Twilight jolted into consciousness, coughing and sputtering, panic taking control of her body. She rolled over, her gag reflex pulling fluid from her stomach and lungs and pushing it through her lips. She had only been to the ocean once as a filly, but she remembered what seawater tasted like; what had just come out of her was definitely that. She coughed and coughed, hacking and wheezing until her chest burned and her jaw was sore, but the feeling in the back of her throat that told her she had fluid in her lungs wouldn’t go away.
Her brain ached as it grasped wildly for an explanation. She tried to remember what she had been doing, but a thick fog had blanketed her mind. She could remember her friends, her life in Ponyville, but it all seemed out of order. It was like her memories were a tangled mess of barbed wire that she was unable to sort out.
The acidic sensation coating her mouth, throat, and sinuses brought tears to her eyes and obscured her vision of her surroundings. All she could see was the bright light emanating from high above and the indistinct forms standing in a semicircle around her. The light was cold, despite its brightness, and Twilight shivered as a frigid breeze blew across her drenched coat. The cold metal she was lying on didn’t help, either. The ground seemed to be lurching, shifting back and forth with a gentle, steady rhythm.
“Ichen, siy udro kan!”
The stallion’s voice came from directly in front of Twilight. She blinked the tears from her eyes and squinted to see the pony who had spoken, but only the vague outline was visible in the shadows. For an instant, Twilight had the absurd notion that she was talking to a ghost.
“Hello?” Twilight asked, wincing. Her voice was weak and hoarse and talking was like pouring burning sand down her throat.
The shadow started and took a step back when Twilight spoke, and it was then that she saw the others. There were two shadows standing on either side of the one in the middle, and the silhouettes of others appeared behind them. Twilight tried to move, to get up, but her muscles wouldn’t cooperate.
“Ichen, siy udro kan!”
The pony sounded more forceful this time. He took a step toward the defined edge where the illumination ended and the shadows began. Twilight could make out some extra bulk around his hoof, but it was as indistinct as the rest of him.
Twilight rolled over, groaning with the effort, and got herself onto her belly. She remained there, panting, as sweat started to form on her coat, mingling with the seawater. Spots danced in her vision, stars and other shapes swimming in a blurry soup, but she clenched her eyes tight and shook off the dizzy spell. With a deep breath and an enormous effort, Twilight found herself standing, legs shaking so violently they were almost vibrating.
She peered at the shadows through the damp strands of mane that hung over her face. The ghost stallion was closer, but Twilight couldn’t have backed away even if she had wanted to. In her peripheral vision, she could see guardrails forty feet away on either side of her.
“Ichen, siy udro mala inkana!”
The light struck the stallion’s face as he stepped into the circle. He was young, younger than his voice suggested, and he had a pair of goggles hanging around his neck. His coat was an amber color, but his mane was shaved, clearly revealing the two gold rings piercing the tissue of his left ear. His face was a maelstrom of emotion; confusion, anger, and terror all resided there as he stared at Twilight. No, he wasn’t looking at Twilight—he was looking at her horn.
He stamped his hoof and Twilight found out why it had looked so bulky in the shadows. A wiry metal gauntlet made of thin interlocking wires spidered down his arm, ending in two slots on either side at the end.
“Udro mala inkana!”
His voice quivered like plucked strings on a guitar. As he said the words, he raised the gauntlet and pointed it at Twilight. He twisted his hoof and flicked a small button on the inside of the contraption, and an instant later, two foot-long blades lunged from the slot like striking cobras, coming within inches of Twilight’s snout.
Twilight lit her horn reflexively, her brain automatically cycling through self-defense spells. The color drained from the stallion’s face and his gauntleted hoof started shaking, but he didn’t back off.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Twilight said in a voice barely above a whisper. Her mind raced with possibilities for the imminent battle, her eyes darting back and forth to take in her surroundings. The spotlight above made it nearly impossible to make out anything, but then she heard the water and it all came together: the swaying, the choking on seawater, the guardrails.
She was on a boat. Even if she fought this pony, there was nowhere to go.
The stallion seemed to steel himself. “Staten!” he commanded.
“I don’t know what you’re saying.” She had to bide her time, try and find a way off of the ship.
The stallion became furious. He reared back with the gauntlet and Twilight narrowed her eyes, her horn growing brighter in preparation for a spell.
“Hadran, vease!”
It was a mare’s voice, coming from Twilight’s left. The stallion stopped and looked at where the words had come from, all the anger dissolving from his features.
Twilight stopped her spell short and followed his gaze. A mare who looked close to Twilight’s age stepped into the light. She had a pair of thick brown goggles strapped to her face, and a thin rubber half-mask hugging the sides of her head, wrapping around the bottom half of her jaw. There was what looked like a doctor’s bag next to her. Her coat was a gentle, sea-green color, and her spiky mane was a dark, almost rusty red. She bared her teeth, her face a wicked snarl. She looked up toward the spotlight.
“Dedran,” she shouted, “hur sveat in achtethwe tob!” She made a circle in the air with her hoof. “Illu dea!”
The spotlight shut off moments later, casting the ponies in shadow save for the moon and the starlight. Lights mounted to the guardrails flashed on all around, bathing the deck of the ship in a pale luminescence.
The deck was mostly clear, save for a few crates here and there. There was a structure toward the middle that the group of ponies was standing in front of, and it had two large metal cargo doors on the front. There was a crane extending up from one side of the structure, and Twilight could now see the spotlight hanging from the crane and the pony standing behind that light. He had his hooves on a console covered in red buttons and silver levers, but it looked rusty. Now that she looked around, Twilight saw that almost everything on the boat was worn down, battered, or rusting, with pieces of metal jutting out at odd angles and unsightly bulges where the bits of mismatched material met each other.
Twilight looked out over the ocean, barely able to make out the rough silhouette of land in the distance. In all other directions was the open blackness of the ocean and the star-speckled pattern of the night sky. The water slapping the side of the boat rocked it from side to side like a foal’s cradle and caused the dull sound of breaking waves to fill Twilight’s ears.
“Uh sad vease, Hadran,” the mare said to the stallion. He started to protest, but she cut him off. “Uh’ll hrandy vis, isy?” she asked. The stallion nodded his head and lowered his gauntlet, the blades retracting.
The stallion, who Twilight guessed was named Hadran, stepped back to join the other ponies, who were all regarding Twilight like she was a wild animal. Then she took herself in: she was shivering, she had strands of mane sticking to her face, and her horn was lit. Maybe a wild animal was exactly what she looked like. But why were they so afraid of her horn? Hadn’t they ever seen a unicorn before? And what language were they speaking?
The sea-green mare approached Twilight, glancing at her horn between each careful step. Twilight extinguished her horn, and the mare visibly relaxed. She stopped a few feet away, where the stallion had been standing moments before.
“Dah ud sepek Guld?” she asked. Twilight thought she spoke with the voice of a pony trying to comfort a wounded animal.
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Twilight whispered.
The mare frowned. “You speak Equish?” she asked, her voice still retaining a lilting accent.
Twilight perked up. “You can understand me?”
The mare nodded.
Twilight’s mind raced with questions. Why could this mare understand her when the others couldn’t? Why had she just been pulled from the ocean? Who were these ponies who spoke a strange language and built boats out of scrap?
“Where am I?” she asked.
The mare frowned again. “You are on the Rach’thar,” she said.
That must’ve been the name of the boat. Twilight shook her head. “How did I get here?” she asked.
The mare gestured to the side of the boat. “I was returning after a dive and I saw your body in the water. I pulled you back to the boat and I went to get medical supplies.” She took a step toward Twilight. “Calm down please, you may be injured.”
Twilight sighed, her shoulders sagging. She could barely keep herself upright; maybe she should just give in.
“One more question,” she said. “I need to know where we are.”
“You are off of the coast of Druthi, in Northern Sea.” Northern sea. That explained the cold.
“Okay,” Twilight said, “and where is that in relation to Equestria?”
The mare furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, from here, what’s the fastest way back to Equestria,” Twilight said.
The mare squinted at Twilight. “Are you alright? Have you banged your head?”
“I’ll be a lot more alright when you tell me how I can get home,” Twilight said.
“And home is...”
Twilight almost cried out in frustration. “I am from Equestria! I need to go back. How do I get there?”
“No getting there,” the mare said, shaking her head. “Equestria is gone.”
That couldn’t be right. “What do you mean, ‘gone?’” Twilight asked.
“There hasn’t been a place called Equestria for two thousand years.”
Twilight fell back on her haunches. “There must be some mistake,” she whispered. “I’m from Equestria. I remember it. How could I remember it if it’s gone?”
“Please,” the mare said, once again approaching Twilight, “you are confused, and you may be hurt. Come to sick bay and I will answer your questions.”
“No!” Twilight shouted, tearing her throat. She didn’t care. “What do you mean gone? How can Equestria be gone!? I live in Equestria, in Ponyville with my friends...” She trailed off. “My friends. How can they be gone?”
The mare shook her head. Twilight just stared at her. There was no way Equestria had been gone for two thousand years. There was no way Twilight could live that long, and even if she could, wouldn’t she remember it? It seemed like her memories of Ponyville had only taken place the day before.
She looked at the crowd of ponies again, staring at her with pure terror in their eyes. Could it be true? Could she have somehow traveled two thousand years into the future?
Her head spun. The boat seemed to turn sideways and she toppled, the floor rushing up to meet her.
(*)
Twilight stretched her aching limbs, then rolled over. She pulled herself from her slumber, but visions of her bizarre dream still danced in her mind. Snippets of a large, rusty barge and ponies speaking gibberish mingled in her mind with a deep sense of worry. She creased her brow and frowned, wriggling on the mattress. Why was it so firm, so tough? And why did her pillow feel like it was made of plastic?
She cleared her throat and it felt like she was swallowing steel wool. Then all of her “dream” came flooding back to her. She bolted upright and found herself in an unfamiliar room. The walls were metal and there was a shiny silver counter jutting out from the wall on the far end, antiseptic and other medical supplies resting on top of it. Twilight was lying on what seemed like an operating table, although there was a thin mattress between her and the cold steel, and there was a coarse, plastic hospital pillow where her head had just been.
She tried to scream, to call for help, but her raw throat wouldn’t allow her voice to rise above a whisper. Even if there was somepony right outside the door who wanted to help her, they would never hear her.
She tried to stand up, but a combination of nausea, a tugging on her foreleg, and a metallic clanging stopped her. She looked down to find a shackle binding her to the side of the table. This may have been an infirmary, but Twilight was a prisoner, not a patient. She ignited her horn and engulfed the bindings in an ethereal glow, but they were bound too tightly for her to just pry off. She prodded the inside mechanism, but without intimate knowledge of how it worked, she was taking shots in the dark. The longer she prodded, the dizzier she got.
She laid back down to stop the room from spinning, staring at the ceiling. There was a single orb of light hanging from a long strand that rocked slowly back and forth with the ship. She focused on the metallic lines that snaked across the surface like strands of a spider’s web, following each one with her eyes until it either merged with other lines or ended, prompting her to find another. Soon, though, she ran out of lines and was forced to take in the whole tile, which looked to her like a scratched-up piece of sheet metal. Once she had sufficiently distracted herself from the pounding in her head and the itching in her lungs, she made a list.
She divided the list into two categories in her mind: things she knew, and questions she had. She knew she was on a boat, she knew she was being held prisoner, and she knew that she was very confused. But where was she? When was she? What had happened to her? What would her friends think had happened to her? She sighed. The questions column was significantly longer.
Her ears perked up, catching the echo of a faint metallic clanging over the soft sound of the ocean. It was coming from the direction of the door, and it was growing steadily louder. Twilight’s heart sped up, pounding in her chest as the noise grew closer and closer, coming to a stop right outside the door.
Twilight ignited her horn once again as the door swung open. A mare stepped through, and Twilight recognized her as the same mare from on the ship’s deck, minus the goggles or the mask. She had a leather bag slung over one shoulder.
The mare froze when she saw Twilight, who was tensed up and battle-ready.
“Stay right there,” Twilight demanded, but it was weak.
“Please relax,” the mare said, taking a couple steps into the room. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I said stop!” Twilight whispered as loud as she could manage. The mare stopped. Twilight needed time to think. She had to get answers. “What year is it?” she asked.
The mare sighed. “It is three thousand and two on your Equish calendar.”
“No, it can’t be,” Twilight whispered. She was only sent to Ponyville in the year one thousand. “You’re lying,” she said, looking the mare in the eye.
The other mare’s eyes were soft and gentle. “Please, you are confused. I want to help you, but you must let me.”
Twilight lifted her hoof and rattled the chain that bound her to the table. “You’re holding me prisoner. How can I believe anything you say?”
“I’m sorry, my brother insisted on the chain. He thinks you can’t be trusted.”
“I know how he feels,” Twilight said. The mare approached Twilight, who tensed up and made her horn glow brighter. Her body was too exhausted for her to get a spell off, but the mare didn’t know that.
The mare stopped, reached into her bag, and pulled out a small metal object, which Twilight recognized an instant later as a key.
“Will you let me help you?” the mare asked with a hopeful smile. Twilight regarded her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of deceit, but she only found kindness and sincerity. Then, for the briefest span of time, Twilight saw Fluttershy in that face; the same kindness, the same compassion, the same desire to help others. Twilight blinked and shook her head, clearing away the vision.
What was she doing? This mare was trying to help and Twilight was threatening her. Twilight extinguished her horn and sat back, allowing the mare to approach.
“I am Kevrana,” she said as she took the shackle in her hoof and slipped the key inside. “What’s your name?”
Kevrana turned the key and, with a soft click, the cold metal band fell away and clanged to the ground.
“Twilight,” Twilight said. She looked up at Kevrana, who was smiling at her. “I’m Twilight Sparkle.”
Kevrana bowed her head. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Twilight Sparkle.”
She walked over to the silver counter and grabbed a stethoscope, putting the rubber-capped tips in her ears and returning to Twilight.
“May I?” she asked, holding aloft the metal disc at the end of the device. With Twilight’s assent, she pressed the cold end onto Twilight’s chest, just over her heart. Every few seconds, Twilight would see Kevrana’s eyes dart to her horn before returning to her work.
“Why are you so interested in my horn?” Twilight asked. “And before, the other ponies seemed to be scared of me. Why?”
Kevrana frowned at her. “Unicorns are almost never seen outside the Vale. Are you sure your head is alright?” She reached her hoof toward Twilight’s horn, but Twilight pushed her away.
“My head is fine,” she said. “I’m not crazy. Equestria is my home, I remember it, I have friends there...” She trailed off.
Her friends. If what Kevrana said was true, everypony she held dear would be long gone. Twilight slumped back onto the pillow. How could they be gone? What would she do without them? None of her friends could have survived for that long.
Except for one.
“Where’s Princess Celestia?” Twilight asked, reaching out and grabbing Kevrana’s leg. The confused look on Kevrana’s face told her everything she needed to know.
“Who?” Kevrana asked.
Twilight sighed. “She is, or was, I guess, the princess of Equestria. She was my teacher, and I like to think she was my friend, too.” Twilight looked down. “She taught me so much; they all did.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to maintain hope that there was still a way back to her friends, back to the Equestria she knew and loved. She wouldn’t, couldn’t believe that she would never see her family, her friends, or her mentor ever again, that she was stuck on this boat, hopeless and alone.
“Don’t worry, Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “We’ll be pulling into the port of Druthi soon. Maybe you can find somepony you know there.”
Twilight wanted to scream at her, to tell her that she wasn’t listening, that Equestria couldn’t be gone, that it all had to be a mistake. Instead, she just sat, staring numbly at the metallic walls. Eventually, Kevrana sat beside Twilight and put her foreleg around her.
“I promise,” Kevrana said, smiling and looking into Twilight’s eyes, “I will do all I can to get you home.”
Twilight smiled back. “Thank you, Kevrana,” she said. “I hope the things you’ve told me about Equestria aren’t true, but still, thank you.”
Kevrana smiled. “I’m happy to help, Twilight Sparkle.”
“Please, call me Twilight,” Twilight said, wiping the last of her tears away.
“Alright, Twilight,” she said with a slight nod.
Kevrana got up from the table and Twilight laid back down, exhausted from her lament, her eyelids drooping as she fought to stay awake.
“You need rest, Twilight,” Kevrana said.
Twilight nodded. Her last sight before her eyelids closed was Kevrana settling into the cushion by the door to keep watch over her patient.
(*)
Twilight’s ears were awake before her eyes. She heard a hushed argument coming from somewhere near the door.
“Nud, alvon greteya ichthalma Druthi haerveya eeve.” Twilight recognized that voice as belonging to the pony from on deck, Hadran.
“Ese fruni, Hadran. Ese infirmy, an conteya fej eeve.” The other voice was Kevrana’s.
“Ese frulma Unicorn. Utt do sposs deya?” Hadran demanded.
Kevrana sighed. “Herr tak es Twilight Sparkle, nos ‘frulma Unicorn.’”
Twilight opened her eyes. Her headache was nearly gone and her aches were lessened. She could feel much more energy coursing through her than before, and she took a deep breath before sitting up. Hadran stumbled back, almost out the door, before narrowing his eyes and glaring at Twilight.
Kevrana rolled her eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asked, approaching Twilight.
“Kevrana, utt as deso? Dea nabear frulma Unicorn!” Hadran almost-yelled.
“Vease, Hadran!” Kevrana hissed back at him. Hadran didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t protest.
“Much better, thanks,” Twilight responded, not taking her eyes off of Hadran. She could see the gauntleted hoof twitch periodically, flicking toward the blade mechanism. “Why is he so afraid of unicorns? I understand that we might not be common, but we aren’t dangerous.”
“Your memory must be damaged, Twilight,” Kevrana said, feeling Twilight’s forehead with her hoof. “You seem okay, but water may have caused damage to your brain. I don’t know how long you were in there before I found you.”
Twilight sighed. “Just humor me, please? If you won’t believe me, at least give me that much.”
“Alright,” Kevrana said with a nod. “The only unicorn to be seen outside the Vale for the past century is King Ganymede.” Twilight just stared at her with a blank expression. “King Ganymede, ruler of Centuria, called Ganymede the Mad by many. Most call him a tyrant. He rules from the capital city of Grandis. Is any of this familiar to you?”
Twilight shook her head, her mind in a flurry. The only unicorn seen for a century became a tyrant? No wonder these ponies were scared of her; her horn marked her as something to be feared.
“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Twilight asked.
Kevrana considered her answer for a moment. “When the others look at you, they see only the monster that their fear of Ganymede has convinced them to see. When I look at you, I see a troubled mare in need of aid, aid that I can provide. If I have the opportunity to help a pony and don’t, what does that say about me?”
“Why is Ganymede so feared?” Twilight asked.
“That is a big question, Twilight. Why is any tyrant feared? Ponies fear power, especially if that power is over them. They say that when his horn glows, all of the warmth and light drains from the room, and he can kill you with just the nod of his head, and numerous other fantastic things like moving objects without touching them, even lifting buildings with his magic.” She leaned down next to Twilight’s ear. “Is it true? Can unicorns really do those things?”
Twilight thought about lying, about telling Kevrana that those things weren’t true. She knew that as soon as she revealed what she could do, she would be feared, maybe even hated. But in that moment, her rational brain merged with her survival instinct, reached a conclusion, and posed a question: would it be better to lie to them, or to show them what she could do now? She decided that maybe she should make them fear her, at least a little. Then they wouldn’t mess with her, right?
She didn’t answer her own question. Instead, her horn lit up, and the medical tools on the counter across the room were engulfed in her magical aura. A stethoscope, a bottle of disinfectant, a jar of cotton swabs, and more, lifted into the air as if on their own, floating to where Twilight was and forming a circular pattern of motion around her. Hadran looked like he was going to throw up, all the color having gone from his face; even Kevrana looked a little uneasy, though she stared with wide-eyed wonderment at the spectacle. Twilight felt the energy draining from her body, not having fully recovered yet, and she replaced the items on the counter, one by one.
“Ta-da,” Twilight said.
“So it’s true,” Kevrana said, eyeing the tools on the counter like they were going to come to life and attack her. For all she knew, they might. “I never believed it was possible.” She returned her gaze to Twilight with new respect in her eyes, and maybe more than a little fear. “So can you, um...” Kevrana trailed off. Then she lifted her hoof to her neck and drew it like a blade across her throat.
“No!” Twilight exclaimed. “No, I would never. Nopony in Equestria would even dream of something like that.”
“That sounds nice,” Kevrana said wistfully.
“It is,” Twilight said, eyes glazing over with memories, “or was.”
Just then, the hoofsteps of an approaching pony sounded in the hall. A grey earth pony with a shaved mane like Hadran’s pulled the stallion out into the hall and whispered some hurried message in his ear. Hadran nodded and they both hurried away, Hadran casting one last contemptuous look at Twilight.
“We’re probably pulling into Druthi,” Kevrana observed. She looked at Twilight. “Feeling up to a little fresh air?”
Twilight nodded and stood, wobbling for a moment before mastering her balance. Kevrana led the way out the door but didn’t stray too far ahead of Twilight. They ventured through tight corridors barely wide enough for two ponies, past doors with rusty hinges and worn-down walls, the metal peeling in some places and completely stripped away in others. There were signs hanging from the ceiling and next to doors, but they were all written in Kevrana’s language. Any ponies they passed averted their eyes and hurried past without stopping, sometime muttering something on their way by.
The ship swayed with the water’s steady rhythm as the two mares climbed the dented metal staircase that led up to the deck. Kevrana pushed the bulkhead open and Twilight had to shield her eyes from the sun with her forearm.
When her vision finally adjusted, Twilight Sparkle lowered her forearm and got her first look at her new world.