//------------------------------//
// The Living Wind: Canterlot 
// Story: Phantasmare 
// by Emperor 
//------------------------------//

Stonehenge had been very good friends with his gang of fellow travelers who would eventually become The Wall, a unit of ponies who defended Manechester from monster attacks. While Hadrian was his cousin, Stonehenge felt, at a basic level, more intimately connected with Antonine, the golden-furred pegasus.

After all, it was Antonine who had ended up designing much of Manechester’s thoroughfares and defenses, even after Stonehenge had been turned to stone. It was Stonehenge building one of Antonine’s elementary stonework designs when they were colts that gave Stonehenge his Cutie Mark.

He looked at the mark on his thighs, a number of tall stones arranged in a circular fashion. Through math and astronomy, the circle of stones was aligned to the sunrise of the Summer Sun Celebration and sunset of the Winter Moon Celebration. In later life, he and Antonine had led the charge to build and fortify the wall around Manechester. The Wall and the wall had both done its jobs, and so both had been disbanded.

Stonehenge still missed the feeling of rocks and stones in his hooves, as he interlocked them in place, filling mortar in the spaces between. He wondered how much this age, fifty years in the future, still needed ponies like him who could build with stone and brick.

“Bit for your thoughts?,” Noire asked from beside him.

The stallion continued looking out the windows as the train zipped by, the countryside changing from the great plains that he was used to to the Foal Mountains that indicated they were getting closer to Canterlot. “I see Cavalcade Castle is still there,” Stonehenge commented, having seen the small fort as the train rolled by it. “Well, I can’t say I really expected otherwise. Castles are supposed to last for centuries unless attacked,” he snorted.

“Feeling lost, still?” asked Noire.

“Yes, and I do not believe it will ever go away. However, I have hopes for the future, seeing Miss Iceheart. She and I are kindred souls.”

“But I was displaced with the rest of my countryponies,” Iceheart said in the seat opposite them. “You were on your own.”

“Please, Miss Iceheart,” said Stonehenge. He still was not quite familiar with his new fellow travellers to yet drop the formalities, but he was trying. “I do not see another Crystal pony around here. You left the Crystal Empire with Miss Noire and Miss Trixie, two ponies who were new to you as much as they are to me. You are as much among unfamiliar faces as I am, except everything is a thousand years out of date, as opposed to still being within what would have been my mortal lifetime for me.”

It was fortunate that the five, once four, had splurged for a private cabin. The things they talked about would have attracted curious eavesdroppers. It would have made it more difficult to fill Stonehenge in on things like why Trixie and Noire were reluctant to return to Canterlot, or why Red Wings had left his own hometown. Even innocuous information, such as what Iceheart had done in the Crystal Empire before and after its stasis, would have had extra ears listening in.

“I suppose,” said Iceheart. The purple-furred mare wasn’t really invested in the argument.

“One of my colthood dreams was to own a castle much like the Cavalcade Castle,” Stonehenge said suddenly. “On a clear day, a pony could just make the outline of the Royal Palace of Canterlot from home. Of course, it was a foolish ambition. What need would Manechester have of a castle that just a wall could not fulfill? Besides, when the monster population started dwindling, it was even less necessary.”

“Dreams are a good thing to have,” said Noire. “Both dreams and ambitions.”

“What was yours?”

Noire sighed, looking out the window with Stonehenge, a small smile on her face. “I wanted to join the Royal Guard, and I made it in. Then that dream crashed and burned.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I spoke poorly.”

“It’s alright,” said Noire. “I was angry and bitter for the first few weeks after running away. My father had just died, after all, and whenever I could finally forget about that, I would also remember I was AWOL. Time heals a lot of wounds, and what time doesn’t, Trixie has shown herself to be capable of a lot of what’s left.” The bat pony smirked at that comment.

Stonehenge and Noire looked over to the third seat in the cabin, where Trixie was sprawled out with a blanket on top of her, snoozing peacefully. “It’ll be weird being in Canterlot again, honestly,” said Noire. “This has been the longest time I’ve been away from home in my life, actually. Even going on tours was only a few months, but it’s been about, let’s see, how long has it been?” Noire counted off with her hooves. “Seven months since I left Canterlot. Time flies.”

“You aren’t worried about returning to Canterlot?,” asked Stonehenge.

Noire frowned as she turned to face Stonehenge, then shook her head. “Trixie’s spell was perfect, I think. I didn’t originally look like this,” she said, gesturing at her marble-blue coat and dark-blue mane and hair. “I actually used to be about the same colour as your coat is, and I had a different Cutie Mark. Don’t ask me how that happened, but it did. But I doubt anypony will be able to figure out it’s me, given my colours, Cutie Mark, and even height and voice are different. Hmm, I suppose I’d like to go visit my mother, though it may be tricky to convince her I’m me.”

She looked over to Trixie again. “I think it’ll be Trixie who will have a more difficult time of it, though. She hasn’t been to Canterlot since she was a filly, and she left heartbroken. I hope she doesn’t have a tough time being here again.”

“Well, hopefully you can show me around,” said Stonehenge, sensing the mood was getting a little too sad in the cabin. “I have not ever been to Canterlot.”

“I haven’t,” said Red Wings. The red-coated pegasus had been awake, sitting next to Iceheart the whole time, but hadn’t said a word in some time.

Iceheart chimed in, saying, “Neither have I. I did see it from afar when we were travelling to Dodge Junction, but that does not count.”

“Huh. Wow. I guess I’ll have to take you for a tour, then,” said Noire. “We’ll go visit Celestia’s court when we get into Canterlot and see if we can get an audience, and then walk around after.”

Stonehenge yawned. “That would be a mighty kind thing of you to do. The biggest city I have ever been to was Fillydelphia, and when I last visited, it was half the size that it was when we visited last night.”

Noire held her tongue. She wasn’t going to say something selfish like hoping Stonehenge would get over his losing fifty years already. Noire knew it was something that was going to take Stonehenge a long time to come to grips with. She just wished he would stop slipping it into every other sentence.

Instead, Noire opted to look back out the window, watching the rising sun. Within hours, they would be back in Canterlot, the capital of Equestria.

Canterlot, where Noire had been born, raised, and then ran away from.





“Huh. So we’re finally here,” Red Wings commented as he stepped out of the train and onto the platform, being the last of the five to do so. Looking up at the sky, he said, “And it’s not even noon yet.”

“The Princess holds an open court after lunch for a few hours most days,” said Noire. “It’s not quite first-come-first-serve, but that is usually how it goes. I think we will have an in, however, considering Stonehenge’s history.”

“Do we even want to go to the court, though?” Trixie asked as they all sidled off to a less-populated section of the train station. “I would be just as glad not to go, and in your case, I wouldn’t, either.”

“I’m not,” said Noire. “Red Wings and I are going to the Museum of Pegasus History.”

“Ah. It seems I missed out on a lot while I was asleep,” said Trixie. Her stomach rumbled, and she blushed. “Perhaps we should get lunch, first?”

“Certainly,” Noire said before sighing. “I suppose I should avoid my favorite places, just in case I somehow trip up and somepony who knows me gets suspicious. Well, I do know this one diner down one of Canterlot’s back alleys. It’s moderately priced, lots of eating space in-doors, and despite the name, Donut Joe’s serves regular food as well.”

“I have no issue with that,” said Iceheart. “Does anypony else?” Seeing no objections, she said to Noire, “Very well, lead the way.”

Trixie was torn as they left the platform. Canterlot was a city with a history a thousand years rich, with its grand spires melded into a dozen different architectural history, all set against the unchanging Royal Palace and the lone mountain that had never been officially named, but often referred to as Mount Canterhorn after the city itself. The city had been through many growing pains, as evidenced by the winding roads they walked down, changing from a yellow brick road to a red stone road with a single turn. The streets were often busy, with carriages going this way and that, and the average pony fighting to make headway, all while pegasus guardsponies patrolled above.

When Trixie had last been in Canterlot, it was to go to school here, and it had only ever been about a year. Then, she had avoided the main streets, feeling heady from the emotions of the masses, her inherited, if diluted changeling senses working against her. Now, Trixie still felt a little overwhelmed, but she was much better at keeping herself upright and continuing to walk.

It was trotting into the food district that did it for her, as a hundred separate smells wafted their way into her nostrils, all culminating in one single scent that left her olfactory nerves reeling with delight. This was home, once, Trixie thought with nostalgia. But it’ll never be home again.





“Well, it wasn’t Tomato Cato’s, but it was still good,” Iceheart said as they left the diner, praising the food she had just eaten.

“I am envious, honestly,” Stonehenge said, eyes quickly darting between windows as he, Iceheart and Trixie walked through the alleys of Canterlot towards the castle, Red Wings and Noire having split-up after lunch. “I remember things like candy and pastries being a luxury when I was young and visiting Fillydelphia. Now, there is an entire alley full of those things.”

“Irrigation and railways,” Trixie said. “Earth ponies and unicorns made breakthroughs in irrigation systems so farming towns don’t need as much pegasus labour, and the rail system has nearly doubled in the last half-century, with raw horsepower converted to steam engines. Life wasn’t precisely hard before in most places, outside of pioneer towns, but things have certainly gotten easier over the years.”

“But still not fully perfect,” said Iceheart quietly from the other side of Stonehenge, who was in-between the two mares. Though it was the stallion’s first time in Canterlot, it was all too easy to see how to get to the castle, given its prominence at the back end of the city. “If things were perfect, then Trixie would be out of a job.”

“I don’t really consider it a job,” Trixie said, not certain if Iceheart’s comment was in jest or serious. It was difficult for her to read the Crystal Earth pony sometimes. “It’s not as if I’ve been seeking out ponies with problems, I’ve just sort of somehow kept stumbling into them. The closest I got with was you, and that was more to find out about the Windigos and your experiences of fighting them.”

“It was a boon that you came, nevertheless,” Iceheart said.

“Yes, it was. You’re one of my friends now,” Trixie agreed.

Stonehenge cleared his throat. “I would much love to hear some of your stories later, Iceheart, if they are not too painful to share.”

“Not really,” said Iceheart, as the trio continued making their way through busy streets, slowly but surely making it closer to Canterlot Castle, home to the Royal Sisters. “Not painful, that is. There were deaths among those I commanded, to be sure, but none since we reappeared. Three years of time has been enough to dull my memories of before the stasis.”

Trixie frowned at that. Even as she had helped clip the chain that held Iceheart down, the purple-furred mare was still her own pony, with her own psychological issues. It just pained Trixie that there was nothing she could do to help Iceheart with that as well.

Finally, they made it to the castle. Canterlot Castle wasn’t quite what Trixie had ever expected. Instead of an immediate ‘door’ leading into the castle, it was much like a city unto itself, where you couldn’t quite tell where the city began. Was it to be at the first layer of battlements and ramparts surrounding the castle, more ceremonial than functional? Perhaps the large garden and foyer past that? 

Maybe it begins where the guards first start stopping you, Trixie decided as two stallions finally halted their progress. They both had white coats, undoubtedly a result of the enchanted armor that was an open secret in Equestria.

“What is your purpose here today, citizen?,” asked the one guardspony. He spoke formally instead of abrasively, but it was an interrogation nonetheless.

“We are here to seek an audience in the Court of the Sun today,” said Iceheart. They had decided Trixie was to mostly stay quiet here unless asked. While the unicorn could have easily taken the lead, it was more noticeable if Iceheart, a Crystal pony, was in the lead.

The stallions traded glances, before the other guardspony pointed a hoof away from the door they were at. “Head down there, and inside the next door. A court scribe will record what you are here for. We cannot guarantee that you will receive an audience with the Princess.”

Iceheart gave a brief curtsy. “Thank you for your help, gentleponies,” she said, before walking away, Trixie and Stonehenge right behind her.

“They didn’t even comment on your coat,” Trixie said.

“It is a surprise,” Iceheart admitted, having been privy to multiple curious looks as well as the odd undesired catcall travelling between Dodge Junction and Manechester. “If we had come down a few years ago, we would probably have been more eye-catching to others, but by now, most here have likely seen crystalline coats on multiple occasions.”

“Instead, I seem to be the one attracting the most attention,” said Stonehenge, as the three finally came to the castle door the guard earlier referred to, and entered.

“I’m sure you’d love to think it’s because of your good looks,” Trixie teased him. “But really, you are large. I’m pretty sure you’re larger than Princess Celestia.”

“He is larger than Princess Celestia,” said a dry voice. Trixie looked over to see a far smaller unicorn stallion, wearing a dress shirt, levitating a clipboard and pen. “I’ve worked with the Princess enough to tell. Now, I assume you are here to get an audience with the Princess, is that correct?”

“That is correct,” Iceheart said.

“OK, three ponies,” the scribe mumbled as he jotted down a detail onto his clipboard. “Purpose of your audience?”

“I am Stonehenge Elderwall. Fifty years ago, Princess Celestia came to my village, Manechester, a tomato-growing village south of Fillydelphia,” Stonehenge said. The scribe startled at Stonehenge’s deep, booming voice, but continued listening. “She visited after a flock of cockatrices invaded, and was exterminated. In the process, however, I was turned to stone. Princess Celestia was unable to heal me at the time.” Stonehenge paused, closing his eyes as it pained him to speak. “The magic has worn off finally. I have come to offer her my thanks for making the attempt, and to inform the Princess that I am now free.”

The scribe looked up in shock.

“It does sound a fantastical story, I know,” said Stonehenge. “However, it is also the truth.”

The unicorn scribe frowned, narrowing purple eyes as he jotted the notes down. “Well, that’s certainly the most interesting story I’ve heard in three or four years, since the incident with the pink party pony and the platypus—ahem, sorry. I have here Stonehenge, Earth pony stallion from Manechester, grey coat and mane, yellow eyes, unusually large size at greater than Princess Celestia, Cutie Mark of a circle of unevenly-sized stones…” The scribe rambled on, apparently dedicated to the minutiae of his forms. Finally, he whipped his head around to the two mares. “And you two mares are?”

“I am Iceheart, from the Crystal Empire,” Iceheart introduced herself.

Trixie bit her lip, but decided it was better to use her nickname. “Trixie Lulamoon, from Whinnychester,” she stated.

“Good, good,” the scribe nodded as he wrote down their names, hometowns, and identifying physical characteristics. “We take pride in being exact in our records, if you were wondering why we went to the extent of recording your colours as well.” Finally, he stopped writing, and looked back up at the trio that had walked in. “Nominally, audiences are on a first-come-first-serve basis.  However, if what you have told me is true, I am certain Princess Celestia will expedite you. If that is the truth,” he warned. “Please, take a seat, and if Celestia decides upon receiving you, you will be called.” With that, he walked off.

Stonehenge, Trixie, and Iceheart looked for some seats. Though the chambers were relatively empty, making them believe they would have gotten in during the day anyways, the tough part was finding a seat large enough for Stonehenge to fit.

“Oh! Ah, sorry, sorry,” said a green-coated pegasus mare, blushing as she got out of a particularly large seat. “I guess you’ll need this more than I do, heh?” She asked, looking between Stonehenge and the other, smaller seats.

“Thank you very much, I appreciate it,” Stonehenge said, giving her a smile as he took the seat. The pegasus mare blushed even more, though Trixie wasn’t sure how much of that could be chalked up to Stonehenge’s smile, which she did have to admit was attractive, or his incredibly deep voice. Regardless, she and Iceheart quickly sidled up in seats next to Stonehenge.

Some of the other ponies in the room started chattering. Trixie scrunched her nose, uncertain whether they had overheard Stonehenge talking about himself earlier, or just returning to their own conversations. Trixie didn’t want to attract any attention, and she felt like they were now the centre of attention.

Oh, why did I even agree to come here to the castle? Trixie bemoaned her decision. She thought about a topic to discuss that she wouldn’t mind others overhearing. To Trixie’s consternation, she was unable to think of anything.

“How was your lunch, Trixie?” Iceheart asked. “You looked like you enjoyed it.”

“I did, yes. It has been awhile since I have had something that satisfyingly greasy. Tomato Cato’s served some good food, but even his hay fries were too healthy,” Trixie said. She had ordered a hayburger, hay fries and hayshake all-in-one meal at Donut Joe’s. It had left her feeling a little tired as she got up from the table, but it had been worth it.

Trixie blinked, as she tried to recall when the last time she had eaten something so fattening had been. Was it in Manechester? No, she just said Cato didn’t cook anything that heavy. Dodge Junction? The cherry dishes had been splendid, but they were still mostly light. The train food wasn’t very fulfilling, and she had barely spent any time in the Crystal Empire. And there was only a single restaurant in Whinnychester, that Trixie had never gone to.

Oh. It was when I was in Coltgary for the Greatest Outdoor Show in Equestria, wasn’t it? That was...a little over two years ago, wasn’t it? Yes, so it was.

“Is something the matter, Miss Trixie?” Stoneheart asked.

“Oh, no, not really,” Trixie said, waving her hoof. “Just realising that it was about two-and-a-half years since I ate something that heavy, is all.” She smirked, the unicorn mare adopting a cheshire grin. “You certainly seemed to enjoy your sweets, however.”

“I regret nothing. After all, it’s been about fifty years since I last had some sweets,” Stonehenge said, to a devastating effect.

“Oof.”

“But yes, it was good. Sugar was not something that we grew in Manechester, nor did the traders bring much in, so it was a rare treat for me when growing up,” Stonehenge said fondly. “So I indulged when I saw the chance.”

Iceheart and Trixie both shared a small shiver at that. Stonehenge had practically wolfed down his platter of crepes, with whipped cream, blueberries and strawberries slathered all over, topped off with custard, chocolate sauce, sliced bananas and cherries. Trixie would have had to be towing her wagon around again to even think of eating that much food in one sitting. Stonehenge’s size allowed him to devour large portions of food without too much worry to accumulating extra weight in turn.

“Well, I grew up in a wheat-growing town,” Trixie said. “So of course there was lots of bread in the ovens every night, but sugar was practically mandatory for many of the other baked goods, and some of the farms grow sugar beets on the side.”

“All this talk about food is making me hungry again,” Iceheart commented.

“Unfortunately, I’m not really willing to lose our place in line,” said Trixie. “I suppose we can grab a snack again—”

“Trixie, I was just making small talk,” said Iceheart with a small smile.

“Ah. Alright,” said Trixie, falling silent again. She hemmed and hawwed for a new topic, and soon zoomed in on one. “Say, did you ever actually get around to reading any of the Daring Do books?”

“I read a couple of them while in Manechester, yes,” Iceheart said, ignorant of Stonehenge’s knowing look, “Daring Do and the Sapphire Stone, and Daring Do and the Eternal Flower. Many of the references were lost on me, though.” Having not caught up on a thousand years of history and geography, Iceheart mentally added.

“That’s to be expected, I suppose,” said Trixie. “One of these days we will have to sit down with you and go over some of the history books, again. Did Equestria not try to fill in the Crystal ponies in on all that happened in the thousand years you were gone?”

“They did, but they only really reached out to the ponies in the city proper. Either they did not think to include us, or they could not find anypony willing to come up north and tell us,” said Iceheart. “Given they would have had to walk through bitter cold for most of a day each way instead of taking a train, it would not surprise me.”

Stonehenge frowned. “You know, sorry if I hit a nerve Miss Iceheart, but what was the stasis like? Me being petrified was, still is, a little confusing. One moment, I was feeling a little bit panicked as I realised I was turning to stone, but was resolved to kill the cockatrice.” Stonehenge lowered his voice near the end, well aware of how skittish the other ponies in the room might get if they overheard him talking about killing something, regardless of if it was a monster or not. “Then the next moment, I was no longer in stone, and I could not feel the cockatrice around my hoof, and I was standing on top of stone, instead of grass.”

Iceheart raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little bit different from what happened to us. We had several seconds of forewarning before we disappeared, our fortress and all. We were peripherally aware of the passage of time, like a long, dreamless sleep.” She frowned, then added, “But that was for those of us who were out in the fortress. I am uncertain how it was for those in the city proper, under Sombra’s mind-control magic.”

Stonehenge looked like he was going to reply, only to be interrupted.

“Stonehenge Elderwall, Trixie Lulamoon, and Iceheart?”

The three looked up. It was a female unicorn who had called them: she had a grey coat so light it could be mistaken for white at a distance, with a plain brown mane and tail that were both tied up in knots, giving the impression of a prim secretary. “I am Raven, one of the Princess’ aides,” the mare introduced herself. “Please, come with me.”

“It seems we will not have to wait long. Lead the way, Miss Raven,” Stonehenge said, standing up.

Raven was momentarily awed by Stonehenge’s size, before she let out a slight cough, turning around and walking away. Trixie, Stonehenge and Iceheart followed behind her.

They were led through a few long, winding corridors. Trixie broke off her gaze when she realised she had been looking at Raven’s Cutie Mark, a pen and inkwell, for several seconds, and took a look at her surroundings instead. The castle was more resplendent and opulent than even the School for Gifted Unicorns had ever been, with paintings and tapestries hanging on every wall, stained glass windows with golden frames, polished marble floors and a literal red carpet that never seemed to end. Trixie wondered how many ponies had to be deployed every day to keep the place clean.

In quick order, however, Raven stopped, and Trixie realised they had come to an especially ornate set of partially-open golden doors, five times the height of an average pony. A carver more talented than even Trixie’s own father had engraved scenes of something into the door. Trixie didn’t get the chance to figure out what the scenes were as Raven quietly poked her head through the door, only to pull back out and say, “The Princess is available right now. I don’t think I need to tell you, but be courteous, polite, and on your best behavior!”

With that, Raven’s horn was alight, and she used her magic to push open the doors. Walking at a quick pace up to Princess Celestia, sitting on her throne at the end of another long red carpet, the two quickly conversed before the Princess turned to face the doors. “Come in, my little ponies,” said the Princess.

Trixie, Iceheart and Stonehenge walked in, Stonehenge in the centre, Trixie flanking him on his left. Trixie briefly took a look around, seeing a scattering of guardsponies, including one on either side of Celestia, and another unicorn attendant. At last, the three stopped shortly in front of the throne. As planned, Trixie and Iceheart each offered the Princess a curtsy, and Stonehenge a short bow.

“Hmm, interesting,” said Princess Celestia. Then, to everypony’s surprise, she got up. The Alicorn of the Sun then walked down from her throne in long strides, up until she stood right in front of Stonehenge, and peered at him.

The stallion fidgeted, uncertain why the Princess had singled him out.

“When I had visited fifty years ago, I was uncertain. You were in a crouched position, as I recall. But your friends spoke true, it seems. You are taller than me,” Celestia said.

There was a brief murmuring in the room as the guards and attendants suddenly realised Celestia was right. Although it was close, Stonehenge came in about five centimetres higher, though he would be the shorter one if Celestia’s horn was counted.

“My father was tall, but not unusually so,” Stonehenge murmured. “They were surprised to see me as large as I got.”

“It is uncommon, yes,” Celestia agreed. “You are not, however, the first stallion I have seen that is taller than I am, though they have always been stallions, never mares. One probably comes along every half-century or so, usually with a horse for a parent instead of a pony. Since yours was the case fifty years ago, I suppose that makes us overdue for another giant to show up. I am surprised, however, to see you here so soon. I am certain I had predicted one hundred years before it would be worthwhile trying to free you.”

This was where Trixie got leery, even though they had planned this out beforehoof. As planned, Stonehenge put the spotlight on her. “Miss Trixie here to my left came to town along with Miss Iceheart, and devised a countermeasure to free me early.”

“Oh?” Princess Celestia asked, turning her attention to Trixie. “Your name seems familiar, but I cannot recall from where. Did you attend my School for Gifted Unicorns, maybe?”

“I did, when I was younger, yes. I dropped out after about a year. At the time, my mother was growing ill,” said Trixie. It was two separate truths stated together to sound like they were linked. Trixie was no saboteur against the Crown, having grown up under the aegis of Princess Celestia her entire life, and had no desire to flat-out lie to her.

“I would have expected a graduate to free Stonehenge, but even a year would have given you a grounding in magical theory. How did you do it? I thought it would be another fifty years, after all, and that was with my power,” said Celestia. The unicorn attendant who had already been in the room was jotting down notes on his clipboard behind her, doubtlessly taking down the minutes of this audience.

“Part of it may simply have been where Stonehenge was placed as a statue, Your Majesty,” Trixie said, feeling a little awkward that she was talking about the stallion next to her, yet spoke as if Stonehenge as a statue was a separate entity altogether. “He was placed in the middle of Manechester’s village plaza. I believe that due to the sheer number of ponies that walked around there on a daily basis, the residual magic they left behind grounded some of the petrification magic the cockatrice had originally cast on him. From there, it simply took me multiple attempts at dispelling the petrification. I felt that I was getting closer with each attempt. The cockatrice magic may have been wearing down with each try as well, though the successful cast left me exhausted for nearly a full day.”

More truths that deceived through truthiness, where ‘multiple’ attempts meant two, including Trixie’s first try when she wasn’t quite herself, and ‘may have been’, when Trixie was almost certainly, but not one hundred percent confident that throwing raw magic at the statue would not run out the petrification magic quicker.

Even worse was the gleam in Celestia’s eyes that suggested the Princess knew as well that Trixie wasn’t telling the full truth.

“Well, I am glad that you helped Stonehenge out, Trixie Lulamoon,” said Celestia. “It saddened me that I could not heal Stonehenge after his years of service in defending his home, so it makes me happy to know he has returned to use ahead of what I thought possible. Speaking of which, I recall that I gave you a title, did I not, Stonehenge?”

“Stonehenge Elderwall, Duke of Manechester,” Stonehenge said, bowing again and bringing his hoof up to his chest in a gesture of respect. “It is much appreciated, Your Majesty.”

“So I did, so I did,” Celestia said, nodding. “While the title is mostly honorary, given your fief is split between five others or any offspring who will have inherited it, and Manechester is still tiny, you are still considered nobility. If you wish to attend any of Canterlot’s events in the future, I am certain my nephew the Prince, or other ponies such as Mr. Fancy Pants would be glad to invite you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“And Iceheart, I believe? You are a long ways from home,” Celestia said, facing Iceheart. The Crystal mare stood slightly more rigid, but otherwise didn’t shift her pose. “I assume you have been travelling Equestria?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Iceheart. “I met Trixie about a month ago, and decided to leave the Empire with her to head south and explore Equestria. It has been a treat.”

Celestia suddenly frowned. “Have we met before? I know I have met a few Crystal ponies before King Sombra took over.”

“Yes, we have. It was a thousand years ago, before we went into stasis. At one point, I was a courier, and I delivered a few messages to the castle in the Everfree Forest.”

The Princess looked nostalgic. “Oh, that castle. We moved after certain events, but I remember it often. It was where I spent many of my younger days at. I suppose it must be strange to you, having met me only a few years ago from your perspective, and me now being so much older?”

Iceheart grimaced. “I apologise, Your Majesty, but the way you worded that question, it would be difficult for me to answer with any tact.”

Celestia laughed gaily. “I suppose it would be. No mare likes to talk about her age, doubly so for me.”

The unicorn scribe behind Celestia suddenly cleared his throat, and said, “Princess, you have a meeting in fifteen minutes with the minotaurs.”

“Oh! I am sorry, Iceheart. I would have loved to speak with you longer, since the Crystal Ponies make up most of the few who remember the times from a thousand years ago,” Celestia said with a forlorn face. “If you three come back another day, when I am less busy, I will be certain to clear time with an audience for you.”

“We are thankful just for your time today, Your Majesty,” Stonehenge said.

“Oh please, there is no need to say ‘Your Majesty’ every time,” Celestia said, smiling. “But I would be glad to talk to you three again. But before you depart, Trixie Lulamoon, could I ask you to do a task for me?”

“A task, Your Maj—,er, a task?” Trixie asked.

“Yes.  Stonehenge’s case was not the only time a pony came down with a magical illness of some sort. With Stonehenge, it was a curse which only time could apparently weaken. However, in Canterlot, there is a special hospital, the Centre for Mysterious Magical Maladies,” Celestia explained. “Ponies with acute or chronical magical diseases are housed there, in the hopes that someday we can find a way to treat them. Would you please be able to go there? Though I do not think whatever you did for Stonehenge can be currently adapted for any of the ponies there, I am certain the doctors at the Centre would hear you out.”

Trixie furled her eyebrows. This was something unexpected, but she could adapt. It was only a side-stop for her. Not much bad could come out of it. “I will go, then, Princess. I cannot guarantee it can be replicated to help any other pony out, but I will at least try.”

“Thank you. That is all I ask for. I have only ever asked that my little ponies be able to help themselves as much as I have. You have already helped one who helped many others,” Princess Celestia said, looking from Trixie to Stonehenge. Trixie felt faint at seeing the smile on the Solar Alicorn’s face. So this is the smile that has driven suitors to fight one another for her hoof, Trixie thought.

Princess Celestia turned around, returning to her throne. “Raven, can you please escort these three back out?”

“Of course, Princess,” said Raven. It was a testament to her closeness with the Princess that she did not offer any departing bow or curtsy, instead walking down the long curtain. The grey-coated mare indicated to Stonehenge, Trixie and Iceheart to follow her, and she lead them out of the castle, this time through the main gates that the trio had been barred from earlier.

“Do you know where the Centre for Mysterious Magical Maladies is?” Raven asked. At three separate shakes of the head, she nodded. “I thought not.” Raven then proceeded to give them exact directions, noting landmarks to use as references and pointing out spots where they might trip up by accident. With a brief nod of her head, the royal aide returned back indoors.

“Trixie, do you intend to go?” Iceheart asked.

Trixie nodded, fire in her belly. “I will. It would be remiss of me to not at least see if there is somepony I can help. Besides, if I do find somepony who I can cure with my magic, no doubt he or she will join us as befits the trend.”

“Perhaps we should go seek out Red Wings and Noire, first?,” Stonehenge suggested. “While I am not as paranoid as you are about the possibility of being ‘discovered’ and then scorned for your talents, it would be ideal to have them on hoof if we have to escape the city for some reason, instead of leaving them stranded.”

“Yes, it would. As I recall, they were going to loiter around the Museum of Pegasus History for a while after they were done their tour. In that case, let us go find them.”





It didn’t take them long to find Noire and Red Wings over in the historical district where many of the museums were located.

“That was fast,” said Noire. “At least, I assume you got in, since Celestia’s court usually lasts longer than that. If you hadn’t, otherwise you would have been staying until the end.”

“Her court was cut short today due to a meeting, but we did get in to see her,” Iceheart informed the two winged ponies of their group.

“How did it go, then?,” Red Wings asked, using his wing to scratch an itch on his neck. A figurine that Trixie recognised as being of General Firefly hung around his neck. He had obviously purchased himself a souvenir from the history.

“It went well. The Princess met with us and we chatted for a few minutes, and she told us we could come back at a later time when she was less busy to talk some more. However, she also asked us to go to a clinic with ponies who have magical illnesses and ask us to talk to the doctors there. Princess Celestia was hoping that what I used to help Stonehenge might be adapted to help another pony.”

“Are you?” Red Wings asked.

Trixie shook her head. “No, my talent is something I do not intend to just reveal to others. All they will know is that I merely ‘grounded’ the cockatrice magic. However, I will go and assess if there are any ponies I could potentially save, albeit sneaking under the doctor’s noses.”

“You’re a good pony, Trixie,” said Noire. “Fortunately, I know where the Centre is, I assume you’re talking about the Centre for Mysterious Magical Maladies?”

“The one and the same,” said Iceheart.

“Sure, in that case, let’s go.”





Trixie wasn’t certain what to think of the Centre for Mysterious Magical Maladies. Actually, she was outright baffled. The tower the Centre occupied looked like it was out of a new-age architect’s wet dream, despite being centuries old: the tower’s external walls curved around like a spiral or a screw, every rotation of the wall being higher than the previous location. Furthermore, the individual stones also had been inset at a concave angle. It was like a pony had discovered the art of rope making, where several strings were braided together to create a stronger piece, and instead of creating rope, decided to use the look as the model for a building. A smaller, dormitory-style building extended from the backside of the tower, larger in area than the tower but only a few stories high.

Also, it was pink. Barring the pointed cone roof and the windows, every last centimetre of it was pink.

“Did Princess Cadance approve of this tower?,” Red Wings asked. “I knew the mare loved pink, but I didn’t think anypony loved it that much.”

“No, it’s older than Princess Cadance is. Every time it’s due for a repaint, there’s always an argument between traditionalists about keeping it pink and everypony else who agrees it’s an eyesore, and somehow the traditionalists keep winning,” said Noire.

“Well, there could be a reason for it,” Trixie pointed out. “For a centre that treats ponies with magical illnesses, they want as little residual magic as possible. The spiral design of the tower helps that, so maybe the pink colour also has that effect?”

“Do you really believe that, Miss Trixie?” Stonehenge asked.

Trixie hung her head in defeat. “No.”

“If we are all done talking about the tower’s design, then can we head inside?” Iceheart asked, always the pony least likely to indulge in humour.

“Yes, let’s,” Trixie agreed, finally putting her hoof forward.

The group entered the main door at the base of the tower. Trixie was mildly surprised that the lobby was quiet, with only a single receptionist pony working in front of a desk. Then again, this isn’t really a hospital, complete with emergency wards. From the sounds of it, this is a long-term housing clinic too.

Trixie walked up to the receptionist. “Good afternoon, my name is Trixie, and I am here for—”

The receptionist cut her off. “Trixie? Good to meet you. Down the hall and to your left, take the elevator up to the fifth floor. Room 512.”

Trixie blinked. “Um, OK. Thank you.” Turning around, she motioned with her hoof towards the hall the receptionist had mentioned.

As the five banded together again, walking towards the hall, Iceheart said, “That was remarkably fast. We only took a few minutes to pick up Red Wings and Noire, and a messenger from the Palace already got here, and somepony already arranged a meeting space for you?”

Noire pressed the button to go up, the elevator door opening instantly. “It is odd,” Trixie said as she stepped into the elevator. “Perhaps they sent a letter by teleportation? That would have made it a lot quicker.”

“There is some teleportation mail that goes on,” Noire said as she stepped in, being the last pony to do so, and pressed the button to send the elevator to go up to the fifth floor. “Not lots, but some.”

Trixie suddenly had an odd feeling, but brushed it aside. They had gotten this far, after all. Trixie would just feed the doctor or whoever she was going to speak with some babble about what she did to the petrified Stonehenge, then try to wheedle him or  her into a tour.

The elevator opened out onto the fifth floor, and the five stepped out. Quickly looking at the room number plates conveniently hanging on the wall, they went right, and in under a minute. Room 512 had an unimposing door, with a simple marker indicating it was indeed Room 512. Trixie wondered if perhaps there was a patient of interest in this room specifically that she had been directed here. Raising her hoof, she knocked.

“Come in,” came a male voice.

Trixie opened the door, and went inside the room. Thankfully, it was spacious enough that the other four ponies trailing behind were able to follow Trixie into the area with plenty of breathing room to spare.

A single pony was looking out the large window, which faced the Palace of the Royal Sisters and Mount Canterhorn. However, the most significant detail about him was that he was in a wheelchair, sitting on his croup and with his back against the chair in a bipedal-like position. “Thank you for coming today,” he spoke, finally turning himself around in his wheelchair, revealing himself to be a unicorn.

His eyes, Trixie thought. From muzzle to tail, the stallion was a chalk-white, with his mane and tail only a bare tint darker than his coat. Trixie would have thought him to be an albino, but his eyes were a soft shade of blue, as bright as the morning sky itself. Then he spoke again.

“My name is Windspeaker, and I am the Living Wind.”