An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

125 - A Cause for Celebration

Extended Holiday
Ch 125: A Cause for Celebration
Act 18

---

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Grif chuckled as Daedalus approached with a small entourage. “I likely know why you're here, but I have to ask that you come with me alone. She’s not going to be happy with a bunch of guards tramping up in armor.”

“Not even if it’s an honor guard?” Daedalus chuckled. “Far be it for me to question the will of a mother who’s recently given birth.” With a motion of his talons, the guards stood down, lining up in formation on either side of the gangplank. “Lead on, Grif. I’m looking forward to getting to know this Cheshire.”

Grif led him onto the ship, and into its guts. “With Hammer Strike’s help, we’ve begun to rework the ship. As you may have noticed, the runic markings have been switched for more … economically sound magical pathways. I fear the next time you see it, you might not recognize my ship.”

“Don’t you mean Hammer Strike’s ship?” Daedalus asked teasingly.

“He may be my oath holder, but I’ll be caught featherless in a rainstorm in Tartarus before I’d let anyone else take her,” Grif chuckled. “Besides, there are secrets unveiled in this ship that are better left in my talons for now.”

“Interesting. We may have to discuss those secrets some day, Grif. When the need to keep them isn’t so urgent, of course,” the Emperor assured him as they slowed their pace to stop near a sturdy door.

Grif knocked carefully, then checked over his shoulder, and behind Daedalus, before speaking. “Cheshire? You in? I have a visitor for little Chu.”

“Come on in, boys. I’ve been expecting you.” Cheshire’s voice was light and heady, and a purring over the speakers indicated a sense of contentment and wellbeing.

Grif opened the door, and gestured for Daedalus to enter.

The room was stark, with a wide bed. An extra crib had been added for later use, when the new cub was old enough to be weaned. A nest of pillows and blankets covered the mattress frame, and a kaleidoscope of glaring colors clashed against one another as the pair looked on the many decorations the Gryphoness had somehow managed to take with her from New Unity, including a certain tea set that lay steaming on a table nearby. Cheshire lay on the makeshift nest, holding her cub close to her teats as she looked on the pair.

“Cheshire the Mad, daughter of Hattie Habberdash and March Hareford Wonderland Skytalon. Your reputation precedes you,” Daedalus said with a smile and a nod of his head. “I believe I owe you my life.”

“Will that be years, months, or days?” Cheshire asked playfully. “I’d take hours or minutes, but they’re just so hard to keep track of.”

Daedalus chuckled. “That’s nothing compared to all the seconds I’ve had to count. What a headache.”

The Gryphoness smiled appreciatively, and motioned to the table. “Tea, Your Majesty? Grif was kind enough to give me some of his supply from Neighpon. He just didn’t know he’d already done it at the time,” she added with a wink.

“Joke’s on you, Cheshire. I knew you’d raid my tea. That’s why I placed the good stuff in the maddest place I could think of,” Grif chuckled.

“You mean that compartment beneath your hearth? It was such a lovely spot. The heat from the coals had warmed the leaves just right.” She sighed in pleasure.

“That’s what I thought. That’s why the best leaves hung in the chimney above the spot.” Grif winked at her. “How is Chu Chulan?” he asked.

“As hungry as three fully grown males, with a mouth to match.” She chuckled as the cub continued to nurse. “Of course, I was feeling rather full anyways, so it’s quite welcome.”

Daedalus cleared his throat as he did his best to quell the blush in his cheeks. “Speaking of the cub, while I have arranged for honors to be given to Kal’leam for his service, the birth of your son has granted a rather interesting avenue to bridge the gap between the Equestrian Gryphons and the Gryphons of my empire. Tell me, Cheshire, how does the idea of dual citizenship strike you?”

“Well that depends. Does that come with the right to visit my husband whenever we want?”

“And much more. I could always sweeten the deal with diplomatic immunity. That’ll really steam those bureaucrats and elitists, don’t you think?” the Emperor asked as he poured three cups, one for Grif, one for himself, and one for the nursing mother.

“It might.” Cheshire shrugged. “You’re thinking too linearly, though, Daedalus. If you want to keep your throne, you need to think crossways, seesaw, loopdeloop, and see-through. And that’s just the start.”

“You need to think sideways, and upways, and downways, and backways, and alleyways,” Grif added with a wink.

“And what about highways?” Daedalus asked as he took a sip from his cup.

“Too much blockage,” Cheshire said with a dismissive wave.

“I’d like to have a ceremony some time, too, but Melody says it won’t be possible, so I’d like to present you two with these now.” He pulled out a pair of badges, each shaped to look like one of Melody’s shimmering feathers with a bloodstone at the nib. “Show these to anyone, and you’ll have unrestricted access to me. I’m afraid you’ll need to add any protective charms or enchantments yourself, though. As I’m sure you’re both well aware, magic isn’t exactly prominent in our ranks anymore.”

Grif was suddenly the object of an intense glare from Cheshire, and the young gryphon was treated to the rare sight of seeing his hero wilt a bit. “That problem may be … fixable in the future, Daedalus.”

“You mean to say she’s ready to teach already?”

“Daedalus, what I’m going to tell you cannot reach anyone yet. Avalon won’t be starting from the ground up. We have access to the resources left behind by the original evokers. The fortress was sealed with magic when I vanished. By Equestria’s law, as much as by yours, it was mine by capture. All the scrolls, the books, the notes needed to get Avalon going with initiations, they’re all still intact.” Grif sighed, still uneasy as he said the next words. “In a few years, an academy may be doable.”

“And the gems?”

“I have all five now,” Grif said as he tapped the buckler on his shoulder. “All I need is the Khopesh of Thoth, the one stained with the blood of Anubis, but I’ve been told by your wife that I will need to wait for someone to bring it to me." He took a drink from his cup. “Patience is all we can do for now, Daedalus. Rest assured, the Winds will come home, even if I must sacrifice all. I promise you that much.”

“Well, now that we have all the drama out of the way, who’s up for a little game?” Cheshire asked as her smile widened into a grin.

“I’m afraid we won’t have the time, Cheshire. Pensword will no doubt be looking for me to wonder why we haven’t taken our leave yet. I’m sure Daedalus can arrange for some way that we can provide you an easy transport between here and the Empire.” Grif grinned, thankful to breach the subject that he’d needed an opening for. “Perhaps His Majesty would see fit to gift us a few more stormstone cores. Then we could build you your own craft.”

Daedalus winced. “Ah … perhaps we should discuss that during our next visit,” he said delicately. “After things are properly settled.”

Grif nodded as he finished his cup. “I suppose that's the best answer I could hope for.” He returned the cup to the table, and sighed. “It has been a pleasure seeing you again, Daedalus. I hope you’ll name the first boy after my father.” He chuckled, and fixed the emperor with a wink. “Shall I show you out?”

“I’m afraid it is that time. Next time, Cheshire, I would like the chance to know you better. Until then, may the Winds always be at your wings, and may your little one grow into a warrior as great as his sires.” He bowed low to the pair. “You will always have my thanks.” And with that, he made his way out to the hall.

“I’ll see you later, Chesh.” Grif nodded to her, before he followed after Daedalus. He hadn’t lied about his enjoyment at seeing the Emperor, but he wouldn’t be upset to see this mountain shrinking into the distance by midmorning.

---

Due to overwhelming demand, Grif had been forced to set up additional training grounds on the Gantrithor’s deck. Pensword made good use of them as he stood in the newly built range, working with his modified Gryphon bow, shooting arrow after arrow. Ten targets sat at the far end of the range. The hay bales marking its edge had been peppered with loose arrows in random clusters, ready to be picked up and fired. A single quiver of arrows lay on a table to his right. The first bullseye had been embedded with three split arrows, creating a blossom effect. He nodded in satisfaction, before he shifted to clusters. He snorted as he looked to his Gryphon bow, and smiled as he felt it accepting his authority. The arms bent more easily, the recoil was less, and the string would bend sometimes to the point where he had to shift his stance to adjust his aim. The weight of the weapon had become significantly lighter, to the point where he could add it to his armor, and not feel a single change in his burden.

He finished unloading his quiver, and groped blindly for an arrow that wasn’t there. He scanned the targets, and then the quivers. Every single arrow had struck where he wanted, and, to his pleasant surprise, he was still in control of his breathing. His ears twitched as he heard the familiar clack of talon and claw on metal. “Grif, is that you?” he shouted, keeping his eyes on his hoofwork. All ten bullseyes had twenty arrows clustered closely around them.

“You’ve really taken to that, haven’t you?” Grif chuckled.

“I’ve got to,” Pensword responded. “I need to be better. What I heard back there.…” He shook his head. “My claws must be honed and sharp.” Without warning, he plucked a stray arrow from a nearby bale with a wing, and fired in one fluid motion. The shaft struck a support pillar, pinged off it, and impaled the farthest target. “I think this is part of the thaumic stuff,” he muttered. “No way I could make that shot normally.”

“So, since you want to sharpen those claws of yours, would you like me to increase the tension closer to what it normally is?” Grif asked.

“Yes, please,” Pensword said eagerly. “This trip has been good for my training. Being at the desk for so long made me too soft.” He chuckled. “I already ran the circumference of the ship twice this morning.”

Grif took the bow carefully, and began working with the tension settings. “Maybe you should get some leg weights,” he offered. “They helped me when the normal morning run stopped doing anything.” He tested the string, before handing it back to the Pegasus. “It’s at a third the average tension a Gryphon uses right now.”

“I doubt I will get to the full scale, but … do you think I could train my Gryphon kids in the old ways, black and blue?” he asked as he pulled the drawstring back. He grinned at the resistance. It would only make him stronger. He grabbed another arrow from the hay, nocked it, and went through the motions of firing the arrow.

“I can, or I can find others who can, if I can’t get around my duties. I may be attaching a new project to my list of them soon, one that requires me to be far more involved. You do realize if you want to build muscle, you're going to need to do more than work the draw weight of that bow,” Grif pointed out as he watched the Pegasus contend with the new strain.

“I know,” Pensword grunted. “Also, have you got a cordoned off area on the ship where I can practice thaumic skills? I’ve been holding off while we’re traveling, but I need to redouble my efforts.”

“I tend to practice here on the deck near the front of the ship. There’s an area there I’ve sectioned off. It’s quiet, and if anything were to go wrong, there would be less damage.” Grif led his friend along the deck, until they reached a shaded area near the ship’s bow. A shallow circle had been scratched into the wood of the deck. “Get in,” Grif ordered, gesturing to the center. The Pony moved to obey, placing his bow down on the ground just out of reach, but still within sight, before entering the circle. Grif approached the wall, and grabbed a trio of practice swords. He tossed one to Pensword, a heavy broadsword that would prove difficult for the Pony to wield. When the commander had finally raised the weapon into a proper fighting stance, Grif held up his two thin longswords, and grinned.

Pensword winced as he felt his muscles protesting against the weight. “Just don’t break any of my bones, Grif,” he grunted.

“Oh, I won’t break anything.” Grif smirked as he circled his friend. “But you're going to hate me in the morning. That much I can promise. You know, I think it might be because of Taze, because of his and Matthew’s memories, but I have to be honest. I’ve always held back against you, helped to close the gap in our skills. For that, I think I must apologize to you. It’s a mistake I won’t be making anymore.”

“Good. But if I keep making the same mistake, you’d better stop the spar, and help me through the motions. I need to be better, but if I am beating against a stone wall, I need tricks and chisels. I don’t have any of your wind powers.”

“Would Supreme Sunrise have done that?” Grif asked. Both already knew the answer. “If I stop to explain it to you, you're going to grow complacent in that. You know that won’t happen for you on the battlefield. How strong you are doesn’t matter, if you can’t think on your hooves. I’m going to do you the biggest favor I can. I’m going to meet you out here every night. Drag you, if necessary; and I am going to beat you black and blue, until you’re so numb to pain that it becomes a distant memory. You're my best friend, Pensword, and I’m going to make you a warrior worthy of legend, or I’m going to kill you trying.”

“Sounds good,” Pensword said as his mouth set in a grim line. He readied the blade, and Grif charged. Pensword blocked, and spun as he yelled to counterattack, but Grif was already gone.

---

Pensword crawled into his bed. His bruises were painful to the touch, but the smile on his muzzle could light up a room. Despite the relief from their burden, all four of his legs shook the moment he rolled to his side. Grif said he’d been amazed Pensword had managed to hit him not once, but twice in their little hour session. Pensword, on the other hoof, got knocked around with exactly two-thousand-five-hundred-and-sixty-five hits. Moon Burn had counted. He was in a daze over the gap.

Of course, Lunar Fang and Fox Feather both took care of him, Fox Feather being one to preen all his feathers for him, acting like a war bride would during the Third Gryphon War. Lunar Fang was treating him like a sick foal as she fed him pieces of vampire fruit bat with a big grin on her muzzle. “Well, you may never gotten the Thestral training you should have, but you sure are making up for it now.”

Fox Feather shuddered. “But does he have to push himself so hard? This is almost like the stories of Hurricane’s day.” She gulped at the glares Pensword fixed her with.

“Our husband likely has a reason for his actions.” Lunar Fang turned to face him. “However, as his wives, I believe we also have a right to know.”

Pensword winced, both from the physical pain of his training and the emotional pain that little chastisement had struck him with. “I … I was told one of our cubs is in danger to darkness, a darkness that is described as the kind that might have taken our high chieftess.”

Lunar Fang dropped the piece of bat meat she’d been holding, and let out a low hiss. “And you didn’t think this was important to share with us sooner?” Her demeanor changed immediately as her head whipped around to face a rather surprised Fox Feather. She bore her fangs as her wings flapped out widely to either side. “Fox Feather, I’m officially invoking my right as herd mother. You and I are going to be sparring each other daily. And we’re both going to be increasing our training regimens. I’m going to teach you to fight like a Thestral, and you’ll share Pegasus tactics with me in turn.”

“I don’t understand. What–?”

“It’s a nightmare, Fox Feather.” Lunar Fang trembled as she fought to blink back the tears and stem the fear. “A nightmare is going to try to possess our baby, just like the one that did Princess Luna.” She narrowed her gaze. “We’re not going to let that happen. Not without a fight.”

“I….” Fox Feather broke off, struggling to find the words. Finally, she nodded slowly. “I understand.”

“Good.” She turned back to Pensword. “I’ll be having a chat with Grif, too. Like it or not, we’re going to get at least demand one day a month for me to spar with you. And you’ll be clearing time in our schedules, so Fox Feather and I can train together.”

“Y-yes, Dear,” Pensword agreed.

“Good. Now that that’s settled, it’s time for you to get some rest. Fox Feather and I will take care of our own preparations.” She took a brush in her hoof, and began to run it gently through her mate’s mane. Meanwhile, Fox Feather began to preen his wings. Gradually, the Pegasus’ eyes drooped closed, and he fell into the void that was sleep.

Pensword slept fitfully that night. The pieces of prophecy weighed heavily on his mind. And yet, despite this, he soon found the blackness giving way to, of all things, a training field filled to the brim with equipment, weapons, armor, and all manner of obstacles for exercise. And yet, though he recognized the equipment, he didn’t recognized the place. The sky was dark, and the stars shone brightly overhead, though no moon could be seen. Everything seemed to stand in dark blue or gray tones. The arena was as big as the castle at New Unity. Observation decks and walkways had been built around the edge for spectators to watch. His ears twitched, and he snapped his head in the direction as he splayed his wings out, ready for battle, only to see the familiar figure of a blue Alicorn in her full ursa armor.

“Your dreams are troubled, Commander,” Princess Luna said as her ethereal mane waved placidly behind her. “Something weighs heavily on your mind.” She held a halting wing. “No need to speak. I have no desire to learn the specifics. I only know what my premonitions tell me. Something is stirring, and you need training to face what will come. I admit, a large part of that need is my own fault. I have burdened you with much responsibility, and that has made it difficult for you to remain in shape. That is something I intend to correct, starting tonight.”

She smirked. “I have so much to teach my Thestrals, so much knowledge and tactics lost to time. I built this place to train them, so they can practice while they dream in the waking world. I sense that you are traveling. Tomorrow, when you have time to practice, call your Gryphon children to you, and train them. Give them scars as Grif’s father gave to his son. Teach them the old ways, and hone your skills together. This will aid you in two ways. First, it will assist you in overcoming your prejudice against the Gryphons of today. Secondly, it will allow you to prepare, taking their own strategies into account to better your countermeasures.” She pawed at the earth with her hoof. “But now is not the time for chat. We have only a few hours in which to train. The night is waning.” She levitated a sword to her side, and her smirk widened into a grin. “Now come at me, my Commander, and let us spar as our people once did in olden times. You will not win this night, but you will learn. And learning is the greatest weapon you can hope to hone now.”

Pensword could feel the weight, the memory of the armor of old. He felt the shifting click of the familiar wing blades. He grinned as he held up a wing and deflected a blade as Luna teleported close for a quick slash, only to teleport away just as quickly to avoid Pensword’s retaliating kick.

Pensword took to the air, and extended his senses. He rolled and dove to the left as the Princess plunged from the sky. He lashed, out and heard metal scrape against metal. The inertia from the contact veered him to the side towards his attacker. Luna responded by reaching out with her hooves and wrapping her forelegs around Pensword, who allowed it, before striking back with a free wing. This forced Luna’s head back, and led her to release, before bucking Pensword to the ground with both hind legs with an exultant laugh.

Pensword struck the ground hard, forming a massive crater. Yet despite the damage, he somehow managed to rise. He looked about in utter confusion. His bones should have been crushed, his body reduced to so much tenderized meat.

Luna laughed all the more. “Do you see this? Do you now see what powers you have? You have the same field Hammer Strike has, Pensword, the same Grif has. You are not the fragile little Pony you fear yourself to be, or rather, the fragile being that Matthew has taught you to be. That side of your nature is no more. If that had happened in the real world, yes you would be hit, you will be sore, but you would still be standing, just as you are right now. We saw what one of our outbursts did to our teacher, and he shrugged it off. With enough training, you can do the same.” She grinned much wider. “Now, come at me again.”

Pensword bellowed, raised his wing blades, and charged Princess Luna once more. Feeling better, less concerned, more free, as one more fear and worry about his body and his durability slipped away. Even as they fought, he could feel the pains in his body fading as something worked to stitch things together. He wasn’t sure of the impact this would have on his body in the waking world, but at this point, it didn’t seem to matter. He felt something crunching as he continued to dance.

Luna smiled as her horn glowed, and she fired off blasts that charred or even dug up the ground as Pensword jumped out of the way. She continued to herd him, and he knew strategically, that could not be allowed. So he took a calculated risk. He jumped into one of the shots, and let it blast him back into a wall. At the instant the beam let up, he leapt back, jumped off the wall, and surged into the air, arching over the blast that would have hit him otherwise. He spun, both to evade the redirection of the beam and to gather his magic together. Slowly, the wind began to gather around his body as the dust below rose into the air. Faster and faster he flew, and soon a vortex had formed around the princess. She spread her wings wide to try to break the cycle and disperse the energies, but Pensword had given it too much momentum. And with all the dust, she knew she wouldn’t be able to see her target properly. She retracted her wings, using them to guard her face against the debris to preserve her vision. At that moment, her eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a shrill whinny as she felt the cold touch of steel across her hind legs. Her reaction was instant as a surge of blue magic blasted the vortex apart and slammed Pensword into the earth below, leaving an imprint of his body in the ground.

Pensword looked up dazedly as his vision came back into focus. The visage of a grim-faced Luna stared down at him holding the frost-coated remains of a bucket of water. He shuddered as the sensation of the cold and frost in his mane registered at last. He shook it gently, and the crackle of the follicles breaking free echoed in his ears.

“Congratulations, Pensword. You are one of only ten of my children to have nicked their princess on their first training. It takes most nearly six sessions before they’re able to overcome the obstacle of facing a beloved ruler. Avatar of the moon or no, in this field, I am a trainer and an adversary. It is good to know that you acknowledged that from the beginning.” She smiled then. “Well done, indeed. However, there is still a matter that requires our attention. You can know how to fight well, the greatest techniques, the most brilliant strategies for nearly every scenario under the sun, but these will do nothing for you without the proper motivation. The motivation is the will, and the will is often what decides who will win in the long run. And so I ask you, Pensword, son of Iron Pen. Why do you fight? You were tapping into techniques and abilities that normally take Ponies a good three months at least in my training, before they can access them.” Her smile widened into a grin. “What is it that drives you so? What are you fighting for? What is it that is so precious that you would throw yourself this heavily, perhaps even recklessly, into your training?”

In a matter of seconds, Pensword found his dream body fully restored. “A warning, Chieftess, from the chosen prophetess of the Winds. It essentially went something like this.” He sighed, then raised his head high. When next he spoke, his voice reverberated through the dream. “I saw a bear with cub, but a monster came to attack the cub. The bear had not been challenged in so long that he had not the strength to save the cub, and the cub was taken. The monster overwhelmed the cub, and put itself inside her. From that point on, the cub became a wild she-bear, and bathed in blood and fire. But I saw also that, should the bear be warned, he might sharpen his claws upon tree and stump, upon rock and log, until they shone with death's own light. And with the rage of bears long past, he would fight the monster back.” He took a deep breath and the last part boomed louder over the dreamscape. “‘Till raven and wolf on shadow feast, the bear must battle again and again, and hold back the beast.’”

Pensword would never forget what he saw that night in the dream realm. The mask of the warrior that Pensword associated with his Princess, his High Chieftess, shattered as her eyes widened. Her head reared back, and steam came from her angry snort as her eyes flashed with the light of the stars. When they had returned to normal, her expression was grave.

“Every night from now till I deem thee ready, we shall spar, and I will teach thee the magic of the dream hunters. It is true the sight beyond is your gift, but you and I both know that gift will not serve you against this foe. No matter how long it takes in the dream time, no matter how deeply into your subconscious we must travel to prolong your training, you will learn to repel this creature. As it stands, you have only one female cub born into your family. And you and I both know we cannot allow her to come to harm.” She shook with suppressed rage as her eyes glowed red, and her pupils narrowed to slits. “I know what it is to fall to a nightmare. I know the torture of being trapped within the confines of my own mind for centuries. It is a torture I will not allow to befall our precious Moon River. And so I name it here by my power, for knowledge of the creature will limit its power and influence. Remember its name, Pensword. I gave Orion his blade in the name of this creature, and he paid the price for it. It is a sin I would not have repeated.” A circle of brilliant blue light began to draw around her as flickers of the energy arced upwards. “I name this creature. Defiler of Dreams, Doubt Whisperer, Fear Caster, Sibilant Shade, Usurper of Thought and Will.” She slammed her hooves on the ground, and spread her wings wide as the circle flared, before blasting outwards. “I name this creature Nightmare!”

Everywhere her magic touched, the arena changed, shifting from soft turf and stands to a lone desolate mountain top. An unfriendly wind blew through the air. The cold seeped into Pensword’s bones. Lightning lashed overhead. “Now come, Pensword. Fight me!” she cried as her form shimmered and boiled away till something else stood there. “Or this night shall last forever!” Nightmare Moon cackled as she fired her magic into the clouds, triggering the storm to break as an onslaught of hail and lightning bolts smashed around the Pegasus.

Pensword snorted, and charged. He knew Luna wouldn’t be holding back. She may not have been possessed again, but she knew the tactics of the creatures better than anypony alive. If he was to hope to counter it, he would need to learn to defeat the facsimile that stood before him. He jerked left to avoid a bolt of lightning, then launched into the air to try another tornado spin. Before he could even begin the attack, he felt hi body lock in midair. Nightmare Moon bared her fangs in a malevolent grin. She tossed her head negligently, and Pensword found the world tumbling through the air like a cloud knocked aside by Rainbow’s haste. He finally managed to right himself, only to catch a beam of magic to the face and chest that smashed him into a rocky pillar.

He heard a scream, and his heart froze in fear. Moon River. Even if this was an exercise, that meant he was failing. He couldn’t afford to allow Nightmare to succeed. His eyes narrowed, and he charged again, screaming bloody murder against the Nightmare, and right into her trap.

Luna tut-tutted disappointedly as Pensword returned from his second blackout of the night. How that was even possible in a dream, he didn’t know, but there it was. “We have much to teach thee, Commander.” Her eyes narrowed. “That last action would have cost not just Moon River, but you, Commander, and that would give us two mad bears to fight.” She sighed. “We have much to teach thee, but we know where to start. Grif is teaching your body during your waking hours. I will teach your soul and mind as your body sleeps. I will begin by teaching you the basics of dream warfare and strategy. After you have them down, you will use my tactics and those of your own design when you can to increase the defenses within the unconscious mind. No more nightmares tonight. Come.” She tossed her head, and a chalkboard materialized behind her with a fresh piece of chalk in her magical grip. “Let us begin.”

---

Hammer Strike sat in his room, a few pieces of parchment before him, namely letters giving him updates on conditions in Equestria, most specifically in New Unity, including an update from Clover on the mage unit’s training regimen. Still, despite the abundance of materials to draw his attention away, his mind inevitably returned to Melody’s vision.

Two times. Two times now that he’d been shown a glimpse into his future, and neither held a shred of promise. No peaceful smiles, no happy endings, no glimpses of foals or family friends. Instead, he knew the time and date of his death and the image of himself: worn down, horrifically scarred, and most disturbing of all, mentally broken.

“He seems troubled,” one feminine voice popped up. It was deeper, with a kind of droning monotone.

“Well, it’ll teach him a lesson for all the trouble he gives me,” another higher voice said.

“I don’t know. Is it fair to taunt him for something he can’t control?” a third softer voice asked.

Hammer Strike sighed. He didn’t recognize the voices at all, and the chance of it being a Gryphon was next to nothing. “So who’s come to visit this time?” he asked as he turned towards the trio of voices. His eyes glowed with thaumic energy for a moment, before he shook his head.

Three gray mares sat across from him. One was tall and thin, the second short and fat, and the middle one ... Hammer Strike was unable to find a good description for her other than average. Aside from the sizes, they all held identical steel-gray coats with a lighter gray mane and tail. Their cutie marks were all of single eye. Oddly enough, the marks seemed to change, opening and closing in a weird sort of rhythm. When one was open, the other two were always shut tight.

“Oh, so you choose to acknowledge me now?” the smaller one asked in a huff.

“I need to calm down. He isn’t hostile,” the taller one chastised.

“Well maybe I should stop being rude and make introductions,” the middle one noted. “I am the embodiment of what is to happen.”

“I write every event that will be, has been, or is,” the taller mare said.

“I see the glory and the folly of every being,” the smaller one chimed in.

“I am Fate,” they spoke in unison.

“I’m starting to notice a pattern for when others like yourself become visible to me,” Hammer Strike commented.

“Oh, well aren't you a smart one? It should be no surprise from Mom and Dad's favorite mortal,” the shorter one snarked.

“The only stallion Death’s afraid of,” the middle one commented.

“Chance’s best friend,” the taller one added with a gentle smile.

“So what brings you here? I’m almost positive you knew I would be able to see you now.” Hammer Strike turned his full attention towards the trio. “Perhaps another jab towards my future and what other horrific events are to come?”

“Like you care what I’ve written for you,” the smaller one snorted.

“You’ve never listened to me before,” the middle one pointed out.

“It‘s strange,” the taller one added.

Hammer Strike raised a brow questioningly. After a moment, he leaned back as something clicked. “I’ve done something that shouldn’t have happened, haven’t I?”

“What haven’t you done?” the middle one asked. “By all accounts, that missing ear is about the only thing I’ve managed to get right, and that's only half done.”

“I work outside of your written words,” Hammer Strike commented as he thought aloud. “Quite odd how I work outside most of the embodiments’ domain.” A small grin crept onto his face. “It’s almost like I’ve got something to counter your control.”

“I know you tread on Sleipnir's territory,” the small one growled. “Like that will end well.”

“I know how these games will end, and I have accepted those facts. But until that day comes, I’ve got plenty to add,” he replied simply. “I’m curious of how much you can see into our lives, seeing as each of us potentially try, and sometimes succeed in going the opposite way you wanted.”

“You and Grif most of all,” the taller one smiled. “It can be very entertaining. I haven’t been surprised in so long.”

“Then I’m certain you’ll have more to be surprised by.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle.

“I’m more than certain of it,” the middle one said. “For it is not like I could force you to listen.”

“Hey, if you worked alongside what I wanted to do, then you wouldn’t have much of a problem,” Hammer Strike commented, a small grin still on his face.

“I don’t usually have to bow to the whims of mortals,” the small one huffed.

“Why, I just said working alongside me. You’ve obviously noted that sometimes you get it right in the end.”

“Be glad I’m not Destiny. She can’t begin to describe her loathing of you,” the small one said.

“Don’t worry. I’m almost certain I’ll see her soon enough. Slowly, one by one, you all appear before my eyes, and I’m sure I’ll see you all before my time is through.”

“Yes. Well, I have books to write, and work to do, so I’ll get out of your mane,” the taller one said.

“But keep in mind that if you will not heed me, then I cannot be blamed for the consequences that follow,” the middle one added.

“So don’t come crying when things go wrong,” the small one added. Then, with a comical pop, they vanished.

“I never have, nor will I ever,” Hammer Strike said into the emptiness as he turned towards his letters once more.

---

Vital Spark sat on his bed with his eyes closed as the magic in his horn pulsated. The tomes he’d brought from New Unity hovered and swirled gently around him, along with Watcher and his violin. He breathed steadily as he concentrated on the warp and weave of his magical aura, seeking out the mana within the air surrounding him. A large Do Not Disturb sign had been frozen over the front door in a solid block of ice as the words from Melody’s prophecies played through his mind.

He remembered the arid savannah, and the strange shifting of his reflection. It still spooked him how the transition had run so smoothly. Did that mean he would eventually gain a third form, or was it merely a symbol of the culture he would inevitably be exposed to? And then there was the whole point of time travel happening in the first place. He hated to think about how the others might react, let alone what they’d do to him later for keeping it from them.

The magic fluctuated, and the artifacts began to whirl faster. His brows furrowed, and he willed the tornado to slow. This exercise was about maintaining calm as he sifted through the information. He couldn’t afford to let anxiety drive his magic. Another deep breath, and he focused on Wukong. The Monkey King would require careful handling. One wrong move, and he could easily kill any of them. At the same time, the idea of meeting one of the greatest historical legends from Earth was tantalizing, exciting. And … for once, he would know about an entity Clover wouldn’t. He couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

And then there was the meddlesome part of Melody’s prophecy about some reason to celebrate. While that was generally a good sign, that didn’t mean he shouldn’t exercise some form of caution. As things stood, it was likely Wukong would insist they stay at least a night, assuming he accepted the rest of them.

Vital sighed as he released his hold, and returned the items where they belonged. While he may not have found inner peace, at least his mind was … somewhat clearer.

Crack

The sound filled the room, like breaking glass ... or ice.

“Well … so much for a clear head,” Vital groaned as he turned towards the door. “You know, you could always knock!” he shouted.

There was another crack, this time from Vital’s desk as the temperature in the room took a sudden drop. The Unicorn whipped his head to the desk, where a frost-encrusted stand held the base of the cryophoenix egg in place. The blanket the Bird of Paradise had given him acted as an insulator for the egg, pouring its frigid energy into the shell. Vital’s eyes widened as the runes around the desk flared, then broke, and the frost began to advance. With each new crack, the temperature dropped further, and a pale light began to peek out from under the blanket as the egg wobbled.

“Well, so much for wondering about the celebration,” Vital said in a surprisingly clinical voice. “And the fact that I’m feeling this calm should probably unnerve me more. … Clover would be proud.” He used his magic to gradually ease the blanket off the egg to reveal the white seams where the stress from the chick within had caused the shell to weaken. “You know, I still haven’t gotten a proper name for you yet. I hope you don’t mind,” he warned. “I figured I’d really know after I see you and hear you.” He smiled sheepishly, and blushed. “Wow. I’m talking to an egg. Granted, an egg that’s hatching, but still. The guys would probably be a bit concerned about now.” Then he chuckled as he cast a quick insulation spell. Better to be on the safe side, especially with how quickly the frost was spreading.

A piece of the egg broke away, and fell from the desk like a chunk from a glacier, and Vital Spark swore he could see movement from within the small crack. He approached with caution. Considering the egg was supposed to shatter completely, it was likely there would be stray shards to catch or deflect, when the chick was ready to emerge. His horn hummed with magic as he braced for any potential mishaps. “Well, I don’t know if I’m ready to be a father, but if it’s your time, it’s your time,” he said with a chuckle.

As more of the ice broke away, a dark blue beak poked through, letting out a small cheep as it worked at more of the icy shell.

“Huh. When she said shatter, I thought she meant breaking the egg apart like shrapnel,” Vital mused as he watched. “Are you planning on doing things differently, little one?”

And then the eggshell proceeded to explode into fragments, peppering the surrounding area with bits of ice as it revealed the small white down of the frost-covered chick.

Vital Spark was grateful for the shield he was able to erect over his face. “Thank you, Shining Armor,” he muttered. Then he winced as he felt the beginnings of blood flow down his legs and torso. It was slight, but the cold of the room let him know exactly where he’d been hit. He sighed as he used his telekinesis to remove the fragments. He then proceeded to levitate the first aid kit from its compartment by the side of the door. It didn’t take him long to disinfect the sites, and bandage them up where it was needed. “You know,” he chuckled, “you’d think I’d have learned not to open the door up for Murphy by now.” He smiled as he approached the chick. “You surprised me, little one.”

The bird tilted her head to the side, and chirped at him curiously.

“Well, I don’t know if I’d say I’m your father, but I am the one who helped hatch you,” he said as he levitated the bird briefly in his magic, then wrapped it up loosely in the blanket’s folds, so it could have a little wiggle room, if it needed it. “Though the question still remains for what to call you. After all, everyone needs a name, don’t they?”

Again, a cheep.

“Well, I can’t exactly go calling you Cheep, now can I? Too easy for people to target and insult you. I don’t think either of us wants that.” This time, Vital Spark cocked his head to the side as he pondered the scenario, cradling the hatchling all the while. “This’d be a lot easier if I could hear what you sound like normally, but that’d take too long.” He sighed as he walked back to the desk. “There’s all kinds of elegant names I could give you, but I don’t know if any of them would really fit, truth be told. What do you think, little one? Do you have a preference? What would you like to be called?”

The chick looked at him silently, seemingly attempting to impress the fact that she could not say anything he’d understand.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t ask,” he pointed out. “Empathy is a powerful link, you know,” he said pointedly as he walked over to his violin case. “I know your species are generally songbirds. Would you like to hear one?”

He received an enthusiastic cheep in response.

He chuckled to himself. “Surprisingly intelligent for one so freshly hatched. Are all phoenixes born with an understanding for Equish?” he asked as he opened the case, and pulled out the instrument.

The chick just watched with intense fascination.

Vital Spark raised the violin and its bow, grateful he’d practiced holding multiple objects at once in his magical grip, before he began to play. Rather than follow any rhythm or melody, he just ran over the strings, trying to come up with something reminiscent of the new life that hovered next to him. He began with a few basic plucks of the strings, a sharp staccato in memory of the bird’s cheep. First it came slowly, uncertain. Then it became more cohesive, faster, sharper, rising higher, than lower. Finally, he put the bow to the strings, racing over them in a playful melody that soon layered with mingled chords and harmonies he never could manage with his human fingers. He thought to the Bird of Paradise, and the feelings that emanated from her in her presence. If the chick really was her child, at least spiritually speaking, then the chick deserved to get at least a taste of it. As the music continued to play, the markings began to light up, and the frost glittered as they refracted from the violin.

“An echo of an echo of the beauty your mothers represent, but I hope you enjoy it.” Vital continued to play as he let the image of the great phoenix he’d seen in the valley in Neighpon, and the memory of the Bird of Paradise both blended into the song, singing the cold beauty of winter in the pure white snow, of icicles refracting sunlight to dance across cavern walls, of the warmth from a mother’s love. And then he shifted to something new. It was clumsy, clutzy even as he jumped from string to string, eeking various notes, before coming to a more solid footing, holding an open D as he pulled the bow back and forth, before turning it into a deep, thrumming chord, then wheeled off into a celtic jig, laughing as he spun and danced to the tune. Well … more like skipped and jumped, while struggling to maintain his footing, but he managed it.

The chick, for her part, seemed spellbound by the music

And that was when the door burst open in a gust of wind as Grif broke through with Pensword clinging to the Gryphon’s neck.

“What?” the Pegasus asked dazedly. “We … the corridors…. Did I see Sugar Cube Corner for a second?”

Grif was more distracted as he eyed the chick on the desk. “It hatched?” he asked.

“And I’m guessing Caring Circlet alerted you to a sudden drop in temperature in my room that had you rushing over here,” Vital surmised. “Yeah. The runes failed when she broke out of her shell. By the way, try to avoid breaking them further. I’d like to collect the fragments for study and use later.” He looked sadly at the bird. “I still don’t know what to name her. I know I want it to be musical. She clearly loves that. I’m just not sure what fits.”

Grif let out a few experimental warbles, and was answered by a few more cheeps. “She definitely likes you,” he chuckled.

“Well, I guess that’s a comfort, at least.”

“Phoenix is tricky, but i think it’s safe to say she’s imprinted on you.”

“Well, she is a cute little thing,” Vital said as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he walked over to rub his hoof gently under the chick’s beak. “Though I suppose now would be a good time to get some food for her. Grif, would you mind grabbing that book on cryophoenixes over there for me?”

Pensword shook his head as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. “That…” He blinked, and shuddered. “Oh my. It hatched. And before you say anything, Vital, I am still disoriented from being carried by Grif at mach one.”

Grif chuckled as he handed Vital Spark the book in question.

He pulled open the book, and flipped the pages with his magic. “Well … looks like we may have to break into your stores of meat, Grif. Phoenixes appear to be carnivorous. And cryophoenixes like their food cold.”

“So frozen meat.” Grif nodded. “I’ll see what we have.” And then he was gone.

“Make sure it’s partially defrosted!” Vital called after him. “They eat their prey just after they succumb to hypothermia!”

Pensword paused and looked around somewhat uncomfortably, after that outburst. “Uh … see you, Vital. I guess I’ll run around the deck again.” He walked out of the room. As he did so, Vital just caught the glint of the weights on the Pony’s legs.

Grif returned a few minutes later with some frozen venison.

“I guess that should work for now. We’ll have to move her up to something with proper bones eventually, but this should hopefully work for a start. Thanks, Grif.”

“I’ll make sure some is kept frozen for you at all times. Just look after her. You’ve got a rare beast, and I’m pretty sure Newt Scamander wouldn’t forgive us, if something happened to her.” He fixed the pair with a playful wink, then left.

The chick let out an inquisitive cheep, and Vital sighed.

“It’s a long story. Like seven books long.”

“Or eight movies,” Cheshire said suddenly.

Vital’s scream echoed through the halls, followed by Cheshire’s familiar laughter.

---

“So, you doing okay?” Grif asked his lord as he took another slurp of coffee. The two sat in the meeting room near the Gantrithor’s imperial quarters at the the large table.

“As okay as I can be. Yeah,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “The list of embodiments keep growing. Not too sure if it’s a plus.”

“Too early to tell, I guess. So, Pensword talked to you yet?”

“I’ve been a bit busy, so no. What’s up?”

“Oh, I’m putting him through an accelerated physical training program, doing seventeen years worth of work in the next few months. I figure it’ll either kill him or get him somewhere around up to par,” Grif said casually as he took another hit of coffee.

Hammer Strike stared at Grif for a moment, before sighing. “As long as we avoid the killing part, then all right.”

“That’ll be up to him. He’s got things he’s going to need to protect. Things need to change, and quickly.”

“We’ve all warned him. He’s listened partially. If you can get it done, then good job,” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“He thinks he’s going to get you to spar with him,” Grif chuckled. “I tried to tell him that even holding back, you’d probably end up breaking his torso, but he’s still going to ask.”

“Then let him take the consequences that follow.”

“Just remember: don’t do anything that’ll take longer than a week to heal. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Grif noted. “And there’s someone way too precious on the line to screw it up.” Grif proceeded to tell Hammer Strike his prophecy, and his suspicions regarding what it meant.

Hammer Strike groaned. “Grif, I’ve got it. I’ll try not to kill him.”

“Whatever you saw must have been bad,” Grif said as he rose onto his hind legs, and folded his arms to lean against a wall. “This is the moodiest I’ve seen you in a while.”

“I’ve seen the time and date I’m supposed to die. Following that up with something worse was a miracle on its own.” Hammer Strike sighed. “And ever since I saw it, I’ve been visited by the trio of Fate, and this everlasting feeling of something watching me, constantly observing me. And I can’t see it.”

“Well tell them where to go, and how to get there for me. I really don’t care who they are. My future isn’t written yet,” Grif growled. “Still, if you need to talk, you know I’m here.”

“Fate despises us for this reason. But what do you count for our future that’s in the past? That’s what I question, for certain things seem to be unavoidable without making massive changes.”

“History is written mostly through conjecture and the ideas of fools.” Grif shrugged. “There might be some things regarding the future there, but until we know the details, I’d say it’s still relatively up to us to determine how things went. Context changes a situation.”

“Correct enough,” Hammer Strike conceded as he glanced over his shoulder for a second. “It’s all what-ifs, and other things.”

“Then the best idea is to do your best to meet what's to come on your terms. And if you can’t do that, then make sure power rests in no one's hands. No matter how bad things get, you can always find spider holes.”

Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “How little we understand these events to come, though we march forward, down the line to what could be a bitter end.”

Grif scratched his ear as he looked at the Earth Pony. “Well, that was … something,” he noted.

Hammer Strike shrugged. “That’s life, you know?”

“I’ll drink to that.” Grif chuckled as he finished his coffee. “Well, I need to go beat on my new piñata some more. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Have fun.”

---

“Now Trixie, I don’t know how she’s going to react to you. She’s just a baby right now, after all, so take it easy with her, all right?” Vital asked worriedly as he stood before the door to his quarters. Trixie stood at his side, looking impatiently over his shoulder at the icy seal he’d formed over the door as an added measure of protection.

“Trixie is sure she will spellbind the majestic beast with her own majesty!” Trixie told him.

“That, and you want to be able to claim you’ve seen a real live cryophoenix before Twilight did,” Vital deadpanned.

“Trixie had never even considered that,” Trixie said, shocked.

“You didn’t? Well then, Trixie, either something is very wrong with you, or you’re really making an important change.” Vital chuckled as he lowered the warding, causing the ice to dispel as he opened the door, and walked in. The chick was busy exploring around its nest on the desk, pecking at some frozen meat occasionally as it messed around with various mechanisms Caring Circlet had suggested to keep her occupied.

“She is quite a sight,” Trixie said as she moved to get a closer look. A light layer of frost had covered the chick’s down, making her glitter slightly in the light.

“All the beauty of a first winter’s snow,” Vital said as he walked next to Trixie to watch the chick as she looked up from her current play thing, a weighted balance beam that she could nudge up or down with her beak. “Still not sure what to name her, though.” He sighed. “I don’t want to make it stereotypical, but I want to make it really match her, and what she’ll be one day, you know? Or at least what she could be.”

“You have no ideas at all?” Trixie asked.

“Well, Snow was a possibility that came to mind, but that’s a bit too … on the nose for me. I was thinking something musical, since she seems to like music so much, but I don’t know what would really fit her or her personality. It hasn’t exactly developed yet, you know?”

“Sonata?” Trixie offered.

Vital shook his head. “Too auto. And no, I won’t be elaborating on what auto means in this case. That has to do with the humans, and I kinda need to keep quiet about that side of things for now.”

“Borea?” Trixie offered.

“After the god of winds? Not sure that’d fit in this case, especially since Grif has four deities who happen to already hold that role.”

“Trixie was thinking more of the northern lights,” Trixie clarified

“Possible, but it doesn’t feel right.” He sighed. “Like I said, I really get the feeling it has to be musical. I kind of have a thing for picking names. You could say it’s one of my main talents, aside from the whole magic cutie mark thing.” He chuckled nervously. “Though I wouldn’t say I’m quite so skilled as everypony else.”

The chick hopped up to the edge of the desk, and started to cheep as she flapped her tiny wings, and hopped excitedly. Vital couldn’t help but chuckle as he lowered his muzzle to nuzzle against her little head, before levitating a dulled hook in his magic to start preening the chick’s feathers. “Would you like to try?” he asked as he motioned towards the tool.

“Trixie isn’t sure she’s ready to try something so delicate yet,” the Unicorn said as she took a hesitant step back.

“If you’re not comfortable, I won’t push you,” Vital said. “Do you at least want to pet her?”

“I won’t break her?” she asked.

“I meant with your hoof, silly.” He chuckled. “All it takes is a gentle touch. Well, that, and being ready for a bit of a chill. The cold is her element, after all. Here. Let me help you.” He reached over, and grabbed Trixie’s hoof, pulling it towards the chick. “This is Trixie, my….” He blushed. “My girlfriend. Well, marefriend, I suppose.” Then he laid the hoof beneath the beak, before turning to Trixie. “Now you just have to rub gently down her feathers, like this.”

Trixie flushed as she gently rubbed her hoof. “She’s so soft.”

“It’s not too cold, is it?” Vital asked, concerned.

Trixie shook her head.

“And … we’re not … too close?” he asked quietly.

“Why … why would we be too close? Unless you think it’s too close?” Trixie asked a bit nervously.

“No … I think it’s just–.” His nostrils flared, and he shuddered briefly. Then he leaned in and placed his lips on hers for a moment, before pulling away. “–Just right.”

“Trixie couldn’t agree more.” She pulled him back into a kiss, a longer one this time.

A sharp trilling filled the air, followed by the rising and falling cadence of a warbling cry that slowly turned into the whistling cheep most songbirds are known for. In a matter of seconds, the melody rose up to a high staccato trill that jumped from variation to variation. Vital’s eyes widened as he broke off from the kiss. “I know that song!” He watched as the chick spread its wings, and its tiny chest rose and fell rapidly as the air flowed continuously from its beak. “That’s Queen of the Night, an aria from one of the most famous operas ever composed on Earth.”

The hatchling broke of its melody, and looked at him as it cocked its head.

“... Was it something I said?” Vital asked.

“Maybe it has something to do with the song and her name?” Trixie suggested.

“Queen? Night?” The bird let out a shrill tweet of protest both times, and Vital winced. “Definitely not.”

“Well, if you said her name had to be musical, then … Aria?”

The chick immediately hopped over to Trixie, and tweeted excitedly as it jumped up and down.

“... I’ll take that as a yes,” Vital said.

Trixie chuckled as the chick jumped into her mane. “I’ll say.”

---

“Still too slow,” Grif said as his training sword slammed into Pensword’s side, sending the stallion’s body skidding. “But you are getting the hang of reading my movements, at least.”

A grunt was the only answer Grif got as he felt the scratch from one of Pensword’s blades. against his leg. The stallion rolled up, and smirked. Grif was already halfway to the other side of the room.

“You battle with your speed and smarts,” Pensword said as he took a steadying breath. “I fight with my wits. In real life, you’d be poisoned right now,” he said as he pointed to the dye running down the side of his practice sword. “I am giving this my all. This is no fight of honor, no duel. This is war.” He kept up his momentum, never taking his eyes off the Gryphon, even as their fight brought on a pair of very interested spectators. Day Moon and Bellacosa both cheered excitedly from the sidelines.

“The enemy you’re training to fight won’t die by poison.” And suddenly Grif was on Pensword’s far side. Three savage strikes sent the Pony skidding on his side this time. “It’s killing blow or death. You still lose.”

Pensword snorted as he rolled back up, still sore, but showing his body was recovering faster. “Not just any poison,” he snapped. “Moonfang tears.” He spoke as Grif found strikes and paint where his tendons were on all four legs. “I rather not make you immobile. You can fly, but you just lost use of your ‘host’s’ limbs.” He spat as he fired toy barbed arrows that stuck at the wing joints. His eyes narrowed. “You.” he stopped, and starting coughing. Clear liquid spewed from his mouth as he heaved on the deck. “I … I think I’m done for the day,” he wheezed between bouts.

“I'll give you an hour,” Grif said gruffly. “You still owe me time.”

Pensword heaved up more water.

Day Moon shivered and looked over to Bellacosa with a gulp. “Why are you smiling, Cosy? Grif’s trying to kill my second dad.”

“If he were trying to kill him, he’d have done it yesterday, Day Moon. You don’t even know how lucky you are. You're going to be taught by one of the greatest warriors of two eras. I’m so jealous of you”

“Cosy,” Day Moon began, twitching his bat wings, “I’m scared how he would treat me. My dad asked for extra help, and … they both seem like they’re fighting for the kill. I don’t know if I could survive. I saw Grif strike my dad with at least two lethal blows today, and my dad rolls up like it was a heavy hit.”

“Sometimes a lethal blow is unavoidable. The most important thing is making it not instantly lethal, and lasting long enough to kill the threat. Back …. Back during Sombra’s rebellion, Grif took a blade in the chest. He was run right through. He never staggered for more than a second. Blood flowed from him in rivers, and he pushed on to make sure he ended the threat, to protect us.”

Day Moon just nodded hesitantly. “Are … are you jealous about this? I mean, didn't Uncle Pensword teach you things already?”

“They’ve all shown me things, but Cady won’t let me actually learn anything warlike until I’m older.” Bellacosa sighed. “Sometimes, I think she just wants to keep me a foal forever. She wasn’t the only one who had to deal with a war, you know.”

“And when you’re older? Who will you ask to teach you then?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Bellacosa shrugged.

“Well, I guess we wait to see the rest of the training?” Day Moon whispered as they watched Pensword mop up his mess with a sponge. His muscles shook from his exertions, and his wings twitched from the adrenaline coursing through his system. Day Moon frowned at the sight.

“He’ll be okay,” Cosy assured him. “Your dad’s too tough to lay down and die.”

“Yeah, I guess he is,” Day Moon said as a hint of a smile pulled at his lips.

An hour later, Pensword stood ready for Grif to enter the ring again, while the foals snacked on dried seaweed. He just hoped Hammer Strike wouldn’t show up to join. In his current state, there wasn’t a chance of lasting ten seconds, let alone ten minutes.

“You stare any intenser at that doorway, and you're going to turn it to stone,” Grifs voice filtered into Pensword’s ear. Pensword whipped around to strike him, but Grif dodged nimbly, before landing a blow on the Pegasus’ side.

Grif soon found that he’d only succeeded in knocking a feather loose as Pensword jerked away from the strike at the last second. He pulled up and around, while Grif blurred out of sight to appear high in the air, ready to strike again. Grif found his beak struck by the flat edge of Pensword’s blade, causing a cut where beak met flesh. Pensword landed with a gash on his left flank as the thaumic field pushed Grif’s claw away from Pensword’s cutie mark. Pensword’s wound was larger, and slightly deeper. The commander experimented, testing how much pain it would cause to support his weight with the cut. When he confirmed it was safe, he quickly whipped around and bucked the Gryphon, only to collide with thin air. Grif blurred back into existence in front of the warrior, and brought the hilt of his blade down sharply on Pensword’s muzzle. Nothing broke, but both combatants knew Pensword would be bruising there for some time. Pensword reacted instinctively, using his wings to pull off a head stand atop the hilt, before bringing his forehooves crashing down. Grif used Pensword’s altered sense of balance to push forward, only to suddenly feel the Pony’s rear hooves slamming onto his back. Seconds later, he felt the harsh embrace of a warrior fighting for his life as Pensword wrapped his forehooves around Grif’s neck.

A blurred second later, Pensword was out like a light, slammed against a wall. Grif rubbed his neck where the Pony had managed to get a grip. It had been close was close, but neither Pensword nor Grif could or would count that as a win. An admirable effort, but not quite enough for the Gryphon to count as a killing blow.

“I’ll have someone take you to your room,” he said to the limp form. “Rest for now, Pensword. Tomorrow, it gets harder.”

Day Moon furrowed his brow. “Why does it look like he’s still fighting Grif?” he asked as Pensword’s body began to twitch.

“Probably dreaming about it,” Bellacosa noted.

Pensword snapped awake with a jerk as he shook his head. “What happened?” he asked, looking around with wide eyes. He sighed as he saw his friend staring down at him, and sagged. “Dang it,” he muttered, “I almost had it.” He got up, heedless of the damage he’d taken, and assumed a battle stance. “Again,” he said.

Grif shook his head. “You’re done for the day, Pensword. Take the rest of the night. Prepare for tomorrow. I’ll be holding back less,” Grif promised.

“Of course.” Pensword paused as he pulled a slip of paper out from his armor. It had Luna’s cutie mark. “Some information about what we might face,” he spoke in Dragonic as he handed it to his friend. Instead of resting, he moved to another part of the deck, and sat down. Grif could feel him manipulating the thaumic field around his wings. “Please, treat my children to some deserts in the mess hall for how well behaved they were during training. I would do it myself, but I need to rest here for a while, first.”

“Don’t stay out too long,” Grif cautioned as he slipped the paper beneath his armor. “Come on, guys,” he called to the youngsters, who followed him out, though they couldn’t help but shoot a few worried looks Pensword’s way.

Pensword sat contemplating as he worked on manipulating the flow of his thaumic field up one wing and down the other. As he did so, tiny crystals formed between his feathers, before disappearing just as quickly as they’d come. He breathed deeply as he listened to his mother recounting some of the old stories and relay messages for him from the other side. As he worked to extend his field like a hand, he found, much to his surprise, that he could sense his mother.

“Incoming!” Moon Beam shouted as, even after centuries of being a ghost, motherly instinct drove her to dive in front of her son. Pensword snapped his eyes open, and for the briefest of moments, he “felt” his mother brush his fur as her hoof passed through his head trying to push him down, while her free hoof reached out to block the projectile. It happened so fast, he was rooted to the spot. And yet, despite Moon Beam’s lack of substance, the arrow suddenly arced upwards, altered by the contact with the spirit. The new trajectory caused the arrow to brush by his ear, and he felt it pass by his raised left wing as he rolled to the left.

The Arrow pierced the communications array by the door with a nasty crunch, followed by the fizz and pop of energies as the arcane network continued to channel its current into the station. The crackle of static rang in the air, before it slowly died off.

Pensword was on the alert now. His ears swiveled as he turned every piece of his enhanced senses towards finding the culprit. As he observed the clouds, he noticed one that remained stationary, despite how the rest of the pack had begun to move with the wind. He growled as he slammed his helmet back on, and donned the first of his wing blades, counting the seconds down, both for the reload and for how long it would take Grif to arrive on the scene. He doubted he would have time to kill the assassin if Grif got there, but that arrow had been meant for him. This was his battle.

“You’d better hurry, Son,” his mother whispered. “You’ve unnerved him, but he’s panicked now. He’s trying to string another arrow. Don’t give him the chance.”

“You and I are going to have a talk after this, Mother. I want to know how you did that,” Pensword said as he shed the other set of wing blades, and launched into the air. Time was of the essence. He flew hard and fast, always keeping a bead on the cloud, even as he weaved between the banks to make himself a harder target, just in case the assassin managed to string the second arrow. The abnormal formation dissipated as he drew near, revealing a small airship. He narrowed his eyes as he pulled a string from his suit of armor. Half a second later, his red flare launched, exploding over the vapor, before descending slowly to the deck of the enemy vessel. Three seconds later, Pensword slammed onto the deck as the assassin raised his bow again, and aimed directly at the Pony’s chest. The assailant’s bow began to shake harder as he caught sight of the modified Gryphon bow at Pensword’s side.

“Don’t spare a second. He acted alone.” Moon Beam’s words spurred Pensword to act. He charged forward, ramming into the arms and torso of what he could now tell was a large Mountain Lion-Golden Eagle Gryphon. The jolt of slamming into the Gryphon’s torso rang in his skull, but he smiled in satisfaction as he watched the bow skitter away, then saw the blood seeping out the hole he’d punched through the assassin’s armor with his wing blade. The Gryphon shoved the Pegasus off, causing Pensword to slam into the a nearby mast. The assassin sneered in triumph, before he looked down with wide eyes at the blood seeping from the wound. He lunged, or rather, tried to. Instead, he toppled over his own bow, thanks to the clever placement by Moonbeam.

Pensword didn’t waste his chance. The Gryphon was already dead, but until he lost enough blood, he would still be dangerous. There was only one option. His expression hardened as he brought his wing down on the Gryphon’s neck. Blood spurted from the site as the body shook briefly, before the spasms faded, and the blood ran cold. The assassin was dead.

He turned around to find the airship deck still mysteriously abandoned. He’d already made his way to the stairs when Grif arrived. In the distance, he could just make out the shadows of the approaching mercenaries.

“Are you all right, Pensword?” Grif asked his friend.

Pensword sighed. “I’m all right, Grif,” he muttered. “Just goin–nevermind. Mom just told me only this monster was on board the ship. Seemed he and his crew sailed to this spot, tied to a cloud, and he dismissed the crew.” He growled as he looked at the corpse. “I’m going to look into the Captain's quarters. This creature tried to kill me on deck.”

“Search the body,” Grif ordered as the remaining troops flew in to land on deck with weapons drawn and senses on high alert. “Look for distinguishing symbols or clan markings. I’m pretty sure Daedalus would be happy to have the head of whoever betrayed the Right of Hospitality.” Grif and most of the other Gryphons spat on the body, before the group went to work.

“You’ll find nothing,” Pensword said. “Mom told me he acted alone. I don’t know the full story, but she was clear he acted without sanction, and without backing.” He shifted his left ear to listen. “Okay … motive. He lost everything. This was his last ship. He stole it, lost his fiance, and was to live on the streets tomorrow. He blamed Daedalus bringing the Egg Smasher, the Demon, and the Ghost. And … apparently, he went after the only one he felt could be killed.” He turned to look at Grif. “He was prepared to be hung, but he felt his death for my death would bring prosperity to this part of the empire.” He frowned. “Seems like he went mad with grief.”

“Well then, we can deal with him here and now,” Grif said as he lifted the body up, and sliced off the wings. The assembled Gryphons winced, but said nothing as their leader tossed the body over one side, then the wings over the other.

Pensword looked at the airship. “Get me brown paint!” he ordered as he stalked to the bridge doors. “What will we do with this airship, empty it of anything useful?” He watched as Kahn took off for the Gantrithor.

“We’ll extract the stormstone core. You can take it, if you want. As for the body, we’ll let it crash into the sea,” Grif said.

Pensword frowned. “I guess. But if we do, then at least let me take the log book and all records from the captain's quarters. And….” He winced. “No, Matthew,” he whispered under his breath, “we won’t save the ship,” he finished in Draconic.

He was given a piece of paper, which he used to scrawl a hasty note, before he ordered the paint back to the ship, and took the rest of his children inside the captain’s quarters. After Grif had come back outside from the hold for a bit of fresh air, he found Pensword’s note:

We take the core, and build a new ship from it, like in Stardust. Will name it Commander’s Revenge.

Pensword looked around the bridge and the door leading to the captain’s quarters. “Kahn, my children, take all notes, and anything not bolted down, from the captain's quarters. Today, the Demon gets his prize. The Bladefeathers will get the ship logs and notes about this dishonorable captain.”

“What you do with it is up to you,” Grif said with a shrug as he strolled into the room. “Just let the ship die.”

“Oh, it will die, but we need to get moving first. There’s a lot to take over.”

It took an hour to ferry over the furniture, logs, and papers from the ship. Jacques, one of Pensword’s Gryphon sons, went above and beyond the call of duty, opening the barrels and boxes of the hold to find naught but dust and stale air. It was likely they had been a part of a ruse to justify the assassin’s departure.

Pensword stood on the bow of the Gantrithor as they finished towing the extra airship over the waters. Since they were still in Gryphon Territory, it fell to Grif and the Bladefeathers to handle removing the stormstone core. He smiled at the thought of the scandal that would arise when Gryphonia learned Pensword had not one, but two stormstone cores under his command.

A few hours later, Grif and Pensword sat on the deck, watching as the assailant’s airship fell to the ocean below. Grif handed Pensword a large velvet bag gingerly, and the Pegasus could just make out the spherical shape within the confines. “Here.”

Pensword nodded his thanks. “I shall place it in my wall safe personally. May I?” he asked. Even a Thousand years ago, he’d heard rumors of the legendary cores, and now here, in his very hooves, he held the artifact Equestrian scientists and nobles alike had been lusting after for millennia. “I feel like how the Brits must have, when they captured an intact enigma machine.”

“Before you do handle that thing, let me say my piece.” Grif’s face hardened as he glared at the Pegasus and the pouch he now held between his hooves. “You're loyal to Equestria, Pensword, which is a great trait, but it also makes this all the more urgent for me to discuss. What you now hold in your hooves, Ponykind has been trying to barter from my people for millennia. Twilight would probably pay a fortune to study it for a single night. Celestia would pay a queen’s ransom for it. Stewardship of these cores has been my people’s one undeniable superiority. I hope you understand the trust I’m putting in you by giving this to you.”

“I understand.” Pensword watched the dead ship as the waves lashed over it. The ocean would have her way with the toy, for none were there to guide it aright, nor keep it afloat. “Matthew weeps at the sight below. But know that if it gets to the point where the core becomes too hot, so to speak, I will transfer its possession to Kahn or another of my Gryphon children.” He opened the bag’s drawstrings slowly with his teeth, then used his wings and hooves to pull the core out gently as he cradled it. The velvet hung limply in his teeth as he looked over the artifact. The core was definitely an orb, but not the smooth thing he had come to expect. Its pitch-black surface rippled like the waves of the sea or the arms of a hurricane. Veins of electricity seemed to pop in and out of existence within the orb’s confines, the light rising to shine, only to vanish a moment later in the inky blackness. It vibrated slightly in his hooves, giving off the feeling of power waiting to be tapped.

Pensword stared, wide-eyed at the orb. He hadn’t been sure what to expect. Everything from a rock the size of a hoof to the size of small houses had been conceived by the greatest scholars of Unicorn and Pegasus origin. Some even posited the theory that the storm core was an invention, and not magical in nature at all. Now Pensword knew better. With this much power between his hooves, he could build something truly great, like the Queen Mary, and cause it to fly. It was truly astounding to think something so small could do so much. He looked to Grif. “You’re okay with my plan, then, and using the new ship to harvest lightning?”

“It’s whatever you want, Pensword. Just remember that there are limits to the size these cores can float. You won’t get something like the Revelry out of a core that size, but you should be able to make a pretty large ship.”

“We shall see. We shall see.” He shuddered. “You know, it almost feels alive.” He laughed. “Also, Matthew and I just realized something. The Caspartine was a blimp ship. Equestria can build her already. That means we’re back to the drawing board for a design.”

“Just make sure to keep it hidden for now,” Grif noted. “Wouldn’t want it to walk off.”

“Like I said. My quarters are safe. Caring Circlet walked me through picking my own code for the safe, and only Lunar Fang and I know the combination.” He carefully maneuvered the orb back into the sack, before cinching it up again. “And this is my war prize. Neither Celestia, Luna, nor even Twilight can study or touch it without my say so.”

“Good.” Grif nodded grimly, then let a hint of a smile break through the mask. “Enjoy it, Pensword.”

“Oh, I shall, Grif. I shall,” Pensword promised.

---

Vital Spark panted as he ran through yet another set of pushups. The heavy weights Grif had placed on his back had quickly turned what had once been an enjoyable activity into grueling labor. The Unicorn couldn’t help but chuckle as he pictured Black Rook in the back of his mind, saying, “Welcome to the real military program.” Fortunately, the Gantrithor’s movement over the cool ocean provided a brisk breeze to keep him relatively regulated, rather than risking overheating.

“If it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t mean anything,” Grif chuckled as he approached.

“You want me to try a Bulk Biceps yell?” Vital quipped as he struggled not to laugh. Breathing was key in any major physical exercise, after all.

“You're not there yet. Bulk earned that yell. Still, you’re doing okay on the physical front.”

“Still got a ways to go before I’m properly combat ready, though, don’t I?” he grunted as he worked through a particularly nasty lift. His forelegs shook as he struggled to maintain his form.

“You’re training to learn to keep back, and only have to fight if it’s unavoidable. The mage is always in the back, remember?” Grif chuckled.

“Except when they master Tsunade’s technique?” Vital joked.

“You're not gonna end up doing that,” Grif laughed. “And she was a medic, not a mage.”

“Potato potato,” Vital said as his smile widened. “Still want to be able to fight, if I need to.”

“You’ll get there.”

“Though speaking of, what’s next in this program, now that you’re pushing me forward? Do I still do the run around the deck, is there some new twist, or is it more of the same with dedication to hone my body?”

“Well, for starters, you're going to start doing the whole morning run with Rook,” Grif chuckled. “We’re going to be increasing your push-ups and such, as well as adding several other exercises that you should be able to handle.”

“Um, Grif, I already get up for the runs. I just haven’t been able to go as far as the others yet. Though, I guess you’re saying now I can?” the Unicorn asked as he rose back to all fours, and let the cool wind blow through his mane.

“I’m saying the choice as to if you can or not isn’t there anymore. You’re going to.”

“Vital cracked his neck as he rolled it around his shoulders. “Say, Grif, can I borrow your shades for a second?”

“Sure?” Grif offered him the sunglasses, confused.

Vital smirked as he put them on his nose, then grinned at his friend as he rose onto his hind legs, and folded his forelegs dramatically. “Challenge accepted.”

“You don’t have enough badass points for that yet,” Grif chuckled as he retrieved the shades. “Listen, Vital. When we get to Monkeygascar, don’t mention the story, unless he does first, okay?”

“Mind if I ask why?”

“It’s a sore point on a being you don’t want to get angry. Hell, I’m not even sure Hammer Strike would want him angry.”

“That bad?”

“You’ve seen what Vigilance and Vengeance can cut through. I hit him once in the entire fight, and I didn’t even scratch him.”

“I meant more the reaction to my knowledge of his history,” Vital noted, “but that’s good to know, too.”

“It’s not as cut and dry, but I think you’d suspected that. He came here to escape everything. He left his own universe to get away from everything he’s been through. Naturally, he doesn’t talk about it freely, or with just anyone.”

“Indeed.”

“You nervous?”

“In truth, I’m not sure. Part of me has faith your bond with him will be enough to pacify him, but … the other part is terrified of what’ll happen if it’s not. Then again, Melody said this had to happen, and she told us each about a future we have to prepare for after this, so that means we should make it through this, right?”

“Just keep that second part in mind. Remember, Wukong’s not one for being stopped by anything.”

“Who said anything about trying to stop him?”

“I meant destiny or fate or whatever. If he gets too mad, I don’t think even the prophecy would be able to stop him.”

Vital rose to his hind hooves, and laid his right hoof over his heart. “Grif, I promise I won’t do anything to upset him or try to push him to conform to some sort of preset destiny. Will that put your mind at ease?”

“No, but it will help.” Grif chuckled dryly. “For better or worse, we’ll be there by tomorrow evening.”

“You think he might want to meet Aria?”

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t. If I recall correctly, phoenixes in Chinese mythology held an even deeper meaning than they did in the west.”

“Just as long as nobody wants to try roasting her, I’ll be happy.”

“Not like they auto-revive if fatly wounded or anything,” Grif chuckled.

“... Fair point. Though that does bring up another point I need to research. I know normal phoenixes burst into flames to renew themselves, but I have no clue how a cryophoenix goes about it.”

“Probably shatter like glass, or something,” Grif shrugged.

“And the rebirthing would probably be something like the water cycle, I guess,” Vital mused. “I’ll have to remember to ask Clover for a reference guide on it later. For now, I’m guessing it’d probably be best for me to get back to work. Wanna watch, maybe give me some pointers?”

“Sure. I have some time,” Grif said as he laid on the deck off to the side. “Let’s see how you do.”

Vital chuckled. “Just make sure I’m well enough to meet our friend after, okay? I don’t want to miss him, just because I’m too sore to move.”

“Oh, trust me. He’ll be impossible to miss.”

Vital sighed resignedly. “Hello, hell day.” Then he chuckled. “So, a lap around the ship?”

“Timer started ten seconds ago,” Grif said with a grin.

“Then I guess it’s time to make Black Rook proud.” And with that, Vital began his run.

---

Pensword sat alone in the dream realm. Luna had left him there to contemplate and relax. Pensword took the time to meditate. Matthew stood off a ways in a fully human form, save for a pair of tufted pony ears. He knelt, muttering prayers to God, and reciting scripture verses. For a place meant for dreams, the dream realm was surprisingly loud. An odd cacophony of sound echoed around him. The region was bathed in a light grey smoky mist.

Both had spoken with Luna. And while she commended their battle tactics and their prowess, she’d left with a cryptic message. “Find balance within your own minds.”

Pensword sighed, then figured he might as well follow Matthew’s example, and say a prayer or two to Faust. As he did, Matthew began to quiet down as they sat there, his ears twitching. Now their positions were switched. Matthew pondered as Pensword gave utterance. The Pony would have laughed at the scene, had he not been busy praying. His breathing slowed. His mind cleared, and he felt just a glimmer of peace as the common ground was reached yet again.

Then the whispers started, calling out their names. It was faint at first; there, yet not there. The two of them jerked up to look, but the sounds never became closer. Instead, they moved closer to each other. Noticing that the smoky haze around them was dispersing the closer they got to one another, but it also darkened the area outside their immediate personal space.

A shape almost like a wolf was visible for a moment, and then was gone. While Pensword was fine, Matthew was shaking a little. Next came a Gryphon. While Matthew knew what they could do, he wasn’t scared, yet Pensword looked much more alert. Like - “They’re preying on us.”

“You think?” Pensword snapped.

“Well you are unnerved by the Grpyhon, and I’m unnerved by the wolf. How are you able to handle a wolf pack?”

Pensword smiled, even as his eyes continued to scan the changing expanse. Easy. As a Pegasus, you fly up in the air, and use your quiver to take out the wolves, till they back away. If any try to jump at you, you fly up higher.”

“Easy for you,” Matthew countered. “You’ve got wings.”

“So says the human whose race is able to, with a little training, use a bolt action to pump lead down range faster than some of our recruits can notch an arrow.” He found the area of Matthew a little bright. “I have a question for you. How can you–?” Pensword’s voice stuck in his throat.

“How can I not be scared of the Gryphons?” Matthew finished for him. “Because if the Gryphon wanted me dead, I’d be dead before I’d seen him. Also, a Gryphon won’t kill out of cold blood. There are tactics and reason behind their actions, their honor. If you’d let me handle some of your previous interactions with them, I think we could have made some friends outside of Daedalus.”

“But–.”

“But they killed your family, and your home. I know. Why do you think I’m so happy you met my family? Or the fact that you have so many in the Dream Clan that bear some part of your family or village names and honor? That incident happened over thousand years ago by today’s reckoning. Was it wrong? Yes. But so is holding onto it, and refusing to judge today’s Gryphons by their actions. It’s as silly as the feud between the Brits and the French. You know what they have now? A tunnel under the only real defense they had against one another, sharing traffic and transportation.” Matthew held up a hand. “I know it hurts. The hurt will never leave. But you cannot let that consume you.”

Pensword snapped. “Oh. And you think you know what it–.”

“My Grandmother’s cousin was held prisoner by the Japanese during World War Two. He was six-foot-two, and got down to ninety-two pounds, went in Batan, and then got shipped to Japan as a bargaining chip.” Matthew’s face darkened as he stared Pensword down with the coolest expression he could manage. “You know what he did after the war, Pensword? He helped ship materials, and aided in the reconstruction of the Japanese islands. He stayed there for the rest of his life, helping to rebuild, only returning home to be buried.”

Pensword paused. He had gleaned the horrors Earth’s second world war, yet here Matthew was, showing a sensitive part of his own family’s history. He paused as he sat down to think.

“It’s like Luna said, Pensword. We need balance. The only way we can do that is if we get our collective mental house in order.”

Pensword sighed. “I guess. This is going to be hard, though.”

“Of course it’s going to be hard. The right course almost always is.”

At that moment, they found themselves pulled into a wing hug by a giant Luna. “My little Ponies, my little commanders,” she added with a grin. “Congratulations. You have passed the test. Now tell me, in the end, were you thinking about the nightmare?”

It was here Matthew face palmed. “Rabbits,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?” Pensword began. Then his eyes widened in understanding as Matthew broadcast an image of a series of bunny hutches, some empty, some full. “Oh. The rabbits! We were counting how many blocks were in a wall, so we wouldn’t think about the rabbits burrowing.”

“Exactly,” Luna replied. “Balance. You see, when you face a nightmare’s first attempts, by ignoring it, getting into a discussion like you did, you drew attention away from it. This, in turn, draws power and control away from the creature into your own hooves and hands, because your discussion ensures you retain solid control over your dream plane. That is a massive tactic some hunters never learned when hunting the dark. They focused so much on destroying the darkness that it eventually swallowed them whole, and they were lost.”

She smiled as she let go of her hug to reveal a foal Pensword and a child Matthew dressed in a captain’s uniform. “Now, let us work on using your memories and dreams for more defenses. However, first, you have a question for … yes, Matthew? What is it?”

“Why do I have tuft ears?”

“My dear little human.” she chuckled lovingly. “The truth is you’ve spent so much time as a Pony that you’re starting to act like one, to think like one. Those ears are showing you cannot fathom or contemplate not having Pony hearing. It has become too natural for you.” She bowed her head. “I’m sorry to say that my sister and I are still working on–.”

“No sad face,” Matthew interrupted. “You’re working as hard as you can. Science is advancing, and pushing the envelope.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, it won’t have a breakthrough for what you desire in the time you want. I resigned myself to that a long time ago.”

“Ah, but no losing hope, my little human,” Luna retorted as she placed a wing beneath his chin. “We will succeed eventually. We’ll find a way to have you on two feet again, at which point we can get a similar form for your wives. I might even try this … human look myself once.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

“Ah, and there it is. Another tactic to use is distraction. Joy, laughter, humor. Nightmares hate positive emotion. It is distasteful to them, and weakens their hold on the psyche.”

Matthew and Pensword weren’t sure if she was being silly or serious. It was strange seeing the Princess of the Night this … intimate with her subjects or guests. Still, they both came to the same realization. For them to fight the Nightmares, one would have to be open with the other. The rest of the night would be certainly be interesting, especially considering how Luna promptly shoved them both to the ground, and giggles as she took the air, proclaiming them to be it in their new game of tag. The two chuckled to themselves. Both knew what they’d be doing with the foals when they woke up tomorrow.

---

Grif held up the spyglass, and surveyed the area ahead of them. Monkeygascar stood proud over the horizon, like an overlord on his throne. The breeze had shifted, bringing in a headwind from the island, and carrying the heavenly scent of peach blossoms to the ship. If all went well, they’d be there within the next two hours at the current speed, which was hopefully a fast, yet non-aggressive pace. Grif knew Wukong had likely already seen the ship on the horizon. Whether he’d identify it as their ship was still unknown. The Monkey King both frightened and fascinated Grif. A primal being of power unlike any he knew in Equestria, capable of things few could imagine.

“I’ve had the crew looking through the ship’s goods. Hopefully, we’ll have a suitable gift ready for when we land. Let Avalon and me disembark first, followed by Pensword and Bellacosa. Hammer Strike, you’ll have to come when I signal, then the rest of you. Is everyone clear on this?” Grif asked as he eyed them all intently.

“Sounds good to me,” Hammer Strike commented.

“I understand that. But I cannot keep Moon River fully contained,” Pensword pointed out. “Also, I hope he likes being called a godfather.”

“I’ll do whatever you think is best, Grif. You know him better than any of us,” Vital said.

“Let's hope so,” Grif said fervently. “We’re too close for it to matter either way. Remember to play to his ego. It may save our lives in the end. Tell him he’s smart, or handsome, or whatever it takes to keep him happy.”

“... You know I won’t lie, Grif,” Vital said pointedly.

“Yeah. Lets hope you won’t have to. Wear the nicest things you’ve got, something that shows respect. I guess I’ll call you all up here when we get closer in. Just be ready. I don’t know if we’ll have monkeys randomly landing to check who it is.”

“What’s supposed to keep Wukong from just jumping all the way over here onto the ship?” Vital asked.

Pensword facehoofed, and tensed at the words. “Vital … I hate you,” he hissed.

“You know, if you wanted to surprise me, you probably shouldn’t have flown such a large ship from the north end of the island,” a voice spoke suddenly as the door opened, and an all too familiar figure walked inside casually. “It’s good to see you, my brothers,” he said as he walked up and embraced Bellacosa, and then Pensword just above the hoof, and firmly on the shoulder. He proceeded to hug Avalon. “And you, Sister.”

“Well now, this was certainly unexpected. I didn’t know you could fly, Wukong,” Avalon said with a laugh, returning the embrace. “We had someone we wanted you to meet,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Care to take a guess who?”

“You two have had a child.” He looked at Grif with a smile. “Congratulations from the depths of my heart.” The Monkey King released Avalon, and moved to Grif, grabbing the Gryphon’s wrist as Grif returned the gesture. “But my home is not a tourist attraction, Brother.” Wukong’s face turned serious as he spoke, his eyes darting to the other occupants of the cabin.

“Uh, well, Brother, I thought since our last meeting, I wanted to extend the incredible honor I had meeting you to my own lord. May I present Lord Hammer Strike of Equestria.” Grif swept his hand towards the Pony in question. “And, of course, I wouldn’t want to leave out the rest of my family, as well as a close boon companion, and the lady who currently has his heart. I hope you can forgive my impertinence.”

Wukong stared at him impassively for a moment, then scanned the others mentioned, locking eyes with Hammer Strike. For a brief instance, Wukong’s eyes blazed red.

“... ‘Sup?” Hammer Strike commented, almost questioningly.

Wukong released Grif, and moved slowly to the Earth Pony. He gave Hammer Strike a weak punch in the shoulder, and then a stronger one, and then a stronger one. The last felt to Hammer Strike like he’d been struck by a car, but the Monkey King seemed more impressed by the fact he hadn’t budged. “You are very strong, my friend.” The Monkey King grinned. “I suppose it cannot hurt to have a few more souls in my confidence. I would welcome you to Monkeygascar, but we aren't on the island yet.”

“Uh ... thank you,” Hammer Strike replied as he remained stationary. While he was good at hiding it on the outside, he was, indeed, in pain.

Wukong nodded, before turning to Pensword, only to be met with a suction cup arrow to the forehead. The room went silent.

“She …. was …. In …. her …. room,” Pensword stuttered, “with the door locked.”

Wukong traced the trajectory of the arrow silently, following it to a point near the far wall, where a familiar foal was hiding below a control panel. He carefully picked her up, took the arrow off his forehead, and placed it back to on the makeshift quiver on her back. “You're a very good shot, little one.” He tickled her belly. “But best stick to smaller prey for now.”

Moon River pouted, holding her crossbow in her hooves.

“She’s going to try hitting you again. Those words only encourage her. And half the home compound encourages it. The other half are working to dissuade her as best they can,” Grif coughed.

“Nonsense,” Wukong laughed. “Such spirit in children should be encouraged. It promotes strength, and discourages helplessness. One day, she shall be a terror.” He handed Moon River to Pensword.

Pensword took Moon River into his hooves, only for Wukong to find a suction cup dart stuck to his wrist, and for Moon River to start giggling again. “What did I tell you about hitting the Pony or being helping you?”

“Don’t,” Moon River replied, looking nervous, before Pensword leaned his muzzle in to nuzzle her belly, and give her a raspberry.

“Having children is a blessing you mortals should always cherish. It is one of the few things I can always envy,” Wukong said with a sigh.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m along for the ride,” Fox Feather said as she stepped onto the bridge. A Fox pelt coated her body, but nothing more. “I, Fox Feather, second bride to Commander Pensword, do humbly ask the honor of having you be godfather to my foal. He or she will be born in ten months’ time.”

Wukong actually seemed shocked for a few minutes as he processed this information. “You would ask me, Sun Wukong, the one who fought against heaven, to be the godfather to your child?”

She gave a mischievous grin that fit her name. “Moon River calls Grif her godfather, and he is the Avatar of the Winds. I’ve seen these three fight against odds and fate itself, so why not ask one who is kind, who cares for for his own, and has done the same? I see the kindness in your eyes. You’ve seen war, witnessed death, perhaps even caused it. But you also seem to cherish that life. That much is evident with how you treated Moon River. I was informed of your existence only last night to give me time to learn how best to act around you.”

“You speak with wisdom for one so young. And yet, I fear you misjudge my character. Still, I suppose it would do me little harm to accept this honor, and to mark it.” Carefully, Wukong placed a finger on Fox Feather’s stomach region. He traced it across the fur as gently as he could, performing several magic passes, while muttering in Chinese. “A blessing from me to your child. Fitting from a godly godfather, no?” He laughed at his own joke. “A spell to protect the child while you carry him, to ease the birth, and to protect from complications.”

Fox Feather looked at Pensword giddily, though that soon changed to one of surprise as she and Pensword both gaped back at Wukong. “Him?” they cried simultaneously.

Pensword sat down hard. “Well, that’s one surprise gone.” He chuckled happily. “But if that is the price for Fox Feather’s request, then what can I say against it?” He smiled, grateful to the Monkey for his blessing, and for not getting too upset at Fox Feather’s boldness.

Wukong gave them both a pat on the head, and turned to the Unicorn duo nearby. “And you are Brother Grif’s boon companion, a friend for life, yes?” Wukong asked.

“That’s right, though I’d never heard it called a boon companion before.” Vital Spark furrowed his brow, then extended a hoof nervously. “The name’s Vital Spark.”

“And what is so vital about your spark?” Wukong chuckled, tapping Vital’s horn. “Unicorns. You remind me of the gods, but are you like the Jade Emperor, who hauls himself up in his palace, and lords over the mortals, or are you like young Nehza, the one who humbled himself when I defeated him?”

Vital pondered that for a while, tapping his chin a few times, before finally opening his mouth to speak. “I’d like to say humble, but that might be too boastful to say in the first place, making me sound more like the Jade Emperor. I’m certainly not the kind of person to lord over others, except maybe when I’m teasing them, and I usually keep it to good fun, never pushing beyond a set boundary. I suppose the only answer I can give is that I’m me. I try to be the best I can be, and–.”

“And now you remind me of Tripitaka. Always with the speeches, always debating the necessity and saintliness of every action in regards to the Bhuddha,” Wukong said, but his stern look melted into a sad smile. “I miss him terribly. Now, please, who is your companion?” It was at about this point that Vital realized Trixie was actually shying away from Wukong.

“This is Trixie Lulamoon, my … marefriend.” Vital sighed. “There are some parts of Pony language I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.”

“Please come here,” Wukong told Trixie. “I won’t harm you, child. Please. I sense it in you also.”

“I-it? What do you mean by ‘it?’” Trixie asked nervously as her eyes darted to either side.

“I was born from a rock impregnated with an egg from a stone from heaven. When I hatched, the power within me was so great, they say golden light shone from my eyes brightly enough to be seen from heaven. When I ate and drank, I accepted earth into me, and so both heaven and earth are within me, and are constantly in flux. Is it not the same with you? I feel the powers within you constantly in flux. Come. Come, child. For never have I encountered another quite so similar to me.”

Vital gave Trixie a gentle nudge of encouragement. “Go on,” he whispered.

Trixie looked back hesitantly at the white Unicorn. Then she gulped as she stepped slowly towards the four times immortal being. “Trixie … may not quite be the same,” she warned. “It … it isn’t earth and heaven that ‘fluxes,’ as you put it, but light and darkness.”

“Earth and heaven are light and darkness, for those gods in heaven are the order, and set in their ways. They purify the spirit, and that gives the mortals their light. But the demons are of the earth, and they corrupt and tempt the spirit. And from them, the darkness comes. So you see, child, we are not so different, but this power doesn’t damn you. Seize it, and it will make you great. It will help you find your path to immortality. Now stand up, and cower no more.” He made a heroic stance, and in a puff of smoke, a banner covered in calligraphy appeared, attached to his back. He wore his long pheonix feather cap, and a scarlet cape. His face was covered in bright war paint. “I am Sun Wukong, the handsome Monkey King, and Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Now announce yourself!” he boomed, smirking.

“I … I am Trixie,” Trixie tried.

“More spirit!” Wukong ordered.

“I am Trixie,” she said, less hesitantly this time.

“Is Trixie all you are? Don’t be pitiful. Be magnificent!”

“I am the Great and Powerful Trrrrixie!” the mare shouted. “And I will not be held back!”

“There it is.” Wukong smiled. “Keep that confidence. Don’t be deterred by the doubt others may give you. Find your place, Sister, and let none deter you from that purpose.”

Comments

[Dravkwn]

Always enjoy this story chapter after chapter and the bit near the end with Trixie? Shall we find out later, perhaps?

[Night_Striker]

intresting and keep it up guys!!! great as allways and now i die off sleep fuuuuuuuuuuu 3:49 =_=

[Whiskas]

In a matter of seconds, Pensword found his dream body fully restored. “A warning, Chieftess, from the chosen prophetess of the Winds. It essentially went something like this.” He sighed, then raised his head high. When next he spoke, his voice reverberated through the dream. “I saw a bear with cub, but a monster came to attack the cub. The bear had not been challenged in so long that he had not the strength to save the cub, and the cub was taken. The monster overwhelmed the cub, and put itself inside her. From that point on, the cub became a wild she-bear, and bathed in blood and fire. But I saw also that, should the bear be warned, he might sharpen his claws upon tree and stump, upon rock and log, until they shone with death's own light. And with the rage of bears long past, he would fight the monster back.” He took a deep breath and the last part boomed louder over the dreamscape. “‘ Till raven and wolf on shadow feast, the bear must battle again and again, and hold back the beast. ’”

To be honest, kinda wanna see (presumably Moon River) get possesed if only because how badass she would presumably be. Of course that would come at the price of being evil but still.

[Booster Spice]

A whole load of training up, energies moving and which dice being rolled to see which card is played on what chess piece next.

I cant remmeber if I saw it said before, but with Hammerstrikes prophecy and the others, that taking over a cub is easy, but to be truely evil is to use that takeover as a barganing chip to unlock that vault wish they want to access in the first place. And the destruction that ensues and the method and results are what finally breaks Hammerstrike?

If the Stormcores are all aincient creations, would the by all related to the giant, by apprentices forming a Blood Circle of Storm Mages, each hoing to achieve immortality, or if theres a fixed number, they were all created in teh one single sacrificial soul cast?

Do Stormcores work by generating magical forces that are directed to create magical lift, which is vertical directted thrust, or for directional and manouvering thrust also, and does it only work on teh vessel, so that what you connect it to is what you get for size, or can it be used through science, physical designs to drive airflow multipliers so a much bigger load can be moved? I think the closest equivalnet is Tanks helicopter harness, where teh crystal drives teh prop instead of lifting him directly itself?

I thought Monkey was the same class at Discord? Planetary energy level, or does it go daft like DBZ etc?

Aria is going to live up to her name? Who with, and what are Sonata and Adagio going to end up as? A Deer and a Nymph/Dryad?

[Charedfirescale]

So, I thought I'd talk about something fun instead of questions about plot points and grammar errors.

So, who's Vital Spark / Connor's next Waifu?
Considering he seems to attract the "bad ponies" of Equestria, here are his options:
1) Sunset Shimmer - already implied on there being a relationship in the future.
2) Trixie Lullamoon - First member of the "herd", currently dating
3) Starlight Glimmer - I ship her with Sunburst myself, especially since her cutiemark mania had to do with him. Also I think she and Sunburst work well together.
4) Tempest Shadow, (Fizzlepop Berrytwist) - I can see her and Vital Spark in a relationship. A unicorn with magic problems and a human turned unicorn trying to learn magic sounds like a great idea. Plus she gets some props for surviving a ursa minor.

[dzonewolf]

8543151
It said earlier on to beware the colors blue, orange and purple in combination, so Sunset is a given, especially since she was the one who first got him thinking sbout the possibility of finding love with a pony. I'd been assuming Starlight would be the third, but I hadn't thought about Tempest.

[Knight of Mind]

9182904
It mentions the song from the sea in the next sentence, so I think the colors refer to the Dazzlings.