//------------------------------//
// The Third Night - Part 1 
// Story: Pirene's Well: Three Nights in Manehattan 
// by Ether Echoes 
//------------------------------//


The Wistful Heart


Rain pelts the windows and cascades down its eaves, splashing off the gargoyles and running in waterfalls down its eaves to turn the streets into rivers. It’s a baptism, a scrubbing of the city’s soul in preparation for the harrowing to come.

“City officials are asking all citizens to remain calm as the hunt for Centurion Redbud continues,” the TV in the corner of the room declares, with a mare standing outside city hall. "Consul Loam urges everyone to go about their business, but remind the citizens of the city that a curfew will be in effect tonight, and all outbound traffic will be stopped and searched. By no means has a general evacuation been called, and they ask our patience and cooperation as the military conducts their search. And now, a word from Mayor Sugarcoat.”

“Yeah. We’re up against an alicorn amulet, so we’re in pretty deep trouble. There’s really no point in panicking at this stage, you’ll just make everything worse than it already is.”

There’s a noise from behind the curtains and I perk my ears, hoping it isn’t just the bed settling. I push the curtain open and stare with quiet regret at Marcus’ supine form. Sometime while I wasn’t looking, he’d managed to kick off his blankets, revealing the whole of his very human form, the one he’d reverted to after finally collapsing last night. I try to think of a joke, something to reach him in his comatose state, but I can’t. Not that he looks like he needs cheering up – he’s got a dumb smile on his face, at least the part of it that isn’t bruised purple.

I glance over at Violet Rose in the next bed and sigh, going to nuzzle at her comatose side and lay my head on my hooves beside her. “Je suis vraiment désolée, veuillez m'excuser,” I whisper, my breath falling on her like petals in the wind. “If only I hadn’t abandoned you all those times, maybe I’d… well, I guess I can’t fly. But if I’d been watching your back like I should have…”

Maybe if I could have done more than teleport away like a coward, Luster and Wave Form would be safe at home with their families. Maybe if I’d found that damned tortoise sooner, I could have shown up in time to back him up. Now both of them are broken, and Violet Rose is only breathing with the help of the enchanted steel rig making her barrel swell and fall. Their snapped bones have been set, nerves treated with stem cells, and wounds sewn up, but they’re done. They’re out.

Sleeping, rather than in a coma, but that’s hardly consolation. Their part in this mission is over – and so is mine. I can see Gerry almost as if he were here, his words like the slamming of a tomb.

Psychological leave. The department is grateful. We’ll take it from here.

I cover my head with my hooves. “Some great detective I turned out to be.”

“Shush… kid…”

I lift my ears, and look to see Violet Rose’s slit eyes open just a hair. She makes a soft grunt as the machine continues its work.

“Hey. Hey.” I brush my hoof on her forehead. “You’re okay.”

“Don’t… feel okay…”

“Amendment: you’re stable. Your lungs collapsed, though – that sword went clean through them, seared the edges. You’re healing, but…”

“But that… could take months.” She wheezes softly, staring at the ceiling and rolling her eyes shut. “Did they… make it?”

Sighing, I shake my head. “No.”

“Marcus…?”

“Right next to you. He’s in bad shape, too. He went stallion-to-stallion with Redbud, and, well, he didn’t win.”

“Ah… had a funny dream about that… he should have believed.”

I frown at that, but Marcus’ own sharper groans pull me back. His lungs are intact, so he’s much more vocal about it, swearing.

“Gah. Living hurts. I liked it better on the boat,” he groans, rubbing his head where a purple bruise spreads.

“Careful,” I roll my eyes and yank his hand back in a magical aura. “You don’t want to split any of your stitches.”

He grumbles, complying as he turns his head to the window. “Where’d Paris go?”

My cheeks redden, particularly when Violet Rose starts giggling, however weakly. “Where’d you see Paris?”

“It was like a hotel or something. The god-damned Eiffel Tower was right outside. Trace teleported me there. There were antique lights and furniture and all these girly clothes.”

Violet starts laughing so much it makes her cough and groan as she bends. “Oooh… oof... I just… can’t believe it. Is that the mystery you’ve been… hiding in your room? I thought it was just mildly embarrassing, but whoa.”

I cover my face with my hat. “You can kill me now. I’d prefer it at this point.”

“Am I missing something?” Marcus asks.

“Our sweet little Prints is a massive Francophile.” Violet Rose settles back, chuckling with a raspy edge. “I don’t really get it myself. She tries not to let people from work notice, but she’s pretty obvious. You were in her bedroom – I’d guess she needed a secure place she knew well to teleport you.”

I nod, not that anyone probably notices.

Marcus is quiet, and I hear him shifting around. I tilt my hat enough to see him looking at me with a sort of quiet curiosity. Yeah, stare and mock all you like. I resolve not to let them see how much it stings.

“For someone hooked up to a magical iron lung, you sure do gab a lot.”

“Yeah, it relaxes my entire…” She huffs for breath. “Upper chest, I couldn’t move it if I tried. It’s killing my throat… though, I can’t control my own… breath.”

“Well, stop,” I say, and concern leaks through. “I don’t want you hurting things because you think you know better than the doctors.”

She smiles, pressing her hoof against mine weakly. “Okay.”

Marcus sighs, settling higher on his pillows as he tests his broken ribs, left arm, and both legs. “Thank you, Tracy. I would probably be dead if it weren’t for you. What’s going on?”

I sigh and shake my head. “Couldn’t tell you. I’ve been relieved?”

“What? Why?” Violet asks, and I have to push her down again.

“When they wheeled you in…” I duck my head and sigh. “Gerry said I needed to step back. He got relieved, too, after that, and the Chief forced him to admit himself for his own injuries. Me? I’m just… I fell apart, Rose.”

“You’ve… seen worse,” she murmurs, her throat raspier than before.

“It’s my fault. I should have prepared…”

“Prints…” she wheezes, shutting her eyes.

“What about the rangers?” Marcus asks.

It gives me something to focus on aside from my own problems – his intention, no doubt – and I lift my head. “There’s a group of them here, with a couple fleets on top of them. They’ve ringed the whole city, no one can teleport in or out either.”

“He isn’t trying to leave.” Marcus winces as he presses a call button. “You need to tell them something from me. I had another vision from Daphne. Redbud thinks he’s doing a good turn – he believes it hard – but he’s going to destroy everything in his search.”

“I can do that, at least. I’ll get someone in here and notify your organization.” Squeezing Violet’s hoof a last time, I rise to my feet and adjust my coat, heading outside. Finding the nurse station, I park myself there. “Where’s the officer on duty?”

She floats a pencil, pointing towards the door, and I head over to find a weird collection of people there, the uniformed cops trying to stop them from coming in. One of them, a humanoid cat, opens her cloak and flicks her wrist, sending a rush of air forward. The tops of the cops’ caps fall off, and they stare for a moment. “You will be letting us pass, now, or we will be making you let us pass, no?”

“Everyone chill,” I call, barking with authority. I may be relieved, but the cops, eyes wide and terrified, lower their hooves from weapons. To their credit, they weren’t backing down. I turn to face the goblins. Aside from the catwoman with the wild mane of tawny hair, there’s the tortoise from last night, a mare, and a tall, imposing woman with long black hair and white, feathered wings. I focus on the tortoise. “I know you’re the Ring Knight. Who’re these other clowns?”

The mare, beautiful but with an impression of weight about her, snorts indelicately and steps into the intensive care unit. “Marble Stone. Knight of Wands.”

“Saria,” the cat says, hand on the hilt of a blade. “Knight of Swords, and also being an old friend of Marcus’.”

The tall woman sighs, ruffling her feathers. “I am the Knight of Cups.”

“Priyana, right,” I fill the blanks in for her, looking to the tortoise.

He smiles across his broad face. “I, the Adherent, and my fellow Knights are here by order of our courts to present a unified front against the threat presented by Redbud and his allies. An ancient force is rising in this land, and we would cut it off before it can find its footing and threaten all worlds.”

I stare at each of them. “Okay. Well. I’m grateful. Marcus is in pretty bad shape, though – you’ll want to try his replacement. They’re coordinating the search now.”

Priyana tsks and pushes past, heading for his room. “We are wasting time, on that note.”

I head after her, annoyed but curious.

“Hey,” Marcus says, “look, a party! And everyone is invited, even some people I’d rather not see. Priyana.”

Saria beams and goes to his side, kissing his cheek. “How is Leit?”

“Just saw her, she’s doing great.”

The Knight of Cups looks at him stonily, and takes out her sign of office, an ornate golden goblet. “Well do I remember your visit to the Las Vegas Palace, Marcus Flores. King Indra will not shut up about you. He knew you would find yourself in these straits and bid me deliver unto you the magic of the Cup, that you might sup its power and be made whole, with his blessing and affection.”

“What’s this?” I ask, gazing at Marcus.

He coughs, turning red. “Yes. Well. Tell him I’m taken and thank you, in that order.”

Priyana purses her lips in a hard line, but duty if nothing else compels her to lift her hand. Violet perks as well, watching intently. “Know,” the Knight says, “that the Cup is the vessel of desire, and know that you must focus intently on that which you need when its blessing comes upon you.”

I watch as the lights dim as a shimmering liquid of pure light rises from the top of the cup. It seems to swallow the light in its own soft radiance, until it becomes the only source of it, and she lowers the rim to Marcus’ lips. He drinks, and she splashes it onto his body a bit, so that it soaks through his gown.

He goes into a fit of coughing, but manages to utter a few words. “Her, too. The thestral.”

Priyana considers Violet, then nods and goes to her. With a bit more tenderness she smooths the mare’s mane as she feeds her the magic. “Here, sister. Peace be upon you, maven of battle.” She splashes a little onto her immobile form as well.

Even I feel a little awe as I watch the bruises fade from Violet’s body. No amount of Equestrian magic or human technology can pull that off, restoring damaged cells to good health.

By the time the light returns, a hale Marcus is already rising to his feet. He takes a few breaths, then falls forward, shifting in mid-motion to hooves and wings and all the rest. Saria rubs one of his ears and he stretches with his joints cracking. “Back in the game. Not that I’m all that important to this affair.”

“More than you know,” the Adherent says quietly, rubbing his shield.

After a moment, I frown and go to prod Violet Rose, who hasn’t budged. Her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. “Hey. What’s up?” I look to Priyana. “Did the magic not take?”

The tall woman bristles, but Violet puts a hoof to my cheek and tugs me back. “No. It’s okay. The Cup did exactly what… it was supposed to do.” She coughs and I stare at her.

“What do you mean? Your damned lungs are still shredded!”

“Yeah. You remember what she said?” She smiles. “What we desire most, we should keep in mind. I don’t want to be healed, Tracy… well, I do, but not as much as I want something else. What we both need.”

Fully healed or no, she is moving a little more easily, but her lungs will keep her here for weeks still, if not months. “Yeah?” I ask, at a loss.

“We need a break in the case, Tracy.” She squeezes my hooves between hers. “We need a break. We’re lost, we’ll never find them without clues. And I have them. I wanted to find the kids.”

“Rose, stars, you could have let me do that.” I look up at Priyana. “I could have taken the sip, anyone could. Can’t you heal her?”

Priyana crosses her arms. “I will not defile the blessing of the Cup by spreading it hither and yon, but yes, conceivably you could have. As for healing, no – she’s made her deepest desire clear. People don’t change those on a whim, and the Cup would only serve to reinforce it at this point. I can tilt the results, but not that much.”

Rose hisses as I try to pull back and shakes her head. “Trace, you and I… both know that isn’t your deepest desire. Listen to me – you can put this together.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You. That tortoise has one of the–” she wheezes, her voice strained “–Rings, he can help, but there’s a reason I… recommended you to Homicide right out of school – you’re the most talented detective I know. If Gerry benched you, he’s an idiot. Go with Marcus and the… Knights.”

“But with what? What do you have?”

She pulls me closer, bites her tongue, and breathes out. Luminous vapor emerges and I sniff it in before I can recoil. It uptakes at once, and I’m thrust somewhere else, looking into a chamber beneath the earth, where a small pegasus colt, Luster, huddles under a workbench whose leg he’s been chained to while instruments fly about the room. It’s filled with sound, humming and clicking and warbling, modulating and whining, all coming from the thing Wave Form is working on, a nearly-completed mare in bronze. Redbud watches from next to Luster, his eyes flickering with the flashes of light from her work.

In spite of myself, I start taking in details, noting the rough construction of the cut timbers, cypress, doubtless to resist the dampness that seems omnipresent here. The floors and ceiling have been roughly shaped out of white stone and tunnels head off this way and that. A shaft features a hoof-cranked elevator with shiny new gears and modern synthetic rope.

As I continue to take in details, a shape enters the room, a mare wreathed in flames, and her eyes turn towards my perspective and blaze a brilliant white. I feel myself growing long, stretching until I fade and vanish.

Gasping, I find myself held up by Saria and Marcus. Fetching my hat from where it’s fallen, I look towards Violet Rose, who has passed out from her exertion, and squeeze her limp hoof once.

“What was that?” the cat woman asks.

I float my coat off my chair and turn the collar up. “Thestral magic is in the blood. She shared the vision she’d had off the Cup. Let’s go,” I say, and pass the Knights into the corridor beyond.

“What do you have?” Marcus asks, joining me. The passing nurses stare at him in quiet amazement, and we make our way out to the elevators.

“Not a lot. I know one fact right off the bat – they’re in a limestone quarry. That in itself isn’t enough to pinpoint them, because there’s quite a few of those in the area. I’d have to check a map, but there’s even a few over the island from the early days of the city. I’ll need to talk to the folks back at the precinct.”

“I shall be pleased to lend my assistance to this endeavor,” the Adherent says as we crowd in. “With the Ring we can scry many places without having to go to them first.”

Marcus rubs his wing shoulder under his jacket, his eyes distant. “Are the kids all right?”

“They are. I think Redbud is threatening Luster to make Wave Form cooperate, but I don’t know for sure, and neither of them are hurt.”

“Doesn’t seem his way – then again…” Marcus shakes his head, sighing. “He said he would damn himself if that’s what it took.”

Priyana looks down at us as we pass through the lobby. “What is it that he wants, then?”

Marcus stares out into the street. “To protect Equestria from all evil, even if he has to scour it clean to do so.” He glances at me. “I may have some useful information from a vision Daphne gave me, too. There was a mountain west of town that isn’t there now, within a couple miles.”

We all turn to look west down the street, as if expecting to see one rising on the horizon where the buildings converge beyond. The air is crisp and clear after the cleansing rain, and droplets patter down into the street to join little rivers on their way to sea, but no such structure mars the night air.

I close my eyes and imagine that I can see the city as Daphne does, with my vision penetrating stone and metal to the layers beneath, to stallions, mares, griffins, goblins, and all the other weird cells that circulate through the city like drops of blood. Cars honk, trains rumble on their tracks above and below ground, and ships sit idle at harbor waiting for the blockade to clear. Everywhere I look is some new smell, from the stink of fish along the docks to the fresh paint on a new apartment to the savory street vendors by Central Station. Everywhere you turn, from parks to brownstones to gleaming skyscrapers to art galleries to public sanitation, you’ll see something different. Ugly and beautiful, ancient and new, profane and profound – I observed once that it was a vast, complicated organism, and that I was the antibody clearing up its infections.

What an arrogant thought. I’m just another mare, trying to make her way in a city of dreams she doesn’t share, where her dream can never come true. If someone’s got to watch out for everyone else so they can go about their lives, it might as well be me.

Marcus walks alongside me down the shiny downtown sidewalk, withers still heavy with the weight of his troubles, but there’s a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there yesterday. Our eyes meet, and he offers a cocky grin. It’s good that he’s found his spirit, he’s going to need it. I hope he’s found his purpose, too – Celestia knows I’ve struggled with that.

Pausing under a restaurant awning, I float my cellphone out and dial. I have to try twice before I get an answer.

“Tracy?” Lab Work hisses. “I can’t talk. The whole department’s been called in.”

“I’m going to need you to do some research, Lab.” I watch as the Knights mill about on the sidewalk while the citizens give them odd looks. Even in Manehattan, it’s a weird gathering. “I need to know about every limestone quarry, historical or otherwise, west of the island.”

“Trace, you know I’d help you, but it’s all hooves over here. Did you find something? You can pass it on, I’ll take it to the chief, or call yourself.”

Marcus clears his throat and gestures at me.

“What?” I ask, lowering the phone.

He rolls his eyes. “Put it on speaker.”

I tap the screen with a hoof and he steps up. “Lab Work?” he says. “This is Marcus. I’m deputizing Trace Prints as a Ranger. Don’t worry about your superiors, I’ll make some calls.”

“Marcus?” she asks. “You got better? Wow. I should listen to office rumors more; you are an alicorn.”

He snorts. “No, just a lucky guy with a lot of good friends.”

I pull the phone back. “Get whatever you can together and I’ll tell you how to find me. Give me a call if you run into any trouble.”

“Okay, see you,” she says, hanging up.

Turning back to the Knights, I clear my throat. “You four are nominally leaders of your people, right?”

“We have no legal authority, yeah,” Marble Stone says, “but when we talk, they listen.”

“More importantly, we have the sanction of our respective Kings,” Priyana adds.

“Good. So, despite being guilty of repeated hate crimes against goblins, Redbud tends to use them in his plans. I need to talk to the boss of the goblin underworld, whoever happens to still be alive or in charge. Last week it was the Spider, but I can’t be sure she’s still alive.”

“Why do they call her the Spider?” Saria asks.

“Because she’s a spider.”

The Adherent nods thoughtfully. “That sounds worrisomely like one of the Weaver’s daughters. Our Queen has sometimes dipped her pedipalps into darker ambitions, so it is rumored.”

“Whoever it is, they’ll have information that we can make use of.” I look between them. “We have the full resources of the city and whatever military and government forces are in the area.”

Saria snorts, stroking the hilt of her blade. “We will find this Spider, or whoever it is that has occupied her nest. Fear not.”

“I don’t fear much, Saria. Bitter coffee, existential doubt, and what’ll happen to Equestria if we all fail are about it.” I glance to Marcus. “Marcus? I’ll want you to catch up in a bit, but for now, you should go see Rarity and Talon.”

He nods. “Keep me apprised. I’ll see you soon.”

I watch as he spreads his wings and retreats into the sky, then turn towards the street. “Right, let’s go. And there’s something else I want you guys to do, too.”

“And what is that, Trace Prints?” Priyana asks as she walks alongside.

“I need you to get the word out to the goblin community.”

“What word?”

“I’ll explain on the way.”


* * *


Over the course of the next hour, we stalked through the razor-edged shadows cast by shady dens and kicked over cans to see what vermin scurried free. We cornered bookies in their dingy offices and shook them down while smoke curled in the air and long bars of light cast through the slats of their blinds. We overturned a drug dealer’s car and beat his goons into submission.

But while that’s great and all and the information we gather takes us steps closer to the Spider – and, I hope, Redbud – it’s nothing compared to the effect it has on Manehattan’s goblin population.

We pull up to the station and find it abuzz, with long lines of military vehicles and barricades around every corner. There are long lines of angry goblins and ponies cuffed together awaiting processing, and ten times as many cheering as another is shoved into line.

A wheelchair screeches and Gerry swings into view, veins popping under his feathers. “Trace Prints! The hell is going on here?”

“How’d you get out of the hospital, LT?” I ask.

“Screw protocol is how. The Chief reactivated everyone who can count to ten and go from point A to point B with all this madness. Even your parents are out there. You’d be back if you weren’t already with the thrice-damned Rangers. Now what the hell is going on? Every goblin ghetto, dive bar, embassy, tenement, flophouse, and steakhouse in the whole damned city is boiling over! We’ve got people fighting in the streets! Every pimp, thug, pusher, and pit boss in the whole damned city is being scooped up! And somehow, just somehow, I know you’re responsible!”

“All I did was ask my new friends here to put the word out that their Kings declared war against the Underworld. Really, Gerry, this shouldn’t surprise anyone. We’ve known for a long time that that city’s goblins are sick of being identified with their worst elements, but at the same time they’ve backed them because they feel like it’s us against them, too afraid to turn them in.” I buff a hoof against my coat. “Really, you should be throwing me a parade.”

“A parade–!” He sputters and surges forward to dig his claws into my collar. “Mass vigilantism isn’t a solution! Worse, all this chaos is making it impossible to find any trace of Redbud! He could be anywhere in the city, laughing his alicorn-powered head off! It’s interfering with police business, obstruction of justice, inciting riots!”

I extract him firmly. “Legally speaking, all I did was ask the Knights to enlist community support; honestly, I’m stunned at the scale this has escalated to. Second, Redbud isn’t in the city. He’s under it, or near enough.”

He breathes hard through his beak, his apoplexy fading somewhat. “Talk fast.”

“He’s in an abandoned limestone mine, and if you weren’t aware, there’s shafts that were bricked up all over the city as growth radiated out into the hills. I will guarantee the Spider put a tail on him, and we can use that to track him down and find out exactly which one. Have we captured any of her lieutenants?”

“Oh no. No no no.” He wags a digit. “You’ve already made enough of a mess. I’m already going to have your badge for this no matter what excuses you cook up, Trace, and if you were in the department I’d thank you for your services and kick you to the bench so hard I’d break my legs again. Interrogation of the people you dropped in our laps is our business. If you’re going to hide behind a legal shield, then you can wait for stars-damned legal channels.”

“Fair enough,” I nod, glancing up at the precinct. Catching sight of Lab Work’s blond curls, I tilt my hat to Gerry. “Lieutenant. Until next time, which may or may not be my disciplinary hearing.”

I wonder, as I head away from the station and pull out my phone to text Marcus, how the vigor with which the city’s foreign community took to shaking off its fleas would have come across to Redbud. Even their jubilation demands riot guards to contain them and push them off the streets, and a forest of homemade “I <3 Manehattan” signs wave in the night air.

Maybe he’d be proud that his actions have brought a community together against its own diseases. I don’t know if he could ever accept that the goblins aren’t the parasites he seems to think they are, but part of being an Equestrian is having hope for even the worst villains.

Lab Work trots up, her steps nervous. “I’ve got the files you asked for. You sure I won’t get in trouble here?” She glances back towards the station.

“Positive, I formally requisitioned you. Probably. Assuming Marcus processed my appointment.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved.” She looks at me, her eyes thoughtful. “You know, they’ll probably just give you a slap on the hock and welcome you back after a few months leave. Are you coming back?”

“Coming back to what?” Marcus asks as he lands nearby, making Lab Work jump in fear of Gerry’s retribution.

“To work at the department.” I look up the street to find a VTOL holding station, its sides emblazoned with the flying alicorn of the Hippocrene. “That ours?”

“Yup. Got what you need?”

“I will soon.”


* * *


For somepony whose son was recently kidnapped by a murderer, Rarity holds up well. She paces before the vast window looking out on the city, back and forth. Intercept fighters flash by every so often, alert for anything, their passage vibrating the airship’s hull. The look in her eyes is the same hard, determined one that graces Marcus. It’s a damned good thing, since she’s without question the most powerful single person in the city aside from Redbud.

I hope for his sake that she isn’t the one who catches him.

Not that Talon would treat him any better. His goblin steel lance delivered the only real wound, though if Violet’s vision was clear, then he’s already recovered. He sharpens the edges with a diamond file, the whisper a rhythmic accompaniment to Rarity’s hooves.

Lab Work’s files lay before me, but I have little more to pick up from them. Geological surveys going back nearly a thousand years, assays of mineral content, recent Diamond Dog surveys – I’ve narrowed them to a range, and all we need now is a direction.

Marcus returns through one of the doorways, his face damp. Rarity looks up and he shakes his head. She doesn’t say anything, but Talon looks up and gestures to his wife. Together, the two of them take off wordlessly the way Marcus came. He touches their sides in sympathy and they share a friendly nuzzle before leaving.

“What’s eating you, kid?” he asks as he joins me at the table.

“Frustration at repeated needle-in-haystack searches.” I tilt my head towards the window. “That’s bothering me far more, though.”

“How do you mean?” he asks, looking out at the city below.

“You’d be the one to tell me. That hill you saw isn’t there, is it?”

“No.” His ears twitch. “It was pretty close to the city, just across the water I think.”

I move to join him, not seeing the city, not really. Two days ago, even a few hours ago, I would have made some clever comparisons, but I just don’t seem to have my heart in it anymore. I turn my head up to look for the green star – hoping for hope.

Marcus starts to rub at his hock, lifting one hoof to knead his joints with the tip before raising it to massage at the calf. Then he shifts his weight and does it again on the other side. Each foot in turn he treats so, working away unseen tension.

“You’ve never really been comfortable as a stallion, have you?” I ask. Why not – we might all be dead by sunup.

“No,” he says. “Not entirely. It comes over me sometimes, more and more as I keep going.”

“Why, then? No one’s making you do it.”

“I don’t hate it. I actually kind of like it.” He stretches his wings with a forest of little pops. “Especially flying – there’s really nothing that liberating. And I’ve got my family out here now, my lover, pretty much all of my closest friends. I’ve lived as one, slept as one, made love as one.”

“But it’s not that easy, is it?”

 He turns to look at me a little more, his typical shield of mirth lowered and his dark eyes serious. “Do you know how I got my mark?” He follows my glance to his flank, to the twin striking lightning bolts. “Humans can’t get them, even if they follow you into being human. I wasn’t even on Equestria. I was back home, in my world, fighting demons on an abandoned ski resort with Leit and Daphne. They’d cornered me on a freezing cold platform, and it was so cloudy that day I couldn’t see anything, just white. Today, that sort of thing isn’t scary at all, but back then I was still new to goblin magic. I came by shapeshifting slowly.

“So, with ice demons bearing down on me on one side and the abyss on the other, I put my back against the rail and kept fighting. I expected to die.”

“I’d imagine something heroic happened,” I deadpan.

He smiles. “No, actually. I ran out of bullets. Daphne and Leit were fighting far enough away that I couldn’t even hear them. It came down to survival, really… I had to believe that I could change into my pegasus form before I hit the ground.”

“And you did.”

“And I did. I pulled myself up onto the rail and leapt just as the demons reached me. I figured that, even if I failed, I’d at least die on my own terms. I just… let go. I let go and stopped worrying, just let the freezing air numb me. The next thing I knew, I had my wings, and I was flying. I turned the clouds against the demons, raining lightning bolt after lightning bolt on them, like I never had before.”

I look at him for a while as he finishes and stares out at the sky again. “So what changed?” I ask quietly.

“I got older.”

“While everyone else around you didn’t.”

“I thought, for a few months, that I’d found my place,” he says. “I felt alive, I felt special. I am alive and special – but I’ve had to fight in a way others don’t. I don’t settle. I don’t get to be happy and content with who I am like they are.”

“I can’t imagine it’s hopeless, then, if you haven’t left to go be a human again.” I frown thoughtfully, then reach out and touch his side. “You’re leaping into the abyss again, aren’t you? You’re doing it even if you think you can’t make it.”

He smiles slightly. “I spoke to Leit Motif while I was out. It’s a thing we can do in our little friendship circle. Her point came down to whether or not I could believe in myself. She believes in me, so why won’t I? So, yeah. I’m taking the leap, because those kids need me – and because I need it for myself, to know who I really am.”

We share that in silence. After a while, he turns his head to me. “And what about you? Because I think we both know that it isn’t really about Paris.”

“I do love Paris,” I say, looking over the city lights. “It’s nothing like this city. Have you ever been?”

“I have. Few times. Would you like to hear about it?”

“Maybe later. I’ve heard everything there is to hear about it, or just about.” I take my hat off and comb my hoof through my mane to settle it. “There isn’t a street I haven’t visited in my dreams. I even keep up with local news, just so I can feel what’s going on there.”

Looking down at my hat, I sigh and place it on the table nearby. “So I know that if I do go, I can only be disappointed. That’s how the world works. That’s reality. We live in a marvelous age, we’ve come to understand that the heavens are filled with worlds and beautiful, incredible things the likes of which we couldn’t have imagined. But it isn’t a dream. It’s nothing like a dream. It’s not like a movie, where things get wrapped up neatly. Even a story that tries to capture the messiness of it only reflects the truth dimly. Because we don’t want the truth. Because we can’t have the truth.”

I throw my coat off, letting it skid nearby.

“Trace…” He puts a hoof against my shoulder gently.

“That’s all I want,” I whisper. “I want my dreams and I try to make them real, but every time I try to capture them they fall short. I play at being a hard-boiled detective, and I’m good at it, but the affectations are just… I see so many awful things, and if I write it in my head so that it’s a story it isn’t so bad. I can get through it, catch the bad guys, and make the world a better place. I really can. I’ve really made a difference. But it isn’t a dream, it isn’t a story. In a story you don’t get to see the hero comforting a murder victim’s family unless it’s to tug at the reader’s heart strings.”

A loud sniff escapes, and I rub at my nose stubbornly. “In a story I’d write, I’d run into the stallion of my dreams and we’d track Redbud down and go to a nice little flat together at the end. There’d be mysterious pasts and dark secrets and the careful interplay of light and shadow. If there’s a sequel we’d be called out of retirement and there’d be challenges that question our very existence, but we’d pull through them because that’s what we do. But you aren’t that stallion, even if you weren’t taken, and we could all die tonight and be forgotten.

“All seeing the real Paris would do is disappoint me, like everything else in my life has. I want it to remain like it is, I want it to stay a story in my head, so that I can always dream.”

Marcus is quiet for a while, and I let myself lean against him, just a bit. I don’t cry, but he’s already seen my heart once before already. There’s not much shame in him seeing the real me at this point.

“It’s the most beautiful city in the worlds.” His voice barely carries to my ear, barely more than a stirring of the air. “You know it. You can see it, you can walk its streets. You hear the voices of its people, you smell the bread baking in the morning and in the evening you curl on a bench before the river with a bottle of wine and watch as the city turns into a sea of stars.”

He nuzzles at my mane and pulls me close. “No one can ever take that away from you, not if you don’t let them. They can try, they can try to tarnish it by making fun of you, or trying to pull you down by telling you all the terrible things about it that they know or have heard. The whole world will try to shrink and diminish it, but the only person who can change it is you. Maybe life can’t be a story, but it’s beautiful stories like yours that make it worth living for, because even if we can’t make it as beautiful or as purposeful as our imaginations would like it, we can draw them closer together and fill the world with little sparks of perfection.”

I look up, and his eyes are filled with tears, swimming with the lights of Manehattan far below. “That’s real divinity. That’s what being an alicorn is, or a god. It’s rising above the pettiness and the shadows and embracing those dreams, even if the whole world tells you it’s impossible.”

Gently, I nuzzle up at him, and brush his lips with mine. Just a little, until my heart starts to flutter and I put my hoof to his chest and feel his own beat steadily, even as we draw apart. He smiles and, bless him, doesn’t ruin the moment by talking. It’s not a very long one, but it is our moment.

A flickering out of the corner of my eye draws my attention, and I look to see the green star shining like a tiny sun. Daphne’s sign floats west over the city. At the same time, the interceptors rattle the deck as fighters move north, and the whole ship begins to turn. I move to collect my hat and my coat and don them, shrouding my beating heart in layers of shadow and meaning.

“Trace here,” I say in a clipped, precise fashion as I tap the intercom. “Deck officer, what’s the situation?”

“Titanspawn, ma’am. They’re flooding in from the sea. It’s pandaemonium – literally.”

My ear twitches as a thought occurs to me, and though it isn’t an idea born of rational process, I embrace it nonetheless. “They’re coming to stop Redbud. What he’s doing is an existential threat to them, too, if it’s anything like your vision. A force of Order so unforgiving it can’t tolerate even the least amount of chaos.”

“And damn the whole city in the process,” Marcus says darkly. “They won’t discriminate, either.”

Floating my radio over, I click the police frequency. “Lab Work, doll for the love of Celestia and double whiskey shots, please tell me you have something.”

“I do!” her voice crackles back. “You’d better get down here, with whatever you can spare.”

“I don’t know how much that is. You’ve probably heard the chatter.”

“Yeah, just hurry. And Trace?”

“What?” I ask, heading for the launch bay.

“It’s good to hear the real you again.”

I smile warmly. “Lab Work, if we make it through this, I promise you’ll see the real me for the first time.”

Marcus must have made a call ahead, because there’s a black VTOL waiting for us, its four engines whirring as the pilots start the pre-flight check. Armed soldiers from the Hippocrene of every race, even a couple humans, pile into the back.

I step up to the ramp and turn when I notice that Marcus isn’t behind me. Instead, he’s standing before the open bay doors, looking down at the city as it rotates below.

“What is it?” I call, shouting over the wind.

He looks up, his mane and tail blown by the breeze and his jacket pressed tight. “Trace?”

“Marcus?”

His face splits in a wide smile, and for just a moment he’s the most handsome stallion in the world. Maybe I can’t have him, but for the first time in a long time, I’m looking.

“We’ll always have Paris.”

Then he leaps, spreads his wing, and vanishes.

Grumbling, I walk up the ramp with my cheeks glowing hot. “Damn it. That’s my line.”


* * * * * * *