//------------------------------//
// Chapter 17: Regrets 
// Story: Through the Well of Pirene 
// by Ether Echoes 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 17: Regrets





“Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future.” - Lewis B. Smedes.



Leit Motif


The Everfree Forest fell away behind us, vanishing beneath the clouds as the airship sped to the southwest. We were retracing our steps towards Los Pegasus and beyond, hurtling through the sky with all the speed that the craft could muster.

At the time I did not even know the vessel’s moniker. It seemed terribly unfair that we had commandeered her twice now, one instance of which she had quite possibly saved our lives, and we couldn’t even put a name to her. Eventually, I tired of the view and rejoined the others at the center of the deck, near the ladder where my friends had gathered. The grizzled pegasus captain glided down from the envelope, where he’d been conducting an inspection of the harness.

He glanced around at us with a steady gaze. “Where’s Princess Twilight Sparkle? I need to have a word with her.”

Daphne stepped forward. I couldn’t help but smile again as I saw the jar on her haunch—if a unicorn is to have a long-overdue cutie mark appear, that was certainly the way it should be done. She deserved every inch of approbation for such a feat. “She’s gone below with our prisoner,” she said with a smile toward the sailor. “Thank you for coming to our aid, Captain Holder. I’m not sure we would have made it without you.”

“All in an Equestrian’s duty, ma’am,” he said, though he showed a tight grin. “Besides, it gave my crew a chance to stretch their wings a bit. We may not be a warship, but we need to be ready for whenever the Princesses call. No more surprise invasions catching us off guard, thank you.”

“We are grateful, all the same.” Daphne nodded. “I know it has to be hard on you to drop everything.”

“Bah.” Captain Holder waved her off. “Some things are more important than profit. Besides, the Princesses are good for it; they won’t let me or my crew starve.” He tilted his hat to Daphne and took off down into the ship.

I gave Daphne a small frown as he went. “When did you hear the Captain’s name? I didn’t even know it.”

“Hmm?” She glanced back at me, then creased her brow in concentration. “I don’t recall. I must have heard it from Twilight when we saw you off last time.” She half-turned her head, staring at nothing in particular, a habit that seemed increasingly frequent of late. Now that I had seen her wielding false images so adroitly, I had to wonder precisely what went on in that head of hers. And Lyra accused me of being spacey.

Naomi pursed her lips but said nothing. She was still rather shaky following the fight below, and her fingers shook as she worked at her braids, though her eyes were still sharp as she regarded the two of us.

“So, hey. Everyone’s complimented your butt stamp so far except me,” Marcus said brightly. “So let me say, nice as—ow!” He winced as Naomi struck him across the back of the head. I moved forward and opened my mouth to tell him off.

Instead of getting angry, though, Daphne laughed, catching all of us off guard. All eyes were on her as she beamed like a loon. “Thanks for that, Marcus. I needed it, really,” she said, before turning and trotting down into the ship with a little skip in her step.

The three of us gaped at one another. Marcus squinted down at the former human’s vanishing blond tail. “Did she hit her head? Or does getting your butt stamp screw with your senses?”

“I think she’s just happy,” I said, shaking my head.

“Oh, then there’s definitely something wrong,” he said. “Daphne’s not allowed to be happy anymore. She’s probably been possessed.”

I allowed a small giggle and brushed my mane back as I gazed up at him. “Oh, yeah? Possessed by what, dare I ask?”

Marcus grinned. “I dunno, but whatever it is, I hope it stays. She’s a lot less abrasive this way.”

Naomi rolled her eyes and gestured to the ladder. “We should probably go see the others. I want to hear what Pinion has to say about Amy and this Well.”

“Yeah. I want to hear all about how lil’ Anteater escaped from an entire castle,” Marcus said, his grin splitting even more widely. “That certainly sounds like her.”

“You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?” I asked as we started down. “I’ve heard you mention her positively a few times.”

“Me? Yeah.” Marcus nodded. “She’s a cute kid, and ridiculously smart. She could give Daphne a run for her money, and she wasn’t stuck up about being smarter than everyone. More importantly, Amy liked all my jokes.”

Naomi crossed her arms, regarding Marcus with polite consternation. “Daphne wasn’t stuck up about being smarter than most of the class. Though, he’s right. Amy is a very clever little girl. I can believe she’d run circles around these goblins.” She twirled a red curl around her fingers. “She was passionate about everything. I really believe that she’ll be someone great someday, once she learns how to apply that focus.”

“Hear hear,” Marcus agreed.

“What’s her relationship with Daphne like?” I asked, turning my face away to regard the opposite wall. It may be that they weren’t great at recognizing pony expressions yet, but it wouldn’t do for them to see a twinge cross my features. “She’s been so driven to find her, I have to imagine they’re very close.”

“Uh.” Naomi coughed. “Not so much, honestly. I don’t think either of them would give one another the time of day before this happened.”

Marcus shook his head firmly. “That’s not true. I have little siblings, I know the sort of looks Anteater gave her sister. She totally wanted to be a part of Daphne’s life, but Daph always shut her down.”

“I don’t know,” I said with a little more bite than I’d intended, “after hearing how Daphne’s parents treated her, I wouldn’t blame Daphne for feeling like she needs to get away from her family.”

“Leit’s right,” Naomi said, after a quick, weighing look at me, “Daphne was going through a lot of stress. She pushed me away, too, at first, and a lot of her other friends.” Her eyes turned sympathetic as she regarded Marcus. “You know now how much her life has been shaped by what happened when she was a little girl. She’s repressed so much, is it any surprise she’d have trouble coping?”

Marcus didn’t answer for a while. He looked deeply uncomfortable, and I remembered belatedly that this man had been in a relationship with Daphne. That meant that he had, in a way, also been responsible for hurting Daphne. Rather than my customary sting of bitter resentment, though, I just felt sorry for them both.

I had never even bothered to ask what the circumstances of their breakup were. A week ago, I might have assumed that he’d done something to hurt her—but, really, of the two of them, Daphne had seemed to have the most to prove when it came to their game of jabs and insults.

After getting to know him on our last airship journey, and seeing now how he withdrew from Naomi’s question, I perceived now a sensitivity I’d never really paid attention to before. The look in his eyes was true, genuine hurt, and the way he held himself spoke of uncertainty. It seemed as if human males were very like our stallions—oh, sure, they put on a brave face and try to shrug off disappointment, but beneath the skin beats a real heart.

As we paused in front of the cabin, I considered Marcus in the light of the electric lamps. He’d make a very interesting-looking pony, if Daphne was any judge. A pegasus, from his Discord-may-care attitude. He could even keep the jacket with some modifications for his new physique, and that white undershirt would look rather fetching with it.

“Leit?” Naomi prodded my side. “The door? Which you are standing in front of?”

“Oh.” I yanked my eyes back to where we were going and lit my horn up to open the door to Twilight’s quarters. It was one of the largest rooms on the craft, but it still felt fairly crowded with a small army of ponies, goblins, and now two humans. Pinion sat behind a writing desk that was bolted into the floor while everypony else clustered nearby to watch.

“...And that’s how I replicated your famous triple-layer lemon pie!” Pinion said as we stepped in.

“Wow, so that’s what happened to my book of recipes! Do you still have it?” Pinkie asked.

“Yeah. I’ll have to bring it around some time! I’d love to see the real Sugar Cube Corner.” Pinion beamed. “I had to build it from, like, only three different photos.”

“I’m sure that’s fascinatin’,” Applejack said, “but it ain’t really what we came for.”

Twilight nodded, her quill paused over a sheet of fresh paper. “Yes, please. I’d like to hear more about these Wand goblins and their plan—we keep getting our information piecemeal, and it’s very frustrating.”

Daphne, the one who had the greatest stake in any of this, simply nodded silently and looked towards Pinion intently.

She ran a hoof through her electric mane and beamed at us, ignoring the large, shiny lump that Flash had given her earlier. “Well, okay. I warn you, it’s a bit of a doozy.” She took a deep breath and launched into her tale. “Well, see, it all began when I was just a wee little goblin bairn livin’ with me folks at the goblin city way over yonder…” Her tale, which she elaborated on with a bare minimum of breathing, covered a bewildering array of events.

There were whole new concepts touched upon that had the scholars in the room—myself, Lyra, and Twilight—scratching our heads. The idea that humans and ponies used to live together in harmony with other kinds did not seem strange, but the way she described it, it was as though everypony had been an alicorn, something timeless and ineffable to modern ponies.

Daphne’s face remained steady throughout the rendition. She had a definite interest in what was going on, but her ears didn’t really prick up until her sister was brought into the picture. Her face, and those of the humans, split into grins as Pinion elaborated on how she and Amelia spent their time together in a false version of Ponyville, and then how she’d escaped through the Everfree Forest.

“Wait,” Rarity interrupted, “can you describe those three girls? The ones who fought you with her.”

“Oh, sure. One of them was a redhead, and then another was an orange pegasus with stunted wings, and the third was a white uni—”

“The girls!” Rarity and Applejack gasped at once. They looked at one another and then simultaneously reached over the desk to grasp Pinion. “Where did they go after that?” Rarity demanded. “If you touched a single hair of their coats I’ll—!”

Pinion gagged and flailed her hooves spasmically as the two mares shook her. Flash and Marcus managed to pry her free, while Twilight and Pinkie settled Rarity and Applejack down. Pinion caught her breath. “No, no!” the goblin protested. “Heck, they nearly knocked me clean outta the air! I ran off when the Morgwyn intervened.”

“That concerns me,” Daphne said quietly, “I don’t understand how you let that thing near her in the first place. It fills me with… dread.”

“You and me both, sister,” Pinion agreed.

“Don’t call me that,” Daphne snapped, her ire rising in an instant. “Even if you are willing to work with us now, you still participated in this knowingly and willingly from the start.” She settled back after a moment’s silent glaring, rubbing a hoof across her face. “Sorry. That was a bit much.”

Pinion simply winced and went on with her story. “Well, after that, we lost them. Maille was positive they’d gone off to Mag Mell, and I stayed behind to hunt her. When we got reports of you lot movin’ towards the Tree of Harmony, well… we thought we’d try and set up an ambush. Tha-a-at didn’t go so well!”

“Yeah. We were there,” Marcus said smugly.

“Hey, it was going fine until somepony busted out the theater extravaganza!” She looked at Daphne, chewing on her lip. “That was amazing, by the way. Is that amazing, Twig—err, Twilight?” She glanced towards Twilight.

“It’s about the level of power I would expect an adult cutie mark event to be,” Twilight said with a shrug, and swished her tail as she turned to look at Daphne. “Though I am a little impressed by how much detail you could manage with that illusion. That’s dozens—no, hundreds of simultaneous perspectives.”

“I… wouldn’t know.” Daphne shook her head. “It’s just the way I think.”

“When did you have opportunity to see timberwolves?” Twilight asked. “In the Everfree?”

“I must have.”

Naomi raised her hand. “If I may?” She lowered it as the ponies looked up to her. “I’ve heard of the Well of Pirene before. It’s part of the legend of Pegasus.”

Marcus quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Hey.” She grinned and shrugged. “If it has to do with a horse I’ve probably heard of it. Anyhow… in Greek mythology, Pirene was a river nymph who went mad with grief when her son was murdered by the goddess Artemis. She turned to tears and became a fountain in the city of Corinth. It’s said that anyone who went to the fountain and drank from it became filled with inspiration, and so poets and authors often traveled there; another legend says Pegasus himself created it when he touched the ground there, as he did on another mountain. Pegasus—who in Greek myth was a demigod—paused to drink there, it was his favorite watering hole, and he was captured by the hero Bellerophon with a golden bridle given to him by the goddess Athena. With it, he mastered Pegasus and rode him.”

She looked down to find the rest of us staring at her in abject horror. “What? It’s just a story. More importantly, Corinth isn’t in Equestria, and the Well has been dry for centuries.”

“Ah, well, see,” Pinion said, “you’re technically right. It was in Korinthos, before the Division.”

“The what?” I asked.

“It’s like I said. In ancient times, before, well, a lot of important things in human history happened, Equestria didn’t exist.” Pinion put her hooves together. “When the races started to conflict with one another, that’s when the founders of Equestria withdrew. Back in those days, all kinds were bound together by a Covenant, an agreement of peace and harmony, that no thinking creature should harm another. They would cooperate instead, following, well…” She smiled awkwardly at the other mares. “Friendship.” She flicked her bushy tail and went on. “The other races came together under the leadership of the equines and agreed to renew the broken sacred compact. That’s how the Tree of Harmony came to be—it branched off a new world from Midgard.”

Twilight Sparkle sat back, looking deeply alarmed. “I’ve never even heard of this. It’s never been hinted before. It doesn’t even make sense.”

“You don’t think she’s lying, do you?” Fluttershy asked quietly.

Flash bristled, but Pinion laid a hoof on hers. “It’s a legend passed down through the goblins, and our King was there when it happened, long before he became the Wand King. If it’s not true, well, I’m just tellin’ you the story as I know it. My grandmother told me it when I was just a bitty goblin fluffball.”

“Celestia has never even hinted at such a thing,” Twilight said more firmly, though her ears were alert and quivering.

“She never told you about the world of humans linked up to yours on the other side of the Everfree Forest, did she? A forest she and her sister built their first castle in.”

“I saw her and Luna discover the Tree of Harmony for the first time!” Twilight protested. “It was in a vision.”

Flash blinked at that, looking at Twilight more closely. “So… they could be as clueless about this as anypony?”

“Well, that’s odd,” Pinion said thoughtfully. “I mean, after all, it was their parents who did it.”

“Parents?” Rarity asked. “You know who their parents are? I didn’t think anypony knew who their parents were.”

“Uh. Not their names, no, just that it’s an alicorn pair who, uh… what was it, Flash?”

“The earth and the ocean,” Flash said, running a hoof through her blond mane carelessly. “I used to tell Wire about it.”

Daphne looked momentarily uncomfortable. I glanced towards her uncertainly, but said nothing. She could have been thinking about herself and Amelia.

“So Amelia’s role in all this,” Naomi asked, “what is it?”

“We’re supposed to take her to the Bridle at the Well of Pirene. The real Well, the one that came with the division of the world,” Pinion said, “there, she will initiate a new age.”

“The Bridle? The Golden Bridle? The thing that enslaved a… prince horse or whatever?” Marcus asked. “Sorry, but, that sounds more than a little sinister.”

“It’s not like that at all!” Pinion said. “Well, I mean… that’s what we’re told. She will take the Bridle and reunite the worlds, and then goblins and men and ponies and everyone will be brought back into grace, a world of magic and hope and possibility.”

“That sounds like…” Naomi frowned. “Well, it’s silly.”

“What is?” Twilight asked.

“Back in our world, there’s this movement called the New Age movement. It’s a bunch of really screwy religions that came out around the beginning of the last century. None of them are really what you’d call, uh… well-supported. The term New Age, though, refers to what’s called the Age of Aquarius. It has to do with what astrological sign the sun rises under on the vernal equinox, something that changes every, uh…”

“Two-thousand one-hundred fifty years,” Daphne supplied. Her face was still creased in an uncertain frown.

“Ah.” Twilight brightened. “I know about that. It’s just basic astronomy, though, there’s nothing significant about it as far as I know. There’s some debate about when it will occur, though, or even if it has occurred, based on the boundary between Aquarius and Pisces. It’s all very arbitrary, honestly.”

“Humans—rather, some humans—believe that which constellation the sun rises under determines the character of that era,” Naomi finished. “Supposedly, the Age of Aquarius is going to be a new age of enlightenment.”

“Sounds like a load of hooey to me,” Applejack said with a snort, “but these goblin types sure seem to believe in it.”

“Hey,” Flash said, “if you grew up as someone living on the edge of civilization, afraid to show her face because she’s considered a monster, maybe you’d take hope in an ancient legend promising your comeuppance, too.” She rubbed her chin. “As for what we call it, well… we just call it the New Age, I guess. The Cups call it the Water Pourer’s Age. I don’t think the Ring or Sword types are really all that keen on it.”

I turned to Pinion. “You don’t know anything else about Amelia, do you?” At the goblin’s head shake, I took Daphne and maneuvered her towards the door. She did not object, though Naomi seemed surprised. “We should start working on her magic,” I explained to her, hoping she’d get the hint. To my relief, she did, and walked out with me. Marcus and a couple of the other mares followed a moment later. Lyra departed for the deck, while Fluttershy scurried off, probably to find someplace to catch her breath after having been trapped in a room with so many others.

“Thanks,” Daphne murmured. “I was starting to lose my cool there.”

“It’s all right,” I reassured her. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up on the news. I’m sure this talk about Ages is just archaic gibberish.”

“I don’t know about that,” Rarity said, passing out of the cabin behind us. “After all, Nightmare Moon’s return was predicted by an old mare’s tale, was it not? Perhaps some kernel of truth lies buried within.”

“I wonder,” Naomi murmured, looking towards Daphne’s flank.

“I’m not some child of prophecy or whatever,” Daphne snapped, her whole body tensing. “I just want to take my sister and go home. We don’t have a place in this. You three grew up with me, you know I’m just… normal.”

“You’ve never been just normal to me,” I said quietly, brushing my cheek against hers, “but that’s something else entirely. Come on, let’s get you settled. I wonder if my cabin from last time has been claimed?”

“Fine,” Daphne said with a little huff, allowing me to guide her along.

This moodiness of hers seemed out-of-place, but there was no telling where it might be coming from. I exchanged a glance with Naomi and parted from the humans, taking Daphne with me into my room. Once inside, I walked Daphne through illusion lessons, and she soon began to delight again—with her special talent unlocked, it was as if the floodgates had opened.

Unlike many apprentice unicorns, she had no trouble at all visualizing her desires. Like an artist, a young illusionist must learn the arts of perspective, color, framing, and other elements of composition, but Daphne’s mind was like a gateway into another world, pulling images fully formed in whatever shape or seeming that pleased her. Now that she had to settle down and master the rigorous art of spellcasting, though, things were a little rockier. She made frequent mistakes—applying too much power here and there and making her images splotchy or tearing them apart entirely, or just failing to get her magic out of her horn at all.

Within an hour or two, though, she had the basics down, enough that she was playing with her own images. I watched from my cot as she conjured forth a tiny scale model of her own downtown, then began to populate it with people. Humans were eerily fascinating creatures. I marveled at their rolling gait, noting where they differed from their fellow bipeds, and found myself examining their individual styles of dress and grooming with interest. Lacking the vibrant colorations and variety of ponykind, I noted how they compensated—it was rather like the big cities of Canterlot and Manehattan, where everypony felt undressed if they didn’t at least have a hat or a necktie.

“That’s strange. Is Marcus deformed?” I squinted down at the model humans. “I don’t see any quite like him.”

“Ah, no.” Daphne coughed. “We aren’t a very diverse town is all.”

“Oh? So there are humans with blue or green hair and skin elsewhere?”

She giggled. “No.” She turned her horn and dusted green stars across the table built into the wall, displaying a range of male and female humans. Pale skin, olive skin, black skin, and every shade between.

I rolled my eyes and smacked my own forehead. “Of course. No severe body hair, so you’re reliant on varying amounts of melanin in the skin, resulting in varied tones.”

Daphne pursed her lips. “Lyra wasn’t kidding—you must have been the top of all your classes.”

“Not all,” I demured, glancing away. “Twilight, now, she was top of every class, but she was also a different year.”

“You should talk with her,” Daphne urged me, “she could probably help you graduate. I’m sure you don’t want to be a… uhm… what is it that you do?”

I lowered my head. A washed-up recluse. “An insurance claims adjustor.”

“Say what?” Daphne tilted her head.

All of a sudden I wanted to be anywhere but there. “It’s a very rewarding position!” My hoof tapped out a nervous pattern on the wall. “I get a lot of good work done. Ponyville is always being devastated by some new catastrophe.” My ears burned as I clamped a hoof down on its sister to keep it from clattering. “I’m very happy. It pays well.”

Daphne sighed. The images on the table dissolved into green mist and she reshaped it, idly creating figures. “You’re like your house, Leit Motif.” A tiny dark unicorn foal and a little girl lounged together on a hillside under the summer sun. “Beautiful on the inside, full of intrigue and fascinating insights. I wish you’d let it out a bit more.”

More shapes trotted into the scene, but I had already started for the door. My thoughts were whirling, champing at the bit to get out of my head, and the little cabin suddenly felt far too cramped and claustrophobic. I paused at the door to regain my composure and turned to apologize for my abruptness when my mouth fell open and dried. There on the table, with an adult Daphne and Leit Motif, were Legato and his new wife, nuzzling one another in the corner of the scene under an apple tree.

“Where did…” I pointed down at the images. “Have you ever seen those two before?”

She frowned and looked down at her creation, almost as if she wasn’t actively conjuring it. Dozens of ponies moved across the scene—I recognized most of them as local residents. “The dark stallion who looks like me, under the apple tree,” I clarified.

“Oh. No. He just popped into my head,” she said. “He does look a lot like you, doesn’t he? That’s kind of funny. Do some ponies have colorations like his little marefriend there? I never saw any in Ponyville.”

“No,” I murmured, “you don’t find patterned coats around Ponyville. You’re sure you didn’t see them anywhere? Perhaps at the train station before I left the first time?”

Daphne shook her head. “As soon as you were on board, Twilight and I went back to the library. We had a lot of work left to do.” She flicked her golden tail and turned her head towards me. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I shied away. “I… j-just need some fresh air. Bye!” I shoved the door open and trotted out. Ideas buzzed in my head like a swarm of parasprites. They consumed every unattached thread of thought. My steps carried me towards the ladder, hoping to find Naomi outside.

Lyra’s soft voice and slow lyre song met me as I surmounted the deck. I could see her and a quartet of off-duty sailors, one mare tapping a drum while another played a recorder in minor keys.

“Day by day I draw farther away, 
Though my heart grows far colder each day, 
Over the hills and valleys I go, 
Yet long for when our paths cross again, 

Why did fate join us together,
Only to take us away?

Why did fate join us together,
Only to take us away?

Black grows the sky, and cold the stars aloft,
Yet I hope they’ll lead me back home once more,
Are you still waiting for me, can you hear my voice?
I carry yours in me, even as I roam,”

My hoofsteps slowed as her spell fell over me. There were some forces in this world far more enchanting than mere unicorn magic, after all. Clouds waved behind the gentle green unicorn like an ocean as she sang her heart out without ever raising her voice out of its mournful tones. The words, with one accord, both soothed my agitated mind and deepened my lingering melancholy.

In another time, in another frame of mine, my thoughts would have drifted back to Daphne. Somehow she had managed to consume my life with her arrival, drowning everything else out. The song was an old one, and it spoke of journeys, and losing the ones we cared about—the captivated sailors around me certainly empathized. Yet, as I listened to the last lingering notes of the refrain vanish into the thin air, I realized that Daphne wasn’t the only mare I’d lost along the way.

Lyra plucked her strings idly while the sailors went back to their duties while the other impromptu band members packed up. They must have been playing while Daphne and I had been practicing. I trotted over in Lyra’s general direction but stopped short of actually approaching her.

It felt wrong just to open up to her. After all the years of my ignoring her, it didn’t seem as if I had a right to intrude. Yet part of me knew that I had to take this chance. No matter how hard I tried, though, I couldn’t budge my legs one step closer.

So, instead, I sang.

It was something I hadn’t done since I was a filly, and I was half-surprised to find that I could still hold a tune at all. It was a soothing vocalization, bereft of words. It spoke of a vibrant, energetic creature, like the trilling of a piccolo, dancing its way across life and touching everything in its passing with a feathery grace.

Lyra’s head snapped around, and she smiled and plucked at her strings, enveloping my solo in a trembling veil of uncertainty, making it seem as if the flute might never realize its own potential.

I responded with a thrumming counterpoint, a reluctant voice struggling to know itself. My steps carried me closer. Lyra brought back the high notes and danced them across the surface of my low ones, a tender and probing meeting, just as we came nearly nose-to-nose.

“Careful,” she said, breaking the song, “any closer and we might as well be kissing.”

My face turned bright red and my legs and tail turned stiff. “Lyra!” I barked, scandalized.

She giggled and leaned back against the rail, flexing her forehooves and laying them to either side.

I stamped a hoof and glowered at her. This time, though, Lyra needed no fancy tricks to deflect my wrath—it ebbed away quickly enough on its own as I began to laugh helplessly.

Ironically, my laughter must have alarmed her more than my anger. “Leit? Are you all right?” She waved her hoof in front of my face with an aghast look. “You haven’t caught the laughing pox, have you?”

“It’s all right, Lyra.” I slid my hooves about her neck. “I’m okay. Really. I’m okay.”

“Leit. You’re freaking me out here.” Lyra eased into my hug, patting my back clumsily.

I laughed again and gave her a squeeze. “I’m sorry for making so much trouble for you. You’re a good friend and I… I never really…”

“Aww, come on, kid,” Lyra said, her face breaking into a grin. “Don’t cry. You’re already ruining our tough girl images as it is.”

“I-I’m not, I…” I rubbed at my face, laughing helplessly once more as my hoof came up wet. “Damn it. I am. And you know what? Th-that’s okay.” I drew back from Lyra, holding her hooves. “You aren’t lazy at all, are you?”

“How’s that?”

I tossed my head and smoothed my mane back from my face. “All my life, I thought you were… well, you know. Lackadaisical. Indolent. Libidinous. Shiftless.”

“Oh, do go on,” Lyra said dryly. “I’m not sure how much more flattery I can take.”

“It’s all a front, though, isn’t it?” I smiled coyly. “You put up this Discord-may-care attitude, but all this time you’ve had your nose to the grindstone. When we were in school, you drove yourself to exhaustion and beat pressure that made me crack—all while impressing the Princess herself. Then when monsters attack the capital and threaten all of your friends, you put yourself through hell to become a… well, shockingly competent fighter.” I lowered my head slightly, staring at the wood grain. “And when a… a stubborn former roommate shut herself up in her house, you wormed and fought your way in no matter how hard I slammed the door in your face.”

Lyra sighed heavily. “Welp. That’s it. You caught me.” She levitated her lyre over the rail. “Might as well end it all, my starving artist persona is dead and buried.”

I swatted her shoulder and hugged her again. She grinned and brushed my mane back. “All right, fine. Maybe I am more than I let on, but you shouldn’t beat yourself up for not noticing, Leit. You were going through a rough time, and I tried to give you your space and find a way to draw you out of your shell at once.” She plucked a few strings. “It’s a delicate balance, and sometimes you had a right to be angry at me. I… well, I hope it managed to help you in some way.”

“I think it did,” I murmured, pulling back from her. “You kept me sane, somehow.”

“Great!” She tilted her head. “Now, what the heck is libidinous?”

I stared at her for a moment and offered her a bewildered smile. “You… stupid, brilliant mare you.”

“That’s a contradiction, kid.” She started into a soft melody and looked at me thoughtfully as her hoof played across the strings. “You should consider getting back into music. I played some of your pieces from after you got your cutie mark—they were very inspiring.”

I rubbed a hoof along my foreleg self-consciously. “I’ll consider it. Actually… there’s something I wanted to ask you, now that I’m up here.” The railing shone in the sun as I looked out over the sea of clouds. “You’re familiar with mythology and folklore, aren’t you? All that talk of Aquarius… you didn’t seem to have had much to say.”

“What is there to say?” Lyra shrugged and shifted into a more martial melody. “The pegasi have legends of an ancient member of their tribe who first learned to split open clouds and flood the land with water, with implications that he was the bringer of life to the dry earth below. The constellation is usually drawn as a plump cloud.”

“I think we need to look again at the notion we had about Daphne being the one the goblins are looking for,” I said with quiet intensity.

“Why?” she asked, her lips curving down. “Has something come up?”

The clouds rumbled in the distance, darkening on the horizon. I turned to look at her. “Haven’t you noticed how odd she’s been lately?”

“She’s a human turned into a pony. Of course she’s been acting odd.”

“Flash had a couple very specific criteria for the child they were looking for. She’s supposed to be touched. She can see things that no one else can, and the things she imagines come to pass.” My hooves shuffled on the deck. “Ever since she got her cutie mark, she’s known things that she can’t know. She knew the Captain’s name before she’d ever met him or heard of it. She knew timberwolves and could accurately portray dragons, hydras, basilisks, cockatrices, and manticores despite never meeting them. Just a few minutes ago I saw her conjure up an image of my brother Legato and his wife. Even if she’d seen Legato—which she claims she hasn’t—she’s never seen his wife, since she’s from out-of-town and they eloped suddenly.”

Lyra flicked her tail as she sat, curling it around her other side. “I did think that little display of hers was pretty incredible, down at the castle. Even if it wasn’t all that great a display of raw power, who the heck can draw up that much creativity?” She leaned back. “I’ve seen great works of imaginative magic in my time, but never something that lifelike.” Her eyes narrowed. “We should talk to Naomi—she seems to know human legends pretty well.”

“Exactly my thought. Her and Flash both, to compare our three traditions.” I nodded and started towards the ladder. Lyra followed a moment later after packing her lyre away, and the two of us searched through the public areas. We found Flash all right: her, Rarity, Applejack, and Twilight Sparkle all relaxing in the library. The young Princess had her nose buried in a book, and we caught the last strains of the others’ conversation as we opened the door.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Applejack grumbled.

Rarity waved her off as she lounged languidly in one of the larger chairs. “Oh, pish posh, Applejack. What can it hurt, truly?”

“I wouldn’t do anything to it even if it let me,” Flash said with an earnest edge to her words. “I… I just want to see it.”

Twilight glanced over at Applejack and Rarity. The former nodded reluctantly after a moment and settled into her seat more deeply, while the latter smiled and walked over to Twilight’s saddlebags. She reached in and levitated out a red stone. I found myself staring as I laid eyes for the first time on one of the most valuable objects in equine history—I couldn’t even imagine what the insurance payout would be for such a priceless artifact. Probably priceless.

Flash seemed to recoil from it at once as it was brought closed to her. Not out of any sort of radiation from the gem, as far as I could tell, but more out of some inner sense of revulsion. I could see the echoes of Lightning Dust’s broken glory in her eyes and practically felt her tremble as she beheld the object that had shaped her life, however indirectly. Like a desperate mare stretching her hoof into a flame, she reached out and, ever so hesitantly, touched it.

We all watched, waiting to see if something would happen as a result.

Nothing did.

Flash pulled her hoof back and curled her legs up under her, looking down at the floor. “Take it away.”

“Dear…” Rarity began sympathetically.

“I said take it away!” Flash snapped, tightening up on her seat. “It’s just one more sign of how pointless my life was. I don’t want to see it again. Please.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and I could just barely catch her last words. “Loyalty would never choose a traitor.”

Rarity sighed and tucked the jewel safely back into Twilight’s saddlebags. I glanced over at Lyra to tell her we should come back another time, only to find her gone from my side and already making her way toward Flash.

“Hey,” Lyra said, stopping by Flash’s side.

The goblin jerked her head up. Even in the guise of Lightning Dust, she had a glare to rival my own. All of her powerful muscles were taut with furious energy. “What do you want?”

“We wanted to ask you a few questions,” Lyra said pleasantly, no more affected by Flash’s dyspepsia than she had been by mine.

Flash kept her glare up for a few more seconds until it wavered and fell. “Fine. At least I’ll be useful.”

“I dunno,” Lyra said, “you sure know how to smack ponies around when you have a mind for it. That’ll be pretty useful in the coming days, I’ll wager.”

Grumbling, Flash got to her hooves and trotted over with Lyra to join me. “Whatever,” she said, ruffling her feathers. We took her from the library and searched back among the cabins until we found Naomi.

Uncharacteristically, we found her all alone, curled up on her cot while she smoothed a hand through the mane of a plush pony doll. She looked up at our entrance, surprised.

“Hey, uh… you all right?” I asked. “We aren’t intruding or anything?”

“Just feeling a little homesick is all,” she said, putting the doll away and smoothing back her sunset mane. “Especially after that mess back at the castle. I felt a little worthless. It’s all right, though. I wouldn’t miss this trip for anything.”

“We wanted to ask you a few questions about Aquarius, if that’s all right,” I said, going to sit on a stool embedded into the wall. “You looked at Daphne’s side when it was brought up, why?”

“Because it’s a vase,” Naomi said, falling into a clinical tone. “In particular, it’s a heavy-bottomed amphora. While her cutie mark isn’t pouring out water, it’s worth noting that Aquarius is an air sign, and therefore denotes rarefied intellect.”

“So if we take it literally,” Lyra said thoughtfully, “Daphne is pouring out thought?”

“It certainly seems like it,” I muttered. “She’s capable of things that no one is. Maybe not in raw power, but in imagination.”

“The Water Pourer washes away the old and leaves room for a fresh start,” Flash murmured.

“That, too, is part of Aquarius’ mythology,” Naomi said with a frown. “I’d hesitate to say that it annuls sins, but there’s a definite vibe of baptism to it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe more about change and truth—astrology is a pretty ridiculous discipline, honestly, so it’s hard to nail anything down.”

“Isn’t this all a little strange, though?” I said. “When did we go from a kidnapped kid to discussing some sort of… spiritual revision of the cosmos?”

“Don’t ask us, ask the Wand King,” Flash growled. “You heard Pinion—he wanted the child.”

“What for, though?” I asked. “If all of this is true, then it should happen with or without his intervention. The stars will move into the proper alignment and the Age will come. Right? So why the big fuss?” I scrunched my face up. “Much as it pains me to give even passing credence to astrology.”

Lyra leaned up against the door frame. “Control, probably; it’s likely that he’s seeking some sort of influence on how it plays out. It’s got to have something to do with the Elements—he knows something that we don’t.” She frowned at Flash. “You keep mentioning a prophecy, one that names the Elements specifically. Where does it come from?”

“I don’t…” Flash’s own frown deepened. “Hang on, maybe…” She held a hoof up to forestall questions as she puzzled over some dim recollection. “I think I remember something. There was a goblin who I saw with the Queen sometimes. He’s a type you find among the Ring Court—sort of leathery, hunched over with long, drawn-out faces and tails that drag behind them. “

“Is that unusual? Do types usually keep to their own Courts?” Naomi asked.

Flash shook her head. “Not unheard of, but rare. I didn’t think much of it until now, but he didn’t wear Wand clothing, either.”

“Do you remember anything else about him?” I pressed, worried she might lose the thread.

“Yeah, a little.” She nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Queen Stylus treated him with a lot of respect, not like a servant at all, and I think he… yes, he definitely had rings, though I don’t know if he had a Ring.”

“Didn’t follow that,” Lyra said.

“A Ring. It’s a counterpart to a Wand,” Flash explained. “It’s the Arcana of Earth, and it represents stability, protection, and knowledge.”

Naomi, Lyra, and myself exchanged glances, then we all nodded. I turned to look at Flash. “We need to know what the wording of that prophecy is,” I said. “It may be important to sorting this mess out. Is there even the slightest possibility you may be able to find this Ring goblin, or those he was with?”

Flash shuffled her hooves awkwardly. “I, well… I’d have to find a Way back to Mag Mell—I mean, I already know where some are, and I… that is to say, I’m a great flyer, and it probably wouldn’t take me too long and…” She swallowed. “It could be huge risk. And you don’t trust me.”

Naomi slid forward to put a hand on the faux pony’s back. “This could help your friends, too,” she said. “They’re all wrapped up in this, a part of something bigger than they are.”

“Loyalty,” Lyra said soberly, “is looking out for those who need you. Even if it might cost you.”

“Loyalty,” Flash echoed, her eyes widening slightly. She straightened her neck and nodded. “I… all right. You’re right.”

Naomi smiled and rose. “I should pack you some things.”

“I should get going,” Flash turned towards the door. “The airship’s carrying me away, I’m wasting enough time as it—”

“Nonsense,” Naomi prodded her side, making the goblin defend herself with a wing, “you’ll be even worse off if you get hungry or cold or thirsty along the way. And what if you need some money? I’ll meet you on deck with some saddlebags, then you can go.” She bustled out of the room, fired up with purpose once more.

Lyra and I exchanged a glance. “Earth pony,” we said in unison, and giggled.

Giving us a puzzled look before turning to the door, Flash departed after her. I started off as well and went down the corridor towards the aft of the ship. Lyra called after me, “Leit? You going somewhere? I thought we’d catch up.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, nodding at her, “I just wanted to take care of something first.”

“Not going to see Marc, are you?” Lyra asked with a grin.

I lashed my tail. “What? No! I mean… I just wanted to see how he was settling in. Especially after shooting people—if Naomi feels bad about the fight, imagine how he must feel?” Lyra said nothing, and I glanced back at her. “I only wanted to say hi, really.”

“Really,” Lyra said, deadpan. “Well, you have fun!”

“I’m not going to have fun,” I growled, snapping my tail at her and continuing on with my head held high. Lyra just didn’t understand my lofty, sincere ideals. I couldn’t help it if she was puerile and obsessed with temporal affairs.

Not that Marcus had anything to do with affairs, of course.

My steps carried me to the engine room, since I had seen the human in no other place and remembered his proclivity for machinery. Though not normally open to passengers, the sailors didn’t seem to know what to do with their passengers, now that they came with a princess in tow. We were next to royalty, in a way, and ponies still had yet to figure out their bookish new royal. Clockwork shining with the sheen of lubricating oil churned in the recesses of the frame, while in the rear an enormous wheel spun as lightning drove it from a great glass jar filled with storm clouds. The snap and crackle of static power provided a steady background to the click and whirr of the mechanisms.

Spying an upright figure, my steps quickened and I smiled brightly as I approached Marcus, only to slow in surprise when I saw a blond head beside him. Daphne? I thought, and indeed confirmed it for a creme unicorn with a closer glance. On some impulse, I stopped rather than approach further and pricked my ears to listen.

“It’s just hard to believe that Amy, my little sister, could have done all that,” Daphne said, kicking at the paneling as she stood next to Marcus. The two of them were in a break area, keeping out of the way of the engineers. One young earth pony came up to speak to me but I scowled at her so fiercely she immediately turned and fled. “She’s just a kid. It’s not even her ninth birthday.”

“She’s a smart kid,” Marcus said. “I’m honestly surprised your folks never put you in advanced classes or anything like that.”

Daphne quirked a brow at him. “I’ve been taking college courses on weekends since at least last year. Didn’t you pick me up from there a few times?”

“You were taking classes? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat. “Honestly, I had no idea. Man, wouldn’t it be awesome if we could harness lightning as well as they do? That’s a lot of power in a compact spot.”

“Ugh.” Daphne tossed her mane. “You never paid attention to anything I did. And, yeah, it would be fairly impressive. Did you notice that dam near Ponyville? It must have supplied power to the entire countryside.”

Marcus looked down at her. “That’s not true, and you know it. I asked after you a lot. You put me off and gave me non-answers. How often did I ask about your day only to get, what, a terse ‘fine’ or a ‘I don’t want to talk about it?’” He ran a hand through his hair. “Half of what I know about you came from Naomi or Gina or Jim. It was like some sort of detective mystery.”

“I told you about things.” Daphne glanced away. “Sometimes.”

He didn’t answer that. He didn’t need to—Daphne began to shuffle her hooves and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye again. “I don’t like talking about myself. I just—” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath before letting it go “—wanted to get on with my life.”

“From the sounds of it, you spent almost ten years trying to get on with your life, Daph.” Marcus looked down at her sadly. “And look where it’s gotten us: first-class passengers on a horse-drawn zeppelin.”

“I know, and…” Daphne bit her lip, coughing something indistinct out.

“Come again?” Marcus asked.

“Ahmsorr,” she mumbled at the floor.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to slur?”

“I said I’m sorry,” she said hotly, her cheeks reddening. She bumped her head against his side and sighed. “Sorry. I… I’m sorry.”

Marcus tensed up a little. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I…” Daphne sighed again. “Yes, I do. I… made life hard for you, Marc. It… it didn’t even have anything to do with you, really. I was hurting and I couldn’t admit it to anyone.” She rubbed her chest with a hoof. “I couldn’t even admit it to myself. All I did every day was bottle my feelings up.”

“You were traumatized,” Marcus said quietly, “I’m not going to hold that against you.”

“Until a few days ago you had no idea.” Daphne looked up at him. “Don’t lie—you hated me, and you had every right to. I… I don’t blame you for telling me to take a hike. You didn’t deserve that.”

Marcus scrubbed his head and held his hands out imploringly. “Daphne, please, don’t be like this. Yes, you infuriated me, and maybe yes I’m only getting now why, but I didn’t hate you.” He came down to her level, looking her in the eyes. “I… I don’t want to see you beating yourself up over this. I swear, I didn’t hate you. I just wanted you to open up to me, to let me know how you were really feeling and what you were really like inside. I wanted you to spend time with me and not shove me into a corner except when you decided you needed me.” He paused for a moment, the air growing heavy. “Honestly, at the end there, I thought you just didn’t care about me.”

Daphne’s eyes watered and she lowered her head. “It’s not like that… I always liked you, Marcus. I… I just didn’t know what to do once we were together.”

“It’s all right, Daph.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “We’re both adults—well, almost adults—we can…” He paused, catching himself. “I mean…” He sighed. “What I’m trying to say is… I forgive you. We don’t have to hate each other anymore.”

Crying openly now, Daphne nuzzled at his cheek and pressed towards him. They hugged awkwardly, with his arms around her neck.

“Isn’t that sweet?” a unicorn mare asked the earth pony engineer from before. She had an absolutely idiotic expression of contentment on her face—my objectivity on the matter cannot be questioned. “I hear he used to be a pegasus until a minotaur cursed him.”

“I bet he was really handsome,” the earth pony sighed meltingly. Bimbo.

The engine room had become incredibly hot and stuffy in the course of my eavesdropping. My chest felt tight, and I needed fresh air desperately. I turned and ran for the door, my hooves clattering along the catwalk, and raced up the closest ladder leading to the upper deck. The blast of cold air coming from the east was like opening the fridge door and sticking my head in. Even so, its refreshing qualities seemed limited—even gulping lungfuls of cold air, the tightness refused to dissolve, and I wandered over to where Naomi was provisioning Flash, cinching saddlebags tightly around the latter’s barrel.

Flash squeaked and danced away from Naomi, covering her lower body with her wings. “Hey!” Since we’d last seen her, she’d put on the blue jumpsuit and goggles of a Wonderbolts trainee, doubtless to protect herself from the unstable weather of the Everfree.

“Oh, sorry,” Naomi said brightly. “Was that too tight?”

“Too tight—!” Flash growled. “Just watch where you put your hands, lady!” Her face softened, however infinitesimally, as she spied my approach. “Hey, Leit Motif. Something up? You look like somepony died.”

“Huh?” I slapped my cheeks, trying to restore some color and held a hoof up to keep my long mane from flying into my face with the wind. “No, I’m fine. You all set to go?”

Naomi held back her own hair, looking towards the northeastern sky. “She’s set. I’m no flying expert, but you’ve got a good following wind at least.”

“Yeah,” Flash ruffled her feathers, “not that I’ll need it. Maybe I’m not Rainbow Dash, and I can’t pull off a stupid sonic rainboom, but I don’t need to be.” She faced out towards the ship’s aft, back the way we came. “I was her equal at the Wonderbolts Academy.”

“You think of going back?” I asked her quietly, almost inaudible over the wind. “You mentioned that your suspension was temporary. Princess Twilight… she’ll support you.”

Flash frowned, looking at me for a while.

“Back at the library, you told us that you didn’t want this life taken away from you,” I said, my tone stronger. “You said that it had been the best years of your life, living here among us. That dream’s not out of reach for you anymore.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” Flash said quietly. She looked down at her blue-clad hoof, then fished around until she pulled a battered silver wing pin out. She examined it for a moment, and then pinned it on her chest. “If I make it back…”

“You’ll make it—” Naomi started.

“If I make it back,” she said tightly, “then I want to be called Lightning Dust again. I want to live here, in Equestria. I…” She shut her eyes.

“How about I call you Lightning Dust now,” I said, “and tell you to make sure you make it back?”

Flash—no, Lightning Dust—met my eyes. She even smiled a little. The two of us had gone full circle, from our first chance meeting to the assault and kidnapping to now.

I glanced aft as well, nodding. “Go, Lightning Dust. Everypony’s counting on you.”

With no further fanfare, Lightning Dust spread her wings wide and caught the wind, leaping off the deck and rocketing back the way we’d came. Almost instantly, she vanished into a zigzagging golden contrail, one that shrank and vanished to a fine line on the horizon before vanishing entirely.

“Do you really think she’ll make it in time to do any good?” Naomi asked quietly.

“You? Cynical?” I asked, baffled.

“Somepony has to be.” She smiled sadly. “I have to prepare for the worst.”

I turned my head and gazed after Lightning Dust’s wake. “I don’t know, Naomi. I think she can do it. Call it a hunch.” My eyes settled back on her, and I opened my mouth, thoughts of Marcus and Daphne swirling in my skull. Instead, I said, “Let’s get something to eat. We should tell Twilight about our discoveries, anyway.”

And, so, down we went.


* * *


“Sheesh, Leit, are you going to eat anything?” Lyra asked, staring hungrily at my untouched plate of tomatoes, kale, and arugula and slathered in a healthy dose of my favorite honey mustard dressing.

“I’m not really feeling all that hungry,” I said and poked broodily at the greens.

“Where’d your appetite go?” she asked. “You barely touched the midday meal, either. Now you’re not even going to try to eat dinner?”

“No,” I said at last, putting my fork down. Not even the nap I’d taken after Lightning Dust had left gave me any comfort. The entire time had been spent tossing and turning in my cot. “I think I’m just anxious about what we’re about to find. Pinion says we’re close now, aren’t we?”

Applejack munched on a salad flavored with sliced apples. “I hope. I’m sick of the ocean already, and I ain’t even seen it much. Give me solid, firm ground any day.”

“So are you going to eat that?” Lyra asked.

I sighed and pushed it over her way.

“Yoink,” Lyra said, pulling my bowl away with her magic and digging in.

I propped my head up on my hoof and stared across at the others, watching them finish off their early supper and prepare as best they could for what may come. Not that there was much left that we could do that we had not already done. I stared across at Daphne for a while, watching her pour feta and cheddar over her meal, and laugh as Marcus said something to her. Without them fighting at every turn, the group meals had brightened considerably.

That, for some reason, only made me feel more awkward. Perhaps it was just jealousy. After all, now Daphne had more friends than just me. It became impossible to deny that Marcus and Naomi were real friends of hers after traveling with the former and witnessing the latter. However twisted—and faintly perverse—Naomi was, her heart was simply too big. Marc had defied all of my expectations as well.

I watched as he got up and walked out of the dining area with the object of fetching his things. He had shown himself to be far more dependable than his appearance suggested, and his world-weary attitude belied a deep compassion I couldn’t help but admire.

It was a painful reminder of how I’d never really had the opportunity to rely on anypony. All throughout my academic career and the disastrous fall, the only pony I’d ever had to confide in was myself. Certainly never anypony I could really care for in the way Daphne and Marcus must have felt for one another. Oh, certainly, there had been young colts I’d been interested in, but working up the nerve to talk to them was far beyond anything a nervous wreck of a filly could have mustered.

None of them had ever approached her, either. Why would they have, really—she was a distant, shy creature who never let anypony get close.

I sighed heavily, then my hoof slipped and I banged my head into the table.

“Oh, just go talk to him already,” Applejack said, rolling her eyes. “You ain’t gonna forgive yourself for lettin’ him slip through your hooves.”

“Huh?” I asked, wincing as I came back up. “Nnn-ow.” I touched the growing bump on my head and glanced at her sideways. “What’re you saying? I just hit my head is all.”

“Don’t play coy, Leit Motif.” She prodded me in the side. “I know what it means when a young mare makes eyes at a stallion—well, boy—all day and heaves mighty sighs like that. Let it never be said I can’t tell when a pony’s lovestruck.”

“L-l-l-love?” I squeaked, staring around to make sure no pony else had heard. “That’s preposterous, Applejack! I’m—Nothing of the sort is going on here!”

Applejack smirked and waved her hoof dismissively. “Now, now, I know what you’re thinkin’: he’s a human-whatsit and I’m a pony. ‘It ain’t natural and it’ll never work out.’” She pointed after the departing Daphne. “Well, take a gander at your friend over there. She’s made a transition, and I’m sure one or the other of you could work it out. Crushes at your age’re an important part of life, so take a chance.”

“That’s not what I’m objecting to!” I snarled. “I’m not…” My voice pitched to its lowest register “...crushing on Marcus!”

I stood up from the chair. “It’s ridiculous, absurd! I couldn’t fall for him! Even if he wasn’t a weird upright monkey creature.” A glass of lemonade floated over in the grip of my telekinesis and I knocked it back. “He’s brash, ill-mannered, messy, and he dresses… rebelliously! He’s not interested in things I am—I think, maybe, I don’t actually know—whatever! Absolutely, positively not.”

My tail lashed as I paced back and forth. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t like to get to know him. As a friend! And it’s just that I rarely get to talk to anypony I find really interesting and it seems like he really understood me the last time we talked.” I huffed. “Why can’t there be more stallions like him, honestly? I could overlook a few bad habits if they were endearing like his, and a comb now and then wouldn’t kill him, and… and…”

The sound of my hoofsteps faded well before I’d quite realized I’d stopped with them. Applejack could have knocked me down with a feather right then.

“I see my work here is done,” she said, plopping her hat back on and rising to her hooves. “You take care now.” I barely took notice as she departed.

My head craned to the table and I zeroed back in on the plate of greens Lyra had demolished moments ago in my generosity. No appetite. Strange butterfly feelings. Long stares. “Oh Celestia, no,” I muttered, laying a hoof against my chest. “What if I am falling for him?”

It was as absurd as I’d protested. The very idea was insane. Leaving aside all of our differences, how he was obviously not suited for me or vice versa, how he obviously isn’t in any way the sort of stallion I thought I’d find myself liking, the simple fact was that I had no real interest in a relationship. All throughout school I’d kept my interest academic at best, trapped in the level of ideation. At the time it was because I’d been focused on my studies, but I knew the real reason was because I didn’t feel like I could trust another pony with my feelings. Now I was an independent mare living her life, needing and wanting no pony else.

Except that wasn’t entirely true, I realized as I considered the matter on my way back to my cabin. After all, I’d already begun to plan the sort of life Daphne and I were going to share after these events were over. Mere hours ago I’d begun a painful, long-awaited reconciliation with Lyra. The possibility that I might next contemplate long-dead dreams of romance and close friendship with a boy stood not incalculably far from those strides.

At the least, a chance to get out and get to know people didn’t frighten me as much as it once did. So long as I had the chance to recuperate now and then, there was little harm in leaving my shell on my own initiative.

Sliding the cabin door open, I frowned at where Daphne sat on her cot, practicing her magic once more. Even if I could contemplate the shadowy specter of a relationship, there were certain barriers to this one. Their heartfelt rapprochement in the engine room indicated a defrosting in their own friendship, and the way they’d laughed at one another’s jokes in the dining room only served to drive another nail into my gut. I felt ashamed at the very notion—jealous of my best friend, the closest thing I had to a sister, for rekindling a friendship with a boy that I maybe, sort of, might have been allowing myself to become interested in.

Almost as if she’d read my mind, Daphne spoke up as I entered, not bothering to look up from her illusionary play. “Hey, Leit. Man, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve been having. Pinion and Naomi were staring at my butt half the afternoon, and Marcus just wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

Once again, I froze in my tracks. “Oh?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even. “What did he say?” In truth, it came across as exaggeratedly disinterested, but Daphne seemed too distracted to notice.

“Well, we were talking earlier,” Daphne said, flicking her tail along the bed, “and we kind of made up.”

My heart sank at once. I busied myself with my travel things, picking up my saddlebags and checking the straps for wear. “Oh. That’s nice.”

“Yeah,” she smiled sadly, “I guess we are a little old to be fighting like children. He can be so irritating sometimes, and I guess I’m no prize.”

“I guess if you patched things up together, that’s all right, though?” I asked.

“Sure.” She heaved a small sigh. “Would you mind a small confession?”

“Not at all,” I said, buffing a tarnished buckle.

“I kind of wished we were still dating.” She laughed nervously. “Look at me, talking about boys again. It’s like I’m back in the locker room.”

“So…” I paused. “You’re not still dating?” I watched her carefully.

“Well, no. I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She shook her head. “We broke up for a reason, and just because we forgave each other doesn’t mean the hurt isn’t there, or that the reasons we broke up are no longer valid. Maybe if something changes…” She bit her lip. “But I don’t know what that might be. I’m grateful to him for helping me, but you can’t build a strong foundation out of that.” She sighed and laid her head down on her legs. “Honestly, I can’t think of boys or anything like that. Whenever I try to think of the future, I’m sucked into fears about what will become of me or Amelia.”

She tilted her head to me and smiled wanly. “Who needs relationships, anyhow? I’ve always seen myself as an independent person.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said distractedly as I wandered into the latrine and stared into a small mirror there. My mane hung long and unkempt, falling just past my knees and in general disarray across my back, as it often did when I was frazzled and hadn’t had time to tend to it. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen a hair stylist or had it trimmed. Using magic and a heavy brush I arranged my hair and tail into something less disastrous, and tried simultaneously to put similar order to my thoughts.

Much like other parts of my life, I was letting myself get worked up into a tizzy. One part felt guilty for not putting much thought to Daphne right then, while another part reassured me that she was, if anything, doing better than she had been in days. A much larger part chided me for the ridiculousness of contemplating a transpecies romance of any sort. It tsked, noting in a cool, logical fashion that this was poorly thought out. The logistics of it were complex, potentially even insurmountable.

I’d never had a coltfriend. I barely knew this guy. We didn’t even come from the same culture. Heck, I certainly wasn’t physically attracted. The chances of him submitting to being transformed into a pony were minuscule.

Of all the voices I listened to in the end, though, it was the one, tiny voice whispering, If there’s even a slim chance of getting to know someone who might understand you, it’s worth trying.

Even with that, I barely made it out the door. While Daphne went back to practicing with her magic, I pulled my journal out and wrote a list of things I wanted to talk to Marcus about—asking after his family and aspirations, sharing interests and seeing if anything gels, working out his plans for the future. Potential relationship wasn’t even on the map. No, I reasoned, if this is going to work, we’ll need to get to know one another first, see if it’s even a remote possibility.

Logical, sensible, rational. That’s the way to tackle problems.

So armed, I trotted out of the cabin to chase the wayward human down. Knocking on his door elicited no response, and searching the library, engine room, and mess proved fruitless. It was just as I started back to my cabin and gave up that I turned and nearly plowed into him. I stared at him for a while, and he looked back at me, wearing a white shirt and with his hair damp and freshly combed. “Uh,” he asked after a while of our saying nothing, “is something wrong?”

I might as well have had lockjaw from how badly clenched my teeth were. Every time I tried to bring up one of my carefully structured topics, I shied away. I knew, before even asking, that he’d reject it out of hand. What could he possibly see in me anyway? I was just a washed-up nopony whose only relevance to him was that I was his ex-girlfriend's barnacle.

If I could just… “Forget it,” I said hotly. “Just… forget it.” I turned and ran for the ladder to the upper decks. The darkened stormclouds ahead of the bow suited me just fine right then. I could see pegasi from the crew darting through it, guiding a clear path through night air.

Marcus caught up to me there, throwing his jacket on and marching up to me with a stormy look of his own. “Okay. What the hell was all that about?” he demanded. “If I did something wrong, sure, whatever, I’ll own up to it, but don’t just…” He bit off whatever he was going to say next and took in a deep breath. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s not like that,” I said, not looking directly at him, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it. “Well… maybe I can help? I’m not very good at it, but I can listen at least.”

I laughed helplessly, covering my face with a hoof. “Damn it,” I said, “you did it again.”

“I thought you said I didn’t do anything!” he protested.

“No,” I said, “I said you didn’t do anything wrong.” I glanced up at the stars above. The rest just came out in fits and starts. “It’s just… you and Daphne and Naomi… you all came out of no where and ripped me out of my life. I thought I had it good. I was so wrong. I haven’t had it good in a long time, I’ve had it awful. Do you know what happened to me in school?”

Seeming to sense that the question was rhetorical, he said nothing and listened.

“I cracked.” My shuddering breath eased as I closed my eyes. “I was staring at the books in the library and I just… I started screaming. I wasn’t screaming at them, or at anypony. It had about as much sense as a gear stripping itself of its teeth under pressure or a spring coming free.

“After that, I just gave up. Everything. It didn’t matter any more. I got a job I didn’t give a flying feather about so that I could go do my own thing and other ponies would leave me alone. And I thought I was happy alone. I thought that’s all I needed, to be in my little safe spot where no one could touch me.”

I watched him for a while, wondering if he would speak. He just nodded and let me go on, and I took it like a life line.

“I was wrong. So wrong, Marc,” I said quietly. “Daphne proved that. Lyra proved that. Even you proved that. I need more in my life than just… than just me. All I have right now is just a house full of memories and regrets.” I looked up to him, stepping forward. “I want more than that. I need more than that.”

It was Marc’s turn to look speechless as he met my eyes. To my great surprise, he slid to a knee and put his arms about my neck. “It’s all right,” he murmured, and maybe it was.

That perfect little moment was ruined, however, when Daphne came running onto the deck so fast that her feet skittered and slipped on the planks. Her eyes were wide, staring out at the cloud bank as if she could see right through it. She shouted at Twilight Sparkle, who stood on the far side with her friends. “Shield! Put a shield up!” she shouted.

The clouds parted. Green fire filled the sky, a coruscating aurora that danced and swam more brightly than the moon as it illuminated an island below. Above that island, the largest airship I’d ever seen smoked and burned, its wailing klaxons rising even above the rumbling of the hurricane that was now upon us. There was a brief moment of stillness, and then the air was shattered by thunder claps and cannon fire.


* * * * * * *