An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

64 - Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

Extended Holiday
Ch 64: Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?
Act 8

---

The doors to the Monastery of Winds were large, ancient stone slabs and as Grif and the party approached, they could hear the grunts from inside as they were pulled open. They revealed a large stone platform where different Gryphons strolled around clothed in simple white robes. It was immediately noticeable that the predominant species were song birds mixed with smaller breeds of cats such as robins, lynxes, jays, and wildcats. Several species of owl were also identifiable.

The monks greeted them cheerfully, if tensely, as they entered the courtyard. Finally, one young acolyte approached, a sparrow with a snow leopard body. “Greetings, Avatar and company. Welcome to the Monastery of the Four Winds.” He bowed. “The Winds Father has asked that I be your guide during your stay and bring you to his office. We’ve awaited your arrival for many a century.”

“I hope I am not being too forward requesting safe stay for all of us.” Grif bowed, looking to the others and signaling they could remove their hoods. The messenger paled considerably as he watched the thestrals, crystal ponies, and last of all, Prince Bellacosa, removing their hoods. “O-o-of course, sir,” he said. “W-w-we offer sanctuary to all who have claim,” he said, trembling.

“What’s wrong?” Grif asked him

“We haven’t had such … noble company before, Avatar,” the acolyte said as he led them across the courtyard, past many other gaping monks, and through the halls. “The Winds Father asked that I bring you to his office first thing.”

“Very well.” Grif nodded as they came to a large oak door. The monk proceeded to open it and Grif gestured for Pensword and Bellacosa to wait.

Pensword moved his mouth as if to protest, a look of worry in his eyes as he flicked his ears around at the sounds of the monks going about their tasks.

“They’re pacifist monks,” Grif reassured the Pegasus. “We’re far more dangerous than they are.”

Pensword gave another look. He heaved a heavy sigh and sat down on the ground. “I will not move from this spot then. But if I hear a sound of trouble, I will come to your aide. Thou didst help me in the past. Let me help you here in the present.”

The door closed behind Grif. For a few moments there was silence before suddenly Pensword’s ears twitched and he winced. Raised voices muffled their way through from the other side of the door. Soon it burst open and Grif stomped out. “Come on. We’re leaving,” Grif told them as he stormed down the hallway.

Behind him, standing at the door, a large ugly figure wearing a luxurious robe fumed. His head was featherless and bald with the countenance of a buzzard, while what pensword could make out of his fur was short and brown with spots. The old Gryphon was shouting obscenities at Grif, and when he eyed the ponies he began a spiel about Grif bringing ‘faithless heathens’ inside the sacred place. This continued on until they stood on the stairs outside the monastery leading back to the gates. Grif didn’t respond or retaliate, not willing to spill blood on sacred ground.

The old buzzard’s shadow flew down from above as he landed by the gates. All the acolytes and priests had gathered to witness the ordeal, attracted by the Winds Father’s lungs. “-- And furthermore, I deny you, Grif Grafson, who claims to be sent by the winds. You have come from the corruption of Equestria to spread your vile ideas into the true--” a choked gasp cut the voice off, causing Grif to turn and look as the Winds Father grasped at his throat. The wind blew strongly from the east and seemed to swirl about the Gryphon. Thin strands of moving air looped like a noose around the blasphemer’s neck. The Winds Father grabbed in vain at the invisible threads, trying desperately to clear his throat. Knowing only too well where this was going, Grif wrapped a wing around Bellacosa’s face as he watched the old Gryphon struggle for life before their eyes. The Winds Father let out a raspy, gurgling craw as he clawed at his chain, striving to pull out the badge of his office. For what purpose, the party would never know. The Gryphon’s face turned pale, then purple, and eventually black as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Then he collapsed to the ground, dead. The heavy jingle of gold was easily heard as gold coins spilled out from beneath his robes. The monks stood staring, flabbergasted as the wind ceased as quickly as it had begun, leaving the corpse where it lay. Then the monks looked to Grif with a shaky countenance.

Pensword stood there, having joined his own wing with Grif’s to obscure Cosy’s face. His expression was grim. He did not dare speak, nor even move. Right now, it was an unsteady position at best. From what he could gather, a very important figure in the Gryphon Religion had just died being choked to death by wind in a manner incredibly similar to a certain helmet-wearing, black-caped Sith Lord.

“I am sorry,” Grif told one of the monks. “I didn’t know that would happen.”

“... The Winds Father …” one of the monks said as a collective shudder passed through the gathering.

“And behold, in the coming of the great conflict after the Third Great War shall the ripening of corruption be nigh, and the Avatar of Winds shall again walk the earth. Evil shall rise against him, but the winds shall be with him to aid in his quest and ultimate purpose. And though the evil may rage, The Winds shall be his protection and his guide and the harbinger of corruption shall be smitten by the East wind. Hear, ye Children of the Winds, ye warriors, ye fighters, and know that in the fulfillment of these words shall upheaval smite the Empire and the life of the most holy shall be endangered. Guard him well, oh Children of the Winds, for he and he alone shall lead thee into peace and prosperity, and he and he alone shall aid in returning what was lost. And dishonor and corruption shall be purged, making way for the new order to rise in the calamity to befall the Empire and all of Equis, for the evil that slumbers shall waken, and in that meeting must all hatred and enmity be put aside, lest the world return to dust, and all creation become a thing of naught ...” The acolyte who had guided them before stepped forward, closing the book he had been reading from as he trembled.

Grif looked at the monks confused. “What? But that isn’t a prophecy by any prophet I’ve known,” Grif said. “What was that?”

“Darkdraft the wise,” the acolyte explained. “I was just reading through her works this morning before you arrived. She was the only prophetess in recorded Gryphon history; a crow with a panther’s body. She stood as black as the night and foretold grim prophecies of the future. She saved our empire from complete anarchy at one point by warning Emperor Grim Beak of an impending assassination. Had she not intervened, the elders tell us chaos would have erupted and the Empire would have been blown into fragments by the warring kings.”

“Yes, but what does it all mean?” Grif asked. “The Third Gryphon war was over a thousand years ago.”

“Time means little in the way of prophecies, Avatar.”

“Please, just call me Grif.”

“Alright, Grif it is then. But as I was saying, time means little when it comes to prophecies. The winds don’t perceive time the same way that we do. What’s centuries to us is the blink of an eye to them. It said ‘in the coming of the great conflict after the Third Great War.’ That means it happens after the Third Gryphon War, not a specific time though. It also mentioned the Avatar of Winds walking the earth again. In other words, this prophecy is happening here and now. And … if I’m not mistaken,” the sparrow snow leopard mix looked apologetically at his superiors, many of whom were glaring. “The Winds Father was just killed by the wind. And as much as I hate to say it … I think he was the harbinger of corruption. Why else would he be so laden down with gold when we’ve sworn off such finery?”

“What’s your name, monk?” Grif asked.

“I am called Jiraac, sir. I … I have no family, but my brothers in the monastery call me Cloud Claw.”

“Jiraac, will you attend to me and my wife during our stay?” Grif asked him. “I feel like I can trust you.”

Jiraac’s eyes widened. “Me? I-I mean, if you wish, but … does this mean you intend to stay?”

“There are few places within the city that I feel would be sufficiently secure for my charges. It is still sacrilege to spill blood here, is it not?” Grif asked

“Of course. The Winds forbid it.”

“Then I’ll be staying here,” Grif said. “That is, if there is room for all of us?”

“Of course there is. The Avatar is always welcome, as are his friends.” The young sparrow nodded as an older priest approached.

“Would you like a guide to bring you to your chambers, Avatar? I’m certain many of us would gladly assist you during your stay.”

“No, I think Jiraac here is more than capable, father. If you would, could you bring a message to the palace explaining to the Emperor that the Avatar has come to Gryphelheim with a political envoy requesting an audience at his convenience?” Grif asked.

The priest bowed stiffly. “It would be our pleasure,” he said as he made his way to one of the fledglings and whispered in his ear. Then he took another aside and pointed toward the inner portions of the compound. The young one nodded and flew inside and out of sight.

“Also, I would appreciate if these two ponies were placed in the rooms closest to mine.” Grif motioned to Bellacosa and Pensword.

“Of course, it will be our pleasure. We may need to put a couple of beds together for you and your wife, though,” Jiraac said as he led them down the halls and further into the mountain. Eventually they came upon a set of double doors with an adjoining door further down. “These should do nicely for you and your friends. The rest of your men will be housed in the soldiers’ quarters. Was there anything else you needed, Grif?” Jiraac asked as he opened the doors to reveal a fairly simple bedroom. To the left, a large stone slab stood in the middle of what should have been a doorway while to the right, a small door led to an adjoining room where two twin beds lay in wait. A few simple tapestries hung for decoration, worn and ragged with age while several shelves of books and manuscripts lined the walls, clearly indicating the quest for knowledge that was every monk’s dream.

“Jiraac, isn’t that the room of Grask Grimfeather?” Grif asked, pointing. “I don’t want to sound unappreciative, but the room you’ve given me could house others. Why don’t I make use of Grask’s chambers?”

“They’ve been sealed off for centuries, Grif. No one has been able to open them since he died, so we wanted to give you the room that was closest.”

“May I?” Grif asked, gesturing to the door.

“Be my guest,” Jiraac said with a bow as he motioned to the slab.

Grif approached the stone slab, examining it carefully. It was a massive piece of granite covered in old gryphic runes. He traced his talons along it, sweeping off the thick layers of dust. He continued to do so until he uncovered two long, narrow slits. Lifting an eyebrow, he thought back to what he knew about Grask. The former avatar was known for a love of puzzles and a great fascination with the applications of wind magic. He also was never seen without his swords. Grif’s eyes caught the slits again. They seemed almost….

Grif unsheathed Vengeance from his back and compared. The slits where just wide enough. Drawing Vigilance, he pressed the two swords against the slits. The second the tips touched, they sank inwards. Grif let out a startled gasp as the entirety of the two blades were pulled in, leaving only the handles outside. The wind picked up around him without his calling it as the runes around the stone lit up. Suddenly, he could feel something strange. It was almost as though the wind were cycling through the blades and transferring the sensation to Grif, like he was feeling inside the stone itself. This feeling continued and he felt something like metal inside the stone with his mind. Out of instinct, he attempted to push on it. A loud clicking noise emanated from inside the stone. A tumbler? Feeling around with this strange, new ethereal arm, he located several more tumblers, each moving into place with a loud click. As the last one did so, the swords were forced out of the stone as a long divide appeared down the stone slab.

Slowly, and with much protest, the stone separated, opening its mouth wide to reveal the room past it. A simple stone block lay where the bed had been and a thick coat of dust covered every surface. Otherwise the room was completely empty.

Jiraac whistled in admiration of the display, gawking somewhat as he was now honored to be one of the first Gryphons to see the inside of the sealed chamber in over 1500 years. “So the swords were the key?” he asked.

“No, the swords were a lock pick.” Grif laughed. “It’s a lock without a key. To open the door you had to pick the lock with the winds. It’s something no evoker could accomplish because of the fine control required.”

“That’s positively genius,” Jiraac marveled as he examined the stone once more.

“Would it be too much to ask for a broom and a couple extra beds?” Grif asked him. “Please.”

“Right away, sir,” Jiraac said.

About a half hour later the room was looking somewhat more presentable. Thanks to the training he’d received, Grif had been able to help the airborne dust and dirt move out a window and into the outdoors where it belonged while the others had helped to clean and spruce things up. Two mattresses had been carried up and into the room and placed side by side on the great stone slab as Avalon oversaw the work and helped in her own way to organize things.

“I think that about does it, dear,” Avalon said as she surveyed the room one more time. Bright torches burned merrily in their sconces and the room, while mostly stone, was filled with a cheerful light as the finishing touches were placed to make the space livable in the form of a few flower vases, some shields for wall decoration, and a new wardrobe to replace the old, decrepit one that had collapsed in the corner..

“I hope it’s to your standards.” Grif smiled at her.

“A room that’s fit for a queen. Or in this case, a wife.” She raised her brows meaningfully as she smiled at her husband.

Grif immediately turned to face the gathered Gryphons who had assisted with the renovations. “Thank you for your help, but we need to ... unpack,” he said rather hurriedly. “Could we have some Privacy please?”

The Gryphons nodded their heads, bowed in respect, and then left. When everyone had gone, the stone doors closed, giving the two their much needed privacy. The next time the couple would be seen, reports would say they were positively glowing with pleasure.

---

Pensword was currently bedding in the room that would have held Grif. Now, with the larger room unlocked, he and Cosy were able to take the spare room next door instead. He felt a little calmer knowing he had one less door to worry about to his left. He sighed as he slowly unpacked the few items he kept with him: a journal; a picture of himself, his wife, and his daughter; and the armor on his back. The Gryphons had promised they would move an armor stand in for him later. He sat in a chair meant for a Gryphon, so it dwarfed him. Still, out of habit more than anything else, he settled in as a knock echoed on the door. “Enter,” he spoke. Cosy said he had to see to his guards for a moment, at which point he was going to learn where the Prince would be staying.

“Excuse me?” A Gryphoness entered. Her head was that of a robin with the body of a cougar. “I’m sorry, I’m just going around making a record of the guests’ names,” she told pensword. “May I please have yours?”

Pensword paused. “Did the child give his name yet?” He asked in return.

“Prince Bellacosa has been well looked after.” Her assurance was nothing but genuine.

“Very well.” He took a deep breath. “Pensword Hurricane,” he answered. “However, the public log should be Feather Moon. I assume you know your history and the danger that name holds here in this city.”

“Oh my,” the Gryphoness said as she wrote what he said down quickly. “You’re the Demon of Triumph?” she asked, her voice hovering between fear and excitement.

“I am,” Pensword responded calm and collected.

“I--that is to say, the monastery's historian would greatly appreciate if you could put aside some time and talk with her,” she said. “A viewpoint like yours would be priceless for the records.”

Pensword looked at the Gryphoness. “If you are willing to sit through my bias and anger,” he admitted. “To you all, the war happened three generations ago, possibly a little less. To me--” he pointed a hoof. “--I had to bury my own men, as well as stand shell shocked within the remains of my home town after it had been destroyed.” He narrowed his eyes as dark memories resurfaced once again. “What I have to say may not be pleasant. If she is willing to sit through that, I will give her an evening.”

“With all due respect, sir, all history is valuable,” she told him. “I won’t seek to justify what my people did. I only seek to learn.”

“A good mindset to hold,” Pensword answered. “A piece of advice to give to others you meet: keep a journal of your thoughts and emotions. It lets folks know what you thought during your life for future generations.” He shivered. “I must admit, the Gryphons here have surprised me. I thought that they would either run in terror or try to kill me, yet all the Gryphons have been kind and courteous. I guess things have changed faster than I thought,” he mumbled to himself.

“Our species is stubborn at the best of times, but we do attempt to better ourselves,” she said. “But that’s me, a serial optimist.”

“Understood,” Pensword responded. “Still, do you have any questions for your own curiosity?”

“Oh, I’m not prepared,” she said. “I need ink and paper. I’ll be back soon,” she said, excited as she bolted out of the room.

Pensword snorted into the air. “Happy, mom? I’m trying.” He spoke to the empty room. “Now, I just have to wait for Cosy.”

---

Lunar Fang smiled, showing her fangs as she slowly stalked in the shadows. She twitched her ear and a moment later let out a squee as she pounced on Vital Spark’s back. “Gotcha.” From a carrier on Lunar’s back, Moon River squealed with joy.

“But do you really?” Vital smirked as Lunar Fang was suddenly lifted into the air by a blue magical nimbus while he stepped out from under her.

“Well, I did want to teach Moon River how to hunt,” she responded. “Also, you seem the least offensive, and easiest to practice on.” She giggled along with Moon River. Behind them, looking very annoyed, was Fizzpot. “Oh, did you know Moon River has her nanny?” She twitched her ears. “How are you holding up with those ears of yours with the construction?” She giggled. “Pensword, well Matthew to your mind, used to love talking about how much he could hear with his pony ears, especially after his Thestral ears came in.”

“I’d say I’m doing pretty good. I kind of got used to it after a while. I’ve lived in a construction zone before,” he said as he lowered Lunar Fang and her foal carefully to the ground.

“Ah,” she responded as a mischievous glint sprung in his eyes. “So, how are you holding up with being … how did you put it as a human, naked?”

“I’m uh … dealing with it.” Vital blushed. “It’s still a little weird, but I’m not so clumsy about it anymore.”

She smiled. “Well that is good. I was going to have tea with the Gryphon Slayers. Would you like to join us?” She asked.

“Thanks, Lunar Fang, but I think I’m going to have to pass. I still have a ways to go in my exercises today, and then I need to work on my target practice and find Clover for some magic lessons. You think we could take a rain check?”

“Very well. Just don’t avoid being with friends. It’s not wise to be all work and no play.” She shook her mane. “Have a good night.” She grinned and whacked him with her wing. “Just keep an eye out. I’m going to test your reflexes now.”

“Wait till after I start combat training, Lunar Fang,” Vital said as he rubbed the back of his head with a hoof. “My reflexes haven’t had time to develop yet. I have pretty much none to speak of.”

“I give no promises. I’m teaching Moon River to be a proper Thestral and that means teaching her to pounce and a few other things besides, so be ready.” She smiled as she continued to trot towards the Gryphon Slayers’ camp.

“... Why do I get the feeling she just found the perfect target?” Vital Spark sighed as he trotted to the field. He had pushups to do and runs to take care of. “No one’s going to touch them again,” he murmured as he twisted his gem, switched to human form, and started jogging.

---

Shrial sat on the cushioned stool at the counter of Sugarcube Corner, sipping her cocoa idly. She had to admit, it tasted almost as good, if not better than Joe’s. She sighed happily as the kicking finally began to ease. “I swear, these two have to have the biggest sweet tooths I’ve ever encountered. And they’re not even here yet!” She absently rubbed her expanding stomach and smiled. “But that means they’ll be feisty when they’re born, just like their mother.”

“Don’t you worry none,” Mrs.Cake smiled as she placed a tray of chocolate cupcakes down. “You look amazing, dear. When I was that far along with the twins, I looked like a big old butterball.”

“... Is it really that bad?”

“You’re growing people inside you, dear,” she pointed out. “It wasn’t going to be easy, but it’s worth it in the end.”

“Were you still able to get around once you got far enough along?”

“Well, I still had to get to doctor's appointments and around the house, but I didn’t want to move around too much,” she admitted.

“Great.” Shrial rolled her eyes. “That’s just going to make it worse for me.”

“It’s worth it in the end.” Mrs.cake offered a comforting smile.

“Did you feel the need to eat chocolate all the time too?”

“Well, Pumpkin preferred Cinnamon, I think.” She laughed.

“Does it ever stop?” She groaned, taking another shot of hot cocoa and rubbing her temples. “I hardly ever get a good night’s sleep anymore.”

“Are they restless?”

“All the time.”

“There are some exercises I can show you that’ll help you sleep. And there’s also this old family tea recipe I have,” she offered.

“Will it keep them calm without hurting them?” Shrial asked, cradling her stomach again.

“Of course.” Mrs. cake smiled, patting her hands with a hoof.

“I’ll take whatever help I can get. I want Grif to come home to two lovely, healthy girls.” She smiled tenderly at the thought of her husband, and even as she sipped some more of her cocoa, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing now half a world away.

“Would you like a refill there?” Mrs. Cake asked, pointing to the cocoa.

“Yes, please. It helps take the edge off the nerves.”

Mrs. cake laughed as she happily refilled the mug.

---

Pensword looked to Cosy at his side. “Are you sure you want to come with me to this?” They were gearing up for travel into the capital. Pensword looked to his left, feeling nervous without Grif to accompany them.

“I’m going to have to do it some time. If I’m gonna be an ambassador, I have to get to know the people, not just the rulers,” Cosy said.

“Very well, Cosy. I am happy to see you are wearing your armor, though. Shall we depart? It is still early, so we should arrive by the time the doors open.”

“Ready when you are, Uncle,” Cosy smiled.

“So we can get going, then?” A voice spoke up.

Pensword jumped into the air, wings flared and ready for combat in less then a second. Cosy yelped. After the pair had time to calm themselves, they saw who was speaking and relaxed. “Do--?” he paused and turned to the side. “MOM!” he yelled, then waited. “Look, I don’t care if I am, okay? Let me know when Kel’leam is in the room. I do not want to kill him by mistake.” He waited a beat. “Touché, his armor can protect him.”

“... Is everything okay?” kel’leam asked, confused.

Pensword turned to focus on Kel’leam, He opened his muzzle to speak only to be cut off by Cosy.

“Yeah, he does this alot. He can talk to spirits, so he was telling his mom he wanted to be warned when you were in the room.” Cosy smiled.

“Ah,” Kel’leam nodded. “I’m still confused how everyone seems to miss me.”

“I do not know either, but I do enjoy you at my side. You can be a surprise to any who might be against us. Still, you know where we are heading?”

“The war museum, correct? Possibly the market place afterwards?” Kel’leam asked.

“That is correct,” Pensword answered. “We are ready to head out. I hope we get there before it opens.”

“I can’t wait to see all the cool weapons and armor.” Cosy smiled.

“I am wanting to learn more about their war history,” Pensword responded. “I hope you like that itinerary, Kel’leam.”

“I’m here to make sure no one starts trouble for you two,” Kel’leam said. “If not for you two and Grif, I don’t think I’d have set foot here again.”

“How come?” Cosy asked, confused.

“Not all clanless leave Gryphonia by choice,” Kel’leam told cosy with a mournful face. “Not all clanless are innocent either.”

“I don’t understand,” Cosy said, furrowing his brow in a pout. “You’re too nice to be a bad Gryphon.”

Pensword looked to the young colt. “Cosy, do not lose that outlook. Let those of us around you help guard you as you grow.”

“Let’s just say that sometimes nice people do bad things,” Kel’leam told the colt. “And sometimes the right thing isn’t always the legal one.”

“So you did something that was right, but you got punished for it?”

“It’s ... complicated.” Kel’leam sighed. “And it’s a part of my past I’d rather let go of.”

They paused at the stone gates. “Then I shall not ask. We all have parts of our past we would rather let go of.” Pensword’s left ear twitched. “Well, this is going to be fun.” He turned around, “Okay, Kel’leam, do not move from that side of me.” He turned around to look forward as the gate swung open. A platoon of armed Gryphons bearing a large symbol emblazoned on their chest plates stood waiting. Kel’leam tensed at the sight.

“Stand aside in the name of King Draknor, bat pony. We’ve business with the Winds Father,” the leader growled as he shoved his way past, the column following close behind.

“Then the patron of the Avatar shall be sure to apologize to the emperor when he meets with him later,” Kel’leam called out officially. “I’m sure he would be most displeased to hear his important foreign visitors from Equestria were mistreated by his underlings.”

The captain merely chuckled as he continued on his way, the rest of his soldiers breaking into raucous laughter at the comment.

Pensword’s left eye twitched, followed by both ears. A steady shade of fiery red slowly rose up from his neck, then filled his entire head before steam blew out his ears.

Kel’leam lay a taloned hand on Pensword’s shoulder and shook his head.

Pensword stormed off. Few could hear the curses he muttered, but those who did blanched at the threats he made as he stewed in his anger. In the name of decorum, he had to swallow a lot of pride, and he was not happy to do so. Instead, he focused on heading to the war museum, Kel’leam and Cosy in tow.

---

Grif was already re-strapping on his armor when Avalon woke up over an hour later. “Sleep well?” Grif asked as he noticed her stir.

Avalon stretched and yawned before getting out of bed. “That was heavenly,” she said as she approached Grif. She gave him an absent peck on the cheek as she pulled on her knife belt and donned Grif’s sharktooth. Then she stood in front of the old mirror and preened her feathers.

“So I was thinking of going to the library and finding out about that prophecy Jiraac mentioned, but I also figured seeing as it’s apparently a book only the monks and I am ever allowed to read, you’d appreciate the access to sacred knowledge.”

“Grif, as much as I love knowledge, are you sure the Winds won’t just choke me like they did that old buzzard if I look? There’s a reason why forbidden knowledge is forbidden.”

“It’s not forbidden, it’s secret. And I don’t keep secrets from my wives,” Grif told her. “Besides, if the East Wind or the North Wind attacked you, the South wind would interfere.”

“What makes you say that?”

“‘Cause the South Wind represents love: familial, parental, maternal, paternal, romantic, platonic,” he wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, “and carnal. And my connection to the south is strong, so my love for you would cause it to protect you.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I suppose a little peek won’t hurt.”

“That’s my girl.” He kissed her forehead. “Just don’t read all the books in the library tonight, okay?”

Avalon smirked. “I make no promises.”

“Let’s go.” Grif smiled as he made his way to the doors. Pushing them open was much easier from inside than outside.

They managed to find a monk who guided them through the numerous hallways and buildings until they made their way to the massive library complex. Walls surrounded them filled with books of all types and shapes that had been fitted into well-carved alcoves. Grif found himself greatly envying Avalon as she turned her head in a total 180 degree turn to take in the room.

“It’s amazing,” Grif said.

“Amazing doesn’t even begin to describe it. The things a Gryphon could learn here … it’s just --.” Her eyes were brimming with excitement as she took it all in and a giddy smile came over her face. “Where do we start?”

“Well I’m no expert on ancient manuscripts and sacred texts,” Grif said as he pointed to a large book standing on a pedestal surrounded by a glass case. Even being close to it caused the feathers on their necks to stand slightly on edge, for anyone who knew magic could feel the heavy enchantments that lay upon the great tome. The large pages where intact, though yellowed from age. The cover was bound in a hide so old and worn Grif couldn’t even identify the creature it came from. The cover held no words, only ancient gryphic runes emblazoned in faded silver. He almost feared to touch it as he approached. “But I’d say this is the book of winds.”

Avalon shuddered as a dim glow came from her satchel. “... No kidding. So are you going to open it? Or do we need to get a monk to remove the case? What’s the deal?” Avalon asked as she firmly tugged the leather straps in place on the satchel, smothering the dim light from any prying eyes.

“I can open it,” Grif assured her as he tapped the casing surrounding the tome. Gryphic runes glowed briefly on it and then it dissipated. “I’ve just never touched something this old before.” He gulped a bit as he laid a talon on the book, momentarily pulling back as if afraid it would crumble to dust around him. When nothing happened, he moved his talons back in place and carefully opened the Book of Winds. The pages where written in Ancient Gryphic and it took some considerable work for Grif to determine the section regarding the strange prophecy. With careful scrutiy, he made his way through the countless ages worth or Gryphon wisdom until he came to the final entries by Darkdraft. He then began Scanning the pages carefully.

“You know, if you need some help, you do have an expert in Ancient Gryphic right here,” Avalon offered.

“Graf was far from unschooled,” Grif said as he scanned the book. “He taught me this stuff during the cold, storming nights.” His eyes scanned the pages, carefully looking for details on this apparent future threat. Shaking his head, he pulled a quill and ink from his bag as well as a scroll and began to convert the passage into Equestrian. “Hammer Strike needs to see this,” Grif said. “The implications are unsettling to say the least.”

“You mean the part Jarrik quoted yesterday? Or is there more?”

“It talks about the return of The Winds, the war, some sort of mass thing between the races, and then an attack that the Avatar must hold off with other unnamed heroes,” Grif said as he wrote.

“Hold on, the return of The Winds? Why wasn’t this made public? All of Gryphonia’s been waiting for them to come back for millennia.”

“Because Diamond Dogs must stand with the Avatar to draw The Winds home,” Grif told her gravely. “And we both know that the few mentions of good Diamond Dogs are highly classified.”

“I haven’t even seen any of them. If there were any, they’d likely be held in the Emperor's palace somewhere. But what’s this about a war? Does it mean the Third Gryphon War or something else?”

“Given what was mentioned in the earlier portion, I believe so,” Grif noded. “That’s why it’s troubling. If this is true, then something very bad is coming.”

Avalon jumped as the sound of grinding stone rumbled through the library, shaking the ground where they stood. Slowly the pedestal began to glow and turn as a series of symbols began to carve themselves in the stones, glowing golden as the blocks began to gradually descend with a loud clank, one after the other. The sound of slamming doors and dropping boulders alerted the pair to the sealing of the library, and several alarmed shouts could be heard muffled through the other side of the entrances. A cool wind blew up from the stones as they finished locking in place, followed by a steady rumble as the winds of the library and the winds of the cavern touched and mingled before brushing playfully along Grif’s and Avalon’s fur and feathers.

“Um, Grif, what just happened?”

“Some kinda hidden chamber?” Grif looked to her. “Fancy an adventure?”

“It’s not like we can go anywhere else,” she said, motioning back to the massive stones that had shifted out from over the entrances and dropped over the doors.

“Then lets have some fun.” Grif smiled as he began to descend down the steps.

---

Shawn cracked his neck as he finished hammering another nail into place. He rubbed his forehead as he sighed. “Only another half of the structure to build…” he muttered to himself.

“Here you go,” a pink hoof held out a new nail to him.

“Thanks,” Shawn commented as he grabbed the nail, trailing the hoof to Pinkie, who was currently half way out of his pocket, holding his box of nails. “Remind me, what do you do to somehow fit into places such as my pockets?

“I could explain it, but you’d probably end up going crazy,” Pinkie told him.

“Pinkie, I’m already insane by many standards and was consumed by a darkness that whispered knowledge that I shouldn’t have known,” Shawn told her. “If you really don’t want to tell me, alright then. So what brings you around?”

“I simply bust a hole through the dimensional barrier and walk through,” she said.

“That is overly simple. Then again, you can do it by whatever power you have while the reason we got here was by a thin veil where the space between worlds was weak.”

“It’s not that simple and if I don’t dumb it down any more…. I won’t like the result.” Her hair began to deflate a bit.

Shawn simply pat her head as he shook his head. “It’s alright, I won’t question it anymore.” He shook his head as he reached into his other pocket for another tool, only feel two things. He had grabbed cloth, and there was a hand on his shoulder. Looking over at Pinkie, he saw his own hand coming out of her mane and grabbing his own shoulder.

“Uh…” He paused, pulling his arm back and watching as it pulled back into Pinkie’s mane. “I think you did something to my coat.”

“Well… that’s new,” Pinkie responded.

“I’d say. Wait, what about all the stuff I had in my pocket?” he asked after pulling his hand back and felt around in the space.

“Oh, you must’ve connected your pockets to my patented Pinkie place,” Pinkie explained. “It’s where I keep everything I need in the near future.”

After a moment of feeling around, he pulled out the scroll he was looking for. “I’m going to need you to stick around for a while, just until I can figure this out. And by figure this out, I mean figure out how to get things in and out of my pocket without them either poking out of your mane or my own arm coming out of your mane. I’m ahead of schedule on building, so I can take a break anyways. Shall we head to my office?”

“Okie dokie lokie,” Pinkie said, hopping out of his pocket.

A few minutes later they both arrived at Shawn’s office, said office being the workroom where he either signed documents or drew up new things to make. “Alright, so give me a moment,” Shawn said as he undid the buckle holding his coat from opening and removed it, placing it on a dummy he had in the room.

“Why do you have a training dummy in here?” Pinkie asked.

“I get bored sometimes,” Shawn said as his eyes traced over several holes in the dummy and the stone wall behind it. “Turns out my knives can handle a stone wall as well.”

“Wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of that,” Pinkie said.

“Exactly why the walls are thick stone bricks.” Shawn chuckled. “Alright, let’s figure this out. When you go for something, do you just reach in thinking about it and you get it?”

Pinkie nodded. “Yeah, but if there’s too much in there, things can get complicated, so I try to only keep the things I need right away.”

“Then we have a problem. I had a lot of stuff in my pockets,” Shawn commented as he reached into the other pockets of his coat, every time saying the word: “Empty.”

“Fun times, all the pockets are connected. Problem, all of the stuff in them are now in your Pinkie Space.”

“Anything I should watch out for?” Pinkie asked.

“Knives primarily, and perhaps a few blueprints that you should ignore,” he hummed to himself. “Thaumic Crystals… and a broach.”

“You don’t seem like the type for jewelry.”

“...It was a gift from Rarity,” Shawn replied. “Said I should keep it on me in case I need it.”

“Okie dokie lokie!” she said. “So what do we need to do?”

“Figure things out, such as--” shawn started as he removed the coat from the dummy. “--I know one thing you have in that space and I’m curious if it’s linked to just my items, or if it’s a mixture,” he said, as he looked it over a few times before holding it off to the side like a matador holding a cape. “I’m going to look stupid if this doesn’t work though,” he chuckled.

“I won’t tell anypony,” Pinkie promised.

Shawn whipped the coat over the air. In the space behind the coat something solid interacted back as he revealed…

Pinkie’s party cannon.

“Welp, that answers that one,” Shawn said as he looked it over.

“Wow! Do a bunny! Do a bunny! No, do a cupcake! No, do a bunny made out of CUPCAKES!” Pinkie cheered.

“I think I can do that if you put one in there, but I doubt that you did though,” he said as he moved his coat over his hand and moved it away only to be holding a cupcake shaped like a bunny. “...Why?”

“Why not?” she asked, taking the cupcake and swallowing it.

Shawn moved his coat over the party cannon and the cannon disappeared. “I’ll, uh… try not to take things from the space, though I make no promises,” Shawn told her as he placed his coat on once more, adjusting the buckle back to where it was meant to be.

“Okay, well I’ve got to go. Gummy’s going to give it to me if I’m not home on time for his bath day,” Pinkie said, heading for the door.

Before she could leave, Shawn looked at her. “I take it you put the nails--.” He gestured to her mane. Before she could answer, however, a loud clatter of metal caught them both off guard. Below Shawn was said box of nails. “... I’m going to need practice with this.”

---

Princess Celestia looked out upon the setting sun as she lowered it with her horn. She was waiting for Luna to eat their meal together. A scroll sat on the table from her student, unfurled with two tea cups holding it open at the corners.

As the moon took its place in the sky, Luna appeared in the room in a flash of moonlight. The lunar alicorn looked more tired than usual as she made her way to the table. The bags under her eyes were painfully visible. “Forgive me, sister. Setting up court has been taxing these last few days.”

“But is it not rewarding?” Celestia responded with a grin. “Also, Twilight sent a report. The Changelings attacked New Unity thinking it was less guarded. They’ve retreated towards the Badlands again.”

“I take it Chrysalis received quite a shock?” Luna asked as she took a sip of tea.

“Yes, she did. You will need to head there during the dreams. ... Vital Spark had to kill and he’s not doing very well.” She looked concerned, pained. “I am worried as well. Did you find out what caused our Commander to head into the heart of the Gryphon Empire? While I applaud his thinking, I worry for his mental health.”

“As I understand it, Prince Bellacosa had decided he would be heading there as a diplomatic venture,” Luna explained. “He requested Grif and pensword as a personal escort.”

“Yes, I understand that. But before he left, did you not see the concern in his eyes? Something else is bothering him. I might have found something myself, but I am wondering if you did your own digging.” She smiled wistfully. “I miss your little trips into learning what you can about a topic that interests you.”

“My trip into the kingdoms was very enlightening, yes, but it was quite clear the Gryphons didn’t enjoy my company so much as I did theirs,” Luna reminded her sister. “Unless attempting to kill you when you get home is a sign of favor.”

“No,” Celestia responded. “I guess we’ll simply have to wait for his report then.” She took a sip of her tea. “Sister, I would like to say that when the diplomatic trip is over, we should put your bill to the joint courts.”

“Oh?” Luna questioned her sister. “Wouldn’t such a bill look unneeded after a diplomatic visit?”

Celestia shook her head. “Luna, the Gryphons from some of my confidants are reporting an unusual amount of personal armies under the Gryphon nobles heading to the Capital. Two of my friends over there have even gone silent. I fear they might be aiming to finish what they tried to start with Daedalus' parents. That means this visit may be returning with an unstable region that could allow the Minotaurs to react and take action. Then the Zebrican kingdoms would have to mobilize. I’ve been having a few disturbing dreams as of late, and I worry that what I built upon a thousand years ago was nothing more than a foundation of clay. I pray to mother it is not so, but I’ve put this off long enough.” She smiled warmly and put a wing around her sister. “Besides, with how weak the military is, you get to rebuild it how you see fit.”

“You worry of a rebellion when Commander Pensword and Grif Grafson Bladefeather are in the country’s heart?” Luna laughed. “I put very little beyond those two.”

“Be that as it may, I want your bill there as a means to usurp any of the other nobles’ petty plans. Baron Blueblood worries me. The last time a house even hinted at acting like that, we put flames to their name.” She frowned. “Never again. I want to cut them off at the pass. Your bill is the perfect way to do it, and--” she spread her wings “-- it shows just how much I trust my sister upon her return and freedom from that parasite.” She lowered her wings. “I want to see you happy, Luna. Yes, I hate to say this furthers politics, but it’s worth it to hear how much your subjects love you and how important the night has become to our little ponies.”

“Very well, sister, but you know full well I cannot begin to process the bill until the summit is over,” Luna said.

“You make a fair point. We need to bring Cadence up to date on our plan, not to mention Twilight. If all four of us approve, I doubt that even the most foolish of the nobles would be willing to stand against it.”

“You underestimate them.” Luna sighed.

“Luna, if anything, they’ll be looking to match your Thestral forces out of sheer jealousy. You have the finest military force in Equestria, second perhaps to that of Hammer Strike’s, if that. I’m fairly certain they’ll agree.” She smiled as she took another sip of her tea.

“Fair point, sister, but I think we should keep it to a city state basis, rather than separate nobility, or we will have civil war within ten years,” Luna noted.

Celestia smiled. “A wise insight. You’ve grown up so fast, Luna.” Celestia smiled and walked to her sister as she took her in another winged embrace. “Sometimes I miss that little filly I used to look after, but you’ve made me so proud.”

“I appreciate that.” Luna smiled at her sister.

Celestia chuckled. “Come on, let’s play some chess, hmm? I want to see just how sharp that military mind of yours has become. And maybe get the chance to whoop your sorry flank,” she said playfully.

“It will be a cold day on the sun when that happens.” Luna laughed as she moved to the board.

---

Pensword paused within the walled courtyard in the front of the Grand Imperial War Museum. Carved in stone with grand Gryphons in armor and a fountain built to impress and even awe the visitors, he found himself unpleasantly surprised. Taking a moment, he closed his eyes to reign in his temper before returning to the sight. He felt a gentle tug on one of his wings as he looked down to an impatient looking Bellacosa.

“Uncle, can we go inside now, please?” the young colt begged. “I wanna see all the cool weapons.”

He smiled as if at some inside joke. “Let’s go. Be ready to pay a fee though. Most places have that. You will guide me, as this is your time to play tourist. I am simply along for the ride.”

Cosy giggled. “I know you wanna see the weapons just as much as I do, Uncle. Don’t try to hide it.” Kel’leam smiled goodnaturedly at the foal as Cosy pulled Pensword toward the entrance, where a Gryphon sat waiting to collect the fee.

Pensword nodded and paid the fees happily. The guard thought he overpaid, not noticing Kel’leam as he passed by as well. “Well,” Pensword spoke up as he found a map of the museum. “The collection of weapons are in the West Wing. The second floor has a back wing that shows...” he paused as he read through the items. “Hmm. After the weapon exhibit, where do you want to go?” he asked, afraid he would ask for the Equestrian campaigns.

“How about we look at the Crystal Empire stuff? I didn’t think they’d have anything about us,” Cosy said, a little surprised as he noticed the symbol of his homeland, the mighty crystal heart.

Pensword twitched his left wing in surprise. “I agree.” He steeled himself in having to walk through what most likely was information on the Third Gryphon War from the empire’s viewpoint. “Well, the weapons are first.”

Racing into the room, several older pieces of armor, including more dilapidated sets that had clearly been torn through by sword and arrow, sat on Gryphon sized mannequins as the trio made their way from exhibit to exhibit.

“And here, we see the armor of General Steelclaw Talonfang. This Gryphon was one of the many martyrs who died at the hands of the Ponies during the Third Gryphon war. It is necessary to note, however, that he did die honorably in a duel he himself had initiated. It is not known who his opponent may have been. Some theorize it was a golem, others that a Unicorn Lord came and used his magic to an unfair advantage. Suffice it to say, the battle was ultimately lost, and a new general needed to be chosen. Thus was the beginning of the tragic fall of the tenth brigade of the Emerald Talons,” a Gryphon guide explained, motioning towards the holes in the armor.

“Warriors attempted to recover the blade with which Steelclaw had been killed, but reports claim it was too heavy for any Gryphon to lift, and so it was left in the battle field whilst the general’s second proceeded to carry his commanding officer back to the camp. A contest of arms followed to determine who should succeed the position. The museum is currently in negotiations with the war memorial at Canterlot to see if we can’t get his halberd and shield on loan, but they can’t seem to find it in their archives, or so they say.”

Pensword saw Cosy about to answer. “No,” Pensword whispered, cutting Cosy off. “At the moment, we do not want to draw attention. If they speak ill of a living friend, you may ask questions and ruffle some feathers, but we have to be polite. This is their museum and maybe even a memorial to past and fallen warriors. Just keep still till we reach the Crystal Empire exhibit.”

“Awwww, but I wanted to know more about what happened. I didn’t get to hear much about the Third War.” Cosy pouted.

“You will. We have to go through the Third War to reach the exhibit, so be patient.” Pensword paused as his ears twitched. Looks like the guide is speaking again.” They were standing in front of a large model of one of the smaller outposts Pensword recognized as Fort Lunar Fang.

“This is a miniature recreation of the first Gryphon fortress to fall into Pony hooves. It is uncertain as to what really occurred behind those walls. The officers’ logs indicate several troops suffered from extreme sleep deprivation and a plague of nightmares. We assume it was likely some form of mental warfare the Ponies developed at the time, but we are still uncertain as to the exact nature of the malady and its method of inoculation. Certain scholars believe it to be a type of Unicorn spell that was cast to blanket the fort, though it is deemed unlikely since a spell of that magnitude would have required several Unicorns of the Alpha class to pull off and maintain for any extended period of time. One scholar, a certain Arcturus the Mad dared to claim the Bat Pony creatures, also known as Thestrals, had somehow developed an art which allowed them to enter into creatures’ dreams. A positively ridiculous sentiment of course, which is why his doctorate was immediately revoked and to this day, his descendants are often forbidden to practice any art of a scholarly nature, lest the madness prove hereditary.”

Pensword remained neutral, even as the comment about Thestrals boiled his blood.

“Um … sir?” Cosy asked timidly. “I … I don’t want to be rude, but what’s that over there?” The colt asked, pointing to a large, cracked painting. Thunder and lightning brooded overhead with a malevolent creature somewhat akin to Nightmare Moon, only without the horn. Its fangs were elongated and blood dripped off its ends as it threw its head back and laughed. Beneath the pegasus, a pile of bloody corpses stood in graphic detail, their wings scattered around them in a pool of blood. The most frightening of all were the slitted eyes as they glared out on the gathered throng. Ghostly figures hovered behind him in the cloud as dust hovered in the background, symbolizing a horde of enemies. To the right, a lone scout held up his spear in defiance as he screeched at another pony. This one was a bat-winged creature with sword in hoof, diving for the kill. If one looked closely enough, the image of an umbrella with a crescent moon on it could just be made out. A cloak of shadows billowed behind her as it stretched around the lone Gryphon to consume him.

“That painting is called ‘The Demon’s Advance.’ It’s one of Cravenclaw the Ghast’s most gristly works, finished shortly before the death of His Holiness, Emperor Galileo Galeli Galefeather: well known as a patron of the arts and humanities, his casual attitude towards the art of war ultimately led to his untimely demise at the end of the Eighth Dynasty. The creature you see feasting on Gryphon blood is the legendary Commander Pensword Hurricane, one of the few strategists of Equestria capable of matching wits with Gryphonia’s finest. It is said he delighted in the blood of his enemies and drank it eagerly, gleefully shearing wing from bone to prevent our soldiers’ passage into the afterlife and strand their spirits on the ground for all eternity. He is our greatest challenge, and our greatest embarrassment. The mare you see attacking the final Gryphon is his wife, Lunar Fang. A powerful warrior in her own right, her cold cunning led to the destruction of many a battalion in the assault on Fillydelphia. Her vicious nature made her a perfect match for her mate. It is said Pensword dispatched over a hundred Black Tips on his own in hand to hoof combat before they were outlawed and disbanded towards the end of the Tenth Dynasty.”

“What about Celestias Ghost?” one of the Gryphons in the crowd asked.

“You’re referring, of course, to the Pony Lord Hammer Strike of Equestria. Little is known of his origins and history. For many a century, his name was relegated to legend and myth. It’s not entirely clear what role he had to play during the events of the war, but one thing that is known for certain is he had a direct hand in the destruction of the fortress Shertugal and its razing to the ground. By what means or magic, we do not know. One thing he is well known for, however, is his strength and skill at arms.”

Pensword stood there listening, and while they talked, he felt pride and joy at seeing the painting: the perfect expression of the fear and pain he had caused them. He took a steadying breath as he felt an unusual pang of guilt as well, but he knew where it came from: his other half. The human Matthew felt worry and shame at how those around him viewed his actions.

“And last, but not least, we have the ‘Grif the Egg Smasher’ Exhibit. As an orphan found in the Northern Isles, Grif was raised by Graf, formerly of the Farflyer Clan. For his daring to adopt and care for an orphan, he was shunned and mocked, barely acknowledged by his fellow Gryphons, but don’t be fooled. Graf was a warrior of the old ways, and more importantly, a warrior without peer. He taught Grif the ways of war and made him a scholar as well as a warrior. Having been raised by such a formidable fighter with such revolutionary ideals, it was only natural that he would be different than most Gryphons of the time period.

“Scholars aren’t entirely certain what might have been done to cause him to turn on his own kind. Some believe he went mad, others that he was put under some sort of spell. What is certain, however, is that after meeting the legendary Hammer Strike, he swore his allegiance to the Ponies. From that point on, Grif Grafson became a staunch supporter of Equestria, and soon after, a dedicated killer and assassin to many of Gryphonia’s most influential generals. He made it a common practice to cut off the wings of every Gryphon he slayed before burning their bodies and leaving their ashes to be taken by the winds and the earth. The wings were then nailed to Pony Fortresses as trophies and warnings to curse the ground and ward off future invaders. On occasion, he even allowed himself to be captured for the sake of taking his targets.

“However, his greatest victory came at the historical tower of the Evokers, called the Fortress of the Arcanium. It is uncertain just what happened in this tower. All that we know is that a great battle was fought and a massacre slaughtered practically every Evoker there. In later centuries, we learned the tower was in fact the location of the final resting place of the legendary Grask Grimclaw Dragonfeller, the first Avatar of Winds. Historians have been trying to get permission to enter the tower for centuries, but since Grif was technically the one to conquer the tower, it belongs to him. Negotiations are ongoing. It’s not entirely clear how, when, or why, but Grif has been named the Avatar of Winds, being the second Gryphon in the history of the empire to be capable of wielding wind magic to its fullest capabilities. A great deal of controversy surrounds him, and a great deal of mystery. However, for better or for worse, he has been chosen, and he walks among us today.”

“But if he was there a thousand years ago, how is he alive?” a young fledging from the crowd asked, confused.

“He slept in stone in the crystal empire,” Kel’leam spoke up suddenly, causing the room to jump. “He was injured fighting the fallen king Sombra, but his blood oath wouldn’t let him fall until the king was dead.” He looked down at the fledgling. “And his name is Grif Grafson Bladefeather.”

“And you would know this, how?” the guide asked skeptically. All eyes were on the heavily armored Gryphon.

“Because I bear his name,” kel’leam answered as he stood up, fully revealing his polished chestplate and the symbol emblazoned onto it. “Though the way he tells it he is far less glorious.”

One of the elder Gryphons in the crowd sneered. “And you expect us to swallow this finch spittle? Earth Magic is far beyond the skills of any Gryphon, let alone a pony.” He chuckled grimly at Kel’leam.

Kel’leam tensed his muscles, preparing to draw his lance when he felt a gentle hoof on his arm. Cosy looked up at him and smiled before stepping forward.

“What’s your name, mister?” he asked.

“They call me Ishmael. Ishmael Spearhunter.”

“Gah!” Pensword muttered in shock as Matthew executed a perfect anime face-fall in his mind. The statement was one he knew well from Earth, even if it did come from a book he’d never read.

“You know Grif’s come to Gryphonia, right? Word of that’s probably been spreading since we got here yesterday. My family paid him to escort me here to Gryphelheim to meet with the Emperor. My name is Bellacosa Sonata Orchestra, Crown Prince of the Crystal Empire. He stood boldly as he tore off his cloak to reveal the armor underneath. “And I was there when the war took place. Grif Grafson fought to save our lives. He protected my sisters and me from everything Sombra threw at us. I was there when the spell was cast, and I was cast in stone with him, Hammer Strike, Pensword, and my sister, Alto. No normal Unicorn could have cast that spell, but the caster was no normal Unicorn. Starswirl the Bearded encased us in stone before our empire was whisked forward in time by King Sombra’s dark magic. The power of the Crystal Heart released us from our hibernation after Princess Twilight restored it to my big sister, Queen Cadence. Let me set the record straight. It happened, and Kel’leam here was telling the truth.”

In a sudden flash, Cosy’s coat renewed its shine as a blazing light flared on his flanks. When all had returned to normal, Cosy stood upright and bold, his crystal coat glimmering and refracting the torch light as two identical marks glowed peacefully on his flanks showing a crystal blade and trumpet crossing one another as the trumpet blew. Behind them, a blue crystal heart pulsed in time with a purple treble clef as a golden crown inscribed itself circling the loop at the top of the clef. Cosy glared at the assembly. “Anypony else got a problem with that?”

Pensword just watched, first in shock and chagrin, but slowly, a grin grew on his face and pride warmed his heart at seeing what he saw. Cosy had just gotten his cutie mark, and he had been privileged to witness the event.

The reaction of the crowd ranged anywhere from pure amazement to low growls and the air was filled with tension rather quickly. Kel’leam’s talon was a hairsbreadth away from his spear just in case before the tour guide did his best to break things up.

“Perhaps it would be best if we carried on to our Crystal Empire exhibit?” he suggested.

“That might be wise,” Pensword answered, only too glad to be incognito at the moment. He briefly considered drawing the ire from Cosy by revealing himself, too, but at the moment, it seemed a bad idea. They were close enough to a riot as it was.

---

They had been descending for almost an hour and Grif was certain they should have been in the open air about five hundred steps prior. “Avalon, I thought the monastery was entirely made of stone,” Grif said suddenly.

“It is,” Avalon said matter-of-factly.

“This is cloud,” Grif said, poking the step beneath him.

“You’re kidding,” Avalon said as she stepped ahead. Her eyes widened in the dark as she felt the moist, soft, cool touch. “Winds, you weren’t. But how?” she asked.

“I was beginning to wonder how we hadn’t fallen from the floor yet,” Grif said as they kept going. Several minutes later, they finally came to the end of the staircase and a large wooden door. Grif looked to her. “Should we?”

“Do we even have a choice?”

“I guess not.” Grif sighed. “Or wonder till it drives you mad, what would have happened if you had,” he quoted as he pushed the door open. On the other side, a cloud chamber stood waiting for them. Shelves occupied every area of “wallspace” and those shelves were occupied by thousands upon thousands of books, tomes, and scrolls. Perches were set up everywhere bearing every species of owl imaginable.

‘Welcome!’ The voice was male, but it seemed ancient and wise and it came from practically everywhere all at once. Grif and Avalon’s eyes were drawn to the center of the room, where a long, serpentine body lay coiled. Feathers sprouted from scaly hide impossibly along every inch of the body, and every feather and scale shone with every color imaginable. A large pair of feathered wings were the only limbs this creature held aside from its long tail. Its feathery head held sharp, draconic eyes and a long snout full of fearsome teeth.

“... I don’t know whether to be scared or honored,” Avalon whispered to her husband.

“Hello, Lord of the East Wind,” Grif said as he managed to gain a hold of himself. Carefully, he bowed to the ancient being.

‘I take it, then, that you know why I have revealed myself to you?’ the Quetzalcoatl asked

“I already had the chance of meeting with your Southern sister,” Grif responded. “I must say, while her music was beautiful, I find your surroundings the more favorable.” Grif smiled as he looked around at the books.

‘You are both welcome at the grand parliament.’ The Quetzalcoatl nodded his large head. ‘Come forward, Avalon Bladefeather.’

Avalon looked nervously at Grif before following the great creature’s instruction. “I-it’s an honor to stand before you, sir,” she said.

In a flash of light, Avalon’s focus appeared before the great beast, supported in an aura of a color neither Avalon nor Grif could name. ‘This was an admirable creation, given your circumstances. Snowy was quite proud you chose her feather.’

“Snowy?” Avalon questioned. “You mean the owl I took from?” She winced at the memory.

A familiar snowy owl flew from her perch and proceeded to land on Avalon’s back. It cocked its head at her, twisting it around even as Avalon did the same to see it properly. Then it bowed and hooted breathily at her.

“Um … thank you, I guess,” she said, having never communicated with a bird before. “It … didn’t hurt, did it?”

The owl hooted back to her in a tone that, somehow, she could understand.

‘I am afraid, however, you can no longer use this core,’ the Quetzalcoatl continued as his magic began to loosen the core from its housing.

Avalon bowed her head, resigned. “I’ll take whatever punishment you deem fit.”

‘You misunderstand me, child.’ The dragonbird roared with laughter as the owls hooted in chorus. ‘You cannot use this core because you cannot use the feather of your familiar on your focus.’ With these words the feather burned to nothing inside it’s quartz case. ‘Besides, for the path ahead of you, you will require something much stronger!’

“I’m sorry … what?” Avalon asked, more than a little confused. She looked at Grif, who simply shrugged in response.

‘The evokers took what our parents gave them and corrupted it, twisted it into something vile!’ The Quetzalcoatl snarled briefly before returning to his neutral pose. ‘But the winds did not decree magic should cease. An enlightener was to be chosen, and Gryphon magic was to be reborn. You are to be that enlightener. And for that, my dear, you will need greater power!’ With a groan, he used his magic to rip a feathered scale from his form and insert it into her core. ‘For such power, you will require a familiar, which Snowy has graciously volunteered to be, and a focus far stronger than any evoker ever carried.”

“Me?” Avalon asked in disbelief. “I was chosen by the winds?”

‘Of course you were. Why do you think Grif was drawn to you in the first place? Why else do you think your spell worked the first time? Why do you think your eyes were changed? Why do you think you’re still alive?’ He chuckled. ‘That spell of yours should have blown up in your beak. If it weren’t for our parents’ orders and our combined blessing to stabilize the spell, it would have.’

Avalon trembled as the full significance of what the Lord of the East Wind had said took hold. The snowy owl hopped up to her shoulder and hooted comfortingly as she preened Avalon’s cheek.

Taking the casing in his magic, the Quetzalcoatl vaporized it. Seconds later, In a flash of light, a beautiful new casing manifested in two pieces. The inner caging was forged from mythril and covered in runes so old, Avalon realized they predated even Ancient Gryphic. The other shell was forged of polished bronze with four small gems embedded in each of the principal directions in a manner similar to her original obsidian design. Long lines of Ancient Gryphic were emblazoned in the bronze all the way around. Avalon found she could even understand some of them: ancient names and words of power. As the quartz slid into place and the two halves came together, the inner cage rotated until it locked parallel to the other shell. The rainbow-feathered scale at the core illuminated the polished metal with an almost unearthly glow.

‘Take this focus in your hand,’ the Quetzalcoatl calmly instructed as the focus levitated before her. ‘For with this focus, you, shall do, our wonders!’

Avalon took hold of the new focus and a blinding golden light filled the room as the owls chorused above them. A blast of wind blew through the room from where she stood as it ruffled her feathers. When the light had died down, Avalon stood in the midst of a dim corona which surrounded her and Snowy as the owl perched on her head with her wings spread wide. Avalon slowly took the focus and held it to her breast as she bowed her head. Tears dripped from her beak and joined the water vapor of the clouds on which they stood.

‘I realize this is much to take in, my dear, but I am afraid we only have three days in which I am to mold the two of you. When you are ready,’ the Quetzalcoatl looked to his left and the cloud shaped itself into a table and a chair, growing up out of the floor. Several large, thick volumes proceeded to stack themselves on the new table. These volumes will allow you to glimpse into hidden knowledge. Use it wisely, or else become a victim to it!’

“If I might ask a question before we begin, sir?” Avalon asked.

‘The quest for wisdom always begins with a question,’ the Quetzalcoatl said with a rumbling chuckle. ‘Tell me, what is yours?’

“Why me? And how did the grimoire find me? How did you know I was supposed to be the one?”

‘Because your name has been carried on the winds for centuries, child. Our parents prompted Galadriel Farseer, the first Evoker taught by Grask, to compile the volume with certain instructions and enchantments. It was basic for its time, but as you are aware, it held what you needed to begin your training. Once the grimoire read your heart, it bonded to you, as was its design. And where better to hide such a novel than the bottom of a lake? You passed the rite of acceptance when you used your first focus to save your father, and while it was not altogether wise, your actions had merit in courage, love, and fortitude. You are a seeker, Avalon. A seeker of knowledge, of wisdom, and of growth and progression. In your predecessors, this lead to their downfall because they chose to let their hearts shrivel in selfishness, greed, and a lust for power. You, on the other hand, are more well balanced. After Grif here killed off the Evokers, the magic reservoirs of you children had to grow once again. You are the first to break the barrier, and more will join you in due course. But that is for a later date. I’ve taken enough of your time. Come, it’s time to study.’

“But--”

‘No buts. I’ve said what I can. If you want the rest, you need to study,’ he said, motioning to the books.

Avalon let out a defeated sigh. “Yes, sir,” she said as she approached the desk. She absently attached the new chain that had been forged with the focus around her neck and sat at the desk as Snowy flew onto an empty perch just above her new mistress.

‘As for you, Grif.’ The Quetzalcoatl motioned with his tail as a new large doorway formed on the east wall. ‘Follow me. We have a lot of work to do! The dragon-bird flew through the doorway before Grif could say anything else.

“Bu--bu-- where’s my books?” Grif whined, his eyes a brighter tint of blue as he followed reluctantly.

---

Luna prowled the dream corridor for the fifth time searching for Vital Spark’s dream door.

“Tis three o’clock in the morning. Surely he wouldn’t still be awake by now,” she exclaimed as she continued her search. Shawn’s door was plainly visible with its distinctive cross pattern and multiple rectangles, but there was still no sign of their fourth guest. “Wait a moment.” She turned back to the familiar white door. “Hammer Strike’s asleep? Strange, it doesn’t feel like him.”

She moved forward and pushed on the door with a hoof, finding it opening far more easily than any previous time she had visited Hammer Strike’s dreams.

A familiar blackness filled the room as the door shut behind her, disappearing in the shadow. She had felt a similar darkness in Shawn’s consciousness when he had first come to Equestria. Could it be that Vital Spark suffered a similar malady? No, this felt different somehow. The other blackness was ordered, controlled, practically enforced. This one felt restless, chaotic, like a calm before a storm. Whoever’s dream this was, he or she clearly had little to no control of what they saw when they slept.

“Hello?” Luna shouted. Silence greeted her. She felt a sense of hesitancy and the darkness roiled around her. Her horn glowed as a large energy sphere surged forward, stabilizing the scape. Eventually she could make out a large bed where the human lay, his simple cotton bedclothes rustling in the sheets as he tossed and turned.

“Conor? Conor?” she called.

Conor remained silent, doing his best to hold still.

She shook him with a hoof, finally knocking him out of the bed by accident.

“Augh, okay, okay, I’m awake,” Conor grumbled as he squinted with his eyes into the blackness. He rubbed them tiredly. “What is it, Luna? You need to take me to the other side of the world again?” he asked, still not aware of the dreamscape.

“Conor, do you know where we are?” she asked.

“The castle,” he said as he sat back down on the bed. “Where else?” A wavering image of the castle walls and stone floor appeared around them like a mirage.

“This is your dreamscape,” Luna told him. “Are you not aware of your own dreamscape?”

“I don’t really remember my dreams all that much,” Conor said as he looked over the wavering images. “I do most of my dreaming during the day since I can’t remember the ones in my sleep. Every time I start to lucid dream, I either have to sit back and watch helplessly as I’m acted upon, or else I wake up as I try to interact in it.”

“I see,” Luna said. “I have strengthened this dreamscape so we can talk,” Luna offered.

“So I can’t wake up until after you go?”

“That’s how it works generally, yes,” Luna nodded.

“And I can influence my dream however I want?”

“Yes, of course.”

Instantly the room shifted, wavering as the walls became an opaque white and slowly closed in around them to form a square with a leaning ceiling. Two pairs of track lights, one mounted on each wall, pointed down on the tan carpet. The bed had shifted to a metal frame with jutting metal spokes at the edge. A large comforter and a child’s blanket lay over the top of it with a pair of pillows. Behind Conor, a single windowsill with a makeshift red drapery made from a thin cloth blocked out the moonlight. He moved to the side table next to the bed and twisted a knob to flick on a light. A bookshelf stood to the left against the wall with all manner of fictional works from the human word, including strange names such as Roald Dahl, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and many more. Lastly, Conor turned to face a door in the corner of the room, the same door Luna had just entered from.

“What is it with you humans and reading rooms?” Luna asked, looking around.

“This is my room. The one I had before I came to Equestria, I mean. It used to be our family’s study before my parents finally felt it was better to separate me and my siblings into our own rooms. So yeah, there are a lot of books here. I really enjoy fantasy too, so I really didn’t mind too much.” Conor plopped down on the bed, the familiar creak of the metal frame both relaxing and somewhat painful to him.

“I understand you have been having some trouble lately?” Luna asked him.

“Which one? The getting whisked away from my family, getting used to being naked, having to fight a war?” He chuckled. “I have so many more.” A shadow started to form on the wall next to the bookshelf.

“It seems my work is definitely cut out for me,” Luna said. “Lets begin with one of the more recent ones, your first blood.”

Conor shrugged as an old pair of sweatpants and a shirt with a large wolf on it replaced his silk pajamas. “Fire away,” he sighed. Behind Luna, the shadow grew more substantial as a frame began to form.

“I know a warrior’s path isn’t for everyone, and even for warriors, first blood is never easy. How are you dealing with it?”

“About the same way I always do with death, honestly. I’m still in the numb stage right now. Thanks for asking directly though instead of just guessing and trying to help by manipulating my dream to teach me a lesson. I prefer talking to people most of the time.”

“Those who have never fought in battle cannot truly understand what battle is like,” Luna noted.

“Fair enough. I’ve certainly read enough about it, seen a few photos, and even watched some war flicks. It’s just … I never thought I’d actually have to kill so soon, you know? And not like that.” He shuddered as the body of the changeling he’d turned into a gory pincushion appeared in front of him, the other six laying at its side. He hadn’t wanted to see them, but it had taken long enough to de-barricade the doors afterwards that he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse. They’d been burned into his mind ever since.

“I always thought I had a good handle on my emotions, but now, even the slightest twinge can send my magic in the wrong direction.” He sighed again, though he still looked surprisingly calm. “That’s why I need to learn to use it, even if it does make me feel guilty. I can’t afford not to. Not if something like this is going to happen again,” he said, motioning to the still forms bleeding on the carpet. Next to the bookshelf, bolts and rivets had begun to form, pushing out from the paint in the wall with a set of heavy steel hinges.

Luna looked towards the door “Whats this?” she asked.

Conor looked up as the loud clank of a dungeon door slamming hit home and the door materialized. Two heavy metal chains tied to a giant padlock hung in the center, clinking and shaking. “A door that can never be opened,” Conor said warningly.

“Some secrets must rest beyond the light.” Luna sighed.

“I’m glad you understand. That’s where I shove every single dark and disgusting thing I have ever seen or experienced, including various acts I’m not too proud of, even if they’ve already been resolved and I’ve changed. I try to keep them at bay, but sometimes--” The door began to bulge and press in certain places as Conor approached and lay his hand on it. Slowly it returned to its original state. “--they try to get out. And they succeed. And then I have to ask for a little help to get them back where they belong.”

“Then don’t be afraid to call should you ever need me,” Luna told him.

“I know, Luna.” He smiled and went over to hug her. “Thanks for showing you care. It’s not really that I don’t want to let anyone in to help or anything like that. Honestly, I think I’m past the actual shock of the act. It’s more just me learning to let go after the effect, and I can only do that with time.” He sighed as the door pressed back with a reluctant shriek of dragging metal and the changelings disappeared. In their place, a window hovered, showing what had happened when Vital Spark had found Black Rook being bound by the changelings. “On the plus side, at least I was able to help Rook after the fact.” He smirked and let loose a dry laugh. “Interesting thing about me. It’s very hard to get me really angry, and I mean really angry, not the annoyance I felt with Renati, I’m talking about a burning kind of anger that nothing can hold back and drives you to extreme measures. When that finally happens though …” he motioned to the window. “Let’s just say I’m glad I still have control over my actions even then,” he said as the changelings were rapidly knocked out and sent flying past their queen.

“Are you going to be okay?” Luna asked him.

Conor chuckled as he sat down on the bed again. “To tell you the truth, Luna, I honestly don’t know yet. Like I said, these kinds of things take time, and in my case, maybe a little prayer. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, we humans can be pretty complex at times.” He casually raised a hand and sent out a white orb that promptly exploded on a shade that had formed on the floor. “On the plus side, I can actually use my imagination at a visual standpoint here to beat anything I don’t want to creep up on me. And I get to live a fantasy or two.” He smirked as his bed clothes suddenly switched to a set of sturdy boots with a type of royal armor colored in blues and red. A red cloak billowed behind him as a sturdy amulet set with his cutie mark formed with a thin chain around his neck. A rather large sword appeared in a belt and sheath on his left as his hair blew in a wind that wasn’t there before the same mark appeared on his forehead. He smiled.

“It’s not every day I get to be my dream self,” he said as ten silver rings with various symbols, gems, and designs appeared on his hands, one for each finger and thumb.

“That is ... an interesting costume,” Luna noted.

“He was basically my escape while I was in school. You know about Diamond Tiarra and her antics in Ponyville, right?”

“May I assume, then, that you also had bully trouble?” Luna asked.

“I had to deal with just about everyone in my class either giving me the cold shoulder or treating me the same way Diamond treats Scootaloo, and I had to face it for a lot of years before I got some good, steady friends. This is Prince Conor of the Kingdom Solaria,” he said, motioning to the outfit. “He’s basically an overpowered hero who is constantly pulled into situations where he has to save the day or is the chosen one.” Conor chuckled. “It actually gets to the point where he’s sick of it, but it just won’t stop. At least not until his last adventures when he awakens as the prince and remembers his past life before rebirth and/or reincarnation. He can transform, heal, summon mini-supernovas with controlled blasts and pinpoint accuracy, use aura balls like bullets, and has an incredibly powerful magical artifact that is hereditary to the royal line of his kingdom and helps him to fight evil. I used to imagine being him as he got sucked into worlds. He was basically a ‘what would have happened to me if I’d been put through these situations’ type of thing. It helped me pass the time during recess.”

“Retreating into the mind when you found the outside too hostile.” Luna nodded. “I’ve had to do that myself before.”

“I know. It’s not fun to be ignored or mistreated. It makes you feel empty and worthless. If I didn’t have help from my family and a psychologist, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I’d actually considered killing myself once or twice. Pushed the thoughts away of course, but it happened all the same. I learned to hate during that time and it nearly turned me into something that wasn’t me. It actually did for a while. I guess in that way, you and I have something in common.”

“No, you managed to turn from it,” Luna said. “I let my hate consume me, make me a monster.”

“Except it wasn’t just you. You had help, and not the good kind, to push you in the right direction.” A shadowy form appeared and materialized wearing black and chuckling. Aside from that and the lack of the flashy jewelry, he was practically Conor’s twin.

“Awww, isn’t that sweet?”

“Oh, shut up, Ronoc, you’re not welcome here,” Conor said as he flicked his hand. The metal door appeared for all of an instant, gaping open as the shadowy twin was suddenly blown off his feet and into the shadows before the door clanged shut and disappeared. He turned back to Luna. “Sorry about that. I guess you could say he’s my nightmare. All my darker attributes and lusts combined into a sort of persona in my head. He pops out from time to time and I have to put him back in his place again.” He sighed. “It’d be nice if he didn’t end up acting like such a jerk all the time.”

“You have your own nightmare?”

“Yup. He’s been bumping around in my head for the last ohhh, probably about six or seven years or so.” He shrugged. “I learned to deal.”

“I see.” Luna looked off into the horizon as a dim light began to shine through the curtain. “It seems our time is nearly finished,” she noted.

“Hey, Luna, I appreciate the call, and everyone’s concern, really. But, before you go, could you just promise to do me a favor?”

“Yes?” luna asked.

“Let the others know I’m going to be alright, okay? Like I said, I just need some time to get it through my system. If someone wants to talk to me, they can, and I’ll listen, and I’ll talk. I just need a little space every once in a while to do some things to help myself.”

“Very well.” Luna nodded. “I will leave now.”

“Oh, and Luna?”

“Yes?” the Lunar Princess asked as she pulled open his dream door.

“If you need someone to talk to, I’m always here,” Conor said as he flickered back to his normal self again.

“Thank you, Conor.” And with that, Luna faded.

Comments

[Biker_Dash]

64 - Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

cdn.meme.am/instances/64252711.jpg

[Booster Spice]

Looks like Griff went through the old fat money monks like,

<sunglasses>

A breath of fresh air.

Once they got into Grafs room, with a fantastic locking method, especially after Ive looked at dynamically variable mechanical magnetic and metamaterial stealthed acoustic ultrasonic actuators, I beleive Grif had nothing to do with unpacking in mind at all. In fact I think he was extremely intent in packing as much as he possible could.

The library is an intresting place, what with the Daring Do seccurit system, and Chamber Of secrets access? Especially when it leads to the old snake, lots of books, and an extra suprise for Griff we wont find out till next time? The trick with the focus though. Here, let me improve it. First Ill replace this bit, then that bit, then the other bit, and finally this last bit, but its still the same item, just better specced.

I wonder if Pensword is still going to try adding a bell to Keleem, or even start experiments to find out just how capable his SEP field is, strength, range and such. I think its been shown before that people forget about Keleem even when they are actively talking to him, as in mind wanders and looses him. Makes you wonder just how he managed to get such a powerful ability, or curse, laid on him, and by whom.

You would think that a visit to a museum would be nice and quiet. Except this is like Christopher Lee having a look around certain other countries exhibitions. For pretty much the same reasons. At least Cory got his next stage in evolution while annoying stuffy old professors, which to any enthusiastic student is likely to be the best thing they ever get to do. At least tehy didnt end up having to run for their lives out f the building while it went up in a fireball due to professors blowing their tops.

Poor Vital Spark, now a chew toy, but at least Luna is looking out of him. Though is the dream door generic for stressed humans, or did he reuse Hammerstrikes access point, or was allowed use etc? will he be looking to improve that door of retaining, or is he working on the idea that everything breaks eventually, so sort of keeps it weaker, knows it will fail, but keeps an eye on it so he knows he can deal with what escapes when they do so? Especially That Guy, who with being in a magical enviroment is a look in for Sombra if they ever bump into him or equivalent another time?

Shrial gets pleasure from Cake. Unlike Celestia who just eats them. I think thats a totally different story.

Oh good gog, Hammerstrike now has access to Pinkie Space, and worse, Pinkie now has access to Hammer Space. Given how worried Pinkie looked when saying she couldnt dumb it down any further or else, Im wondering just how much her feelings and thoughts affect the overall space, not just the access of items, and what Shaun could work out with her. Im wondering if Shaun could introduce self referencing indices and context sensitive sorting functons to Pinkie Space structure, meaning its always larger than you need it to be, and can have multiplatform and multiuser abilities. I wonder if theres a box of popcorn 1:4:9:16:25 ratio size in there, or if its a random pack of multisizes.

Sorry for the rough post. I hope I got everyone.

I wonder how long it will take Shaun to realise the 4th wall and temporal functions, so he can start to reach to Pinkies elsewhy.?

[Vital Spark]

6405821
Hey, Booster. I can't speak to everything you wrote in your comment, but I will answer for you with regards to Vital Spark, A.K.A. Conor, and his dream door. The reason it looks so similar to Hammer Strike's (And I'm so glad you caught that by the way) is because of the fact that he had a door similar to Shawn's in the human world. That door was the door to his bedroom back on Earth, hence why Conor had it for his dream door in Equestria. It was something his subconscious mind was most familiar with.

"the door of retaining," as you call it, is a subconscious manifestation of the corner where Conor shoves all the nasty memories and stuff in his mind that he has no desire to bring to the fore. But, like all things, one casual reminder can bring them blazing back into the sunlight, hence why the door was bulging and he had to push it back to normal again, as well as zap a few shadows,etc.

By "that guy," I assume you mean Ronoc. He's essentially an embodiment of Conor's negative aspects. He's not real, but he does sometimes pop up in Conor's head in the form of unwholesome thoughts and urges including insults, racism, etc. This is why Conor describes Ronoc as his own personal nightmare, because in a very real sense, he is. The difference is that Conor knows Ronoc isn't real, and as such, has control over him much like his own thoughts. Sometimes Ronoc escapes the mental pushing for a time, but overall, Conor has the upper hand and maintains his own personal self control. I don't know if Ronoc will ever have any roles to play in the real world, or even that much in Conor's dreamscape, but he was an interesting character I wanted to incorporate since his creation is the result of Conor's fantasy mentioned in the chapter. Imagination is a very powerful thing at times.

[Vital Spark]

6403325

Shhhhhh ... don't spoil it for the others.