to the writhing sludge-beast. It did her no good. What had once been the unicorn named Coarse Thought turned toward her and advanced with alarming speed.

Cross stared at the sheathed sword on the ground before him, his eyes wide and face blank. "The Green Pastures were never . . ."

Derpy Hooves realized that she was in danger and very much alone. The frightened pegasus mare turned to run, but she wasn't fast enough. A black tentacle lashed out from Coarse Thought and snared her hind leg. It pulled hard, slamming her body to the ground and dragging her back to its grisly embrace. Derpy didn't even feel the impact. Every nerve in her body had gone numb with panic. She rolled to her back and dug in her other hooves, but the creature loomed ever larger. Its dripping mouths opened wide for their first meal. And suddenly, they were gone.

Coarse Thought vanished in a cloud of black vapor, cloven from existence by a luminescent crimson blade. Silver Cross stood where the creature had been. A sword possessed of faint red light rested in his powerful jaw. His eyes shone with barely-contained magic power. "I'm sorry, friend," he whispered around the leather-wrapped hilt.

Derpy stared at the heroic image before her, mouth open in surprise. "Cross?"

Silver Cross planted his sword in the dirt as a mass feeding began all around them. "I think I understand now," he said, his tone unwavering. "It was never any more complicated than this." He offered a hoof to help Derpy up. "Fly as far from here as you can, little fairy. There's nothing left for you to see."

"What are you going to do?" asked Derpy.

Cross's expression grew resolute. A Cutie Mark flashed into existence on his flank, a silver cross-shaped sword in the midst of a whirlwind just as Derpy remembered. "I'm going to find Feather Quill," he said. "And if she yet lives, I'll protect her at any cost." With that, he pulled the crimson sword from the earth and charged into the horde of sludge-beasts, a single light of hope in the thundering darkness.

The thought of leaving Cross to his fate seemed wrong to Derpy, but she knew for sure that she couldn't keep up with him. She immediately ran from the remaining torchlights, passed numerous distracted monsters, and made for the flatlands shrouded in darkness. The mild slope of the grassy hill offered no real obstacle to the fleeing mare. Nonetheless, she was forced to come to a skidding halt by the sudden appearance of radiant blue eyes ahead.

Screw Loose stepped forward from the blackness, still shrouded in her familiar cloak from top to bottom. Her broad smile and welcoming gaze showed not a hint of malice, nor did her high-pitched giggle. "Hi there, Derpy!" She threw back her cowl to fully reveal her blue coat and frazzled gray mane. "Looks like I made it just in time!"

Derpy Hooves stumbled backward in shock. "You?! What're you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" mimicked Screw Loose. She advanced on Derpy at an oblique angle and began to circle around her. "Better question: what are you doing here?" She waved a hoof toward the carnage on the hilltops. "All of this happened something like twenty-five-hundred years ago. Call me crazy, but you don't look that old."

Derpy froze with indecision. She wanted to be nowhere near this evil mare, but doubted that she could outrun a teleporter. Even if she could, there was the unpredictable pony's wrath to consider. Thus, she allowed herself to think on Screw Loose's question. The implication contained therein astounded her. "Wait, you mean this is all really happened way back when? I'm not in, like, another world or something?"

"Bravo," Screw Loose replied. "And the last pony crosses the finish line."

Derpy shook her head. What surprised her even more than the realization that she was walking about in the distant past was the fact that she'd never considered this strange before. She could recall her previous visits with Silver Cross, but the memories felt buffered somehow, as if the last vestiges of some sort of blockage encircled them. "This doesn't make sense," she whispered. "I-it never did! Why didn't I . . . ?"

Screw Loose leaned close from the side, causing Derpy to flinch. "Don't sweat the particulars, bright ace. Good thing I don't want you for your brains, huh? The important part is who sent you here. After all, ponies don't just fall asleep and wind up in the past for no reason at all, right?"

Derpy shivered. "Was it you?"

"This time it was," Screw Loose confirmed, taking a step back as she did so. "But I'm getting into the game pretty late. Truth is, I'm not the first pony in your life to have an agenda. I just happen to be the most honest." Her eyes rolled up in thought for a moment. "About wanting to use you, that is."

"I don't get it," said Derpy. "Why would anypony come after me? What did I ever do to you? Or anypony else?"

Screw Loose cackled in response. "You really think you're innocent, don't you? You think you've got nothing to do with a pony like me? Heehee, that's too much!"

Derpy simply stared at the laughing mare, having no idea what to say.

"Tell me something then," Screw Loose managed between guffaws. "Where is Rainbow Dash?"

Derpy didn't have time to think about the strange question. A gleaming white fireball hit Screw Loose in the side, sending the cloaked mare careening through the grass in a smoking heap. Another mare—ostensibly the source of the spelll—walked toward them, her face a mask of great displeasure. As for her appearance . . .

"Feather Quill?" Derpy whispered.

"Making sense was never your forte, Screw Loose," declared the newcomer, "but you should have known better than to invade my domain."

Screw Loose stood up on unsteady hooves some distance away, laughing like a madpony. "Oh no," she wailed in mock despair. "Guess I should have left a better lock behind."

Her adversary's violet eyes glowed white. "You have a bad habit of underestimating your enemies." Her eyes narrowed. "Get out of the Lost History or perish where you stand."

Screw Loose smiled back defiantly. "I was hoping we could spend some time together, but . . . eh, all's well that ends well. I got what I came for." Her cloaked form vanished in a cloud of black smoke as her last words echoed in the still night air. "See you soon."

The monochrome mare across from Derpy Hooves breathed a sigh of relief. The light faded from her eyes.

"Feather Quill?" Derpy repeated, louder this time. "Is that you?"

"What?" asked the mare. Confusion dominated her expression for a moment, but was soon replaced by annoyance. "Oh, of course you would think that."

"I would?"

The gray-and-black mare put a hoof on Derpy's shoulder. "Listen here, Little S—" She cleared her throat. "I mean, Derpy. You're in grave danger. Screw Loose pulled you here without any regard for your safety, and the connection is breaking down."

"Connection?" asked a thoroughly lost Derpy Hooves.

"The one between your body and soul," said the mare. "I don't have time to explain it properly, but I need you to trust me. I'm here to return you to the waking world. You want that, right?"

Derpy nodded emphatically.

"Very well then. Hold onto that thought," said the mare as she pulled back her hoof. It remained raised. "Normally, I'd just pull you out, but Screw Loose separated you from your conduit, Silver Cross. I have to put you back in him first. Are you ready?"

Derpy nodded, slower this time.

The mare pulled back her hoof even further. "This might hurt," she said before punching Derpy straight in the face.

~

It did hurt, but in the very next moment, Derpy found herself in a familiar place. She felt the sensations that belonged to Silver Cross. He was bruised, battered, and cut in a dozen places, but still very much alive. Black clouds of dissolved monstrosities drifted all around as the warrior stallion made his way to the Legate's tent. A magic energy coursed through his body, completely absent from Derpy's previous habitations. It was frightful in its strangeness, and yet comforting in a vague and intangible way.

Gripping the sword firmly between his teeth, Cross pushed through the tent flap to find Feather Quill alive and well. Relief washed over him at the sight of her, plainly recognizable even in her new colors of gray and black.

Feather turned to Cross, her face full of fear. "Cross!" she shouted, rushing to his side as if she were a filly hiding from a parent's wrath. "Thank the Lord you're here! You have to help him!"

Cross looked across the tent at what his childhood friend had fled from. One of the sludge-beasts stood there. Its eyes were alight with crimson fire, and the mouths and blades on its slick skin moved about in a sick parody of life itself. Silver Cross readied himself to fell the abomination, but stopped when—of all things—it spoke.

"Cross," the creature groaned, its voice distinct and familiar. "Stay your blade, old friend."

At the sound of a voice that he'd obeyed for many seasons, Cross very nearly dropped his guard. "Hind Sight?" he gasped. "You still live?"

"We all do," replied the transformed Legate. His voice was the same, but it carried a wheezing quality, as if he'd aged decades in mere minutes. "You made a terrible mistake, Cross. Those were your comrades you slew out there." Hind Sight held up a dripping hoof. "But you couldn't have known. We forgive you for it."

The Legate's words horrified Derpy. It had been awful enough thinking that the ponies of Equitopia had been turned into vicious monsters. The thought of their normal selves living within all that putrid slime sickened the mare, and Cross as well. Had he really murdered his friends?

Cross kept his blade up. "How do you know what takes place beyond your sight? What have you seen of the hell outside your tent?"

"The Experiment was a success," coughed Hind Sight. "Our minds are becoming one, and our bodies will soon follow. We were warned that the Green Pastures would be unlike anything we've seen before, that their beauty would surpass our understanding." His many mouths spoke the words in unison. "This is a time to rejoice, Silver Cross. This is what we wanted." He reached out his hoof once more. "Feather, dearest Feather. I know we were to be wed in the Pastures, but this bond that has been offered to us goes beyond a simple marriage. We will truly become one body, one soul, in every sense of the word."

Feather Quill shifted. Her expression grew uncertain.

"And Cross," Hind Sight continued. "Forgive me, friend, but I know how you feel for Feather. There is no property here, not in this divine union. You can be one with Feather as well, just as you've always wanted." The creature shook its head, splashing steaming bits of its melting flesh across the ground. "I know how you've suffered, how alone you've been. There's no longer any need. All you have to do is cast aside your fear, and you will be welcomed with joy."

"I can't do it!" Feather Quill exclaimed. She stood apart from Cross and looked him in the eye. "I can't live without him, Cross! Maybe . . ." Her eyes had a crazed look to them. Her tongue lolled about in her mouth as she spoke. "Maybe we should . . ."

Silver Cross moved slowly between his charge and the blighted form of Hind Sight. "You use words of the Tome and promise me salvation, but I look upon you and see the gibbering shape of madness incarnate. The fruit of our beliefs is plain to see."

Hind Sight inched forward. "Cross, please . . ."

"It is written," said Silver Cross. "Beware of false prophets. Ye shall know them by their fruits." He pointed the glowing crimson sword directly at his Legate. "A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit." Strange magic danced in his eyes. "Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire."

"Cross, no!" yelled Feather Quill.

Hind Sight's mouths opened as well, but were silenced. Silver Cross bisected the creature with one powerful stroke, leaving nothing but inky residue and black smoke in his wake. Feather Quill shook with horror as Cross sheathed his sword. Her teeth chattered, and her red eyes glared in anger.

"We need to go," said Cross. "I've cleared a path out of here, but—"

Feather Quill slapped him across the face with every bit of force she could muster. She had to have know that she couldn't really harm the warrior stallion, but that was not her intent. "I will never forget this," she seethed. "I will never forget what you took from me!"

Cross looked down at her impassively. "I saved your life, Feather. I'm sorry that I couldn't do it in the way that you desired."

"Don't give me that!" shouted Feather Quill. "I know you wanted this! You would have taken any excuse, wouldn't you?! You enjoyed killing him! We were . . ." Tears poured down her cheeks, and her voice became wracked with sobs. "We were going to be happy! We still could have been!"

Silver Cross walked past her. "I won't defy you any further. Come with me or don't, but understand that I'm your best chance of staying alive, of finding another happiness."

Feather Quill glared daggers at him. "It won't be with you, Cross! I'll never forgive you, not ever!"

Cross looked back at her, unable to hide the sorrow in his eyes. "And I'll never ask you to."

~

Everything around Derpy suddenly faded away, as if a shroud had been pulled from her eyes. She was still inside Cross, she could feel that much. However, they were now back in the prison cell where they'd started.

"Well, little fairy?" asked Cross in a weary voice. "You've been very quiet. Has my story bored you?" A few moments of silence passed. "Have I scared you away?"

Derpy was scared, scared enough to remain silent. The last thought on the young Silver Cross's mind had been gleeful—he had enjoyed killing Hind Sight. Meeting that Cross, witnessing the destruction of his homeland, and knowing now just how it was that he "took Feather's smile" had made her uncertain of the stallion whose body she currently shared. She'd always supposed that Cross never really did anything wrong, that he was a good pony. Derpy shivered inwardly. Between the fanatic she'd met and the jocular mercenary . . . which one was the real Silver Cross?

Little fairy? asked Cross, his inner voice tinged with sadness.

A knock came from the barred iron door. Silver Cross looked up from his shackles to see a familiar and welcome face. "Feather?" He smiled. "I thought you'd be halfway back to the Northerlands by now."

"Not an option," Feather Quill deadpanned. With a glow from her horn, the lock on the door burst into a shower of sparks. "They've got a barrier surrounding the whole valley." She pushed open the creaking iron obstruction and walked inside, her face impassive as ever. "Sorry this took so long—I had a tough time losing them." Her horn shone once more, causing the manacles about Cross's limbs to fall apart.

Silver Cross stood up, stretching his sore body as he did so. "Many thanks, old chum. Now, shall we get going?"

Derpy felt a curious sensation from Cross. His mind was reflecting on the events she'd witnessed, drawing lines of comparison and—slowly but surely—a new conclusion.

Feather raised an eyebrow. "We'll have to wait a while for the barrier to die down. If we get out of the Spire safely—and that's a big if—should we make for the forest or the mines?"

"I'm not leaving."

This drew genuine shock from Feather's expression. "What?" She brought herself closer to Cross, the feathered beads in her hair clacking as she did so. "Sunny Stables isn't the place we were looking for, Cross. What do you hope to accomplish?"

"I'll help you escape if that's what you desire," Cross replied. He walked past her and headed for the door. "But I won't let history repeat itself." He turned back to Feather. A battle-light shone in his eyes. "If Fell Deeds wants to create another Equitopia, then I'll bring this Spire down on his head before he gets the chance!"

~

It was then with a sharp tug and a whoosh that Derpy Hooves landed back in her bed. It felt just like when she'd fallen from the sky, but she could tell that her body really hadn't moved at all. Above her was the monochrome mare, panting and sweating, with one hoof resting on a giant leather-bound book.

"Thank goodness," the mystery mare gasped. "I made it in time."

Derpy pulled back against the headboard with a thump, wings spread in alarm. "W-who are you? Why is this happening to me?"

The gray-and-black mare's face tensed up. "That's going to be difficult to—" Her body flickered and became ill-defined for a moment. Her eyes went wide and looked to the pearl pendant next to the book. Its own light flickered as well. "Pearl, resume Bonding State." The object flashed once and dove inside her chest.

Derpy drew in a sharp breath. "How did . . . What are you?!"

The mare leaned in close, her expression stern and unyielding. "Listen to me very carefully. I used up most of my power to save you from Screw Loose, so I can't remain here much longer. It's clear to me now that I can't separate your thoughts between the past and present, so I promise that next time we meet I will explain everything." She pressed a hoof against Derpy's shoulder, though it didn't have any force or mass behind it. "For now, you are to tell nopony what you've seen in your dreams. Tell them nothing about Silver Cross, and nothing about me. I'll know if you do. Promise me that you will keep quiet."

Derpy shook her head. "Why? I don't understand any of—"

The mare's gaze narrowed. "Promise me that you will tell nopony or I will disappear forever. You'll never know what transpired here, you'll never see Cross again, and the only one you'll have left to deal with is Screw Loose. Promise me!"

Derpy nodded fearfully, struggling to hold back oncoming tears.

The mysterious mare sighed with relief. "Thank you, Derpy. I wish . . ." Her body flickered once more. "I wish there was a better—" Her voice cut off midsentence, disappearing along with her body into thin air.

Seconds passed in silence. Derpy's heart hammered in her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn't help going over all that she'd seen in her head, but couldn't make sense of any of it. All that she knew for certain was that she feared it. She feared Screw Loose, she feared this new interloper, and now, she even felt fear of her friend Silver Cross, to say nothing of his nightmarish foes.

Spike groaned and picked himself up off the floor, rubbing his temples as he did so. "Oh man, I feel like somepony hit me upside the head with Rarity's giant rock." He looked at Derpy with innocent eyes. "Derpy? Hey, are you okay?"

Derpy looked at him with watery eyes. She wanted so desperately to tell him what had happened. She wanted somepony, anypony to tell her what it all meant, but there was only one pony who could. Unable to say what she wished, she threw herself from the bed and dove at the young dragon.

"Whoa!" Spike exclaimed.

Derpy wrapped both forelegs around him and sobbed openly into his chest, taking comfort in the presence of a true friend since she could do nothing else.

Spike, shocked at first, put one arm around Derpy's back, asking "What happened, Derpy?" as he did. When his question only brought forth more tears, he used his spare hand to stroke her mane. "It's gonna be all right, Derpy. We're all here for you." He looked about, uncertain when he'd even entered the room in the first place, but his attention soon snapped back to the distressed mare in his arms. "Doesn't matter what happened," he said with a grim voice. "I'll stay with you until you feel better." His eyes narrowed and drifted to the sword on the floor. "And I'll make whoever did this to you pay for it," he muttered under his breath.

NEXT
Amethyst 3B: Blood Song