“Is this diamond vapour?” said Emboss, sniffing constantly in between episodes of blowing his nose in a polite direction. “I don’t think we should be breathing it.”
“Probably just lead,” said Thereus. “Nothing to worry about in any acute sense.”
“I can’t help but notice that all the civilians have been evacuated.”
“I imagine they’re afraid of breathing in lead.”
“Oh.”
They’d all gone down into the central cave space, where the ranks of odd-looking and mysterious white buildings were clustered in beneath a light-bathed dome, once the alarms had stopped going off and the all-clear had been sounded. The hole that the Crown had made in the wall wasn’t visible, hidden behind the immense source of illumination that lit the city, but the oozes and gushes of molten material that it had brought with it were smeared down one side. They’d rapidly solidified in the cool air and the absence of the ferocious energies that had set them to motion, leaving ugly stalactites like the drippings of a candle.
Low hazes of white and black had hung over the city in places, apparently the result of fires started by the Crown, but rapidly put out by some inbuilt system. The air smelled of grease, spiced oils and a chemical, burning stink, like a cross between singed mane and creosote. The zebras dispatched at Thereus’ command had not been idle in their duties. The King had been brought out from whatever dark pit they’d been keeping him in and left in an open plaza, which had a pair of public fountains on either edge and the put-away trappings of a regular market stored, stacked and stashed around them.
Than they’d waited, and what had happened next had apparently been extremely bright, or perhaps just very hot, because Emboss saw half a dozen zebra tending to the burned eyes and skin of twice that number of their kin. The King had suffered no ill effect, however, and the Crown had returned to rightful place atop his crest. That, anticlimactically, was that. He was now engaged in what seemed like polite conversation with a trio of zebra mares, conducted from pouffes and a table. Tea and cake was being served. Emboss could hear nothing of what was being said, from the relative safety of a commandeered grain merchant’s shop on the edge of the plaza, but everything looked amiable.
“Kings are good at this,” said Thereus, now uncomfortably close as she had pressed herself into the confines of a shop designed for low, slinky equines. “Perhaps this one more than his predecessors.”
“Haven’t you been asleep for a million years?” said Truth, glancing suspiciously at her. “What do you know about Kings?”
“I was in a decelerated timeframe, not asleep,” said Thereus. “I got a crossword puzzle done while your gut flora evolved the genes required to metabolise cellulose.”
“Were you sharpening your question-dodging skills too?”
“Our information management and acquisition systems remained functional and alert for the entire period,” said Thereus. “Assisted by our striped friends, of course. Our records are complete. We know about Kings with hooves and claws.”
“But Kings in general, does that change?” said Emboss. “You must’ve had something like a King at some point in your own species’ development.”
“Certain ideas pop up again and again in the lives and deaths of sapient species,” admitted Thereus. “It’s a sort of optimising process. There are only a limited number of contexts in which sophonts can exist, and only a limited number of good solutions to the problems they face. All the life that ever sprung up here shared more or less the same context.” Thereus snorted and scratched her chin with one of her odd manipulators. “By which I mean they weren’t hydrogen fluoride based or using molten, high-pressure salt as a biological solvent.”
There was silence for a long moment. Emboss had nothing to respond with, and understood about as much. The gentle susurrations of the diplomats and the King wafted across the plaza, punctured by a throaty laugh as someone told a well-appreciated joke.
“His best friend just died, but he seems happy,” said Truth.
“Compartmentalisation, darling,” said Emboss.
“Isn’t that what you get when you’re in a cart accident?”
“I think that’s compartment syndrome.”
Thereus suddenly growled, which made the hair stand up on Emboss’ neck.
“What do you know about this moon Princess of yours?” she said. “I’ve just had some very distressing news.”
“Skies, she’s not--” Truth began, eyes wide.
“Dead? No.” Thereus sighed. “She hit the side of my starship about ten minutes ago. I’ve had Gentle Cantering interrogating her, but the softly-softly approach hit an impasse and I obtained her memories unilaterally.” She paused and seemed to Emboss to be considering something. “It would appear our records were not as up to date as we’d have liked. There was a place once, an incredibly important place. It was the locus from where my creator’s greatest achievements and powers came. It was lost.” She smiled faintly. “It has now been found.”
“I find the way you swing from cutting elucidation to Delphic vagueness incredibly confusing,” said Emboss, massaging his temple telekinetically. “What are you doing with Princess Luna?”
“Right now?” Thereus said, sparing him a glance. “Deorbiting her. There exists a seventy-four percent chance that she’ll be important to your activities later on, and I can’t even stand to look at her at the moment.”
“What did she do to you?” Truth said. “I met her once, you know. Very briefly.”
“She put an eternal orgy in our holy of holies,” Thereus said, shaking her head. “Your species is far too sensual. You should take a leaf out of these zebra’s book. Most of their males are geldings.”
Emboss twitched and writhed in his shoes.
“How horrid,” he finally said.
“I like being sensual; anyone who doesn’t is clearly dead,” Truth opined.
“Or a gelding,” added Emboss.
“My species possesses the ability to reproduce, but it is passivated by default,” said Thereus, looking like she had an unpleasant taste in her mouth. “It must be turned on.”
“Mine works like that too, sister,” said Truth, grinning at Emboss. “I feel your pain.”
“No it doesn’t, I--” Thereus began, then frowned. “Yes, haha, very amusing. Do you know how much processing time is wasted when I must needlessly consult lists of euphemisms?”
“Is it anything like the amount wasted when you pause to tell us your opinions on how sensual our species is?”
Thereus rolled her eyes, folded her arms, said nothing.
*
The shaft of Celestia Penetro Omnes rocked gently as Shining Armour worked his magic into the groove around the base of the fictional organ, feeling for some catch or mechanism that might free it. The feedback returning to him via the thaumic link made him squirm. It was perfectly true to life, down to the reproduction of the skin texture. If he concentrated, he swore he could feel the sweat and the distant, throbbing pulse of a false heart.
The decision to remove it from the statue had been made suddenly, and neither he nor Afore could fathom why they’d done it. The mock phallus undocked from its parent body with a clunk loud enough to induce awkwardness even over the howling roar of the inferno outside. The rotund orbs that hung behind where it had been remained still, though such was their artistic forbearance, so well did they capture life, that Shining kept imagining them daintily swinging to and fro. Dainty. That was a word he would never have otherwise used for those gargantuan things, were it not for the weirdness of the situation, but dainty they were.
The shaft had a tang, short and made of a dull metal like mild steel. The last inches of it left the housing and, all at once, a reverberation came through the pseudo-real sensation of the thaumic feedback. Some presence, a feeling of personhood, developed in that feedback, expanding abruptly like the imagination of a balloon blowing up too fast. It grew feelers, claws, grabbed at his magic and drew energy into itself via him. Cold sweat flash froze like boiling helium all over his body. Muscles along his body spasmed in rhythmic sequence as though he was frog legs, cut up and laid bare in a dish for the interest of a scientist, tasered at will.
Shining Armour tried to withdraw, to break his telekinetic grasp on the obscenity. It was a normally fluid and natural action, as if walking or blinding. The bond refused to break, however, not before it was done. He whinnied, but he could not hear himself. He caught a glimpse of Afore’s face, contorted in some hideous mixture of disgust, fear and blind, equine panic.
Vision faded, like a pegasus pulling out of too steep a dive. He felt his magic ebb and fade away from him, another sense and motor skill to add to the pile of deprivations. Numb limbs collapsed under him, a useless collection of now-ridiculous organs, with just enough feeling left to telegraph their complete failure. Iron taste in mouth, bitter bite of bile, tongue aching, he vaguely registered introducing his chin to the floor at speed.
Some time passed, but Shining Armour was only peripherally aware of it. Then, he began to hallucinate, because the soft but chiding tones of Princess Celestia filled the Welcome Hall.
*
Discord vanished from the roof of Wingshade’s town hall without further comment, though Twilight swore she saw an impish grin and a strange, supplicating gesture with his paw. There was a long moment of awkward silence, then he reappeared, displacing the air with a soft thud. He was carrying a long, red rod, a shiny smooth polished gem. The heat from it brushed her cheeks like the first rays of morning.
“That’s the--” she began, but Discord interrupted.
“Primary drive overseer, yes. Took it from right inside the kernel, no mess, no fuss.”
He stroked his chest and sighed melodramatically.
“What would you have me do with it, Twilight?”
“The engine should be in some kind of shutdown now,” she said, nearly stumbling over the words. “There definitely won’t be a discharge without the overseer.”
“There was a god in our machine?” Elegy said, to nobody in particular. “And he fixed everything?”
“That’s usually what they do,” said Discord, suddenly tapping Twilight gently on the nose with the end of the overseer. “Look at this one!”
“Just put it down somewhere,” said Twilight, frowning at him, assured she had no more to say, but then caught sight of the thing again and sighed. “Thanks, Discord.”
“You are, as always, very welcome.”
He promptly devoured the overseer in a single snap of his frumious jaws. It made a sound like someone chewing boiled sweets very slowly. Twilight could only look on in horror. The overseer carried a powerful initiating charge, which was intended to bootstrap the motor proper. If it dumped that load in an uncontrolled manner, and in an atmosphere to boot, there would be an explosion that, while tiny in comparison to the detonation of the drive, would still level the town hall.
Nothing happened. Discord, apparently feeling at least one pair of knowledgeable eyes on him, made a further grand show of swallowing the crumbled shards of crystal. He pulled a dainty, monogrammed napkin out of thin air and dabbed at his lips, then ate the napkin too. Elegy was, for once, speechless. He sat down on his rump and peered into the distance, shaking his head. Nobody said anything, and the sounds of a city in general confusion and disarray filtered up from street level. Overhead, there was a small cannon-fire crack as Rainbow Dash pulled a ludicrous low altitude, high speed maneuver in pursuit, or possibly flight from, the ever-looming, ever-stooping figure of the roc.
“Oh, and I found this,” said Discord suddenly, as the awkward near-silence threatened to damage the fabric of reality. “You should be more careful with your possessions.” He rummaged around in pockets that weren’t really there, for he was clothed only in fur and scales and feathers, then seemed to find something bulbous and wriggling, which expanded suddenly in size before the illusory pocket burst open and disgorged a lurid, and unmistakeable, pink mass.
Whom staggered up like a winded foal and glanced drunkenly around.
“I did wonder where you’d gotten to,” said Twilight, managing to retain her composure in the interests of giving Discord no further fuel for his fire.
“Seems as though this thing touched a button it wasn’t supposed to go touching,” said Discord, folding his arms and performing some strange, subtle trick of perspective that made him suddenly loom. “What a naughty thing.”
“Are you alright, Whom?” said Twilight, pointedly ignoring him by talking over the end of his sentence. “What happened, where did you go?”
“I got lost,” she said, miserably. “And I stole some sweets, but they made me ill!” Her face screwed up and she began to sob hysterically, pausing only to take in long, ratcheting breaths.
Twilight frowned and put a wing around her, which had the immediate effect of causing Whom to nuzzle into her with alarming ferocity, crying all the while. Discord snorted with amusement and stroked the tiny black fuzz on the end of his overlong muzzle.
“There, there,” said Twilight, in a tone of voice she hoped was soothing. “I’m sure the authorities can forgive a little unintentional looting, can’t they?” She glanced at Elegy, who rolled his eyes but nodded. “There, see?”
“I doubt they’ll notice a few sweets going missing in all this,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “We’ve greater mischief to deal with.”
Whom said nothing, but the waterworks devolved a notch. Twilight sniffed. She could smell the sugar on Whom’s breath. It was mixed in with the stink of exertion and the butanoic tang of vomit. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. She smelled like a foal who’d gotten loose from its mother and come a cropper.
“We’ll be leaving shortly, Elegy,” said Twilight. “I wish we could offer more assistance, but I think the immediate crisis has been averted.” She grasped at her magic and drew energy in from the vacuum, focusing it through her horn, then reached out telekinetically into space above the hall, neatly intercepting Dash’s vector.
She winced as the impact of a hundredweight of pony travelling at half a Mach number came racing down the telekinetic link and dumped into the base of her horn. There was another gunfire crack as the marbled roofing shattered beneath her hooves. Not missing a trick, Twilight constricted the telekinetic field around Dash and began drawing her toward the ground. The roc flew by at speed, gave a confused awk, then fell away and out of sight, glad of a chance to rest.
“Maintain your civilian defense posture and continue evacuations onto the plain,” she said, sighing a little as the magic’s intensity waned. “Under no circumstances approach Canterlot. Keep order, and expect relief over the next few days.”
“We’ve already evacuated most of the population from sectors of the city immediately adjacent to the fissure,” said Elegy. “Actually leaving the city on foot is proving hard. I’ve had all able- bodied fliers on ferry duty, but not many are up to it.”
“If the fissure worsens, any part of the superstructure falling over the edge will take the rest of you with it,” said Twilight, as Dash landed on the roof, struggling fruitlessly against the magic bonds and panting heavily. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that these sorts of cities were built along horizontal spines.”
“Ours has been dismantled,” said Elegy, shaking his head. “Over time, those sorts of structural supports were repurposed. We weren’t flying, so didn’t need them.”
“Nevertheless…”
“We’ll evacuate the sick and the old, mares with foals at foot, how about that?”
“Very good.”
There was a large explosion, somewhere in the distance. Twilight felt it in her teeth. The associated fireball rolled up over the skyline, casting brief flares of illumination and swathes of hard shadows over the tops of buildings. It cooled rapidly, and merged into the smoke layer as an ominous black bubble.There was a brief relief of panic in the streets below before they fell again into darkness.
“Gas, probably,” said Elegy, apparently unconcerned. “Fire sneaks up the lines.”
Twilight frowned, and wondered about valves.
“Where will you go next, Princess?” he said, after a moment.
“Back the way we came,” she said. “To Ponyville, to assemble the rest of the Elements.”
*
Death and Satan were abroad in what remained of the abused little village, following the street layout, though there was little need to do so. Even the timber-framed buildings, which had survived the earthquakes, were no match for the numerous concussive overpressure waves and intense bursts of heat that the brief spat between deities had caused. There was not much left but splinter and chunks of thatch, which smouldered or were blackened and crumbling to soot.
“Where you at Hiroshima, Satan?” said Death, as they stopped beside what remained of Sugar Cube Corner.
“Which one?”
“Any of them, I guess.”
“Sure, plenty of times.”
“Doesn’t this remind you of something?”
There became aware of a hissing noise from the ground beneath where tables and awnings would have served the Corner’s clientele. Gentle wisps of steam emerged from bubbling puddles in the mud, where rain had accumulated in ruts and dents made by hooves.
“Sure am glad I’m not organic,” said Satan. “I wonder how intense the radiation has to be before it boils water in the open like this?”
“Surprising lack of dead folk,” said Death, looking around. “I haven’t seen any bodies, have you?”
“Not a one.”
“Must’ve been good luck or good planning,” said Death. “I just don’t buy it, though.”
“Hey, we’re here on holiday, can’t you put down the scythe for a minute?”
“I can hardly fail to be morbid, Satan.”
There was a strange mechanical sound from behind them, then a splash, followed by a tirade of slurred curse words, all minced to the point of madness. They turned around in time to see an orange pony, wearing a hat, retrieve a crossbow from the mud with her mouth and level it more or less in their direction. Satan raised an eyebrow.
“‘eeze, ‘armins’!” the pony shouted, as her tongue slithered up the butt of the weapon, clearly designed for someone with magic, feeling for the unguarded trigger. “‘og ‘agh’ ou ‘one ‘igh ‘ighligh’?”
“Do you recognize that language?” said Death. “It’s not one from this universe. Sounds a bit like Oblique Aquatic Pan-Equestrian, but they won’t develop that for at least fifty-six thousand years.”
“She’s got a big chunk of wood in her mouth, you nimrod.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Much like your mother.”
“We’re being menaced by a mad cow-pony with a crossbow and you make jokes?”
“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”
“‘ai ‘aid ‘eeze!” the pony dribbled.
“She doesn’t seem particularly concerned about our appearances,” said Death.
“That’s ‘cause this is one of the Elements, isn’t it?” said Satan. “Didn’t you read the pamphlet?”
“Right! Magical paramilitaries.” He glanced at Satan. “She probably sees weird things all the time.”
“Hey, lady,” said Satan, nodding at the bow. “You should know, that thing can’t really hurt us. Maybe if you dropped it, we could have a proper conversation.”
There was a thwang as the crossbow went off. The bolt landed with a crack, in the dead centre of Death’s bony forehead, burying itself halfway up the short shaft. Nothing further happened. Death coughed politely. The pony frowned at them in dismay, then spat out the ineffectual tool.
“Who’re you, and what’ve you done with Twilight?” she said, aiming a ferocious glare at them in lieu of a weapon.
“We’re just… fellow travellers?” said Satan, shrugging. “Trust me, we had nothing to do with this.”
“Then you saw what happened here, huh?”
“Goodness, what didn’t happen here?” said Death, laughing. “Earthquakes, firestorms, thunder and lightning, a dramatic battle between two ancient foes, funny little bat things squeaking and scurrying around the place. They even had cute little uniforms and spears. It was all very exciting.”
“Have you seen Twilight?” she said. “Princess Twilight. Purple, wings, freaky hat--”
“Like yours?” Death interrupted.
“Nah, pointier.”
“Ah, a crown.”
“I think it was more of a tiara,” said Satan. “Yeah, we saw her. She left recently, before the big fight.”
“My brother was here and--”
“Big red fellow, muscular?” said Death.
“That’s him, how did--”
“Smelled like you.”
“But how do you smell without a nose?”
“Awful!” said Satan, bursting into a fit of blocked-storm-drain laughter. “Like the dead!”
Death shook his head and sighed in disbelief.
“I’m Applejack,” she said. “Just who in the hay are you folks?”
“I’m so sorry, we’ve forgotten our manners. I’m Death,” he said. “This is Satan.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Satan, still grinning. “We’re extrauniversal beings, just here to watch.”
“Watch what?” said Applejack.
“Proceedings, you know, events,” said Satan. “Things going on. Phenomenons.”
“You wanted to know what we were here to watch, but didn’t trip up over ‘extrauniversal’?” said Death, laughing.
“I’m proud of the fact that I don’t let things I don’t understand affect me, uh, Death, was it?”
“It means we’re from outside this universe,” said Satan.
“We live in the spaces between them,” said Death. “Though, they’re not really spaces in the same way that you’d think.”
“Well, what on Equestria does that mean?”
“In this universe, four coordinates are needed to locate any individual thing. Three of space, and one of time.” Death adjusted his hood with a little flick of his neck. “Our environment is described with eleven coordinates.”
“I am… not drunk enough for that to make any sense,” said Applejack, after a long, silent moment. “I feel like you’re tryin’ to deliberately sidetrack me.”
“I thought we established that we don’t know where Twilight is,” said Satan. “What more do we have to offer?”
“You still ain’t told me what happened here!”
“I think we did, I distinctly remember that happening.”
“Earthquakes, firestorms, thunder and lightning--” Death began.
“That don’t make no sense!” shouted Applejack. “What are you even talking about?”
“Well, Princess Luna was here, she came in her big flying thing, and she brought her armies with her, her very cute armies,” said Death.
“Before that--” Satan began
“Or was it after?” Death added.
“There was a series of pretty nasty earthquakes, then after that, Princess Celestia turned up and she clearly had some sort of axe to grind with the aforementioned Princess.”
“Yeah, because they had a big fight here, then up there, and in the atmosphere, I assume, maybe even in space,” Death finished. “So that’s really where we are now.”
“Oh,” said Applejack. “That’s better, more specific.” She sat down on her haunches, like someone had deflated her. “I think I messed up.” Her head drooped. “I was at home, like a good family mare, protecting what’s mine, but I should’ve been here, shouldn’t I? My friends would’ve been here, they’d have come back to help, I know they would have done. Now, they’re all gone.”
“You should probably find out where they’ve gone then,” said Satan, matter-of-factly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Death?”
“Yes indeed, sounds like a good plan.”
“But why would I even find them?”
There was an explosive thud from somewhere nearby. It shook the few hangers-on bits of wood remaining upright in the ruins of the Corner loose from their holds. Water splashed out of the puddles. The bolt stuck in Death’s head completed its penetration and fell inside his empty skull. They all turned toward the sound and saw that a rippling distortion, spherical and the size of a large carriage, had appeared in the middle of the street. It intersected with the ground, pulling up parts of it, which disappeared as they entered the boundary of the sphere.
Shadows and crazed images of something moving, and of space beyond, changing depending on the angle of view, came at once across the face of it. There was a gentle whoosh of air, and the images became more purposeful, taking on equine aspects. Princess Twilight stepped through, and it looked like she had stepped around a corner, though as she became fully visible, it was clear she had only trotted in a straight line. She drew up and stopped, glancing around. Behind her followed Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Whom and the wyrmling shape of Discord.
“Hey, it actually worked!” said Discord, laughing in his honeyed bray. “First time, too!”
Applejack screamed, tried to bolt in two directions at once, then fell over in a flurry of argumentative limbs and whisking tail.
“I was in a bit of a hurry the last time I went through one of these,” said Twilight, to nobody in particular. “Interesting to see it up-close. You know, I didn’t think a stable wormhole would look like this.”
“Let me guess. You thought it’d look like a flat disc?” said Discord, thinning out and losing his limbs, adopting a worm appearance, which curved around on itself, biting its own tail, before a ring of bright water appeared inside the enclosed space. “Silly Twilight. The wormhole is a four dimensional object--”
“Protruding into three dimensional space, yes, yes, you’ve said.” She frowned, studying the artificial construct from which she had just emerged. “Do you think the paths of light are actually bent, or if the space itself is bent instead?”
“You’d have been torn apart by tidal forces if that were so,” said Discord. “Unless someone very clever had found a way to actively negate these, of course.” He cackled.
“How did you get the wormhole to form through all the background interference, anyway?” said Twilight, still enraptured by the edges of the anomalous space/time structure. “I’ve not been able to teleport for love nor money.”
“I’m cleverer than you are,” said Discord, grinning a saurian smile. “And handsomer, and prettier, and older, and wiser--”
“Shut up.”
He snorted, twirling around in the air.
“Hey, look, your friend Applejack is here.”
“Wow, that was easy!” she said, seeming to notice her for the first time. “Just two more to go.”
“Twilight, is that really you?” said Applejack, staggering to her hooves.
“Last I checked, yes.”
She and the other Elements shared an embrace that was free of further words. It was only after this was done that Twilight noticed the enhanced scene of near-total destruction that surrounded her. She gasped, breaking from the circle of hugging ponies and into a jerky trot, which carried her across streets she knew but now barely recognized. Her heart pounded in her chest.
The village green seemed to be the epicentre of it, where the hulking mass of Mytheme lurked in the near-dawn darkness. It looked as though someone had taken a hammer to the outer aeroshell. The hull was embedded deeply in the ground, which was dry and burned for streets around. Of the town hall, there was no sign, nor was there any tell of Luna, Spike, the nottlygna, or the inhabitants of Ponyville. Mytheme’s gangway was smashed to glassy fragments, littered in the charred soil, so she bounded up to the entrance with a flap of wings, pulling them in behind her as she boarded.
The interior was a gutted mess. The enamel coatings were frozen in the act of melting down the walls, and the fineries of shag rug and night-black lacquer had vanished entirely, presumably vapourised by whatever terrible heat had also rendered the furniture in the lounges to charcoal. The stink of it hung heavy in the air, which moved with a strange, unnatural languidity. Ever since she had stepped through the wormhole, she had felt a clawing, itchy sensation at the base of her horn. Now she knew why.
When she finally left the Mytheme again, she found the so-far assembled Elements, Discord and two figures she didn’t recognize standing on the broken ground below, waiting for her. She struck out her wings and landed gently. They were all looking at her expectantly.
“There has been a great exertion of magical energy here,” she said, throat tense. “We have to leave. Immediately.”
“Oh ho, she’s figured it out!” said Satan, nudging his friend.
“Excuse me?” snapped Twilight.
“I mean, you have, haven’t you?” Satan said. “Figured it out.”
“You have to leave too, whoever you are,” said Twilight. “I’ve got no idea what the radiation here is like, but it’s got to be immense. Anyone not immortal has to get out.”
“Hey, Twilight, when did that phrase become something so normal?” said Death, apparently giggling. “‘Anyone not immortal’ seems like a pretty strange thing to say, when all is said and done.”
“I’m really not feeling very well,” Dash said suddenly, blearily. “I-I think I need more of that stuff you gave me, Twilight…”
“Push through it, Dash,” said Twilight, deciding to ignore the two mysterious characters for now. “Fluttershy, take AJ and Dash to your cottage in the woods.” She glanced at Whom, who was following them like a lost puppy, still somewhat teary-eyed. “Keep this one safe. Don’t let her wander off.”
“Don’t worry Twilight,” Whom said, pouting. “I’ll never do that again!”
“What are you going to do, Twi?” said Applejack.
“Aerial recon,” said Twilight.
She leapt up into the near-dawn darkness without another word, her arc describing a graceful curve toward the northern horizon. There, a cherry-pip burned, reflected light gleaming from the bases of clouds formed by the burning of Canterlot.