Interlude #2, Part 1: Cat's-Eye Gleam
As has been said before, there are parts to this story that Captain Firefly cannot tell alone. She has therefore entrusted her quill to me for this chapter and the two following, that I might show how I came to be the mare I am, much as Blindside did earlier. This is my tale; the trials and tribulations I endured to get to where I am today. Be warned, ’tis not a happy story for the most part, but one I would not trade for anything. It ultimately made me a better warrior and mare, one who would serve my Captain and country well in many campaigns to come… not all of which would take place on a battlefield.
Though this and the following two chapters are mine, ’tis the story of not just one, but two future Bolt Knights I will tell. The other is a mentor to me and many others, a pony I regret would not live to write his own chapter in this tome. He, like so many others, would fall in Equestria’s defense, and I feel his loss keenly to this day. A hero whose memory I now honor by living as he once told me he wished to…
By making my ultimate legacy one of life, not death.
First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral Emissary
Thestral Conclave, Canterlot
Methinks I shall start by saying that growing up was a trial in and of itself. The pegasus herd that raised me, bless their hearts, were very kind and helpful to me, even in the face of my own intransigence and various attitude issues. They were also the only source of support I had during my youth. Everypony else who looked at me saw only my eyes, and condemned me for them… and my herd family as well.
When I was born, ’twas a shock to my mother and father, to be certain. Perchance ‘twas destiny that I would eventually join the Equestrian Aerial Corps, as my colors were already that of a Corps soldier, not even needing the fur dye—I had a coat the color of freshly-made snow, and my mane was a pale blue, like a robin’s egg. But ’twas my eyes that would be the talking point of my herd for years to come: a brilliant gold, with cat-like pupils—a hallmark of thestral lineage.
’Tis uncertain to me whether my mother or father’s side was the one with thestral blood, but in truth, it doesn’t matter. All that did matter was that from some unknown ancestor I inherited the slitted cat-eyes of the bat-winged ponies, as well as the problems and boons that came with them. Though my night vision is superb, enabling me to see in darkness as clear as day, I’ve been sensitive to bright light since the day I was born. That sensitivity is less than most thestrals, however; ’twould appear that either as a consequence of my particular heritage or mixed thestral/pegasus blood, I could tolerate daylight far better than most of my bat-pony brethren.
Where I could stand being out in the sun for a few hours at a time, my forebears apparently could not for more than a few minutes before getting blinding headaches and vertigo. ’Tis why they—and I—preferred starry nights instead of sunny skies as my parents quickly found I had a propensity for being more active at night, when they were trying to sleep. ’Tis also why thestral enclaves established since the war use light-dimming magic to shade their towns and villages during the day.
With no cure for my ‘condition’, I was given a pair of shaded spectacles by an eye healer to wear, which helped some, but which I preferred not to use as they simply drew more attention to me—you couldn’t see my eyes from far away, but you could see the shades, and instantly know something was different about me. But worse than this ‘light-blindness’, as it’s been termed by less-than-sensitive medical ‘professionals’, is what my eyes symbolize to those around me. To most in Equestria, these eyes are a symbol of Nightmare Moon and her reign of terror, and as a consequence, my forebears and I are symbols of her fear. ’Twas not without some justification, as many of my ancestors threw their lot in with The Nightmare, who favored them greatly, promising them a place in Equestrian society they had for so long been denied.
And yet, even before Nightmare Moon, my ancestors were shunned, both for our predatory appearance and the fact that we would on occasion hunt, having an appetite for fish and the rare game animal that caused most ponies to recoil. But even aside from diet, the fact remained we were a smaller, night-loving tribe whose lifestyle was anathema to most ponies, and that would mean we suffered endless ostracization over time. ’Twas further rumored, without any evidence at all, that Princess Luna had created the thestrals by bonding the essence of pegasi with the essence of bats, creating a class of nocturnal warriors and servants that would answer to her alone. These rumors were another reason the thestrals are viewed with some suspicion; even now after the critical assistance we rendered in the war some call us ‘fake-ponies’ as if we have no true past or identity of our own.
’Twas a stigma that would only worsen with Nightmare Moon’s rebellion, which seemed to validate such fears. Many thestrals joined her Army of The Night and were killed fighting Celestia’s forces in their failed insurrection, and many more would be driven from their homes and villages and cast out of Equestrian society completely in the aftermath of their sovereign’s defeat. They were forced to take refuge in remote camps and start over there, out of sight and mind for most ponies, who never forgot their betrayal. Three hundred years were not enough time for anypony to forget, and by that time, the thestral population of Equestria was confined to a few isolated enclaves and villages where they could live in peace.
Yet from that isolation brought toughness and resourcefulness as well. Lacking unicorns, they became quite well-versed in use of magical artifacts and crystals, learning to forge tools and make clothes with their bare hooves. Lacking earth ponies, they learned to grow their own food and when necessary, hunt and fish. Over time, they formed their own society and militia, and they even came up with their own fighting styles and combat doctrine (as the gryphons would one day rue), but they still had little contact with greater Equestria aside from a few isolated trading posts.
Many yearned for the day when they could rejoin the greater world and be welcomed as equals, but many more wanted nothing to do with the ‘light-lovers’ and spoke of one day restoring the glory of their lost sovereign’s short-lived Lunar Republic, Nightmare Moon being the only champion and protector they had ever truly known.
’Tis simply a reminder that there are two sides to every conflict. And ’tis doubly ironic that I would have to learn that lesson myself in due time with regards to the gryphons.
To little surprise, I quickly became a ‘problem foal’ growing up. My parents were given repeated warnings about my ‘misconduct’ in flight school, and I was eventually passed over to the Remedial Flyer’s course; this in spite of the fact that my ‘misconduct’ was oft little more than me being punished for what other foals had started, or them outright claiming I had done things that I had not. But once you have the reputation of a troublemaker, ’tis very hard to lose and eventually you internalize it—if you are to be punished as one, you may as well embrace it and be one.
Much like Blindside, I was teased and taunted constantly for my appearance; but unlike her, it made no difference whether I was wearing my shades or not. Foals first taunted me for the spectacles, then for what they discovered they hid. On the other hoof, being large for my age, I could do something about it. Either due to my temperament or thestral heritage, I was hot-blooded and quick to anger, having no qualms about retaliating for the torments visited upon me, sending more than a few fellow foals to the clinics with black eyes and other bruises, even the occasional broken bone.
That only worsened my reputation, and methinks I certainly suffered my own share of injuries for it as my classmates quickly figured out that they could simply steal my glasses and flash bright lights at me to disorient me, making me dizzy and even nauseous, enabling them to take revenge for the beatings I’d given them. But even before that, few foals wanted to play with me, and those that did were rarely allowed to by their mothers. The foals of my own herd were different… at least to start, but the shunning that visited me soon fell on them as well. Though my parents tried to dissuade them from doing so, my own half-brothers and sisters blamed me for their loneliness and lack of friends. Looking back, I couldn’t blame them for doing so, but it only worsened my attitude issues and deepened my growing sense of alienation.
At one point in my youth, having just turned twelve and having had enough of the endless abuse dealt me by my classmates and other ponies, I demanded to be taken to real thestrals, in hope they would accept me where pegasi had not. At wits’ end with me, my parents acceded to my wishes, taking me to a remote trading post where they found a thestral mare, and presented me. Her sneering response was quite blunt and crushed me: “We don’t take in Highborne half-breeds, feather-wings. She is your problem, and yours alone.” I knew not what ‘Highborne’ meant then, but ‘twas still a painful but ironic moment in my life, given that I would one day be appointed as an emissary to all the thestrals in Equestria, and establish the Conclave in Canterlot, where we work to re-integrate them into Equestrian society.
Still, as I returned home with my parents, devastated by what seemed the ultimate rejection, I had no knowledge of what to do next. If I didn’t belong with ponies, and I didn’t belong with thestrals… then where did I belong…?
* * * * *
The answer to that question would come when I reluctantly returned to Cloudsdale with my herd and resumed my attendance at the Remedial Flyers’ course. Blindside has spoken before of Thunderbolt, the stallion in charge of the class. He was there when I was learning to fly, too, and was perchance the one pony outside of my immediate family that treated me nicely. In fact, he reportedly got in some trouble with the staff at Cloudsdale’s flight school, merely because he treated me with respect… though given his purported reputation as a former and highly decorated Aerial Corps officer, he cared little what others thought of him.
’Twas not long after my failed contact with the thestrals that I found myself at my lowest point. I became an outright bully, taking out my frustrations by starting fights and generally making life miserable for those around me, even the family that loved me. Thunderbolt was very patient, but even he had his limits, and ’twas certain I had severely tried them since returning. ’Twas then he called me into his office and sat me down, telling me that my parents had told him what had happened. That I had every right to be angry at the treatment I received, but at the same time I didn’t know how good I had it—“You have a family who loves you, a herd that takes care of you, and wishes to help you. I want to help you. Why will you not let us?” He asked me earnestly as I sat across from him on the other side of his desk.
In no mood to be talked down to, I angrily asked him point-blank: what the buck did he care? He was normal, he was respected… in short, he belonged. “But there’s no place for a pony like me!” I told him, believing nopony could ever understand what I was going through or the pain I felt. “Buck your privilege, buck your Luna-damned help! Nopony’s ever had it as bad as me!”
For the first time, I got a reaction from my normally even-tempered teacher, whose eyes narrowed and lips curled. “Is that what you think?” he asked in a very low, quiet voice that belied the sudden fire in his eyes, something dangerous and unpleasant, the mere sight of which caused me to fall silent. “Is that truly what you think?” He leaned over his desk and asked me again, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity I’d never felt before, one that sent a shiver down my spine. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, young filly. No idea what other ponies have been through… or are still going through. And you have the gall to sit here and tell me how unlucky you are?” His wings flared in anger and eyes flashed as his hoof came down hard on the table, hard enough to splinter the surface and making me scoot back an inch in my chair. “For a pair of perfectly good eyes?”
Whatever stallion was now sitting in the chair in front of me, he was not the instructor I knew, or thought I knew. I knew he was a former soldier, but cared little about it. As far as I was concerned, he was just another adult who didn’t understand me and couldn’t know my pain. Though uncertain what his slightly alarming change in demeanor meant, ’twould not stop me from working up some more sass. “Oh, please. You wore a uniform, and ponies saluted you. Methinks you gave orders and everypony else did what they were told. What’s so hard about that?” I smirked.
His eyes narrowed dangerously, and something in them caused my blood to go cold as he stood up and stalked around to my side of the desk. But instead of striking me as I thought for a moment he was going to, he grabbed me by the back of my neck and dragged me over to another wall, where a large unicorn-painted picture was hung. I had little trouble winning fights with other foals unless they cheated, but he was far stronger and had no trouble controlling me at all, his rough manner and growl in my ear letting me know he could do far worse to me if he wished. “Methinks you might want to reconsider your last statement, young filly,” he informed me in a tone that told me to keep silent, or else. “Take a good look at this picture, as I have to every day.”
I’d seen it before, during other visits to his office. ’Twas a younger version of him in an Equestrian Aerial Corps uniform, bearing the rank of Second Lieutenant; he was surrounded by several other uniformed ponies of lesser ranks, four mares and one stallion. I would normally have answered with more sass, but his whole manner and the lethal look he was giving me was enough to keep me silent as he pushed me in front of it and kept my head pointed at it.
“You have your whole life ahead of you, young filly. You have a chance. Nopony else in this painting does,” he informed me, then began pointing at each figure in the picture other than himself one by one.
“Dead… dead… dead… crippled… dead…” he recited, then spun me around roughly to face him, forcing me to see the anger and pain in his eyes. “They were my friends. And like me, they were soldiers. All struck down in a single day by gryphon raiders, slain without reason or mercy in the prime of their lives. Mares and stallions who fought to protect others and fell in their defense. I know because I watched them all die!” he informed me by shaking me sharply, all but hissing the words out before squeezing his eyes tightly shut, visibly trying to regain control of his suddenly surging emotions. I prayed he would, my own heart now racing a mile a minute, uncertain what he was going to do.
“I still have nightmares about what happened, how I couldn’t protect them. I still see them cut down in my dreams, and even my waking hours. I can’t escape their ghosts, or those of the gryphons I killed after. So if you think you have it bad, you might want to think about what it is to be the sole survivor of an ambush. You might want to think about the grieving parents I had to write letters to, explaining why their son and daughters would never be coming home. You might want to think about what it does to a pony, to lose all their friends and future herdmates in a single, cowardly attack. Or seeing what you became in the aftermath, a demon of vengeance who kills without hesitation or mercy, waking up one morning to find there is so much blood on your hooves it will never wash away!”
There were tears in his eyes now and I stayed silent and unmoving, afraid of what he might do to me. I’d heard of the gryphons, of course, but thought little of them, a thousand miles from Cloudsdale as they were. Nevertheless, I was frozen in place to see the display of anger and emotion before me, suddenly fearful for my own safety in the face of this revealed warrior’s rage.
He let that sink in before dragging me back over to his desk, where he all but threw me back into my chair as he walked back around the front and sat down heavily in his own. “You want to know why I wish to help you? Because I want their deaths to mean something. Because I want to honor their memory. Because I want my legacy to be one of life, not death. Because I don’t want to be that pony I became any longer, and I run from his shadow every day. And in the meantime, all you have had to deal with… is a couple of cat eyes and a few mean words,” he told me in a tone of genuine disgust as I felt my ears falling flat.
He leaned back over his desk and pinned me with a lethal stare. “Don’t you ever come in here again and tell me that I don’t know what a hard life is. That I don’t know what pain is! I’ve lived it. I’ve felt it every moment of my life since that day. But unlike you, young filly, I don’t let it become an excuse or burden others with it… unless, like now, I need to make a point.”
With that, he took a deep breath and some of the anger ebbed from him. He then stared at me and crossed his arms, his voice calmer. “Go home, Fell Flight. And you think well on what I’ve just told you. Think whether your life is really so bad when you’ve got so many who love you and would help you. Think whether it is really so bad when you still have so much time ahead of you and so much you can yet be. If you can look past your anger and see what’s there in front of you, you are more than welcome to return tomorrow. I will train you, and I will help you as best I can. I give you my word. But if not…” his eyes turned ice cold again, sending a shiver through me as for the first time I recognized the eyes of one who had both seen death and inflicted it.
“If not… don’t bother coming back.”
The flight home was a long one.
In fact, methinks I didn’t come home until late in the evening, unable to shake what had happened. I didn’t sleep well that night either, all my sass and self-image thrown back in my face in a way I couldn’t ignore or deny.
No matter how badly I wanted to believe he was wrong, that I was somehow different or special—or how badly I wanted to cling to the anger that was defining me—I was forced to reach the increasingly uncomfortable conclusion that I was not. I was a pony with burdens, certainly, but ones that paled in comparison to others. I simply could not imagine going through what he had, what it would do to me to lose the friends and family I’d been so badly disparaging of late, acting like a petulant teen who thought the entire world was against her… when the reality of it was that many ponies were still on my side, ready and willing to help me…
If only I would let them.
As tough as I thought myself for all the barbs and blows I’d had to endure, tears began to roll down my cheeks as his words sank in and I realized what a foal I’d been. As I stared up towards the Mare in the Moon shining through my window, my thestral eyes glowing in her light, I swore for a moment I heard the lost Princess of the Night calling to me from where she was imprisoned in the moon. Be not bitter, dear child, I thought I heard her say. Thy life is not meant to be one of pain. Thou canst choose a new path. See thine eyes as a gift, instead of burden. Use them to become the best pony possible, and thou might yet bridge two worlds… she promised me, suddenly materializing over my bed to kiss me on the head, not the Nightmare but the Princess who preceded her. Thy time—and theirs—will come. Be ready… was the last thing I heard before she faded away.
I awoke with a start. Had I been dreaming? ’Twas it real? To this day I do not know, but feeling touched by the moon itself, I made my decision. And to start keeping it, the first thing I did upon rising the next morning was to hug my mother hard.
* * * * *
’Twas not easy to return to remedial flight school the next day, but I gathered my courage and did so, presenting myself to my teacher once more. Trying to make the best possible impression, I cleaned myself up, groomed and bathed, and then apologized to him in front of everypony, to the shock of all—nopony had ever heard me say I was sorry before. He considered me for a moment, then smiled, no trace of his earlier anger or sorrow present. I had no idea how he functioned in the face of such terrible tragedy and loss, but I gained great respect for him for it.
I graduated several months later a full-fledged flyer, and a very good one at that, having learned to use my size and larger wingspan to my advantage, both on the obstacle courses and in spars with other foals. The respect the latter granted me was far more grudging, and I still got into a few fights for it, but I stopped being a bully or attacking other ponies at the drop of a hay straw for every barb or insult sent my way. And my reward for my change in attitude? My cutie mark, in the form of two crossed Pegasus primaries overlaid with a gleaming thestral cat-eye. It represented my acceptance of my mixed heritage, though methinks I still did not fully realize its promise for some time to come.
Whether a consequence of my thestral blood or my own hot temper, I never truly lost my aggression or thirst for fighting, and even discovered I had a taste for meat, buying some from a thestral outpost and finding I liked it… once I’d gotten some instructions on how to prepare it. Perchance ‘twas my mother with the thestral blood as she found she liked it too and even started serving me some every so often. Methinks the taunts and putdowns from other teenaged foals and even a few adult pegasi never fully stopped, but over time I cared less as I continued to grow, maturing into a large mare even bigger than many stallions.
I gained a few friends, pegasi I would drink and brawl with in pubs, but for the most part I prefered to keep to myself, finding work as a courier and delivery pony. The night shift came easy to me, and granted me the solitude I craved… as well as the chance to hunt or eat fish in peace. I continued to live at home until I reached my age of maturity, when it became time for me to make my own way in life. I could have followed in my family’s hoofsteps and worked with them at the weather factory, but I remembered the visitation of that night, and couldn’t help but think I was meant for more.
And in truth, for opening my eyes, methinks there was only one pony whose hoofsteps I wanted to follow in.
* * * * *
I returned to the Remedial Flyers’ school not long before my nineteenth birthday.
I went to visit Thunderbolt, and to ask him whether he thought the Aerial Corps might be a good fit for me. ’Twas a thought that had been growing in my head for some time as I considered what to do with my life, and how best to become that pony I was promised I could be. I’d already visited the Corps recruitment office in Cloudsdale and talked it over with my parents and their herdmates; the former told me that ’twas unlikely the Corps would accept me given my ‘obvious handicap’ whilst the latter were cautiously supportive, encouraging me to follow my heart if ’twas what it wanted. There were no soldiers in my family, so I would be the first.
Perchance what appealed to me the most about the Corps was the promise that ‘all were equal’—that coat colors and cutie marks did not matter, that whatever your past or heritage you wouldst be judged on your merits; that you could earn your place with them and gain respect for it. For a young mare who had never known either from ponies outside of Thunderbolt and her immediate family, ’twas a tempting offer, and also gave me a chance to turn my aggressive impulses to more fruitful ends.
He was surprised, and reluctant to recommend the Corps at first for what he’d been through, but he also recognized my need for purpose, and that the Corps could provide a productive outlet for my hunting and fighting instincts. We ended up having a long talk, but in the end, he gave me his blessing, and wrote me a letter of recommendation for entry into the Corps.
He even delivered it personally, dressing in his old uniform to present both it and me to the shocked stallion sergeant at the recruitment office, proving he’d once been an officer by giving her a dressing down that made her ears burn after she protested over my eyes. “I’m still in the reserves, meaning my rank remains. At my word, you can be reassigned to the badlands, fighting off giant scorpions and Harpie raids whilst dealing with belligerent buffaloes… private!” he added the last word with an almost-evil grin.
My application was approved posthaste.
’Twas but two months later when I was marched through the front gates of Fort Stratus along with a hundred other ponies, mostly mares with perhaps a dozen stallions. Nary a minute had passed between the closing the gates and the start of the screaming. The slightly rotund beige pegasus in charge of the training class, who went by the name of Rolling Thunder—“that’s Sergeant Major to you, trainees!”—allowed his lower-ranked subordinates to harass us first, then turned his attention on us himself, singling out a few ponies for special attention.
To little surprise, I was one of them as his eyes locked on me and he marched right up to me. “Trainee, what in the name of Celestia are those?” He pointed a hoof at my custom shaded flight goggles, ones that I’d allowed Thunderbolt to have made for me during Remedial Flyers’ school that enabled me to fly and stay out for most of the day. “You will take those off right now!”
I didn’t immediately obey. “Sir, I have special permission to wear these, sir!” I told him, and ’twas the truth. I had passed my induction physical with flying colors except for my eyes.
“Special permission?” he echoed derisively. “From whom and for what?” He ripped the goggles right off my head, then took an involuntary step backwards at what he saw as my pupils immediately narrowed to the smallest of slits, leaving his own eyes wide and jaw agape. “What… the…?”
That got the attention of everypony else, who glanced at me and saw what he did—slitted thestral eyes that were already watering in the bright sunlight as the goggles were removed.
A low muttering came up from the other trainees. “Sir, I am required to wear these due to excessive light sensitivity, sir!” I tried again.
“No kidding…” he granted, then frowned as he noticed my cutie mark as well. “And just who the buck let you into my Corps, bat-pony?” he got in my face and growled.
My urge to pound his face into the dirt was growing, but I had an answer for that as well. “Sir, I was recommended by Lieutenant Thunderbolt, sir!”
Jaws fell a little further open and for a moment, the bombastic Sergeant Major was at a compete loss for words. He glanced at a nearby officer, who nodded but frowned. The Sergeant Major then glared up at me; I was a good three inches taller than him, at least, making me one of the largest if not the largest mare recruit. “Bet you think those eyes of yours make you special, huh?”
I recognized the fact that they did was completely beside the point here. “Sir, no sir!” I replied immediately.
“I bet you think you deserve special treatment, having eyes like Nightmare Moon?” he asked me, circling me ominously. “Do you think that makes you a better pony?” he all but screamed in my ear.
“Different, not better, sir!” I was beginning to shake in anger.
Derisive sounds erupted all around me. “Different, huh? And why the hay should I so much as give you the time of day, let alone train you how to be a soldier?” he sneered at me. “Most of our fighting is done during the day! How can you train or fight when you need help just to see?”
I took a breath, giving him a rehearsed answer, telling myself that ’twas all but a game, and I would just have to play it—that as Thunderbolt had reminded me, being a soldier meant obeying orders, and being willing to take and do things I didn’t like without losing my temper. “Sir, I only require goggles when I’m out for extended periods of daylight, sir!” I told him, focusing on Thunderbolt’s words to calm my nerves and anger. “And I don’t think the enemies of Equestria will care if I have cat eyes or fish eyes! They will kill me because I am a pony! And I will serve and protect Equestria no matter what others may think of me, sir!” I stood up a little straighter.
There was a moment of silence before Rolling Thunder sneered. “You’re bucking right they won’t care! And neither will I! I don’t give a horse’s backside who gave you ‘permission’ or told you that you could be soldier, these things are a liability in a fight! You either get through basic without them, or you don’t get through!” he informed me, making me wince when he dropped my goggles to the ground and crushed them underhoof. “You want to be a soldier? Then you won’t be getting any special treatment from me or anypony else! Is that bucking clear, bat-pony?” he all but snarled in my face.
“Sir, thank you sir!” I replied, only then realizing what I was in for and that Thunderbolt’s patronage only went so far. So be it, I decided. For me and for Thunderbolt himself, I would persevere and prove myself.
* * * * *
I would like to say my time at basic training passed without incident and I graduated at the top of my class. I would like to say I had no problems after that first day, and I was good to my own self-sworn promise. I would like to say that all my fellow trainees came to accept me and I quickly became one of them.
But to say any such things ’twould be a lie. In truth, but two weeks into my training, I collapsed in the middle of the training yard during morning drills, and not one fellow trainee lifted a hoof to help me. A few even stomped their hooves in celebration, believing I would now have to quit, and I couldn’t even pull myself up to answer their insults as the sun bore into my eyes and the very sky spun around me.
’Twas inevitable, I suppose. Whilst I had a much greater tolerance for bright light than a pure-blood thestral, I would nonetheless suffer blinding headaches and severe vertigo if I stayed outdoors in the sun for too long without my shaded goggles. I did my best to endure the pain and growing dizziness during the long days of training, but my body’s physiology would not be denied forever.
I woke up in the healer’s tent an hour later, with Rolling Thunder and the base’s senior healer, Flight Sergeant Panacea, standing over me. As my head made its displeasure with me known, I very nearly lost the contents of my stomach, biting back the bile that rose within me, forcing me to just lie still and keep my eyes tightly shut lest the light hurt me further and the nausea return. It took me a few moments to realize that Panacea and Rolling Thunder were talking about me, even arguing.
“… she cannot stay in sunlight for more than four hours at a time, Sergeant Major,” Panacea explained. “Any more than that, and she starts suffering from the light-blindness that plagues her ancestors.”
“That’s unacceptable, Flight Sergeant!” Rolling Thunder replied, not realizing I was awake. “She’s one of the best recruits I’ve seen in some time. She’s fast, she’s strong, she can take abuse and she learns quickly. I can already tell she’s got the makings of a solid soldier and I can’t wash her out just because she has some problems with the bloody sun!”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant Major, but if she continues to push herself past her limits like this, she will very likely end up dead long before she finishes her training,” Panacea bluntly replied. “Methinks the fact that she lasted this long is, quite frankly, amazing. But with due respect to Lieutenant Thunderbolt, ’tis also certain she should never have been accepted into the Corps. No matter how good a trainee she may be, she cannot continue, or she risks injury to both herself and those around her. If her light-blindness and vertigo strikes whilst she’s in the air, she could easily fall to her death.”
That statement put a fear in me unlike any I’d had before, and not for the potential of dying. “No!” I yelped, then groaned in dismay as my head protested the loud noise. They turned to look at me, startled to see me up. “I want… to… stay…” I told them, struggling to rise, only to double over and lose my morning meal when I opened my eyes and more bright light washed into them. “Just… give me… goggles… please.” I begged them.
“Young lady,” Panacea said shortly, gently but insistently pushing me back down with his aura, “I am impressed by your determination and resilience, but this condition of yours should have disqualified you when you applied to the Corps. As it stands, your inability to tolerate long periods of daylight makes you a danger to both yourself and those around you. You cannot fight if you cannot see, and wearing dark glasses or goggles are not allowable simply because they may be lost or broken, which could be lethal to both you and your fellow pegasi in the middle of combat. Methinks whoever told you they were permitted, lied.”
“But… I…” My mind went back to the recruiting sergeant and healer who told me they were okay at my pre-induction physical, and I resolved I’d have some choice words with her next time I saw her.
To my great surprise, Rolling Thunder was looking at me in a manner approaching concern. “You scared ten years off my life when you collapsed out there, recruit. Why did you not tell me you were suffering?”
I sat up slowly, so as to not aggravate my headache any further. “You told me, when I first came here, that you wouldst not offer me any special treatment for my eyes. I took you at your word, sir, and decided you were right to do so. I wish to remain part of the Corps on my own merits, not because you took pity on me for my condition!”
Flight Sergeant Panacea snorted, unimpressed. “Well in your condition, ’tis doubtful you will remain part of the Corps, period.”
“No! Please, there must be something that can be done!” I cried, ignoring my throbbing temples, tears starting to roll down my cheeks in front of the two startled stallions. “I turned to the Corps to become part of something that would finally accept me for who I am, and not judge me based on my eyes! Please, Sergeant Major! Is there anything you can do? Anything at all?” ’Twas hardly military to plead and beg like this, but for all the hardship and pain I’d already endured, I had come to realize just how badly I needed this. I knew in my heart the Corps was for me, and if I lost it, I didn’t know what I would do.
Both older pegasus stallions looked at each other, before the Flight Sergeant turned to one of the bookshelves that lined the tent. “There may, in fact, be something that can help you,” he said, pulling out a scroll from the shelf. “’Tis not something I can do on my own, however; we will need a unicorn eye specialist from Canterlot to do this.”
“To do what?” Rolling Thunder and I chorused.
Unrolling the scroll with his magic, Panacea continued. “There are tales of a great empire that existed in the far north long ago, ruled by an evil King. The tales claim that the empire’s buildings were made of crystal, and everything shone brilliantly, especially in the sunlight. Reportedly, the ponies who lived there had no problems aside from enslavement, but visitors were nearly blinded every time the sun gleamed off of anything. Now, the empire couldn’t very well let this keep happening, so they tasked their magi to find a solution,” he recited from the manuscript.
“And did they find one?” I asked, barely daring to hope.
My heart leapt when the Flight Sergeant nodded cautiously. “Eventually, yes. At first, they came up with a spell that lasted a day or so, but later on they found a more permanent solution. They devised a crystalline lens that would be inserted into the eye via magic, carefully laid under the main lens.
“This magically-treated secondary lens acted to diffuse intense but not weaker light. It cut down bright light entering ponies’ eyes to a more manageable level, making walking outdoors in the empire much easier on visiting ponies. And the effect lasted as long as the lens remained implanted, automatically recharging its spell from the pony’s innate magic,” Panacea explained but then frowned slightly as he showed us a diagram on the scroll—at least, I think that’s what it was given I was having much trouble focusing. “But these are just stories, so I am uncertain if it would work. Or if command would even approve such an unorthodox procedure.”
“I will chance it!” I proclaimed without hesitation. “I do not wish to leave the Corps, so I will take any means I can to remain!”
Rolling Thunder looked at me, then nodded in agreement. “If she wants to try it, I’ve no objections,” the Sergeant Major said. “If ’twould keep her in the Corps, I say we chance it too. She’s too promising a trainee to lose.”
“Very well,” Panacea said, somewhat doubtfully. “I will send the proper requests to Canterlot and Corps command. Be advised, even if they approve, ’twill take some time for the specialist to arrive. Until they do, you are to rest and are restricted to light indoor duty,” he told me. “The effects of your vertigo are cumulative and will take some time to recede. That means no leaving the barracks during the day for more than two hours, no training… and no sneaking off to train at night,” he added, seeing a glint of mischief in my eye. “I will be keeping close watch on you, trainee. If you try to circumvent these restrictions, I will order your immediate discharge. Is that clear?”
“Quite clear,” I nodded, managing a shaky salute before my head fell back into its pillow. The room spun around me again, and I closed my eyes until it stopped… at which point I had fallen asleep.
One of the things I learned early in life was that happy endings and harmony were rarely realized outside of storybooks and foals’ fairy tales.
Such, did it seem, would it be for me. I had been given hope by Flight Sergeant Panacea that I might yet be able to stay in the Corps, only to have it quickly dashed, finding myself walking out the gates of Fort Stratus barely three weeks after I had started, my head hung low. I had been discharged by direct order of the base commander, Colonel Freefall, my career seemingly over before it had even begun.
Despite the Sergeant Major’s personal plea and Thunderbolt’s letter, my signed request for an eyesight exemption was denied by Corps command. No explanation was given for that, or for summarily denying me the chance to have specialists from Canterlot examine me to see if Panacea’s idea for crystal implants was feasible.
When the Sergeant Major followed up with a personal plea, he was given a very terse reply—that the Corps ‘saw no need’ to spend money and resources on a single soldier ‘whose skill and loyalty would be highly suspect’ even if ‘such a questionable procedure’ succeeded. And thus, I was dismissed from service.
So much for the Corps motto of ‘all are equal’. To his credit, the Sergeant Major walked me out, offering me a hoofshake and a reference if I needed it. “You have other options if you still want to serve, Fell Flight. The Navy should be grateful to have you. And if not, the Cloudsdale militia should,” he suggested to me, somewhat wanly. I thanked him and left, not interested in either. The Navy didn’t fight, and I’d had quite enough of Cloudsdale ponies from all the time I’d lived there. For me, ’twas the Corps or nothing.
* * * * *
Two days later, I was back in Cloudsdale, still sporting my shorn mane. I washed out the white fur and light blue tail dye, only to note that my colors scarcely changed for it—if appearance was any guide, I was destined to be in the Corps, but now ’twas just self-mockery. After greeting my parents with a hug, I went to my old room, shut the door and cried, burying my head in a cloud pillow. I had finally found a place I wanted to be, a place I sensed I needed to be, and it had been taken from me by bigoted ponies and my own slitted pupils, my heritage having betrayed me for what seemed the final time. And now what would I do…?
What could I do…?
The answer came in the form of a knock on the door the next day. As I had not emerged from my room since my return, my younger siblings answered it. I didn’t know who it was until a minute later there was a second knock, this time on my bedroom door, and a familiar voice called out to me.
To my surprise, Thunderbolt had come to see me! “Your parents told me what happened,” he said, his expression dark as he sat beside me. “Did they really deny you an eye procedure?”
“Y-yes,” I told him jerkily, my eyes wet and bloodshot. I hated him seeing me like this—if he could be so strong in the face of far worse, then why was I going to pieces over such a little thing?—“Even after the Flight Sergeant said it could work. Even after the Sergeant Major said he wanted to keep me.” With that, I showed him the denial of medical necessity notice followed by the discharge order.
His expression darkened further as he scanned them. He then listened as I told him the full story of what happened, his eyes growing wrathful, his lips tightening, leaving me to wonder if he was about to lose his temper again as he had once done in terrifying fashion with me years earlier. But instead, he stared out my window for a moment, then looked back at me, his anger contained, his eyes hard, but determined. “Come with me!” he all but ordered me, some snap in his voice reminiscent of his old days as an officer, one that I instantly obeyed after spending several weeks having obedience to superiors drilled into me
“S-sir?” I blinked, lapsing back into military address.
“You heard me. Pull yourself together and clean yourself up, trainee! Methinks we’re going to pay Corps Command in Canterlot a visit…”
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Damn.... I've seen stories where the thestrals have it bad, but I never knew that back in Firefly's time they were treated like that! And Fell Flight is only a Pegasus with the Thestral eyes, so she shouldn't have been treated like that just because of her eyes! All in all, an amazing chapter and an interesting start of Fell Flight's story!
7266745 If I may quote Yoda:
Ponies fear anything to do with thestrals. The cycle goes on from there.
You had me at Thestral mare, honestly.
I am such a degenerate... 
For stories' sake, it is worth learning more about Fell Flight though. Let's crack on, shall we?
For some reason I imagined her being more thestral. I guess you only need a little bit of it for people to stop and take notice.
I think my own version will have dimming being as intrinsic to Thestrals as weather control is to pegasi, but this is pretty close to what I had in mind when I wrote A Gentleman's Price. I'm very honored you decided to develop a model based on that story, by the way! Flattering doesn't begin to describe it!
I'm adding that to my headcanon in turn. I kinda figured them as eating fruit and grain, but I like this a lot! Surely, they could not produce all the sustenance they require in the forest and have significant numbers. Turning to hunting to suppliment their diet just makes more sense.
I think this is ultimately why they lost the war against Celestia and also why they enjoyed early success. I can imagine it now: Early on, the thestrals are kicking all kinds of ass, gaining an almost invincible reputation by overrunning pony towns and settlements rapidly in the night. The ponies would use superior numbers at first, drawing up decent-sized armies to take on the insurgent settlements piecemeal, only to be worn-down by deadly counterattacks as they approached during night raids — a similar fluid defense strategy to the one the Persian savaran knightsemployed against the Romans. Unlike the poor Romans who were moving through desert and didn't have a supply line, the ponies would simply bring up reserves and begin employing countermeasures against the light-blind thestrals and begin capturing their forest settlements one a a time.
Very interesting addition! Perhaps this is why Roseluck never heard of them? A sort of pervasive stigma that's settled so strongly in rural areas that there existence is simply ignored? Though, this could simply mean that those ponies are just denying them the right to identify as ponies.
I see what you did there!
Tactical Nuke. Incoming!
We have one day out of the year in the United States which we remember those who died in battle. The veterans themselves have 365. I hope you enjoyed your cookouts, everyone!
Interesting. So Luna had moments of lucidity during her imprisonment, if indeed this wasn't just a dream.
Maggots!
This reminds me of a story from one of Richard Marcinko's Rogue Warrior series of fictional novels. He recounts a story told to him by Roy Boehm: the first Navy Seal. The drill instructor tells them all if they can't swim, they have to go away. This wasn't acceptable for one particular recruit who — when given the test of picking pennies off the bottom of the pool in a given time — dove in the deep end, filled his bucket in one go, and marched out the shallow end with his bucket. Boehm asked him why the hell he felt the need to perform the task without breathing for so long when he admitted he couldn't swim.
I guess this makes sense. As a merchant or whatever, I'd be a little nervous being told I have to have major surgery before I could trade inside the major slave hub, though.
I wonder how non-Crystal Ponies seen inside the Kingdom today?
“S-sir?” I blinked, lapsing back into military address.
Soon they will be... Thunderstruck!
Nice musical score. That HDSounDI channel is now in my list of resources to pull music from. Glad you showed it to me.
Also, I can't help but feel bad for the blatant racism against the poor thestral here. I mean...come on.
I hope the next chapter has the corp visit... I'm sure it will be beautiful-ly painful for somepony
7266895 The worst part is, she isn't a pure-blood thestral. All she's got is their eyes. But in the minds of most ponies, that alone condemns her.
7266745
Please, wait patiently, theres more yet to come. I forget where Firesight left it though...I blame the applejuice
7266872
You started it! Also...Rose might be over there...
7266895
Theres one piece waiting in the wings for a later chapter. You'll know when it comes
7267138 Jesus Motherf*cking Christ. That really is terrible. Land of friendship and harmony MY ARSE.
(ARSE is British for ass)
7267211 As the description states, friendship and harmony are in much shorter supply a mere three hundred years after Nightmare Moon's rebellion. Is it fair? No, but then again, life itself lacks fairness in many ways.
7267143
You started it! Also...Rose might be over there...
Over where?
derpicdn.net/img/2016/6/1/1167914/large.png
Over there? (Damn, that image looks nice!)
7267353
Don't just stand there say something man!
7267143 Believe me, I am waiting with baited breath for the next chapter, a Dark Angel is nothing if patient!
Give 'em hell, Thunderbolt.
Somehow, some of the story line reminds me of Taokaka... (From Blaz Blue.) Or, could be my imagination...
Is that all?! I feel cheated and not at the same time. As always I'm left with my addiction intact.
As much as her eye situation might be a disadvantage during the day, I'm kind of surprised that the big advantage at night is being ignored. We'll see how Firefly uses this later I'm sure.
7267580 I had one job!
It's okay, I'll get back to doing the Roseluck thing in a later chapter. It feels weird doing the whole song and dance for an interlude.
7271263
I didn't have that reaction. The first concern a proper military will have is ensuring a recruit will be able to work with others before anything else. Add racism to that, and there's plenty of justification for the initial rejection.
7272578
Normally this is here dating shenanigans ensue.
But I have no experience with it
Finally getting around to answering some of these...
7266745
In Fell Flight's case, it's even worse. Since she's a hybrid, neither group wants her. No, she shouldn't be treated like that, but this is a time not many centuries after NMM's rebellion and the role thestrals played in it are well-remembered, even if not all of them sided with her. It's also a time where the ponies are still somewhat tribal, there's not much interbreeding among the various pony races and there's a bit of a stigma involved for it. More on that in due course.
7266795
Exactly. They're a visible symbol and reminder of Nightmare Moon and the Celestial War.
7266895
Thanks. I subscribed to it too. Blatant racism, yes, but also remember it wasn't too long ago interracial couples were severely frowned on in our society as well. Hell, in some places they still are. No reason ponies would be much different, especially that long ago. Like I said above, at this stage they're still fairly tribal and there's little interbreeding between unicorns, earth ponies and pegasi. The story will address that more directly later.
7266989
It will have the visit, fear not. And some more revelations about Thunderbolt in the mix.
7267138
Bingo.
7267640
The next chapter is underway, but it's uncertain when it will be posted. I'm going on vacation to Las
PegasusVegas in ten days. I'll try to finish it before then, but if not... it'll be another week-plus before posting.7268576
He will!
7269331
Had to look that up. Interesting character and series. Guess we'll see if that holds up as the storyline progresses!
7266872
Cracking on! If a couple days late...
You could make the argument that being just a little bit thestral makes you even more noticeable. And is worse for the fact that now neither side wants you.
I enjoyed AGP, and there are in fact three pieces of thestral worldbuilding in there I'm going to borrow (shamelessly steal!)
You're welcome. Hell, even real horses have been observed eating meat before. It's not to say they don't enjoy their fruits and grains, but if they're part bat, they're going to be bit predatory and willing to eat meat. And as you say, they can't grow enough food without earth ponies, so they pretty much half to supplement their diet. Is also makes sense, therefore, that they'd establish their villages near fish-filled rivers and other hunting grounds.
That only worsened my reputation, and methinks I certainly suffered my own share of injuries for it as my classmates quickly figured out that they could simply steal my glasses and flash bright lights at me to disorient me, making me dizzy and even nauseous, enabling them to take revenge for the beatings I’d given them.
I'm sure in battle, they would specialize in night raids, assassination and swarming hit-and-run attacks. They'd basically be faster and more maneuverable Japanese Zeroes against slightly more lumbering P-40s, to use an early WW2 analogy. I'd imagine they'd fare far less well in the open field, and they know it. What's their role to play in the war? Well, first and foremost, the Gryphons have a night vision advantage over regular pegasi which they can and will use to advantage. That would change with the entry into the war of the thestrals. Of course, one wonders if the gryphons might try to recruit them themselves...
That and they've never been seen or settled in Ponyville. Rose, for all her exploits, has led a rather sheltered life.
#FightPegasiPrivilege #ThestralLivesMatter
Indeed!
Lacking a grill, I cooked buffalo burgers in. I'm sure that would make Lily faint...
Ain't saying.
I wonder what his opinion is on a possible romance between the Nickel Samurai and Sayo?
Interesting story. And what was the answer? Regardless, it's the same for Fell Flight. That's how badly she wants this.
I'd imagine that short-term visitors got the temporary spell, while those staying for a long time were given the option of surgery... or were new slaves that were given no choice. Actually, I may modify this a bit to emphasize that new slaves were given the surgery so they could be proper workers and soldiers.
Presumably the intense brightness back then was an artificially-enhanced defensive measure, and when the Empire returns without King Sombra, it will lack it. Still gleam like skyscrapers in the sun, but not be so intense.
And you have no idea how much yet... see if we can get this done before I leave on vacation next Sunday!
I doubt it's ever going to be clear if Fell Flight really received a prophecy or whatever you call it from princess Luna but it was certainly prophetic in content. Also ponies like Thunderbolt who are willing to take risks to help disadvantaged ponies are the reason ponies win the war as Gavian can probably attest.
9426752
Nope, it will never be known in terms of the story what really happened there. Was it a dream or a moment of lucidity from Luna, even imprisoned in the moon as she was? Or perhaps the Moon goddess herself reached out to Fell Flight in the guise of Luna? By not saying, it can pretty much be whatever you wish it to be.
Ponies like Thunderbolt have very troubled past and are dangerous to both sides for it, as you’ll see in the coming interlude chapters. Suffice it to say, Thunderbolt is not a pony you want around Gavian, and you’ll find out why in due course.
I really hope Celestia might get wind of this and drops by...
Nope, nightduty is a thing...
11134079
As I’m sure you know by now, your wish will be granted.
11141416
For her, but she still has to be able to fly and fight during the day without aid.
There are tears in my eyes to, my gods ;-;
This anti-thestral bigotry reminds me a lot of one of my most favorite stories.
It is called "Thousand Year Change"
https://www.fimfiction.net/story/85123/the-thousand-year-change
I admit that this story could use proofread because there are quite few gramatical errors, but I think the premise itself and the storytelling is solid
It asks what would happen if Luna never became Nightmare Moon.
It actually paints interesting picture about racism against batponies simply because they look different and how would such an archainc feudal society and soft leader refused to do anything about it.
I am not sure how much time you have these days or if you are even iterested, but personally I think this story is worth a try