//------------------------------// // Book One: Chapter Thirteen: The Three Serpents // Story: Myths and Birthrights // by Tundara //------------------------------// Myths and Birthrights By Tundara Chapter 13: The Three Serpents It was from the mizzentop that Greater St. Pansy was first spotted, or rather, the thick bank of cloud that hung around the island. A plain strip of land, dotted only with the occasional prickly tree or shrub among swaths of stubby cacti, Greater St. Pansy was as devoid of features as Hardy had promised, and then some. Calling it featureless would have been kind. There was nothing to distinguish the island besides its isolation off the usual trade routes. The Bellerophon approached from the north at an easy pace under topsails only, with every sharp eye looking for the rocky shoals that would spring up close to shore out of the great depths. The lookouts had been in their accustomed spots since encountering the poor mare of the wreck, and it was with relief more than apprehension that they watched the dangerous shore draw nearer. All around her, the water was so clear that Twilight—standing at the rail with Rainbow, Fleur, and the doctor—could see a large barracuda swimming along at a lazy pace some ten or more fathoms down. Beneath the barracuda danced a kelp forest with fish of all colours and varieties darting about. Near the shore, the water went from a wonderful azure hue to a light aqua, a dark streak marking the channel.   Within that lagoon, two other ships waited, already at anchor. The closer and larger of the two was the Sea Serpent, that most notorious of piratical ships. Hardy had named her the moment he clapped his eyes on her streaked mizzen and the odd triangular windows set on the corners of the gallery. She was in the middle of repairs, the noisy din of hammer and saw easy to make out, as were the ponies shimmying up and down the masts. Beside the Sea Serpent sat her prize, and what a prize it was. A large Indiamare that had hoped to sneak by during the lull in mid-spring traffic while the pirates and privateers returned to their ports, looking to refit and restock before the large convoys arrived. She was loaded and heavy with unenchanted crystals from Gryphonia. Of course the crew of the Bellerophon did not know the exact nature of the cargo, but one look at the size of her, the brass twelve-pounder sitting unseated next to a gaping hole in her stern quarter and how low yet comfortably she sat in the water, told them she was worth a fortune. “Such is a pity we cannot take them,” Hardy grumbled before calling for a reduction in sail. “Why ain’t we beatin’ to quarters?” asked Gilly Seaweed to her sister. Green shot Gilly a look of contempt as she snapped, “’Cause, we gots the princess an’ her entourage aboard.” “So?” “So, you piss-eared sow, Cap’n ain’t gunna endanger her, is he? And they,” Green indicated the Sea Serpent with a nod, “ain’t gunna try to take us, like. Not with her aboard. As if’n that frigate there has a chance against us.” Gilly shook her head. “I don’t get it. Wouldn’t she make a good hostage? Her ransom would be—” “Ha! That’s Captain Bloodrose over there, and she’s a lot smarter than us both put together. She knows she can’t take the princess. Gods have tried, Gilly. Why, Princess Twilight’s faced Nightmare Moon, Discord, and fought her way through an army o’ changelings to reach her cousin. The princess would make short work of that lot over there, mark my words.”             Whatever the captain of the Sea Serpent thought, it was apparent the pirates didn’t desire a fight, nor expect one. They continued about their tasks as if the Bellerophon was no more a concern than an old cat sleeping on a sill. Running with an easy rolling swell, the Bellerophon made her way through the channel, then made for a little dip in the lagoon where she could watch the pirates and cover any approach with her many cannons. Before the captain had given the order for the anchors to be dropped, a jolly boat set off from the Sea Serpent. Up to the larboard stairs the jolly boat went, reaching them as the last bit of chain clattered from their lockers. “The ship is moored, sir, if you please,” Fighting Spirit reported. “Very good, Fighting,” Hardy acknowledged with the barest inclination of his chin that he’d watched the professional and seamare-like manner of the mooring with great approval. “Let’s see to our… guests, then.” Unmoved from their spots the entire time, Twilight almost jittered from desire to follow the captain. It took both Fleur and the doctor’s warning looks to hold Twilight back. There was no fanfare or ceremony as the pirate climbed aboard, her bright red hat standing out all the more against the blue uniforms of the sailors for the peacock feather in its brim. She wore a matching coat, with ruffles at the collar and cuff-links, a sabre dangling at her side, and a gold clamshell broach at the curve of her throat. Humour danced behind her clear blue eyes set in a puffy, pink-furred face.   Twilight and Rainbow shared shocked looks. They’d both met this mare, and they both knew it was impossible for her to be standing there tipping her broad-brimmed hat. “Hardy, ya ol’ hound, what’s a proper naval officer such as yourself doing in a backwater hole such as this? Your reputation will be in ruins if we keep running into each other in these little, out-of-the-way places, dont’cha know.”   “Can’t be…” Rainbow muttered, to which Twilight could only shake her head. There was little denying what they were witnessing. The so-called Dread Pirate Bloodrose was none other than Bonnie Belle. They’d both met her only a few times over the years, but there was no mistaking her distinctive mid-western twang, nor the wink she shot the pair. “What in Celestia’s mane is Rarity’s mom doing out here?” Rainbow further hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “How should I know?” Twilight growled back.   “Ha! That’s a knee-slapper, Hardy!” Bonnie’s laughter, deep and full, brought the pair back to the conversation on the other side of the deck. “But—and this will really twist your tail—I’m sailing under the whatcha-call-it of the Prench. Auspices, ya know.” From the breast pocket of her jacket, Bonnie produced a packed set of papers. Twilight recognised at once the royal ribbon and wax used to wrap the papers.  A stern frown stiched across his muzzle, Hardy took the papers and with a slight tilt of his head for Bonnie to follow lead the way to the great cabin. The two captains conferred for a while, and when they emerged both were flush in the face with the smell of port on their breaths. After seeing Bonnie over the side, Hardy called for his steward. “Be sure to put on enough for guests—I’ve invited Captain Bloodrose and her First for dinner,” was all he said before taking his leave. As he yanked open the cabin door, a grumble rolled across the quiet deck. “Damndest thing. Chase her to the edge and back, and here she is, untouchable. Faust, you have a wicked sense of humour sometimes.” Dinner that evening was one of the most awkward affairs Twilight had ever experienced. The food was good, a healthy serving of plum duff covered in a creamy sauce, ratatouille, and a cheese dish Twilight couldn’t name but had a smokey aftertaste that left her mouth watering for more. The wine was decent as well, with bottles flowing freely around the table. Accepting only a single glass to be polite, Twilight was dismayed as bottle after bottle vanished upon reaching either captain. Their faces were soon flushed beneath their coats, Bonnie turning a shade lighter than a tomato while Hardy took on an unsavory splotchy nature, especially where his scar left a bare patch. Conversation was all but nonexistent, with what little there was forced and quickly dissolving.  Unable to stand the silence any longer, Twilight turned to Bonnie and asked, “So, Captain Bloodrose, is it? Why piracy?” “Technically I’m a privateer, Your Highness.” Bonnie smiled wide. “I have papers from Prance letting me take or sink anything flying Hackney’s colours. The coin from the Prench ain’t the best—Hackney pays better—but I couldn’t ever help that lot. So long as I don’t practice my wicked trade on them that pass through Equestrian waters, I got a pretty liberal hoof in things. Ain’t that right, Hardy?” The captain muttered something unintelligible into his cup. Head tilted, Fleur frowned at Bonnie. “But, Captain, surely there are better ways to earn a living, non?” “Sure there is, hun, but not for me. I love it out here almost as much as I love my fillies. Nothing quite like the thrill of the chase followed by the crash of cannons to get the ol’ blood pumping. Then there are the chance encounters. We saw the L’Orient not three weeks ago making her way sout’. Now, there’s a beaut’. A First-Rate triple decker. A hundred and ten guns. A veritable floating fortress.” Raising her glass, Bonnie offered, “To the ships-of-the-line, the true queens of the sea!” The table took the toast very well and at last a lively conversation began to flow. “Take de Resolute Deal—that’s the fat prize sitting beside my Sea Serpent, ya know.” Bonnie gave a wide leer to the naval officers, all of whom returned it with unrestrained envy mingled with a bit of distaste. “She’s loaded to the top of her holds with sapphires, rubies, and a rather well-hidden box containing a dozen Dragon Diamonds.” She repeated the cargo with extra force, eyes sparkling as many of the officers let out low whistles. Dragon Diamonds, a rare form of the gem found only near the great Dragon Desert, blue as Luna’s eyes, and said to be cursed as a result. “Those would be worth a royal ransom,” Twilight said after calculating the worth of even uncut gems. There was no question they’d be wild grown, rather than cultivated on so-called rock farms. That only added to their value in most circles. “You don’t think I could purchase some off you?” After putting the aurumn gift from Zebrica in the Royal Bank, Twilight could certainly afford a few of the gems. Except the gold was in a bank. In Equestria. And she didn’t have a single bank note with her, an oversight brought on through a myriad of factors. Twilight blamed herself. She’d readied a box herself, and left it somewhere in her rooms. Summoning the notes was out of the question, for the same reasons she couldn’t teleport herself to Zebrica. “Ha! Oh, fer sure, if’n ya want ’em and yous have Royal Equestrian banknotes. I’ll be glad to be rid of ’em.” “What about a promissory note?” Twilight put on a wide grin, leaned onto the table, and fixed Bonnie with the most intense stare she could muster. “I am the Princess of the Taiga.” With just a few of the gems, there’d be so many enchantments for Twilight to try. Their ability to hold complex enchantments was unmatched among gemstones. Already, several ideas were popping up into her head: protective enchantments, or wards, or binding them to… Twilight was brought back to the dinner by Bonnie.   “‘Fraid not, deary.” Bonnie shook her head slowly. “Besides, discussing business at dinner isn’t what guests should do, don’tcha know?” Ears hanging, Twilight tried to formulate a suitable response, but the conversation shifted and Bonnie’s attention was taken up with Hardy once more. Twilight sat back and listened for a while, watching how the captains began trading stories of a chase they’d had in the south seas a decade earlier, running through storm and tossing seas. From this came such diverse topics as the colour of the Phoenixes of the Zebrican heartlands—white with gold tips on their wings—and the sailing characteristics of the captains’ previous commands.   “Well, Hardy, it’s been an experience. I’m glad I shifted course to cut you off,” an exceedingly drunk Bonnie slurred as dinner came to a close. With help Bonnie put on her hat. She waggled a hoof at Twilight, and added, “We’ll have to do this again, Twi, when you get home. You, me, and my Rarity. Hehehe, that rhymed. She goes on and on about you, ya know. I’d wonder if she didn’t have an eye on you, ’cept I know my filly has been enchanted by some coat whited… No, white coated… Some white coated… enchanterer… Enchanting Rarity… She’s suppose to do the enchanting...” Bonnie gave a triumphant nod at having succeeded in saying her thoughts before being lead out onto the deck. Given the hours of eating aboard ship—the captain’s dinner held at what land ponies would have considered afternoon tea—the sun was still up, though hanging rather close to the horizon. Twilight swore it was giving her a scathing look. Worry flashed through her that she was late for the evening rendezvous with her cousins. A quick check of her internal chronometer told her she hadn’t missed waking her stars, though a few were beginning to yawn and stretch. Deciding it was all in her head, Twilight put Sol out of her thoughts, and found something curious; the sun wasn’t the source of her unease at all. Before she could discern what was bothering her, Bonnie staggered over to Twilight and wrapped a hoof around her neck in a crushing hug that set everypony watching on their back hooves. “You, yous take care now, Princess.” Bonnie drew the title out in a long slur and almost tipped over as she attempted to pat Twilight on the cheek. She then reached into her jacket and pulled out a small, lumpy package of folded parchment sealed with wax. “Here, deary, a present,” she said as she shoved the package at Twilight. Taking it, Twilight was certain she’d find a Dragon Diamond within . A quick peek showed her to be wrong; it was all of the diamonds, their cut facets sparkling with an exceptional quality.   Hooves guided Bonnie to the edge as Twilight attempted to formulate a response. Rushing to the rail, Twilight called down a torrent of thanks as Bonnie was lowered in a sling to her bargemares. There were many shaking heads on the Bellerophon’s deck and the crew from the Sea Serpent gave their captain glares that never would have been countenanced among the navy. When the barge had pulled out of earshot, Hardy gave his own head a shake at last. “Never have I met a mare so… frustrating. If only she’d joined the navy rather than taken to piratical trades.” He watched the barge continue across the bay a few moments longer, the water a wonderful orange-gold in the lessening light, before asking Twilight if she’d take a few turns about the deck with him. “My plans, Princess, have to change, sadly. I can’t risk resettling the ship’s stores with that lot sitting over there. I’m of a mind to weigh anchor at first light and ride out the Season traveling as originally intended.” “I can guarantee they won't try anything, Captain.” Twilight gave him a very confident smile. “Because you’re friends with Captain Bloodrose’s daughters?” “Well… yes.” Twilight’s smile turned sheepish, the corners flattening a little. “I mean, I was as surprised as anypony to see her, as I’d been told she was in the business of wealth redistribution. I thought she was a merchant or maybe an investor. Part of the gentry, at least.” Hardy raised a brow at Twilight’s assurance, but didn’t say anything. A nervous clip to her words so they came close set, Twilight added, “But, yes, there is no way Celestia doesn’t know about Bonnie. Celestia, I’ve learned, doesn’t skip little details like what the parents of the ponies who will save her sister do for a living, or where they are. I wouldn’t put it past her to have been helping Bonnie in secret! Hehehe.” “I’m not sure if I should be reassured or worried by that,” Hardy admitted slowly, chewing on his words. “I could ask her, if you want?” Hardy made to respond, but found Twilight had stopped next to the main yardarm braces, her eyes aglow, communing with Polaris to bring out the stars. Like every other evening since her awakening, the night began with stars bursting to life in waves that rippled and splashed through the heavens above Ioka. Her task waking the stars complete, Twilight spun to speak with her cousins. They were some distance away, even as aetherial beings, but neither where Twilight expected. Luna, while above Equestria, was further east than usual. As for Celestia, it took Twilight a moment to discern her location: far, far to the south, right at the very edge of the disc. Had Twilight a face, she would have frowned, and perhaps pinched her brows. Sol seemed equally curious, lingering with just a small sliver peeking over the disc a few seconds longer before fully vanishing into the umbra beneath Ioka. Twilight had to hurry as Celestia began at once to return to her body, eschewing their usual nightly discourse. Even Luna was leaving the heavens earlier than usual, descending back towards Equestria. Grinding her teeth, Twilight concentrated on reaching Celestia before she became too hard to detect. Perhaps sensing Twilight’s approach, Celestia halted her descent. “Twilight, I’m afraid I cannot speak tonight,” Celestia called when Twilight drew close enough to hear, a distance that would have been many leagues if measured on the disc. “Just a quick word!” Twilight slowed a little to let parts of herself catch up. She’d become spread out and thin in her race, lacking her cousins experience with her aetherial form. “Did you know about Rarity’s mother being a pirate?” Celestia gave a little huff. “Oh, is that all? I’ve been aware, yes, and done my best to keep her out of trouble, often without success. Is there anything else?” Twilight drew up short. “Is there anything I can help you with?” “No, I just need to get back. There is a rather persistent vetfrir that’s been stalking me all day.” Before she’d finished, Celestia was already leaving the heavens. She slowed just long enough to call back, “Twilight, I’m sorry. We’ve been fortunate to share so much time among the heavens of late, but it’s been an exception that is distressingly far from the norm. We’ll talk more soon, I promise.” Then Celestia’s presence all but vanished as she crossed the threshold between heaven and sky. Letting out a little sigh, Twilight whispered, “Okay, I’ll hold you to that promise,” before turning back to make the journey back to Greater St. Pansy. A cluster of stars gathered around her as Twilight flew, forming the constellation of a chariot. Their antics brought a smile to Twilight, little sparks of happiness flickering in her wake and leaving a streak visible to all across the night. She was still smiling when she began her own descent, pausing to thank her escorts before they returned to their natural constellations. Blinking, Twilight found her body stiff and covered in a soft blanket when she finished her invisible fall. She also noted the scent of coffee, her stomach giving a little lurch at the smell. A quick glance around the deck showed the night watch going about their work in a grave silence, mares casting her little glances every now and then.   “Ah, you’re back,” Hardy noted when Twilight working a kink out of her wing caught his attention. The offending coffee was his, of course, and he stood at his usual spot, marveling at the stars. The shine seemed all the more lustrous that night for Twilight’s extended stay in their midst. “How long was I away?” Twilight attempted to ask, but only the first few words managed to work their way up her parched throat. “Sol set about an hour ago.” There was a little clatter as he set his coffee down on the tray waiting atop Barrel Scraper’s back. “We were starting to grow worried. I daresay your conversation with Her Highness must have been interesting.” Twilight’s wings snapped to her side and she looked away from the captain. Taking an offered glass of honey-sweetened water from the steward, she wet her lips. “Oh, um, I guess you could say that. Has it really been an hour?” A simple glance upwards told her that, if anything, Hardy was rounding down and it had taken her close to half again as long. Her frown grew. It had seemed only several minutes to Twilight.      Shortly thereafter they parted company. Hardy’s violin soon filled the bay with a happy, bouncy tune accompanied by Timely on his cello. Twilight, Bonnie’s gift tight beneath a wing, went to check in on Rainbow, who’d fallen victim to the cruel predations of seasickness before dinner could begin.       The chorus of songbirds mingling with the general hum of conversation, interspersed with the laughter of foals dragged Trixie back to consciousness. Dull aches and pains found her next, criss-crossing in jagged lines or worked deep into her bones such that Trixie was both exhausted and unable to return to the blissful repose she’d left. In the final moments, she became aware of what had drawn her from her slumber. Trixie’s mouth and throat were dry, parched as if she’d been lost in the Great Dragon Desert, with her lips cracked and sore. Her magic sputtered, a far sharper pain jabbing Trixie through her horn and making her yelp as she reached for the cup she always left next to her bed. Breaths hissed through her teeth as she clutched her horn. No stranger to magical exhaustion—and the painful migraines that followed—Trixie spent several long, agonizing minutes allowing the throbbing to subside ever so slightly. The only remedy for magical exhaustion was the—in her opinion, horribly named—mana potion. She maintained a healthy stock of the foul-tasting concoction in her medicine box. All she needed to do was reach it without retching. Cracking open an eye, Trixie discovered she wasn’t in her wagon. Rather, she was in a tent, one beneath the boughs of a tree from the shadows that played along its white canvass. Odd, as from the amount of conversation and general hum of noise, Trixie was certain she was in a town. The lack of her wagon was also troubling. Then memories of the previous day arrived in a flood. The fight, Shyara almost drowning, the demon; it all came back in a confused jumble, the parts all out of order, but the sum the same. What stuck the most wasn’t the loss of her home or nearly dying, but the terrible, chilling fear of almost losing Shyara.   Bruised ribs protested as Trixie pulled herself out of the heavy wool blankets and towards the tent flap. Her head pounded more and more, the shrill laughter of playing foals only making it even more oppressive. Holding her breath, Trixie pulled the flap aside just enough to look beyond and found herself staring out over a field of… she wasn’t sure what, exactly. Trixie thought of herself as having a greater knowledge of the disc than most, but the large, brown equines moving about and playing stumped her. She almost thought them to be deer, but the deer had vanished millennia earlier—smote by Celestia, or something. Or maybe it had only been a city. The legend was obscure and especially fuzzy that moment. If her thoughts hadn’t been framed around an incessant pounding, Trixie might have remembered an old book she’d read about the halla. As it was, she could only focus on two things: finding Shyara, and wondering if it was possible her potion cache had survived the wagon’s tumble, being crushed, and subsequent sinking. A sharp crack like two boulders smashing together stabbed into Trixie’s head and drove her to rump. Cheers and the stamping of hooves followed. Head throbbing, Trixie pushed herself back up and out of the tent. Her tent was set on the camp’s edge, not quite apart, but not exactly in the camp either. More tents were set up next to the pond, its waters clear once more but also dark, as if it were reflecting the star speckled black of night rather than blue of day. On the far side lay the wreckage of her wagon in the reeds where it had landed during the fight. A pair of ravens sat on the remaining axle, their beady eyes peering back at Trixie.   A few of the halla noticed Trixie, but paid her little mind, carrying on with whatever they’d been doing. Trixie wandered into the camp. If Shyara was anywhere, it’d be where there was something interesting. That meant the source of the crashing and cheers, exactly where Trixie did not wish to go. The noises emanated from the center of the camp, a dense ring of halla around the edges of a cleared area. Drawing nearer, Trixie’s nose prickled. A heavy musk hung in the air, one that made her tail itch and warmth spread across her face. Without being asked, the hinds made a spot of Trixie, more than a few casting her suspicious glances as if sizing her up before returning their attention to the ring’s center. Her head nearly burst as another crack—far louder than any other—exploded from the center to the accompaniment of cheers, a few cat-calls, and stamping hooves. With watering eyes, all Trixie could see were several pairs of large brown blobs rushing at each other before another crack sounded, launching the crowd’s frenzy even higher. A hoof tapped on her shoulder and somepony said in accented Equish, “You should be in bed, Trixie the Brave.” Confused, but in no state to argue, Trixie nodded and allowed herself to be led from the ring and back to her tent. “You should be proud,” River said as she pulled the tent flap aside. “You are the first pony to face a Doshaa and live.” “That so?” Trixie muttered, her words slow and slurred. “Trixie, the Doshaa Slayer… That is a nice title.” Tender hooves guided Trixie towards the sleeping roll. “Oh, no, not slain. It has retreated, no more, and will come soon enough for the goddess once again.” Trixie’s renewed nodding, as well as her attempts to slide back into the sleeping roll were cut short, her head jerking sharply upright. “She’s coming back?” Trixie fell back on her rump, her entire body trembling. “Of course. Demons are easy to kill.” Pushed down into the sleeping role, Trixie twisted her muzzle in confusion while from the tent’s entrance a deep voice chuckled. “You forgot the ‘not’, River.” Twisting his head so his antlers wouldn’t snare on anything as he entered, Mountain gave a slight nod to Trixie. From her position on the ground he seemed absolutely massive, a towering figure of muscle and tawny fur. Of their own accord her eyes traced the width of his withers, the size of his shoulders and hock, then dipped down to his— She promptly looked anywhere else, a deep blush making her cheeks burn. Trixie hated the season, and, with her head still pounding, she had even less control than usual. He wasn’t even a pony, she chastised herself several times, but a northern barbarian: one of the halla, renowned for taking mares and rav— Again she shook her head to dislodge the thoughts, with predictable, prompt regrets. River tutted at the stag and shot him a warning glare. “Mountain, you are making our guest not comfortable.” “Hmmm? Oh, yes, I see.” He gave a slow, contemplative nod before starting to back out of the tent, only to stop and add something in a language Trixie couldn’t begin to decipher. He waited long enough to hear River’s response in the same language before departing.  A soft thud and the click of latches made Trixie realise she’d been staring at the tent flaps. The pop of a flask being uncorked further attracted Trixie’s attention. River sat next to Trixie’s medicine chest, a mana potion floating at her side. “How strong?” She indicated the flask with a gesture of her small antlers. Trixie didn’t bother answering. She scrambled back out of the sleeping roll, hooves fumbling for the precious vial. Taking the flask in her teeth, she downed its icy blue contents in a single gulp. Cool numbness—like she’d eaten an entire box of spearmint—washed through her mouth, spread down her throat and then up into her head. At last the pounding in her head dimmed. “Thank you for retrieving Trixie’s potions,” she said once her tongue returned to life.   With her mind at last clear, it didn’t take long for Trixie to realise how lucky she’d been. Slowly, she lifted a hoof to her throat, the last moments of the fight clear. A keres. Trixie was certain it had been a keres she’d seen next to her wagon in the final moments of the fight. Suppressing the desire to squirm as if a plate of wriggling worms had been placed before her, Trixie asked, “How is Trixie not dead? She remembers… she should be dead.” “Magic,” was the simple reply, one that drew a deadpan stare from Trixie. “Of course, how silly of Trixie,” she huffed, her legs wobbling as she stood up. “Now, Trixie must find her…” Her what? Trixie knew she had to find Shyara. She just didn’t know what the little goddess was to her anymore. Calling Shyara her daughter felt wrong, though Trixie wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t been hesitant to claim Shyara as her daughter before. Whether Trixie hesitated too long, or River sensed her unease, the halla let out a low, breezy sigh. “Her Grace mourns by the memorial.” Trixie tilted her head. “Memorial?” “She had us erect it for her. The little goddess said the spot needed to be marked in some manner, that it needed to be remembered.” As she helped Trixie from the tent, River explained how Shyara had demanded they bring a large boulder from the woods to serve as a memorial. In the two days Trixie had slept after the fight, Shyara had not moved from the stone. She refused food or water, and only fell asleep when exhaustion took her. They found her there still, contemplating the large, grey rock as if it held a hundred libraries worth of answers. “She’s really gone this time.” Shyara’s voice was dull, lifeless, its drained tones yanking on Trixie far harder than she would have expected. More than just her voice, Shyara’s face was devoid of that inquisitive spark Trixie had come to know and rely upon. “Why didn’t you save her too? You’re a hero! You should have saved her! Or been strong enough to slay the demon. She didn’t have to sacrifice the last of herself…” As quick as her anger came it faltered, Shyara’s wings drooping and everything about her seeming to wilt. There were no tears in the filly’s eyes, and somehow that made her dejection worse. It was as if Shyara had no will left at all. “I’m alone. Really alone now. I’m surrounded by priestesses of an unknown alicorn, in a land I don’t understand, and being hunted by an actual demon. I thought I would be safe in this land.” Trixie’s heart twisted in her chest. Kneeling, she grabbed Shyara’s shoulders. “You are not alone, Shyara,” Trixie said, the firmness of her voice forcing the filly to lift her head. “I am not going to leave you.” With a half-hearted swipe of her hoof, Shyara brushed Trixie off of her. “Don’t make an oath you can’t keep. Whether from age or something else, I will blink my eyes and you will be dead. You’re only a mortal, here for a few fleeting moments, then taken away.” It was like a stone had been kicked into Trixie’s gut. She couldn’t reply, her mouth slowly working around a silent rebuttal as she held onto Shyara all the dearer. “Your Grace, it is not right for a fawn to be so morose,” River said, though her tone was far from admonishing. “Especially one lucky as you to have such mothers. If you wish, I shall offer a prayer for her, and you.” “No!” Shyara pushed harder against Trixie. “D-Don’t do that.” Trixie offered River a sympathetic smile for the vehemence in Shyara’s tone. Shyara pressed herself a little harder against Trixie. The action made Trixie’s smile grow. “We thank you, Mother River,” Trixie began, using the only honorific she knew for a High Priestess, “but we must move onward.” Where they should go, Trixie had no idea. The nearby town was an obvious choice, but then where? Homeless—again—and with a monster that could possess ponies chasing them, where could they find sanctuary? The only remote possibility was if they caught a train to Lulamoon Manor and Trixie’s sister didn’t either toss her out, steal Shyara, or both in that order. “I’m afraid that is impossible.” River clicked her tongue as she shook her head slowly. “I would be amiss if I let Her Grace wander off without adequate protection. It will be best if she joins the other fawns in the creche, until a more suitable arrangement can be made with somepony capable of seeing to her needs.”             “We’ll be fine. And if not, what does it matter?” Shyara snorted and, finally wriggling free of Trixie, headed towards the road. “If it is Fate’s design…” Shyara didn’t get more than a few lengths before being picked up in a silver halo of magic. Floating upside down to River, Shyara gave several oaths, a few of which were enough to make Trixie’s ears turn red. “Put me down, right now!”   “Yes, put her down.” Trixie added her voice to Shyara’s, along with a stamp of a hoof. Eyes rolling, River glowered at Trixie. “This is in Her Grace’s best interest. It is up to you what you do. You may stay or leave as you wish, but Her Grace will be protected.” “Trixie just said she wasn’t going to abandon her daughter.” Trixie made certain to add extra emphasis to ‘daughter’ hoping to provoke River. Instead, River marched past Trixie with the protesting filly in tow. Sighing, and not seeing any better options regardless, Trixie followed the pair. Her mind turned over possibilities. Maybe in the nearby village she’d be able to acquire a new wagon. It wouldn’t be the grand affair of her old one, but so long as she could fill it with provisions and supplies, Trixie and Shyara could return to the road. Despite the halla’s insistence that Shyara was safer among the northern giants, Trixie was certain that the herd would draw the princesses’ attention, if it hadn’t already. If Celestia or Luna discovered Shyara, they’d take the filly away from Trixie. A tightness spread through Trixie at the thought of losing the filly. Resolved, Trixie returned to her tent to find her coin purse. Sol bore down on Ponyville with an unseasonable heat. The skies were slated to be clear of clouds all week, their tone a gentle azure, and ponies took full advantage of the excellent weather. Picnic blankets dotted the park like freckles, couples stretched lazily across their checkered surfaces. Each couple was lost in their own world: many leaning against each other in the shade of a tree, a few kissing, and a few rushing towards their homes, playfully nipping at each other’s ears, tails swishing side-to-side. Rarity watched the activity through the window of her small dining area, a furtive pinch on her muzzle, like there was an odd scent coming off the tea floating in front of her. She took a slow sip, rolling the bitter drink around her mouth as she glanced over to her clock. Two weeks of frantic work had left her back tense, hooves sore, and a low ache behind her eyes. It also left her with stacks of neatly packaged parcels ready for express delivery to waiting clients as far away as Vanhoover. Abandoned designs littered her work area in a strewn field of coloured cloth and flawed gems, like a horde of rabid chipmunks had claimed it as a nesting ground. That, or Sweetie Belle and her friends had been over to visit. Rarity cringed as the image of the crusaders flashed upwards through her exhausted thoughts. Those three were so infuriating, and so precious with their precocious hijinks. Her hoof tightened on the edge of the table in anticipation. The clock striking the hour made her jump, ears flicking towards the ringing chimes. As the last tones faded, Rarity let out a breath. The voice had not come back. Rarity’s eyes were drawn towards her corner table and the unsent letters within. Perhaps it was a good thing she had not sent them. What an embarrassment it would have been for Princess Celestia to read them only to then discover that it had all been in her mind. A slight pinch forced her to look away from the table. As much as Rarity wanted to believe it was only stress, she knew better. She tried to move towards the table. She started to slide from the chair only to stop, hoof trembling mid-air while muscles pinched down her back and up her throat. For a few moments she hung there, stuck between posting the letters and stewing in her own fears. The moments stretched into minutes, and it was a bird flitting past the window that tipped the scales. Releasing her frustration in a harsh whinny, Rarity slumped back down,  abandoning the attempt. Defeated again, and unlike earlier attempts, she couldn’t even console herself at having managed to pick the letters up and getting out of her house before turning back. A sip of tea calmed her a little. Or it would have, if it hadn’t been stone cold. Setting the cup down, Rarity mulled over the other tricks she’d developed.   Work seemed to help the most. It placated the fear, or at least focused her enough that it become little more than an itch just behind her ears. Throwing herself into her backlog of orders had been particularly effective. Or, perhaps you were feeding me, my vain little lamb. Rarity shot up on her seat, flinging her cup across the room to smash against the side door. Her heart fluttered, ice stabbing deep and spreading into her gut. She didn’t bother looking for the voice—not any more—and instead peered into the mirror next to the door. Within it was a pony not unlike herself. The reflection’s horn was longer, and her mane was held in a style several centuries out of date. Its luminescent nature—each strand of hair glowing as if it were spun rubies, with strings of beaded obsidian weaved throughout—would have made mares envious and stallions burn with desire. All her beauty ended at her eyes, dark and cold, staring through Rarity as if she were nothing. The reflection was there only a moment, and vanished in the span of a blink. Had Rarity not spotted the mare in other mirrors before she would have thought it a trick of the light, and the result of working too hard. Sighing, Rarity pushed herself out of her chair to retrieve a dustbin and bucket. Attempting to converse or reason with the shade was pointless. She only ever spoke to Rarity in order to torment her. “I wish Twilight was here.” What Twilight could have done, Rarity didn’t know. If the shade could twist her enough that she was unable to post a letter, visiting Twilight and talking about her problem would have been immpossible. Rarity liked to imagine that she’d overcome her fear, march right up to the library, knock on the door, and explain everything. Twilight would nod thoughtfully before retrieving a book containing the solution. A short excursion later—quick enough they’d be home in time for tea—and everything would be right on the disc again.       Sadly, Rarity didn’t see such a solution in her future. A knock on the door—two demure taps with a slight pause between—brought Rarity out of her thoughts. Shoving the dustbin and bucket away, and pausing just a moment to make sure her mane hadn’t been affected by the mopping, Rarity headed to the door. As she pulled it open, Rarity was confronted by a bonnet, garishly large and three seasons old. From the faint whiff of mothballs it carried, it was one kept in storage as well. Rarity recognized it at once, and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. “Fluttershy, darling, what can I do for you?” “Um, do you mind if I come in?” Fluttershy pushed the bonnet up to reveal the tinted glasses she wore and shawl tied under her chin. At a wave from Rarity’s hoof, Fluttershy hurried into the kitchen. “I need your help. Well, your opinion, really.” Fluttershy swept off her hat and gently deposited it on one of the seats before taking another. Moving to the stove to prepare some tea, Rarity asked Fluttershy what was wrong.  “Nothing!” Fluttershy blurted out too quickly. Not commenting beyond raising a brow at her friend, Rarity let Fluttershy speak at her own pace. “Well, there is something. And it’s big. And bad. And… you remember what Twilight told us about Fleur and Athena?” The kettle froze in midair halfway to the stove. Rarity stiffened, rigid with fright, like a hungry manticore had landed just a few paces away. Taking a calming breath, she smiled sweetly over her withers. “Bits and pieces. What’s on your mind?” “W-What if I knew a pony who, um, also had one?” Heart hammering in her chest, it took all of Rarity’s control to ask what she meant. Fluttershy stared at her hooves, twisting them together on the tabletop. “An alicorn’s essence. Inside them.” “Oh.” Rarity let the word rush from her. The soft blue tint of her magic sputtered around the kettle, and she barely managed to avoid dropping it. Outside of her control, Rarity’s right ear twitched, along with the corner of an eye. The dread grew deeper, colder, and Rarity darted a furtive glance towards the door wondering if she’d be able to escape through it without drawing suspicion. Her skin prickled across her back and legs, a rolling tingle that made her want to scratch. Rarity knew the fear was the shade’s doing, but that knowledge held no power. Using another deep breath to center herself, a futile gesture against such an oppressive grip, she made her way to the table, forgetting to light the stove. It was only through Fluttershy continuing to stare at her hooves that Rarity didn’t run from the room to find a cupboard within which to hide. “This friend of mine. I’m worried for her, but I don’t know what to do. Should I tell the princess?” “No!” Fluttershy jerked back at the force of Rarity’s shout. Ears folded back, she glanced to a corner of a tile on the wall, a slight quiver to her lower lip. Pressing her hat down on her head, Fluttershy slid from her chair and made for the door.  “I’m sorry. It was a silly idea. The princesses couldn’t help Fleur, so I guess they won’t be able to help my friend, either. I’m sorry for troubling you, Rarity.” Rarity wanted to call for Fluttershy to stop. To apologise. To tell her dearest friend everything. But the words refused to come, and then Fluttershy was gone, the door clicking shut with a quiet finality. It wasn’t too late. She could chase after her. Slowly, the seconds ticked past, building to a minute, then two, and before Rarity was aware of how long she’d been sitting, staring at the door, the clock struck the hour again.   Hardy needn’t have worried about Bonnie and her pirates. Sol rose to a clear Monday sky, illuminating the Sea Serpent and her prize as they weighed anchor and set their course for the open ocean underneath topsails and gallants. As they passed, Bonnie stood at the rail of her ship waving her hat and shouting, “If you reach Ponyville first, give my girls a kiss for me!” The nearest port sympathetic to the Prench was more than a month away. Fleur clicked her tongue as she did some rather rough calculations. Even if the journey to Zebrica lasted shorter than expected, she had little doubt that Bonnie would make it back to Equestria first. Unless Twilight decided to forgo the weeks of sailing and just teleport home.  Twilight certainly had the raw magical power for such a spell. If they found Athena’s daughter quick enough, there was a very real chance they could sail home before the end of autumn. The odds of you ever seeing your home again are low, whispered Athena. If Leviathan is truly on this world, then Twilight and I will be like twins suns in the endless night of her domain. There is an unease in the air. The mortals can all sense it, and if the constant glances Twilight keeps casting to the sky is any indication, so does she. “I’ve not noticed anything.” You forget that I am restraining your fear, and, trapped as I am, my own senses are dulled.    “Fleur, you alright?” With a start, Fleur twisted around to find Twilight standing behind her, a quizzical light behind her lavender eyes. “Oui, Your Highness. I was merely discussing recent events with Athena.” Fleur gave a reassuring smile, only for it to falter as Twilight pinched her brow together. “Athena? You are talking to her?” Fleur tried to wave down Twilight’s concern. “We are alright, ma’am.” We are far from alright, Athena huffed the same time Twilight said much the same thing. The princess used a wing to guide Fleur to the poop deck, where they could talk in something approximating privacy if they kept their voices low. “How long has this been going on?” Twilight asked as she stared in one of Fleur’s eyes and then the other. “What other symptoms have you been displaying? I notice you’re on deck now. Her doing? Or—” “Your Highness, one question at a time, s'il vous plait.” Fleur almost wished she were familiar enough with Twilight to clamp the princess’ mouth shut. Her interjection had enough of an effect that Twilight flattened her ears and muttered an apology. “It’s alright, ma’am, and I am grateful for you concern. I apologize for not telling you sooner. Every time I tried, something interrupted before I could reach you.” In slow and exacting detail—mostly due to Twilight following every statement with a flurry of questions—Fleur relayed when she’d first started hearing Athena’s voice, and how Athena was able to quell her phobia. That last point proved to be a sticking point with Twilight. “That is… unsettling, to put it mildly.” Twilight rubbed her chin, peering even harder at Fleur. “This is bad. If she’s able to alter your emotional state so profoundly… we should run some tests and get a new baseline.”   Twilight’s ear gave a couple flicks, like a fly were buzzing about it. She is coming… Athena hissed at the same moment Pinkie appeared on deck. “Twilight! Twilight! You have to go.” Pinkie crossed the deck in leaps and bounds, weaving her way through the ponies unstowing the hold with effortless ease. “Pinkie?” Twilight twisted around to face her friend. “What’s wrong?” Breathless, Pinkie skid to a stop and pointed the way she’d come. “I was helping Barrel Scraper shift the beets when my tail went all floppy, and there’s no time to explain—just trust me, Twilight, you need to go. Now!”   Both of Twilight’s ear flicked and she let out a slow, exasperated groan. “Pinkie, just explain—” “I told you! There is no time!” Pinkie threw up her hooves accompanied by a bitter snort. “My Pinkie Sense told me something bad is coming: and it’s coming for you, and Fleur, and Dashy.” Stepping around Twilight, Fleur laid a hoof on Pinkie’s withers. “Mon amie, you are not making sense.” “Just… look, they feel it too.” Pinkie jabbed a hoof at the crew, a few looking up at the clear sky with confusion, pinching their brows. “Pinkie… It’s almost two thousand miles to my nearest teleportation anchor. While I could survive that trip, nopony else could. And I couldn’t get back.”     A little whimper, like that of a lost puppy, was all Pinkie gave, her ears and mane drooping as she looked past Twilight and Fleur to the waters beyond the bay. “She’s here.”   Fleur and Twilight turned together, uncomfortable pits forming in their stomachs. Fleur’s mane prickled from a low, menacing rumble accompanied by an ill screeching through her teeth. She should have listened to the crazy one, Athena growled, her voice strained. Waves slammed against the bar in rapid bursts, and, though Sol continued to shine uninhibited, the sky took on a dreary cast. Birds burst from the shore until they were like shrieking clouds, the noise of their wings covering the ship as they rushed away from the island.   Claws trailed down the back of Fleur’s neck, and she took an involuntary step back from the rail. “You sense it too,” Twilight hissed through her teeth. It was a statement of fact, though the words carried a slight bite of question, as if hoping for a denial while knowing one was impossible. The princess ruffled her wings, eyes narrowed at the miasma on the horizon.   To the south, one of the island’s hills moved—a hill that hadn’t been there before. Fleur blinked a few times and told herself that the hill had to have been there before. Hills don’t move, after all. Light glinted off a thousand little edges, sparkling as if they were lost diamonds, then the hill sank behind the island. “Twilight, show mercy,” pled a nearby seamare. Twilight gave a little grunt, a second such prayer carrying across the deck, and placed a hoof to her head. Ankaa and Phad rose from her mane, with Antares between her sisters. The trio took position between Twilight and the rail, their lights dangerous and saturated. Be strong, Mistress, Antares said as to the west the hill that had previously been in the south reappeared. Up and up, covered in dead white trees, it flowed. Not trees, but spines, Fleur realised, staring along with Twilight as the hill vanished once more, sinking into a turbid sea. A gasp came from Twilight, the trio of stars darting to her. “They’re gone… No… Not gone… muffled. Something is muffling my stars.” Her eyes flashed with indignation, wings extending as if she were preparing for flight. “Please, Twilight, take Fleur and Dashy, and go!” Pinkie grabbed Twilight’s head and dragged her down so Twilight’s face was pressed into Pinkie’s own. Yanking herself away, Twilight’s ears flicked towards a distant crash of waves on the north shore. “I wont leave you and the ponies on this ship,” Twilight began to say, but stopped as several of the crew gave a desperate cry. The hill had returned, now to the north. As the hill vanished once more, drums rattled. Hooves rushed at the hammers sounding below as the ship beat to quarters. Fleur’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, trying to form words that could be heard over the din of rushing ponies and shouting officers. “Your Divine Highness, Ladies,” Fighting appeared out the crowd of preparation, taking off her hat as she spoke, “you should find refuge on the isle.” “Refuge?” Fleur gave a bitter laugh, pointing a hoof to the mouth of the bay. “If that is what I sincerely hope it is not, no island is a refuge.” Fighting frowned, but did not argue. There was no time for such a plan, regardless. The gnawing fangs in Fleur’s stomach grew to a feverish pitch as the sea began to rise and froth. Within the yellow foam twin lines of glowing emerald eyes opened, each a bottomless pit of churning envy. Tentacles like the arms of a giant squid slithered from the boiling sea, reaching higher than the Bellerophon’s masts where they writhed as snakes to a hidden tune. Patches of flesh glowed with a threatening blue light in columns down each tentacle, flanking segmented sheets of greyish-green chitin. Waves slid down the serpent's coils, sloshing against the hull as the ship wallowed in the airless day, and a pungent stench reminiscent of fish left to cook too long assailed the senses. “It’s okay, mates. She’s too big to get past the sandbar!” came a jubilant cry from somewhere forward. As if they’d heard the pony and taken offense, the tentacles plummeted in a rolling line, smashing the sandbar to open the bay’s mouth wide. The terrible thuds of the impacts preluded buffeting waves that sent everypony reeling. A few unfortunate mares failed to clap onto something before the surge struck. Holding onto the rail for dear life, Fleur watched with a pang of pity as the mares were sent careening into the deck guns or mast, a couple falling overboard. Timbers groaned under the assault, the deck slanting to a dangerous degree and, if not for the rise and roll of the swell the lower deck gun ports—opened to let in a fresh breeze—would have been underwater. Before the Bellerophon could begin to settle, rows of eyes followed the waves into the bay. A dark patch of water, far wider than the Bellerophon, hinted at the immense length of the beast.      Fleur’s heart raced faster than it ever had before, and she prayed with all her might to Faust for deliverance. And then the ocean smiled, leaving a gaping pit filled with a thousand teeth, capable of swallowing the ship whole. “And so,” the beast within the ocean spoke in a voice low and consumed with ill humour, “The Stars have come at last to face me. Do you know me, little goddess? I, who made Love bitter and loathsome. I, who dredged such bitter tears from the Sun. I, who took the Moon and bent her into my weapon. I, who twisted Spring into forsaking the world. I... who devoured Harmony.” “Leviathan.” Twilight stamped a hoof and spread her wings. “I am not afraid of you.” Fleur balked at Twilight’s confidence. Over the past few days she’d overheard the terrified whispers and speculation swirling through the lower decks like a maelstrom. Leviathan was not something the sailors prayed to placate, not like they did for the blessings of the goddesses. To draw the great serpent’s attention was to invite death, as had happened to the unfortunate souls aboard the nameless wreck of the previous day. It was not bravery, but insanity to challenge such a power. Were all heroes so afflicted? “Indeed?” The great serpent lifted her head clear of the frothing waters. Tentacles squirmed in a wreath from beneath the crest upon her brow. “Not even a little?” “Well, more than a little,” Twilight conceded with an irate flick of her tail. “But, I am in control of my fear. I mean, everything about you seems to be designed to make ponies fear you.” “Ha! It is not fear my form engenders, but Envy. For that is what I am.” Leviathan drew closer, a faux pout in her voice. “The little envies and the big ones too. The cold claw that clutches a mortal’s heart when they look on those with more power, success, or beauty. From the poor filly who sees one who is rich with a new toy, to the ugly shopkeep who desires the handsome stallion hanging off the pretty, vapid customer—that is me. What I exude, my dear Princess Twilight Abigail Sparkle Tuilerya, is power: the power to take whatever I so desire, whether a life or a bauble, or to deny such things to those I choose. And it is that power that is envied. Why, I can sense it in so many of those little sad creatures surrounding you.” A cackle like the boom of a thousand drums washed over the Bellerophon, driving every ear flat and leaving a ringing as it passed.  The tip of a tentacle gave a pensive tap to Leviathan’s lip as she narrowed her eyes. “But, perhaps it is a bit much.” Leviathan drew closer still, her form melting and becoming as the ocean. With a splash her head detached from her body and fell upon the deck, soaking all present. Fleur wiped the water from her eyes with a disgusted snort.   Next to the rail stood a mare, a beautiful mare, long of leg and with a graceful poise to the curve of her neck and chin. Her seaweed-green and azure-blue mane and tail were braided with coral pins and draped over a coat of aqua hues that seemed to shift as she moved. Wings with long white-tipped feathers clung to her sides, almost touching her mark formed of an eye surrounded by a snake or serpent. Were it not for the corkscrew horns growing backwards from just between her ears, it would have been easy to believe her an alicorn. “Is this better?” Leviathan asked, performing a little pirouette and curtsy. “I modeled it after your dear, precious Celestia, but with my own little touches. It isn’t too much, I hope.” Gobsmacked, Fleur could do little more than stare mouth agape, an expression shared by all present. It took Leviathan taking a step forward to shake the ponies from their stupor. Grinding her teeth together, Twilight advanced towards Leviathan. She’d just started to demand an explanation when she found herself pressed in on all sides by her guards, Weathered Scabbard at the front with blade drawn. “Get the princess to safety,” Weathered commanded over her squared shoulders. At the same moment Twilight began ordering her guards to step aside, Leviathan let out a low, dangerous giggle. “My, aren’t you lot a delight! I am not here to fight your princess. All I desire is to get to know her. Perhaps we can even be friends.” Leviathan’s grin grew wider, a predatory glint flashing within her emerald eyes. “So, be dears, and go to sleep.” Magic laced the final word, splashing across Fleur’s ears and leaving her light-headed. Struck by the spell directly, Twilight’s guards dropped like marionettes with their strings cut. “Much better!” Leviathan smirked at the prone ponies, stepping over Weathered as she made her way past Twilight, the princess’ ears pressed flat and rage beginning to burn at their tips. “Don’t fret, precious, there is no need for rash action. They will be fine in a week or so. Besides, a fight between us… it would destroy this sad little spit of an island and this fine ship. These ponies? Dead.” Leviathan flicked her tail underneath a nearby seamare’s nose as she approached where Rainbow and Fleur stood, holding Pinkie back. A frustrated growl tearing through her throat, Twilight stalked after Leviathan. “So, what, you want us to have drinks? Discuss things like civilized ponies?” “Of course she doesn’t!” Rainbow snapped, letting go of Pinkie to march a few paces forward. “She wants to kill everypony! Or enslave us all!” Affecting a hurt tone, Leviathan responded with an exaggerated pout. “What? Oh, Elysium knows I could do so. But my desires couldn’t be further from something as paltry as wanton carnage or slavery. I’m Envy, not Wrath. Even then my dear, lovely sister doesn’t seek to destroy all life. If we did so, whom would we tempt? Breaking one’s toys is not conducive to long term fun, now is it?” Leviathan patted Rainbow on the cheek like she were a foal that had just said the cutest little thing. “Besides, I’ve already won. My victory was completed so long ago that it is little more than a myth.” Leviathan’s gaze drifted from Rainbow over Pinkie and settled on Fleur. “I won when I broke the prison your kind fashioned for my brothers, sisters, and I. All this? This is me enjoying my freedom. “Although…” Leviathan paused in front of Fleur, her eyes taking a cold cast. It took all Fleur’s self-control to suppress a tremble as Leviathan let out a menacing hiss. “There is a pressing problem. One that concerns all of us.”   With a bounce, Pinkie bounded to Twilight’s side, Rainbow joining her on the other, with Fleur more hesitant, but advancing. “Don’t listen to her Twi! She’s the meanest of meanies! Nothing goo—” A sharp crack like a bullwhip was followed by the tingle of ozone and spent magic. Fleur blinked and staggered away from the demon. She hadn’t been able to follow the formation of a spell, the casting had been so quick. There hadn’t even been a glow about Leviathan’s horns. Beside Twilight, Pinkie was still talking, but no sound came from her mouth. Rainbow was the first to notice, her face going pale as she took a few shaky steps towards her friend. “Pinkie… your voice…” Pinkie glanced at Rainbow then Twilight and mouthed a few words. It was only then that she realised she was mute. A frantic hoof scrambled at her throat. “Calm down, Pinkie. Give me a moment to apply a counter-spell.” Twilight took Pinkie’s hooves in her own as she pulled together a counter spell. As the glow faded from Twilight’s horn and Pinkie’s throat, Pinkie attempted to speak, and still no words came.   “It isn’t so simple to regain what I take, dearies.” Amusement danced from Leviathan in a flowing, melodious roll. The sound of her laughter was both frightening and, somehow, a comfort, setting Fleur at ease. It reminded her of the bullies from her old boarding school, and the relief Fleur would feel when she’d see them picking on some other less fortunate filly. “What did you do to her?” Rainbow demanded, her voice yanking Fleur out of her thoughts. Wings splayed, Rainbow lowered herself into a classic attack stance. “I took her voice. That voice that so many of Ponyville envy, with its plethora of songs and ability to spread joy, laughter, and hope with just a few words.” Leviathan waved an airy hoof. “Now, join her in silence before I take your strength… or wings.” Fleur shook her head. As expected, Rainbow ignored the threat. What the pegasus hoped to accomplish, when with a word Leviathan had hexed a group of royal guards, Fleur did not know. Fire crackling in the corner of her eyes and at the tip of her mane, Twilight advanced past Rainbow. “Restore Pinkie at once!” The trio of stars darted down to their mistress as Twilight spoke, their lights growing pointed, heat to match hers flowing from them and over the ship. “No. In fact, I think I will take her… and them too.” Quick as a cobra, Leviathan struck. There was a bang, a searing flash that made everypony save Twilight cry out in pain, then a groan from the Bellerophon as the ship shifted beneath their hooves. As her vision returned, Fleur saw Twilight on her side, the princess’ face scrunched up and grey.   Once more the great serpent, Leviathan held Pinkie in her clutches, and the trio of stars that had come to Twilight’s defense. “You should be more careful with your stars, young goddess. The disc is no place for them.” Twilight struggled to her hooves, legs trembling and jaw tense. Fleur didn’t know what to do. She was just an ambassador. Facing down the mundane evil of diplomats was far from confronting a queen of Tartarus. Athena might have been able to lend aid. Why the goddess remained silent puzzled Fleur, and only added to her confusion and doubt.         It turned out that there was nothing to do, as Leviathan began to withdraw from the harbour. Over the water she called, “Bring Celestia, Luna, or any other alicorn, fostered, awakened, or dead, into this little game and I will crush your laughter.” Leviathan began to sink beneath the waves, a parting laugh rolling over the Bellerophon. “You should be honoured, Twilight Abigail Sparkle Tuilerya. You are the first I have taken a direct interest in humbling in a very, very long time.” The last sight any pony had of Pinkie was her reaching out a hoof towards her friends, her eyes so wide and frightened... and then she was gone, pulled beneath the waves.