I’m not built for running. I’ve had a lot of practice this year, I even joined the Running of the Leaves just for fun. I’m a bit stockier than your average unicorn to begin with. But there’s no way I’m going to last the entire night.
Not with five of those insectoid things chasing me. They could have caught up minutes ago. I think they’re deliberately letting me get away at the last moment, keeping me on that threshold where the heart is just about to jump out of my chest.
Who is this monster, this murdering beast?
On every intersection, I called out, “Bon-Bon! Where are you, Bon-Bon!”
There were no answers. Just screaming. Hissing. Sounds of fighting. Sounds of hooves on pavement. Sounds of broken glass. Destroyed streetlights in my path, glittering in the pale moonlight. Two guards stuck to the pavement with sickly green goo, monsters dancing around them. Sorry, gentlecolts, I can’t help you.
Sounds of doors being broken down.
If Bon-Bon had any sense, she’d be holed up in our hotel room, but that was where I checked first. She wasn’t at the café where we were supposed to meet, either. It was supposed to be an evening just for us, the only one I could sneak into the tight wedding schedule.
There are thousands of these things.
Moonlight, turn your face to the moonlight…
Celestia damn it, if I absolutely have to think in scraps of poetry tonight, could I at least use the scarce energy I have to think of something new?!
I trust that daylight will come back,
When blizzards end and storms decay,
But if the Sun should ever stop,
My heart will burn to light your way.
Much better. Needs work. Good enough to last me to the next intersection.
Harness department store. Bon-Bon always said it’s too expensive for her. It should be closed right now, anyway. I galloped past the front doors without hesitation. And as I did, I felt something pull on my tail.(1)
I turned around just in time to see Bon-Bon exit the department store’s large double doors. Or rather, knock the door out, tearing the hinges off the ancient oak with a mighty buck, which sent it like a cannonball straight through the gang of changelings that were chasing me. One of them couldn’t dodge and the door slammed into the display of the shop clear across the street, carrying the monster with it all the way. “Swords & Saucers.”
I winced.
Bon-Bon herself came next, a whirlwhind of hooves. I would never call her meek, if anything, she’s the brash one. But even knowing that, I could never even imagine the raw ferocity with which she smashed two more changelings into and through the pavement, one after another.
I could never hope to be the one who saves Bon-Bon. I’d have better luck trying to save a woodchipper from a tree.
The fourth changeling tried to bite her, but one more kick sent him back to where Bon-Bon came from, at a speed that would get even a pegasus a life-threatening injury. The grand foyer in Harness is mostly empty, except for that huge crystal fountain in the middle, and judging by the sound of broken glass, that’s exactly where the changeling ended up.
The whole thing took barely five seconds, and I just stood there, mouth agape, as I watched Bon-Bon pound the last remaining changeling into the stones of the sidewalk, mumbling something under her breath. “…Celestia damn it.” Punch. “Can’t even resign like normal ponies do.” Smash. “Can’t even have a date like normal ponies do!” Crunch.
“Bon-Bon,” I whispered, “…I think this one is already dead.”
Bon-Bon looked up at me. “…Lyra?” The change in her face was instant, and the face I saw was full of horror.
I was about to ask her something, but my tail was unceremoniously yanked once again.(2)
“…That’s not what it looks like,” Bon-Bon mumbled out.
But I didn’t say anything. I was talking to the crystal on my neck.
Thousands upon thousands of heartsongs, plunder of a myriad worlds. Some were even familiar. Most were in languages I couldn’t even imagine, weird and alien. Some in a strange mix of Equish with… something else. Multiple something elses. Melodies in instruments never touched by pony hooves. Songs of passion, of pain, of rage and hope. Screams.
Power overwhelming. That’s… That’s borderline Dark Magic, that’s what it is! I poked through the collection. This one… this is the one I need today.
Finally, I returned my attention to Bon-Bon, who was still standing there guiltily next to the carcass of a monster. “Who cares what it is, or what it looks like,” I said, smiling and trotting up to nuzzle her cheek. “As long as I’m still me and you’re still you, nothing else matters,” I whispered into her ear.
And then, I broke off and made a step back. I don’t know whatever language this song is in, beyond the scattered Equish words, but I know what it is about.
I know what it is for, and I will make it mine.
This disaster will be over soon
I swear by the light of the Sun and the Moon
There are things that are forever true
I will sing of them for you
The opening intro. The music of harmony filled the air even before I finished, and I felt it sweeping up me, Bon-Bon, and at least fifteen ponies on the next street over as it kept spreading, unstoppable. It will be the biggest musical number in living memory.
The transformation command. I’m not sure how long it actually took. It couldn’t be more than a few beats, but it felt much longer, molten lead pouring into your bones makes you lose track of time entirely. For all I know, the lead might not have been a metaphor, the crystal was casting hundreds of individual spells per second, all of them from strange and alien schools, sucking in thaums brought in across the harmony field and matter from beneath my hooves. Barely a third of the spells even worked, but casting that fast, it could try everything at once. I never expected anything could possibly hurt so much.
I probably screamed, but I never heard any of it. I just felt myself rearing up and staying upright, as my body changed into this incongruous, inpony shape, and parts of it were encased in armor, which felt like metal but was lighter than plastic.
At least I get to keep my mane color. Even my horn. I looked down on Bon-Bon, who was staring at me, shocked and dumbfounded. So that’s why Princess Celestia always says “my little ponies…”
Fingers. Twisted, horrible little things. I never asked for this. I just hope the crystal knows how to put me back together later. Nothing should ever have this many joints. Thin, near invisible strands of wire connected to the tips, floating in the air, glittering with magic. One of them is red. Why is it red?…
I waved a hand in the air, and one of the surviving streetlights fell into small, perfectly cut pieces as I grinned. These facial muscles look nothing like me, but they’re still mine.
My name is Lyra.
And these are my heartstrings!
(1) I skidded to a halt, scraping my hooves on the pavement, as my stomach turned. Not because I stopped so abruptly, but because the world twisted inside out under me. Because my brain was insisting I’m running into a wall which I knew wasn’t there, couldn’t be there, shouldn’t be there, and that wall was the world itself.
It was suddenly incredibly quiet. Not even a library ever gets this quiet, not even with earplugs, because then you can hear yourself breathe through your bones. Even the air was absolutely, deathly still. Beneath my hooves was not pavement, but sheer darkness, and in front of me, was a photo of Canterlot, stretching left and right and up as far as the eye could see, the same night in moonlight, distorted by perspective.
I turned my head experimentally. The photo was trying to follow it, lagging behind, like I’m turning an imaginary camera with fisheye lens, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see the image recede into a jumbled, vertigo-inducing mess of lines in infinity.
At least I seem to have lost the monsters that were chasing me. But it sure feels like I’m not in Canterlot, anymore.
“No, you’re still in Canterlot,” a voice said behind my back.
I turned my head around, slowly, not sure what I expected to see. Another monster? Something tall, black, on two legs, with its hair flaming like a candle, a glowing spot of color across the painted night. No, it’s not poetic license, it is actually burning!
“I promise I’m not going to eat you,” the monster commented. “If anyone’s going to eat you at all, that will be yourself.”
Just the sort of thing a fairytale monster says right before they open their mouth wide and gobble you up.
“Lyra, is that a fetish of some kind?” the monster said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Do you want to be gobbled up? Really, truly?”
I struggled to understand. What is happening to me? Where am I?
“Lyra Heartstrings?” the monster tried again. “Incidental Unicorn #2?”
I breathed out, as my brain finally adjusted. It’s just one of the humans. The scary one. The red and black one. Was that telepathy? I thought humans didn’t have magic at all, let alone something that advanced…
“You can’t blame me for reading what you narrate,” Rika tossed at me, like this explained everything, and looked at the still wall that Canterlot was wallpapered onto. Behind her, I could see the five monsters that were chasing me, frozen in mid-jump. If anything, it’s that moment that made it impossible for me to ever see them as people… All five were absolutely identical, down to every single scar and blemish on their chitinous bodies. The faceless soldiers of an evil overlord from a third rate musical. Mass-produced puppets.
If they start a dance number, I’ll scream and demand to see the director and the master of choreography. Also the lighting technician. Not to mention the props master.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“The changeling invasion.”
I mentally berated myself for not figuring this out sooner. So that’s what the legendary changelings actually look like. I shuddered. “Where are we? Why is everything… like this?”
“I pulled you into a footnote, because I need to talk to you,” Rika answered nonchalantly.
“Don’t you mean a hoofnote?”
“No, I mean a footnote,” Rika replied, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Why do you ponies have to turn everything into a horse pun?”
Shouldn’t it hurt when your hair is on fire? Actually, shouldn’t it have burned up completely by now? “…they bit me, and now I’m hallucinating?” I suggested.
“No,” Rika sighed. “A footnote is the first meta-layer, a comment. It breaks up the stream, so we’re still in your story, still in Canterlot, but technically, outside of time. You can at least take a breather.”
I felt the ache in my muscles. I’m really not built for running. “How long do I have?…”
“Until I’m done talking to you,” Rika grinned at me. It’s the same feeling that you get when staring at a majestic mountain, or the Sun, or the ocean, or watching the dragon migration. Being confronted with something gigantic. She’s just tall, that’s all. I’ve met minotaurs who were taller. I’ve met griffons with smiles on their beaks far more predatory than hers. Most of them were actually quite nice! Why can’t I shake this feeling?
“Because I represent something greater,” Rika answered my unasked question. “Tell me, Lyra. When you thought that poem just before I pulled you in here, did you mean it?”
Huh?
“Did you actually feel that, or were they just words for you?” she elaborated.
“If you can read my mind, why are you even asking?!” I countered. “And I don’t know about humans, but ponies consider it very impolite to read others’ thoughts without permission!” I think the only reason it’s not really against the law is that only a few legendary wizards could even cast the spell.
“I’m not reading your mind,” Rika pressed. “I’m just reading the story of your life together with you. Nothing more. Nothing less. It’s not my fault you have to put so much of your mind into it, and generally, I don’t care. But this time, it’s important. Did you actually feel that?”
“My poems are not just words,” I insisted, puffing out my chest in pride. Seriously, if you can’t be proud of your special talent, what can you be proud of?
“Okay, I’ll buy that,” Rika smiled condescendingly. “Tell me, Lyra, can you sing?”
What a stupid question. “Of course I can sing, I’m a pony!” I exclaimed. Is this leading up to anything?
“Just had to confirm,” Rika nodded. “So what would you say, if I told you that I can give you power to stop this invasion, here and now, no strings attached? All by yourself?”
That gave me pause. I wrote about this. “Lucky Laurel and the Fields of Hate.” An ancient fairytale about the mare who traded her cutie mark for just this sort of promise. Contrary to tradition, my version had a good ending, but that’s because it should. I might not be so lucky. “I would ask you, why don’t you do it yourself, if you have that kind of power,” I replied cautiously.
“Good question,” Rika snickered, crouching before me. The heat radiating from her entire body almost made me dizzy again, as the more rational part of my brain, the one that so rarely gets a say, notified me, that anything that hot is either dead, or has far more magic than it knows what to do with. Or both… “This is not my story, you see. My story has ended a long time ago. Maybe Mary can write me a new one, but I’m not banking on it. Ever heard of a Mary Sue?”
The simplest “no” froze in my throat, so I just shook my head.
“It’s a story pattern,” she started explaining, ignoring just how uneasy she made me just by her hair burning right next to my face. “One that is centered on a character for which the world bends. Take them away, and it straightens out. Try to imagine an alien invader who isn’t out to harm you… just out to steal your spotlight, who came to do every heroic feat that would otherwise be yours. Would you wish something like that upon your world?”
I shook my head again. I know the pattern, if not the term. Younger amateur authors fall into it now and again, I narrowly avoided it myself a couple of times. But to imagine something like this might actually exist…
“Well, I’ve been one enough times, and the results suck,” Rika said. “So no, I want the invasion to be stopped, but I am not doing it myself. Also,” she smiled playfully, “I told your princess I was just a plot device, and you wouldn’t want me to be lying to the princess, now would you?”
I weighed my options. Bon-Bon is still out in this city, somewhere. Would I give up my cutie mark to save her?
Yes.
A thousand times yes.
“No, no, no, no,” Rika interrupted me, standing up, “What would I even do with your cutie mark?! Keep it in a jar? Frame it and hang it on a wall?! You should worry about losing your head, because I’m not coming back later to bail you out if you screw up. No strings means no strings.”
I mentally bit my tongue. Damn, I forgot she’s listening.
“And if you’re doing this under duress, because you’re desperate,” she continued, “you’re not getting anything, or Mary will never let me hear the end of it.”
“Maybe, if you just let me go, I can still find Bon-Bon,” I muttered.
Rika looked into the wall of Canterlot. “Actually, she’s right here… Let’s take a short break. This should be fun!”
And before I could say anything in response, the world twisted once again.
(2) The second time, I was only dizzy for a few seconds. I think the place is growing on me, which is a scary thought by itself. If it is a place. It’s probably a state. I wonder if it’s anything like what you see when you teleport. If you even see anything…
“I figured you need to think of what to tell her after that,” Rika commented. “Take your time.”
“What in Hades was that?!” I exclaimed. It boggles the mind. Even more than the angles, they’re all wrong, and that’s all I can say about them, all I need to say about them, but Bon-Bon?!
“Five dead changelings?” Rika said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I jumped. “She makes candy! That, that was an action movie! The kind they won’t let the foals in to see!”
“She’s a secret agent, at least in this Equestria,” Rika giggled. “Retired in deep cover, but you never really retire from the alphabet soup. Bon-Bon isn’t even her real name. Sorry to break it to you, but you would have found out anyway.”
This was more shocking than I could readily admit. I don’t know how much time I spent staring at the still image of Bon-Bon’s face. I’m not sure there is such a thing as time, here. Was any of our time together real?
What does it mean to be real, anyway?
Would Bon-Bon be so horrified to see me now if it wasn’t real?
Don’t think about it too loud. The human can hear you. She has to be some kind of human princess… Princess-Errant. Who goes around and makes errors.
“So, with that out of the way…” Rika nudged me with her knee, “if it is out of the way… Do you still want it?”
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.
“What, really?” Rika looked at me curiously. She really can’t read my mind, can she?
“You wanted to know if I can sing,” I replied. “I have no idea what you’re really offering, what will it actually cost me. I don’t think you will tell. That’s not how these things work, right? It’s a musical. An epic poem of everyday life. I can’t stop and coax every little detail out of you just because I’m having second thoughts, right? The audience will be bored.”
Rika just stood there, towering above me. It’s really inconvenient to stare at someone so much taller…
“And I am having second thoughts,” I admitted. “But… It really is about my cutie mark, isn’t it? It’s not something anypony could do. You could easily find another pony. How long will it take you to find another lyre?”
The grimace on Rika’s face told me more than I think she wanted to say.
This silence is deafening.
Finally, Rika crouched before me again, and smiled. “This is not a real relic, of course. Just an imitation I had made when I still hoped I could get Mary to sing. But he should work pretty much everywhere,” she said, opening the palm of her hand. Resting on the black of her glove was an unassuming piece of crystal on a thin chain. “His name is Grayswandir, and he will be your new friend,” she added, locking the chain around my neck.
It’s kind of anticlimactic.
“Oh, no. It’s just starting,” Rika grinned, stretching back up and pushing me into the wall of the world with a soft kick in the rump. “Mahou shoujo, ikima—”