• Published 12th Oct 2014
  • 3,852 Views, 518 Comments

DayBreak - MyHobby



After an attempt is made on Celestia's life, Twilight Sparkle must assemble a team to track down the assassin and bring her to justice. Danger awaits as they delve into the origins of both the attacker and alicorns.

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Intertwined

Time Turner’s clockwork device walked across the table on thin, metallic legs. It reached the edge, where it stopped and reversed directions. The gyroscope kept it balanced, the key kept it ticking, and gentle nudges kept it from interfering with its master.

Time himself leaned on the table, studying the dispersed pieces of his time-manipulating gauntlet. A genius piece of engineering, even if he said so himself. A device that took all of Starswirl’s theories and formulas and powered them with earth pony magic. An impossibility made possible.

He picked up a focusing crystal that usually rested against his fetlock. Its power was vast, yet still limited. Traveling backwards was dangerous for numerous reasons. Speeding up time was usually more trouble than it was worth. Slowing time had its benefits, but stopping it was like trying to block water from a faucet with bare hooves; a little always leaked through.

He raised an eyebrow as the sun unceremoniously jerked its way over the horizon. A rough morning for Luna, then. He couldn’t blame her, of course. Not many ponies could say they’d had any decent sleep in recent weeks. Not after Hurricane’s little stunt with the mailboxes.

Time glanced at the books piled on a neighboring table. He’d tried to go through a few during the night, searching for clues, but the ancient text was indecipherable. It was written in Old Equish, if it was even Equish at all. “Thank the Creator for the language reforms, then.”

So he’d busied himself with tweaking his gauntlets and gadgets, because sleep and he were not the best of friends.

A screw rolled from the tabletop and clattered next to his hoof. He gave a sigh and bent over, reaching for it with his dexterous lips.

“You’re t-tired,” a wavering voice chittered.

Time Turner looked up. Sometime in the past few minutes, a changeling had crept into the library and snatched a book. The changeling had then carried the book upwards on thin, transparent wings and attached itself to the ceiling with cloven hooves. The changeling turned a page, its multifaceted eyes gleaming in the morning sunlight.

“You’re awfully perceptive.” Time Turner spat the screw out on the table. It bounced off of the walking device and sent it teetering. “What other secrets of the universe do you have access to?”

The changeling glanced away from the book. “I’m p-pretty darn good at poker.”

“I can’t tell if that’s clichéd or just painfully obvious.” Time Turner frowned down at his technological mess. “Are you having any luck reading that muck?”

“Nah, I’m just l-looking at the pictures.” The changeling turned the book around, revealing a striking portrait of Sombra himself. “T-tasting the emotions. Stuff like that.”

Time tilted his head, squinting his eyes in an attempt to focus the picture. “Is that the one Daring called the Grimmer Alicorn?

Grimoire Alicorn,” the changeling clarified. “And yeah. It was the one th-that caught my attention the most.” It tapped the cover. “This thing is b-bound in cowhide.”

“Well that’s dashed barbaric.” Time Turner leaned on his elbow. “I don’t suppose the ink was brewed from the collected sins of ponykind?”

“Funny,” the changeling sighed. It went back to shuffling through the pages. It stuck bookmarks wherever it found something of note. “The most I c-can say is that a l-lot of hate went into this book. Hate for what, or by wh-who, I can only guess. Sombra wrote it, but…” It shrugged. “He obviously wasn’t the only owner.”

Time Turner picked up a piece of his gauntlet’s framework. He turned it over in his hooves and polished it to a shine. “What makes you say that?”

“W-we found it in Princess Celestia’s library.” The changeling lifted an eyebrow. “Do the m-math.”

“What?” Time pushed his chair away from the table. “You think Celestia poured hate into that thing?”

“No! Heck no!” The changeling’s ears lay back against its head. “B-but it’s possible there were other owners… ones between S-Sombra and Celestia.”

Time lowered his eyebrows. He rubbed the bronze-colored parts clean with renewed vigor. “Any ideas who?”

“Not really.” The changeling snapped the book shut. “If you wanna t-talk about ancient history, y-you’ve got the wrong pony.”

At the sound of those words, Time’s ears swiveled towards the changeling. He bent down to take his screwdriver between his lips, moving slowly and purposefully. “Wrong pony indeed. Fair enough.”

He kept his eyes on the work in front of him. He pressed two pieces of the outer shell against each other and screwed them together. “Are you sure we haven’t met, Mr. Blank?”

The clack of the changelings cloven hooves against the ceiling accompanied the response. “P-pretty sure we would have r-remembered each other.”

“Indeed.” Time set the focusing stone in place with a satisfying click. “But I seem to remember a little changeling with a speech impediment just fine.”

“I’m not the only b-being in the world with a st-stutter,” the changeling said. “Y-you’re mistaken.”

Time Turner pushed his half-assembled gauntlet to the side. “Really? Then perhaps you know this other changeling. They saved my life and I’ve been hoping to thank them. Have you heard the name Mandible?”

The changeling’s hooves lost their grip and scraped across the crystal walls. Its wings buzzed to regain its balance. Time looked up at the changeling, who looked back with wide eyes.

The changeling fluttered down the rest of the way to the floor. “N-not in a long time, no.”

“Well, I’m sure you remember that Mandible was an adorable little changeling who thought the new pony prisoner was fascinating.” Time Turner smiled, leaning his head back. “You know, I never did thank them for helping me escape the hive.”

The changeling trotted over to the pile of tomes, where he set the Grimoire on top the proper tower. “I… I…”

Its hollow fang bit into its hard lip. “I thought you d-died. When w-we got separated—”

The changeling shook its head. It sat beside Time Turner and looked up at him, its mouth pulled down in a steep frown. “W-what happened to you?”

Time Turner rested his forelegs at his sides. “I had my last adventure.”

He pulled his welding goggles from his forehead and laid them beside his tools. “That night, when you broke me out of the pit, we escaped through Ghastly Gorge. You remember?”

“E-every moment. The soldiers were buzzing after us. They were g-gonna suck you dry and sq-squish me.” The changeling shuddered. “Q-Queen Chrysalis’ screams still… I still hear her in my n-nightmares.”

Time Turner nodded. “They were going to catch us, and there was no help coming. So, I decided to distract them.”

“I-I thought…” The changeling’s eyes turned down. “When y-you pushed me down that hole, I th-thought you were s-sacrificing yourself for me.”

“Well, in a way,” Time sighed. “I led the fiends on a wild goose chase until I was sure we were far enough from you. Then I let them have it with a time bomb. I froze them in place, right there and then. For once in my life, an adventure was going to end happily. Nopony got hurt. Nopony died.”

The changeling’s wings crinkled behind its back. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

Time Turner’s face fell. “We weren’t the only ones in the gorge that night.”

Time’s hoof toyed with a bolt. “A unicorn stallion materialized out of nowhere. He grasped one of my bombs in a spell and set it off.” He flicked the bolt at his walking device across the table. “Do you know what a time loop is?”

“I’ve h-heard of stories…” The changeling’s horn fizzled, no doubt tasting the emotions of the atmosphere. “It’s when th-the same thing happens over a-and over again, right?”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Time Turner drew an imaginary circle with his hooves. “Time always wants to move forward. It’s inexorable and unstoppable. If you try to move back, it will grasp you and fling you ahead to where you belong, and it will hurt. But if something goes wrong with the spell—say if something casts it again or if it stays active—there’s a change you will get sent to the past again.”

Time shrugged. “It’s honestly less of a loop than it is a terrifying tennis match.”

“And the unicorn made y-your time bombs malfunction,” the changeling said. “Y-you kept bouncing back and forth.”

“Not very far, thank heavens. And the limited range of my devices meant I was the only pony affected…” Time Turner rubbed his forehead, visions of blazing magic and his own agonized screams rattling through his skull. “But still, I was affected. I relived the same five seconds every moment of every day for years while the world carried on around me.”

The changeling shut its eyes and turned away. “Did it hurt?”

Time ran a hoof through his spiky mane. “Like I was being mauled by Cerberus himself.”

“H-how—?” The changeling swallowed. “How did you get out?”

“The answer to that problem, like so many others, was Celestia.” Time Turner chuckled to himself. He saw the concern in his princess’ eyes as she carried him to the hospital. “She followed the stories of a ghost in Ghastly Gorge and found me. Being no slouch with magic, she was able to finally free me from my curse.”

The changeling moaned from the bottom of its heart. “That curse was my fault.”

“Untrue, Mandible! Never so!” Time clasped the changeling’s shoulder. “It was the fault of the unicorn and no other! I would have gladly given my life to see you free to travel Equestria. Something I see you’ve accomplished.” He nudged the changeling’s ribs. “The Knight of Secrets, I believe Celestia named you?”

“Y-yes.” The changeling lit its horn, coating its body with a small flash of green fire. When the flames died down, its body was remolded into that of Blankety Blank. “Secrets. Sh-she said they were precious. They needed protecting.”

“True enough.” Time Turner gave his device a glance. He could fix it later. “What do you say to breakfast? Catch up a little? Time’s been good to us both, it seems.”

“Was the curse why you retired?” Blankety turned his pinkish eyes downward. “I mean, the pain you went through… That was why you moved to Ponyville, wasn’t it?”

Time paused, halfway to a standing position. He stretched his numb legs out, one by one. “No. No, I lived in Ponyville long before I became a knight. But yes, after that little episode, I got tired of fighting.”

He hung his head, though a small smile touched his eyes. “Such a shame that it took Celestia getting hurt for me to realize… some things are still worth fighting for.”

He flung his duster coat over his shoulders. “Things like this wonderful little town. Care to try one of the local cafes? They make a mean omelet.” He squinted. “Do changelings eat omelets?”

“I do,” Blankety laughed. “Wait up, I’ll get my jacket.”

As the younger creature dashed off, Time Turner took a moment to muse to himself. The world he lived in had always been fairly small. Most often all it took was a scratch to see the connections between everything just below the surface. It didn’t much surprise him that he would run into this old acquaintance during such hard times.

It would have been a happy coincidence, if he believed that there was such a thing as coincidences. In a world as interconnected as the one he lived in, they were all but nonexistent. Something had thrown them together. Something had called them to the same purpose.

“I wonder, Celestia,” Time Turner mumbled under his breath, “how far ahead can you see?”

***

King Andean Ursagryph buckled to his knees.

Felaccia—a land of rich hills and flourishing wildlife, a land of majestic floating mountains and glistening diamond waterfalls, a land of infinite open skies and soaring strong wings—burned.

He tried to rise to his feet, to spread his mighty wings, but the spear point in his side burned. The sky burned with red fire. The ground burned away every scrap of moisture. The very air burned the beauty of his home away. Felaccia was dying, and Andean was only there to watch.

Ahh-ah-ah, Ahh-ah.

The faint melody tickled his ears. The only sensation that didn’t cause intense heat created a different sort of fire in his chest. His talons clawed at the dry, dusty ground. He opened his beak wide and shouted at the top of his parched lungs. “Shut up!

Ahh-ah-ah, Ahh-ah.

“Papa!”

A new voice reached him. It was his daughters! Their cries brought new life to his limbs, spreading his wings against the oppressive heat. He flew through the air while blood dripped from his wound. In the capitol city of Rukh, the castle loomed on the side of a mountain, its walls broken and crumbling. There was no wind to guide him, no thermals or currents, just dead, quiet air.

He crashed through a broken window and slumped against a wall. “Stella! Corona! Where are you?”

“Father!” Corona flapped her red-tipped wings, shooing him away from down the hall. “Run! You have to go!”

“I’m not leaving you!” Andean bellowed. He clutched his side and rose to his grizzly-bear haunches. “What happened? Where is Stella—?”

Greedy green eyes materialized out of the shadows behind his eldest daughter.

“Corona, look out!”

She turned her head and screamed. An unearthly claw reached out of the darkness and grasped her tail, dragging her back. Andean roared like a beast and charged.

The ground fell out from beneath his feet. He plummeted into absolute darkness, an endless void, an infinite abyss. As he drowned in shadow, he saw the greedy green eyes again, staring at him. He saw his daughters clutched in those scraggly yet power talons.

He flapped his wings once to push him towards the monster who would dare threaten his family.

“Papa, help!” Stella wept.

“Father, get out of here!” Corona screeched. “It’s a trap! It’s all a trap!

Andean pressed on. He put his talons forward, the razor tips at the ready to rake the glowing eyes out of the monster’s blasted skull. He opened his mouth and spat out a battle cry that would cow the sturdiest minotaur.

One of the monster’s talons dropped Stella. Her shed tears followed her into oblivion. The hand then snatched Andean right out of the air. It closed around him, crushing the very life out of his body.

“Stella!” Andean struggled to get free. Struggled to hurt the monster, to make it bleed, to make it pay. He craned his neck and struggled just to keep his eye on his falling daughter. “Stella!

He turned his burning gaze on the greedy green eyes. “I’ll kill you! You can’t take my daughter from me! You can’t! You won’t!

Corona disappeared. In her place, the wicked talon clutched a long shaft of wood. At its tip, there sat a sharp head coated in gold. Lightning crawled along its surface. The eyes narrowed. “Mine.

“Never, do you hear me?” Andean tore at the crushing fingers. “Never!”

The monster drew the spear back and pointed it at Andean’s heart. “Mine.

The spear struck home, and Andean woke up.

He was in Canterlot Castle’s guest room; the suite made specifically for royal visitors. His bedspread had been shredded during his latest dream. He cast the tatters aside and rubbed his bald, wrinkled head. His heart thumped against his chest. A chill was in the air that was only partially to do with the deepening autumn weather. He could still feel a dark, demonic presence just inside the shadows.

“Get out!” he bellowed at the sound-proof walls of his room. “Get away from me!”

The shadows taunted him by neither shying away nor moving forward. They merely remained as they were: Dark and inscrutable. He flicked on a lamp and was satisfied to find that many of them disappeared.

He rolled out of bed and lumbered to the curtains. He tore them aside to look out on a starry early morning. The sun had yet to rise, and he was beginning to doubt that it ever would. After Luna’s revelation about Celestia’s condition the previous day, he had no way of trusting the mare.

He sighed and rubbed his clawtips together. He supposed that made them even, didn’t it?

He leaned out his window as the horizon took on a light, lavender tinge. The sun was coming up after all. “So miracles do happen.”

His eyes drifted down to the Canterlot Sky Harbor. The griffon airship, the Thunderhead, lay moored against the side of the mountain. He could see lights in the cabin on top of the envelope where the early morning watch stood sentinel over the vessel. Andean clicked his beak three times.

He leapt out the window to pay them a visit.

His wings extended out to catch the wind and brought him into a shallow dive. He circled overhead with not so much as a single flap, spiraling down towards the harbor below. His literally eagle-eyed sentries spotted him immediately and waved him forward with extended wings. He landed at a crouch, his head down and his wings arched, ready to pounce.

He raised his head in a regal pose, complete with a slight scowl as befitted a sovereign of the griffons. His guards bowed, but did not take their eyes off their surroundings. It was good that they did not forget their duties while in Equestria.

“Give me your volleygun,” Andean said, turning his head to one side to look a guard in the eye. A surprise inspection would take his mind off of the insanity of the month. It would give him something he could control. He took the long wood shaft in his talons, atop which there was a bronze-colored tube. A blade was stuck fast to the side of the tube.

It was polished to a shine. Andean could pick out the distinctive wave pattern in the material. It was a metal they had called wootz steel; an alloy made from iron, zinc, nickel… and carbon. Heating the alloy with coal added that final magical ingredient. It created a material stronger than the staunchest iron, tougher than the most pliant bronze. The edge it held was as keen as a talon and sharper than any beak.

It was the same material used in the assassin’s wingblades. At the very least, it looked similar. That made Andean quite suspicious. Quite suspicious indeed.

“Perfect,” Andean said. “I expect no less.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The soldier accepted his volleygun back with a salute of his wing.

Andean folded his wings across his back. “Where might I find Grenadier Lanner?”

“He’ll be starting his watch now, Your Grace,” the other guard said. “He’ll probably be in the engine room at the moment.”

King Andean rumbled in the back of his throat. The Thunderhead was not known for its peace and quiet. Hopefully the engineers were only running it at a dull roar this morning. “As you were.”

He walked through the cargo bay doors and into the airship. The aluminum walkway clanged beneath his talons and claws. The rounded framework beams curled up to meet above his head, four stories above. Large airbags sat at equal intervals down the length of the ship, which would be inflated with helium when takeoff was ordered. Griffon soldiers and engineers perched on catwalks and hollered to airborne comrades in their daily struggle to keep the vessel shipshape.

Andean’s presence only drew a nervous glance or two in his direction. A few griffons stiffened their backs at his approach, and then relaxed after he passed. He took a direct path to the engine room, at the far end of the Thunderhead.

He heard the deep thrum of the engine long before he saw it. A magnetic field, created by enchanted lodestones, turned a turbine which generated enough electricity to power the airship. Copper coils carried the energy to the propellers, the lights, the navigational instruments…

And the metal spike on the ship’s prow.

“Grenadier Lanner!” Andean shouted. “Are you here? I must speak with you!”

His booming voice carried throughout the entire room and overpowered the churning generator. One engineer turned his head and called back, “He went to the laboratory, Your Grace!”

Andean narrowed his eyes. Perhaps the grenadier knew he was here and was preparing a report? He trundled to the nearest ladder and climbed up to the top level. A heavy door stood between him and the gondola on top of the ship, where the living quarters, kitchens, and ship’s wheel were kept. It wasn’t as roomy as the rest of the ship, but it was made with a sharper eye for decoration.

Andean passed a tapestry depicting the king who reigned before him. In the gondola, he could almost pretend that he was still home. He counted the doors until he reached the laboratory, and then entered without knocking.

Two griffons sat inside. One owlish griffon leaned over a series of graph papers. Andean took a glance, but couldn’t make much information out. The other, the brown-feathered Lanner, saluted immediately. “Your Grace! May I be of assistance?”

“I’m here to see the results of the testing you’ve done.” Andean ducked his head to fit into the room. “Where is the wingblade we recovered a week ago?”

“Leopold is going over the results from the testing now,” Lanner said, gesturing to the scientist. “We will soon have a reasonable idea as to the blade’s makeup.”

Leopold sat up. “Your Grace, I would like to respectfully request the use of the spectrometer. It would go a long way in aiding our research into the exact composition of—”

“You haven’t used the spectrometer?” Andean sneered and leaned closer to Lanner. “Why?”

The grenadier’s throat bobbed. “Your Grace, I was afraid of damaging our only piece of evidence—”

“I want that knife studied!” Andean roared.

Both of the smaller griffons shrunk back, their feathers bristling. Andean took a deep breath in. “I want to know exactly what the blade is made from,” he said in a quiet voice. “If it uses the same alloy we do, then I have many, many questions of how a pony could get a hold of a material we have not yet revealed to the world. I want this foolish assassin put in her place as soon as possible, and I will not have my own people assisting in her crazed quest to murder the one who raises the sun!”

He sat on his haunches. One talon brushed his feathery beard while the other scratched his wrinkled head. “And if the alloy is not the same, then we have a competitor in the market. I don’t care much for either option, so I would very much like one ruled out. Use the spectrometer and any other means necessary.”

Leopold bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Lanner bobbed his head. “It shall be as you have said, King Ursagryph.”

“Good.” Andean glanced at the graphs. “What are your preliminary findings?”

“It’s very similar to our own wootz steel.” Leopold pointed to a mathematic equation that meant nothing to Andean. “Whether it is identical or not, the spectrometer should tell us.” The griffon shrugged. “If you come across any other wingblades, it would help in solidifying our findings.”

Andean growled. “I shall keep that in mind, should I find myself in a duel to the death with the mare.”

Leopold’s eyes widened. He coughed into his talon. “Er, yes, Your Grace.”

***

Andean returned to Canterlot Castle an hour later, his nervous energy-powered inspection complete. The Griffon Air Force was operating at peak efficiency. Perhaps they were as nervous as their king. He brushed past the guards flanking the door to the dining room, his gait a steady march.

He stopped short. Sitting at the table, eating and laughing with his two daughters, was Princess Luna herself.

Her coat was a little ragged, her eyes tinged with red, and her feathers mussed, but she looked far more at peace than he’d ever seen her. It was the wide smile that brightened her demeanor, he decided. It showcased that there was indeed light in her shadowy visage.

Something had happened since he’d last seen her, several days ago. But what?

“And then Twilight heard a massive blast just outside the window,” Luna laughed. “A shockwave of colorful magic rushed past and startled her out of her concentration.” She spread her forelegs wide. “The dam broke. All the magic she’d been building up, all the failed attempts and frustration, poured out in one go.”

Stella giggled even as she stifled a yawn. She fidgeted her wings in that way she always did when she couldn’t get comfortable. “Did Spike’s egg hatch?”

“Did it? It certainly did!” Luna levitated a pancake in her starry magic. It glowed a bright white as she worked a quick spell. “It hatched, and the dragon inside grew enormous! He rose up, up, up until he broke through the ceiling!”

The pancake transformed before their eyes, growing and flattening. It became a sparkling blanket crafted from blue cotton, which floated out of the air to drape itself over Stella’s and Corona’s heads. It stuck to their syrupy beaks and talons until they dug their way out.

Corona sat up when she noticed Andean. Her red-tipped wings flapped outward. “Father! Good morning!”

“Good morning, my lovely daughters,” Andean said. He sat at the head of the table and turned to Luna. “Princess. I’m surprised to see you up.”

“King Andean.” Luna’s horn flickered. A servant brought out a fresh plate and laid it before the griffon. “I suppose you might say I finally opened my eyes. I have… a duty to attend to. I can’t do that if I close myself off from my own kingdom.” She tilted her chin up. “Or its neighbors.”

Stella rested her talons beside her plate. “Sheesha, my wings hurt.”

He tapped the table. “Remember your Equish, Stella.”

She smiled. “Yes, Father.”

He leaned against the table, ignoring his breakfast. “In the interest of bringing our kingdoms closer together, how about a trade?”

Luna cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not so foolish as to make a promise without knowing the specifics.”

“Indeed not.” He intertwined his talons and rested his chin atop them. “I am drawing near to a revelation about the assassin. I will happily share this information, but I would like to be compensated.”

Wrinkles appeared beside Luna’s tired eyes. “You would put a price on peoples’ lives, Andean?”

“Not a price, just…” Andean’s beak moved, but words did not come out. He covered his eyes with a talon and sighed. “No. I would only ask… a favor. Yes. A favor.”

Luna tilted her ears forward. “I don’t suppose it has to do with ambrosia?”

Andean frowned. “I’m not asking for much, Luna—”

“We’ve gone over this before,” Luna said. “The breezies won’t let us trade the ambrosia. You’ll have find something they desire if you wish to—”

“Two liters.” Andean snapped his beak shut. He drummed his talons against the table. “Just two liters, that’s all I ask. It’s not a trade. It’s barely a gift, even during this shortage.”

Luna’s head jerked back. Her wings spread, almost bumping a passing servant on the back of her head. “Two liters?

With nothing left to say, Andean nodded.

Luna’s voice got caught in her chest. “Eh, ah—I don’t know that… I don’t see why not, but…”

She recovered some of her senses and drew her wings in. “Well, I’m sure I could arrange a transfer from the castle’s private store.” She clasped her hooves together to mirror his earlier pose. “Now, perhaps I can suggest an additional exchange?”

Andean lowered his brow. “I’m listening.”

“I will share with you a recent revelation about the assassin,” Luna said, “and you could explain why you think you only need two liters of ambrosia.”

Andean’s jaw clenched. His heart raced. His talons dug into his palms. “That… is a deeply personal matter, Princess Luna.”

Corona was quick to rest a wing across Stella’s shoulders. “Come on, Stella. Luna will finish the story la—”

“It’s alright.” Luna extended a wing towards them. “I will not pry, Andean. If you don’t wish to speak of it, then I will drop the matter.” She pushed the somber expression from her face and replaced it with a small smile. “We must meet up soon and discuss what we know of the assassin. Without pretenses or favors to interfere. Perhaps together, we will create a solution.”

Andean’s beak fell open. After a second had passed, he smirked. “Very well. I look forward to our talk.”

He spread one wing halfway. “But for now, Nightmare Night approaches, does it not, my daughters?”

Corona clapped her talons together. “Yes! Are we trick-or-treating in Canterlot, Father?”

“If I may.” Luna stood up and walked around the table. She winked at the young griffon chicks. “If your father feels up to it, I find the Ponyville celebration to be the most… enthusiastic.” She laughed lightly. “Perhaps you can finally meet some of the heroes you’ve only heard about in stories?”

Corona’s eyes lit up. She flapped her wings and took to the air, facing Andean. “Father, it sounds wonderful! Lord Mayor Applejack will be there, and Lady Fluttershy and Lady Pinkie Pie…” Her cheeks blushed the same red as her crest. “Perhaps I’ll be able to meet Spike?”

Andean watched as Luna hid a gigantic grin behind a hoof. He sighed in mock defeat and waved a talon. “I don’t think I could stop you if I tried. Yes, we can trick-or-treat in Ponyville.”

Gawrock!” Corona squealed. She bunched up her talons beside her face. “I-I mean, thank you, Father.”

She settled down in her seat and nudged her little sister. “Isn’t that wonderful, Stella? We’re going to see Ponyville!”

Stella sat quietly, staring at her plate.

Andean’s chair creaked as he leaned closer to her. “Stella? Are you alright?”

A little light appeared in her glazed eyes. A tear dripped down her cheek. “My wings hurt, Sheesha.”

Luna took a step back. She spoke quietly to her servant pony. “Bring the doctors. Quickly.”

Andean felt an icy chill grasp his heart. He crawled off of his chair and moved to his youngest daughter’s side. “Where does it hurt, Stella? What does it feel like?”

Stella’s entire body drooped. She pointed with a weak talon. “Everywhere.”

Andean took her tiny talon in both of his massive claws. He switched to the griffon language, speaking with a quiet caw. “F-focus on me, Stella. Look at Papa. What does it feel like? Show me exactly where it hurts.

She stared off into the middle distance. She chirped a response. “It aches inside.” She finally found his eyes and frowned. “I’m so tired, Papa.

She collapsed into his arms.

Andean held his unconscious daughter. He slowly, achingly, brought his talon up to hold her head still. He barely registered Corona’s panicked shouting. He locked eyes with Luna, who stood stock-still with her every muscle stiff and her jaw open in a soundless scream.

He strongly suspected that he looked much the same.

“My wings hurt, Andean,” his queen had once said. They had shrugged it off.

He looked down at his daughter. “It’s too soon,” he whispered.

Luna snapped out of it first. She placed a hoof on his shoulder and told him to follow. She would lead him to the castle infirmary. From there, medical carriages would take her straight to the hospital. Andean followed in a daze, his eyes locked on his youngest. Her wings shivered against his foreleg.

“It’s too soon,” he said aloud, his voice cracking.

It was with a moment’s hesitation that he passed Stella to the paramedics. He stood still while they strapped her to the gurney. He couldn’t ride along, they said. He was too big.

He followed from the sky, Luna and Corona close behind. The sun made its way higher, illuminating a city that was just waking up. Red and blue lanterns flashed, pinpointing the thundering cart.

The ice in Andean’s heart cracked. Fire bubbled up from its depths and made its way to his mouth. He opened his beak wide and howled a mighty roar.

It’s too soon! Hellfire and brimstone, it’s too soon!