Spectrum

by Sledge115

Act I ~ Chapter Twelve ~ To Seize The Day

Spectrum

The Team

TheIdiot

DoctorFluffy

VoxAdam

Sledge115

RoyalPsycho

TB3

Kizuna Tallis

ProudToBe

Chapter Twelve

To Seize The Day

* * * * *

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And, while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
— To The Virgins, To Make Much Of Time, by Robert Herrick

~ Canterlot, Equestria ~ Eighth Day of the Month of Rophon, Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae ~

“Sure you want to do this, Twilight?”

Twilight broke off staring at the library across the road, to give her old friend an earnest look. “As sure as you are about your crazy expedition idea, Lyra.”

“Touché,” Lyra sighed, folding up the café menu. “Well, if we’re done pouring ourselves liquid courage here, might as well head over and talk to her. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s a Monday morning, and the first thing Moondancer does is go to the library.”

While Lyra waved one crutch, seeking to catch a waiter’s attention, Twilight ran those words through her never-resting mind.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “You were always the one who’d try getting us to go out more. Well, you and Minuette, but she wasn’t…”

Twilight had to stop a moment. A few years ago, she might have thought nothing of stating facts bluntly, especially if they were accurate. But that was the old Twilight. She still didn’t quite know who the new Twilight was, with her eccentric Ponyville friends and increasing track record of saving Equestria. Yet this Twilight was a Twilight supposed to care for people beyond showing them basic courtesy.

Not the Twilight who left the people close to her hanging.

Lyra understood all the same. “She wasn’t one of the ‘Brainy Bunch’,” she said, finishing for Twilight. “It’s okay to say it, Twi’. You know that’s what they used to call us three in school, and Minuette wouldn’t mind it if you said it, she’d just giggle. She comes to visit sometimes, you know. In Ponyville, together with Lemonhearts and Twinkleshine.”

Twilight goggled at her. “I did not know that! Since when?”

“Um, forever? Hold up,” said Lyra, having finally got the waiter’s attention. “Check, please.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Do I really need to answer that?” replied Lyra. “Simple. You never asked. You didn’t even check up on me all that often after I decided to move in full-time with Bonbon, except to say I was overdue on a book.”

She might have said more, but the waiter came over with the bill, leaving Twilight to stare guiltily at the table while Lyra paid up.

“Hey, Twilight,” Lyra said gently, once the waiter had gone. “Our friends did ask me how you were doing, thinking about popping by sometime. But with the important work you got nowadays, being an Element Bearer and all, well, I guess they just figured you’d moved on. And I thought maybe I should try setting something up, but it... sorta never happened.”

They both stood up, Twilight slower to push her chair back than Lyra, despite the latter’s injured state.

“What about Moondancer?” Twilight said. “I… Did you hear from her?”

“We invited her out,” Lyra explained, trotting over unevenly to her side. “But she’d always say she was busy studying. And then I moved to Ponyville, and that’s about it. The others don’t mention Moondancer on any of their visits.”

They crossed the street, Twilight helping Lyra. It was early enough in the morning for the library not to have too many visitors, yet Twilight felt an old, familiar hush fall over her as they approached the great double doors. She knew the unicorn beside her felt the same. In Ponyville as in Canterlot, whenever Lyra could be bothered to visit a library, she dove into her books with the quiet, yet intense focus of an ancient scribe.

That analogy shifted Twilight’s mind to the new alicorn, Galatea.

If she could believe what they’d heard – and she still wasn’t sure she could – the tall mare had lived what once had been the dream for Twilight. An eternity of studying, undisturbed by the world.

But Galatea, outside of her odd inflections and limited body language, seemed to pick up on cues that Twilight would have found baffling even a year ago. Twilight had to wonder, though. Was Galatea’s relative social awareness also the result of years of studying?

“I gotta make it up to them too,” Twilight whispered, trying to change course. “All our old friends from Canterlot.”

Lyra stopped by the doors. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear from you,” she smiled lightly. “Seeing as Lemonhearts’ got a job at the Palace, shouldn’t be too hard checking up on her. Though she might have her hooves full with the big upcoming event...”

They went inside, the doors creaking open and shut. It was the only noise which followed them in. The Palace’s public library was much the same as it had been five days ago, a low-lit, multi-storied chamber blanketed by an air of reserve and reverence.

Yet although Twilight kept quiet, she felt anything but reserved.

“There she is,” Lyra said, nudging Twilight.

Spotting Moondancer wasn’t hard, the red of her mane providing the greatest shock of colour in the library’s muted confines. Twilight saw nothing else about her was as lively, however. Her back to them, Moondancer lay hunched over a book – one from a pile of many – and her mane’s striking colour was belied by its unkempt state. She might also have looked paler than Twilight remembered, though it was hard to tell, with her coat covered by a frayed sweater.

Twilight swallowed and looked at Lyra, who coughed.

“Wanna brave it alone, pardner?” Lyra said, chuckling nervously as she tapped her crutches. “I’ll cover your back.”

“Yeah…” Twilight said slowly. “Yeah, I gotta do this one myself. But I’m glad you’re here, Lyra. And… well, somepony’s got to explain about the humans.”

“In due time, Twilight,” Lyra whispered. “We don’t want her to think you only want her back for a study group.”

All Twilight could do was nod. Taking a deep breath, then exhaling, she went over.

Engrossed in reading, Moondancer did not notice her approach, but this was what Twilight had expected, having been on the other side of the page. She trotted by and turned, facing the table, and still Moondancer didn’t look up.

Twilight hadn’t forgotten they were in a library. With a tiny, almost imperceptible spark, she let her horn cast a spell that would ensure privacy.

It was only after doing so that she remembered Lyra wouldn’t be able to hear what they said, either, but this couldn’t be helped.

With a feeling of ants crawling up her hooves, Twilight coughed. “Hi there, Moondancer! Fancy… fancy seeing you here this early!”

Moondancer did look up then, the surprise on her face making way for an aggrieved glower, much amplified by her glasses, once she saw who it was.

“Shh! What do you want?” Her tone was inarguably stand-offish. “I’m trying to study.”

“It’s me, don’t you remember?” Twilight said, forcing a grin. “Twilight, your old friend! I thought it might be nice to catch up. So, surprise!”

“For what purpose?” Moondancer said coolly. “And this is a surprise. Libraries are meant to be quiet.”

“Got that covered,” Twilight said, pointing upwards to the shimmering bubble of silence she’d cast over their spot of the room.

Moondancer just groaned. “I’m trying to study,” she repeated, breaking eye contact. “Sorry to burst your bubble… ahem, but I am actually rather busy right now... and from one bookworm to another, I’d hoped you could respect that. Now, if you don’t mind…”

She began to prop her book, but Twilight placed both forehooves upon the table.

“Can’t we at least go outside and talk for a bit?” said Twilight, unsettled to hear her own voice turn desperate and begging.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Moondancer told her shortly.

“Look,” Twilight said, rushing her words, heart in her mouth. “I’m sorry I missed your party.”

“You’ve got the wrong pony. I don’t have parties.”

“You did once,” said Twilight. “And I… was so caught up in… in my own concerns, I didn’t take your feelings into account.”

“Like I said, Twilight Sparkle,” Moondancer said, unmoved. “I don’t have parties. And I don’t know how many times I’ve got to keep saying the same things, just so I can study without a crazy pony trying to make friends, but I will say this, can you please stop bothering me.”

“Moondancer…”

“I’m sure you’re busy too,” said Moondancer, propping her book. “Big things, assignments for the Princess, saving the world, those kinds of things. I don’t live in a bubble, Twilight.”

For emphasis, she let a thin beam zap out from her horn, which audibly dissolved Twilight’s privacy spell.

“So if there’s something big you should be working on,” Moondancer finished in a whisper, ignoring the angry shushes from nearby readers, “you should do it.”

Nothing about this had gone as Twilight had hoped.

“Moondancer, please!” she said, barely whispering, as she leaned precariously on her forehooves. “Lyra told me she and our other friends haven’t seen you in ages. You can’t shut yourself off and leave them in the dark. You can’t...”

Moondancer deigned to glance at her.

“And you didn’t?” she said morosely. Then she went back to her reading.

Thus Twilight was left staring at her estranged friend, ears drooping and shoulder sagging, a pit in her stomach.

Until someone else approached the table.

“She’s telling the truth,” Lyra said quietly. “I really miss you, Moondancer. I didn’t realise how much until Twilight told me she’d met you. And I know Minuette and Twinkleshine and Lemonhearts must too...”

The surprise Twilight felt was surely matched by Moondancer’s, as the studious unicorn looked up, gasping softly.

“You! What happened to you?”

Lyra followed her gaze to the crutches. “Um, had a bit of an accident?” she said wryly. “Nothing new for silly Lyra Heartstrings, right? But it’s okay. The doctors say I’ll be all fixed in two or three days.”

When she’d seen Lyra, concern and worry had overtaken Moondancer. But now the moment had drifted, and stoniness began to seep back into her features.

“What are you here for, Lyra?”

“I’m with her,” Lyra said. “I… felt I owed you, as the other friend who didn’t go to your party that day.”

“Ugh!” Moondancer visibly bit her tongue. “Will you both give that darn party a rest? It didn’t work out, alright? And I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Lyra. You had the decency to say you’d be off visiting your girlfriend for the Festival.”

“Heh, yeah,” Lyra chuckled wryly. “Got a front-row view of Nightmare Moon’s return.”

Sighing in resignation, Moondancer let her book drop on the table, open-paged.

“I see there’s no point asking you to leave me be,” she muttered, standing up and beginning to tidy her pile of books. “So I’ll be leaving, if that’s fine by you.”

An idea hit Twilight.

“Wait!” she said urgently. “I… I’ve met Princess Luna. The real her, not Nightmare Moon. We talked on Nightmare Night. She’s… she’s really nice. And… she knows about all the stuff you really liked at school, Moondancer. You could ask about practically anything since the pre-Rebellion era! I’ve learnt a few new things from her – about her, too. She really likes flowers...”

This had its effect. Moondancer stopped her tidying, and looked directly at Twilight.

“New things?” she said, her voice a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “Alright, what did I like back in school?”

“You… were into astronomy, of course,” Twilight said, discretely signalling Lyra not to slip her the answers. “And then… then there were those private oneirology classes you took with Headmaster Nexus... Hey, we got some of our funniest stories from him, remember?”

Lyra giggled, failing to suppress herself at the library. “I remember, alright,” she snickered. “Like when the old boy tried mixing several paints together to prove you could make a completely new colour. After hours of mixing, it still hadn’t worked! Then h-he said…” She had to breathe in to keep from laughing. “H-he said… ‘Well, colour me surprised’.”

And Twilight, even in her anxiety, snorted along with Lyra as the memory rushed back.

Moondancer didn’t join them in laughing. Yet she didn’t frown, either. A gleam in her eye was proof that she remembered the same.

“That hasn’t got anything to do with Princess Luna,” Moondancer pointed out, “But, yes…” She sighed wistfully. “We all did like Headmaster Nexus.”

“I saw him a few days ago, actually,” Twilight said, smiling. “And guess what? He’d almost burnt off one of his robes testing a smoke bomb, calling it a smoking robe!”

“Hard to believe we learnt anything from that crazy stallion,” Moondancer agreed.

“Oh, and there was Professor Shriek!” Lyra added. “What an absolute madpony.”

“You know he just used us as researchers for his books, right?” Moondancer asked. She was sarcastic, sure, but there was a glimmer of what could have been joy in her voice.

“I got an author’s credit on one of them!” Lyra said, laughing. “Besides, it was fun!”

For a moment, it felt as if a hurdle had been lifted, as they were each lost in the shared memory of youth. But then, the gleam dissipated, and Moondancer’s bespectacled eyes once more turned dull and forlorn.

“Well, this has been a pleasant trip down memory lane,” Moondancer mumbled, returning to her tidying. “But I’ve got a lot of studying left to do, so…”

“Hold on,” said Twilight. “This talk about Nightmare Moon’s reminded me of something else. If you want to study, I know a place that’s got everything you could want. Books, privacy, a view of the stars at night…”

Both Moondancer and Lyra seemed equally bemused.

“Really?” Moondancer said. “Where?”

Converging energy from her null-space, Twilight summoned a key she hadn’t used in a very long time, and held it aloft to show her two erstwhile friends from Canterlot.

“Let’s go back where it all began,” she said. “My old observatory.”

* * * * *

“So, Galatea,” Celestia said cheerily. “Feeling ready for your first birthday party?”

Next to her, the tall grey alicorn didn’t break pace as they walked down the palace hallway, but the simple question had thrown her into a look of profound contemplation.

“It is not yet time for it, I believe?” she said. “We are on our way to other business. Although Miss Pie does appear to have an unconventional grasp of time.”

“No, and yes, we are,” Celestia smiled, while Luna listed on. Philomena circled above them, following their trail, while Tiberius was perched at – where else – Luna’s crown. “And yes, that she does. But this is just it. We’ve a little time left. Still time enough for you to back out, though I know Pinkie would be very disappointed.”

“I have mine reservations,” Galatea said. “But… I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

“When Pinkie gets like this, it’s best to let her work and step back,” Celestia said. “She only wants to make people happy, after all.”

“It’s odd to hear you speak of her that way,” Galatea said.

“I’m their Princess, not their God,” Celestia said. “It’s best that way.”

Galatea kept thinking.

“A birthday party will be a… quite unfamiliar experience,” Galatea finally allowed. “I’ve had little time for parties. On occasion. But never one I could call mine own.”

“Ah,” Luna said slyly, exchanging a mischievous glance with Tiberius, “but do you know what ‘fun’ means?”

Galatea turned and raised an eyebrow. “Fun. ‘A state of amusement, enjoyment or light-hearted pleasure’? I cannot claim much personal experience with it, no… But the concept is not mysterious to me. It is a state Equestria has oft striven to achieve during the Long Peace.”

“Wha… but how…”

“Oh, I have been able to keep track of evolutions in vocabulary over the centuries. Though I do confess to preserving small personal preferences, such as the use of ‘mine’ in the place of ‘my’.”

She looked at Luna, an eyebrow raised.

“Pardon me, ahem. Does that satisfy your query, Luna? It is indeed a word younger than your exile, so I cannot say I blame you for not knowing what it means.”

“I know what fun is– I… Moving on…”

“Oh,” said Galatea. She looked at Luna, then Tiberius, then back at Luna. “Did I do something wrong?”

Celestia let out a snort. "No, no, you're clear, Galatea. For what it’s worth, I also have some things I wish to keep from centuries past, like, Philomena’s feathers for my quills,” –Philomena chirped at this– “or Luna over here preferring her abacus.”

Luna harrumphed. So did Tiberius, holding a tiny abacus of his own.

“Sister,” she said, very pointedly looking at Celestia, “Forgive me how often I’ve been questioning your choices of late…”

“It’s no problem, Luna,” Celestia said graciously. “I need someone to question me. And you have been unwavering where it matters most, our commitment to helping the humans.”

“Thanks.” Luna bobbed her head. “Yet I must ask. How do you think this artefact may help?”

They had arrived at the doors to the vast storage-space tucked away at the back of the Palace Archives. There were no Guards, and the door wasn’t even locked. But security did ease up at this time in the morning. And in some cases, even in a confidential area such as the Archives, the best way to keep something safe was not to draw undue attention to it.

“How is yet to be seen,” Celestia acknowledged, pushing the doors open. Philomena swooped down and perched on her withers. “I’m only grateful that Cadance and Shining were spared the trouble of sending it back. In another few weeks, I was planning on having it shipped to the Crystal Realm.”

Beyond the doors lay a storage-room like any other.

Like any other, except for what it stored. While this wasn’t the Vault, where Celestia had brought out the Concordia Maxima to call on Equus, it was a repository for many unusual things in its own right.

Naturally, what those things were wasn’t apparent upon entering, for they were stored in rows and rows of boxes. Most, anyway, were books, as one would expect of an archive. Books newly-arrived from all over the world, and yet to be sorted.

One item wasn’t in a box, however. It lay waiting in the centre of the room, a standing mirror, its horseshoe-shaped rim and its standing-based lined with pink gems.

“Here it is,” said Celestia. “Freshly unboxed, the Crystal Mirror.”

All three alicorns advanced, equal in their solemnity. Tiberius leaned over Luna’s crown. Philomena ruffled her feathers. Celestia peered out the corner of her eye to see what Galatea’s reaction might be.

The grey alicorn, though she betrayed no surprise at the Mirror, wore a look of deep curiosity befitting the scholar she called herself.

And yet she was also frowning.

“Unchanged in all these millennia…” Galatea said softly. “A remnant of the Old Race… and a final testament to their hubris. The last fragment of the Prism.”

Luna stared at her. “You know of the Prism?”

“I do,” said Galatea. “How could I not.”

“Not even we know of the Prism other than what Sint Erklass told us,” remarked Celestia. “What was supposed to be the Old Race’s gift to the world, became its undoing.”

“‘Where they sought to harness the fire, they spread only harshest winter’,” Luna recited, calling up the poem the Allfather had once told them.

Celestia shuddered, staring at the Mirror. “Strange to think this Mirror is just a shard… and that it is less dangerous as a shard than its complete self.”

“Why do you show us this, Sister?” asked Luna. “Surely, nothing of value is here.”

“Not quite,” Celestia said, looking not at the other two alicorns, but at their reflections. “For the Mirror was once part a structure designed to blur the lines between dreams and the waking world. It responds to the minds of those touched by it. This may be what allows us to open our eyes upon Earth.”

“You mean scrying?” said Galatea. “Celestia, I know a thousand-and-one ways to stand watch and observe. By mine estimate, given what it is, the Crystal Mirror… is not the most trustworthy. It reflects too much of yourself when you look inside.”

“I know this well. I have already lost a student to it once,” Celestia said quietly. She felt Philomena nuzzle the back of her neck. “But considering the Empire has unlocked the secret of the ansible, if knowledge is power, then in these times, may we not have to resort to forbidden knowledge?”

“Indeed,” Luna said, though she sounded wary. “After all, it is this same artifact’s power which Starswirl, Mistmane, and the other Pillars used to banish the Sirens… although, one wonders why not to Erebus, or within a crystal casing…”

“For some creatures, containment within their dreams is the only suitable measure,” Celestia told her sister gently, knowing Luna wouldn’t like it.

But Luna took it pretty well. “He did what he could, as did Lady Mistmane and company.”

“Excuse me, yet there seems to be a gap in mine knowledge,” Galatea said, frown deepening. “No mention is made in the records of Starswirl the Bearded employing the Mirror to banish the Sirens. Solely the assorted might of him and Equestria’s other five Pillars is documented to history.”

“Well, that’s what he first tried… with them as his musical band,” Luna deadpanned. “But when it didn’t work, he had to cheat. No wonder he never quite learned about friendship…”

Celestia nodded. “Yet remember why he taught us that story, in secret, Luna,” she said, indicating the Mirror. “Sometimes it is necessary to cheat.”

“Point taken, Tia. To be fair, I recall that Lady Mistmane talked him into telling us that particular bit,” Luna sighed. “Nonetheless, he saw it as his great failure.” She eyed Galatea. “Interesting, however, that your knowledge isn’t as encompassing as you make out.”

Tiberius squeaked, in what might have been agreement.

“I cannot be everywhere at once, Luna,” Galatea admitted. “Remember what you told Alexander Reiner at the hospital? The mind is quick to churn up memories with self-interest and improvisation, and that’s how you end up with dreams.”

She looked from Luna, to stare intently at the Mirror.

“And I am not about the imaginary…” Galatea whispered. “Only the real. But even for me, with mine insight into the stardust, it is a hard task to separate the wheat from the chaff. I am...” She had to force out the last word. “Fallible.”

But Luna was glaring at her too hard to notice.

“You’d call dreams ‘chaff’?” she hissed. “Maybe that’s what you think, if all you’ve ever learned from documenting the stardust is that it coalesces around foals who’ve just gained their mark! How do you think a child discovers their destiny, if not through their dreams?”

Galatea shrugged, barely glancing at the mark on her own flank, a pale grey eye.

“Pardon mine poor choice of words, Luna. But marks can be switched or erased, by those powerful enough,” she stated. “And when a child becomes an adult, the time has come to move from dreams to reality. See this…”

She pointed at the Mirror.

“The Old Ones built the Prism as a containment field for the stardust, under the belief that if they accumulated enough, they’d be able to forge a new world out of their dreams. Instead, they came close to making it all vanish into a maelstrom of Chimerae, spirits and plague.”

“That is so, if what Sint Erklass told Luna and I is true.”

Celestia raised her wings to drape both her sisters, huddling them to her in conciliation.

“But I believe there is still some small place in the world for the Old Ones’ dream,” she continued blissfully. “One day soon, I’d been hoping to meet Twilight on the ethereal plane which commemorates all my subjects’ moments of self-realisation, and witness her second marking… a new alicorn...”

“I am familiar with that plane, Celestia,” Galatea said, a touch of wistfulness. “Some part of mine mind always resides there, watching the swirl coalesce as children take a step into adulthood. Many’s the time I’ve rewatched old achievements.”

“Yes…” Celestia said gently. “Only, Galatea, amongst all those images… have you ever beheld any of your own self? Any memories of you, from before you earned your mark?”

And for the first time, Galatea looked speechless. “No…” she finally said. “No. From mine earliest memories, this is how I came into the world. As a grown mare, with a mark on her flank. Never did I have memories of a child, looking in awe at the world around her…”

There was an odd tone in her voice. Not regret, but something like longing.

Celestia smiled delicately at Galatea and Luna alike.

“Then let’s go,” she said, retracting her wings and turning, as Philomena spread hers and flew ahead. “I think it’s time you did some catching up. We have a birthday to celebrate.”

“Celestia,” Galatea said, and Celestia was surprised to hear her sound so flustered, “are you sure it’s possible to have a birthday, for one who wasn’t technically born? And, really, if there’s an age where birthday parties become far too childish, then isn’t eight-thousand years well past it?”

Luna smirked, yet her smirk was not mocking.

“Do not let that worry you,” said Luna. Little Tiberius squeaked, and her smile grew softer. “Only an academic distinction, Galatea. Moreso when remembering what Grandfather taught us... There are no adults, there are only children playing at being adults.”

~ The Colossus of Talos, Republic of the Tauren Isles ~

“It’s been five days,” Darkhoof said, arms folded. “I would like to see my son.”

Staring at him through the door’s panel, the heifer on guard looked around nervously. “Proxenos,” she said, trying to puff herself up to fill her armour, “you know the matter’s still under revision by the Reverend Mother, and until then…”

“Every day I stay, the Call lies unanswered,” Darkhoof interrupted her. While he kept his voice quiet, he spoke with a hard edge. “But I won’t leave without having spoken to Basil.”

A gust of wind blew in from the sea, carrying the tell-tale tinge of salt this far from the shore. Darkhoof didn’t even bother to glance that way. He knew that if he looked, he’d see the ship waiting to carry him off to Saddle Mareabia, and from there, continue on to the Hall of Unity. It had waited down in the port all this time.

The thought of Saddle Mareabia made Darkhoof think of Amira-bint-Ramaha’s husband, incarcerated in Erebus, and he held down a groan. He found it hard to tell if his current family issues made him better off, or worse.

The guard checked herself. “Wait here, please,” she said, closing the metal panel.

He didn’t have to wait for long. Soon he heard the door unlock, and it swung open. As the heifer stepped aside, Darkhoof found himself facing another figure. Unlike the guard, this one hadn’t bothered assuming Minotaur guise.

“Come inside, Proxenos,” Samsara said, beckoning urgently with an elongated forelimb, a rather disconcerting gesture. “Before I change my mind.”

Darkhoof snorted, but crossed the threshold without comment. He made sure not to speak until the door had closed behind him.

“I apologise for my persistence, Reverend Mother,” he said stiffly. “Yet I can’t afford to wait until your decision is made.”

Samsara trilled softly. “You know my decision’s as good as made,” she told him, gesturing that he should follow her. “Were these normal times, I could have let you wait a long time. Tis’ the Call which cannot afford for you to wait.”

“Then why the delay?” Darkhoof asked, matching her pace as she strode down the hallway.

The further in they went, the less the hallway beneath the Colossus appeared carved out of the bedrock, the more it resembled porous stone, covered in patches of wax the same bright blue as Samsara’s chitin.

“The rules are strict,” Samsara said soberly. “You’d find it hard to get me to make an exception, even if he’s your boy. But these times are exceptional. Talos is stirring.”

“He is?” Apprehensive, Darkhoof glanced upwards, as if he’d still see the huge metallic bull-shape. “I didn’t sense it.”

“You wouldn’t, Proxenos,” said Samsara. “Of all the bulls I’ve known, you have accomplished the tightest discipline over your brute impulses… that ring on your nose was well-earned. Alas, if I could say the same of your son…”

“Don’t tempt me, Samsara,” Darkhoof said grimly. “I’m here to negotiate for Basil, not wrest him from you.”

The Reverend Mother smirked. “I’ve already guessed the bargain you’ll propose,” she said. “I just had to ponder first if it’s a good bargain. And to speak frankly, your swirling emotions were a treat… love rarely tastes so rich than when it’s stirred with a little... desperation.”

All Darkhoof could do was scowl. He yearned to say so much more, but time was slipping from him even now, and he was this close to what he’d come here for, after four nights spent outside in self-imposed vigil at the foot of Talos.

“Here we are,” announced Samsara, coming to the end of the hallway.

At this end was no ordinary doorway, but a mirror. A great, circular mirror that filled the whole closed surface, framed in bronze. All of it made from the chalkos mined in the ores behind the mirror, which had also gone into forging the bronze Talos.

Copper. The metal of love, mirrors, the nose-rings of bulls and the common coin.

Unbidden, the memory flickered in Darkhoof of some tale his father had told him, of a “coldforger”, an artisan and worker in metal, who worked away with hammer and die to produce false coin – a forgery, having been made outside the fires of smelting and forging. This, his father had said, was why the deceptive artisan’s work lacked soul of its own.

Talos was the cherished gift from Minotaurs to the Cyan Hive, yet it was the great bronze bull’s fate to only become animate in a time of war. He’d not earned or forged his nose-ring, but been built with it only to assure his savagery could be tempered. If the ancient automaton had a soul, then it was a piece put into him by another, stolen as the guises which the Changelings conjured in their cold fires.

Speaking of, Darkhoof saw Samsara nodding, as the mirror-doorway swung on its hinges.

“Your son awaits,” Samsara said, gesturing to the open doorway. “In the mine, where by all rights, he should have been kept for years. I didn’t tell him to expect you. It seemed a nice surprise…”

For what it was worth, he knew that, beneath her impassive tone, she meant it. After a fashion.

“Thank you, Reverend Mother,” Darkhoof said gruffly, entering.

Moving ahead of her, he found himself inside a domed chamber. He went to stand to the side.

There was a large if inauspicious slab of rock in the centre of the chamber, a smooth square, elevated by a mere few inches off the uneven cavern floor. This was a place for ceremony, but not great or celebratory. Akin more to a small space out of the way, in which to get an unwelcome obligation out of the way. Darkhoof knew there were great houses with rooms of a similar function for unwanted guests – a comparison he might have found amusing at another time.

Samsara now stood, unblinking, at the far end of the slab, her electric-blue aura holding a ceremonial set of items within it that Darkhoof preferred not to look at, even though duty required he soon must. He found no wrong in choosing to stare no longer than duty asked.

From where he stood, the Proxenos – and Proxenos was what he must be in this moment, not a father or a mere bull – possessed a view of the slab that stretched from the Reverend Mother, on her appointed side, to the cavern mouth at its opposite, from whence the day’s supplicant would make their entry.

He tried telling himself this was no walk of shame. Why, then, did it feel like one.

But as if the universe possessed a cruel sense of timing, it was while Darkhoof thought this that he saw the supplicant step into view. Around his waist he wore the belt of his rank, with hammer, chisel and gourd attached.

To Darkhoof’s quiet pride, his son managed to keep his back straight, his eyes forward. Yet it would be a stretch to say Basil kept his head held high. Knowing the young bull’s mannerisms, Darkhoof noticed the subtle signs, a mild slump of the shoulders, a slight teeter in the hooves as each stepped upon the slab, that this cost a great deal of his son’s willpower.

Peculiar to think. There’d be no physical pain in this. And yet even for a supplicant who’d failed to withstand such an ordeal, perhaps there was a greater fear yet to be found. Not in how the mark was inflicted, but that the mark should be seen at all. For such reasons his son, like others before him, may have preferred to stay in the Labyrinth, rather than face the outside.

Slowly, a heaviness to his walk, which had little to do with the mass of his great muscled body, Basil advanced towards Samsara, treading one step at a time upon the slab. At last there were no further steps to take. The young bull met the Changeling’s eyes, but now was when he should cast his gaze away, not show defiance.

His son had kept both arms at his side with only the gentlest sway as he walked. Yet here, he sank to his knees, bowing his head, and in tandem, held his wrists aloft, as if in offering to the Reverend Mother.

Darkhoof heard the heavy cufflinks clinking together before he saw them. Heavy circles chained to a twin set of metal bands. Melted, coated and cooled perfectly to restrain a bull’s large wrists. The bands themselves were smoother than the links that bound them, indicating a special care from whichever smith had forged them.

The restraints levitated above Basil’s arms, held in that same electric aura. They cast a perfect shadow, darkening the skin and the fur.

“You came to us, supplicant,” intoned Samsara, “hopeful, determined to prove yourself, to pass the rites by which a Minotaur faces a crossroads, between choosing the self-gratification of immediate pleasure and aversion from pain… or to cast them off, committing to abnegation, and thus a rank above mere cattle. You have failed. By these laws, the Labyrinth should keep you.”

Swiftly, the two bands opened like the maw of a lazy shark. There were no clasps and no locks, just a smooth line separating matter from matter. Darkhoof thought he saw his son’s shoulder twitch at the sound. Just a twitch, and no more.

The taste of licorice at the back of Darkhoof’s throat was not wholly bitter. Whatever his son’s failures, he remained still and steady during a moment of shame. A moment he had chosen to partake in.

“But it was granted that a Minotaur who passed their trials should intercede on your behalf… Pledging, upon their own head, that it is neither pity nor sentiment by which they speak for you, but sincere conviction you are still worthy. Therefore, we release your body from the Labyrinth… Yet still you carry this weight, Basil Darkhoof, until your soul too stands ready for release.”

The great maw sunk its smooth lips over Basil’s wrists. For a moment, Darkhoof dared think those arms would never return. Dared to entertain the image of a shark leaving nothing behind but stumps. A boy who could never place his arms around his father, to embrace him as family… A son that could not labour on his own, needing help to place a spoonful of soup to his lips.

The image waned. Basil’s arms hung lower with the added burden, muscles shaking slightly. From the exertion of keeping them extended, no doubt – though whether it was reasonable the trembling extended to his shoulders and back as well, Darkhoof did not dwell on.

Samsara brought forward a heavy tool of rusted iron, with fat pincers attached to it.

“With this in mind, supplicant, you are gifted a curse. You may leave the Labyrinth with your benefactor, but you will remain bound to this place.” The tool snapped on one of the metal circles, the chain hanging limp. “Your wrists, though they are no longer tethered, now bear the symbol of your failure.”

A final snap echoed off the chamber’s walls, followed by a dull thud of iron hitting a dusty floor. The ceremony was done.

* * * * *

Once Samsara nodded her head and looked away from Basil, he finally looked up again.

Staring at his arms, Basil flexed his fists. They did not close all the way. He flexed them again, with more force this time. His muscles jumped along with his movement, but still the fist refused to close. The band of metal prevented both skin and sinew from pulling completely.

A large hand touched his shoulder. “Try slowly, at first.”

Basil kept his gaze focused, not looking back to acknowledge the presence.

He tried one more time, the rough skin of his palms wrinkling slowly back while his musculature remained dormant. The metal dug into his skin, but as advised, it slid down just enough for his hands to clench. A barely visible movement.

“Get up,” said his father’s voice. “No need to stay down.”

How he would have liked to obey. But the force appeared to have flowed away from his legs as it had from his arms. For all his bull’s strength, Basil could not bring himself to stand, as if a greater weight pressed him down than his father’s powerful hand, so light on his shoulder.

“Greetings, Father,” Basil said, forcing himself to smile, most wanly. “Samsara gave me no warning of your coming. But I knew you’d want to see for yourself.”

“See what for myself?” asked the voice of Darkhoof, whose lip must be quivering. “Shouldn’t a father be allowed to reunite with the son he hasn’t seen for two years?”

Basil gave a soft sigh. Still kneeling, he reached for for the gourd on his belt. Yet, his grap made clumsy by the constraints of his cuffs, Basil found himself fumbling and the gourd slipped from his grasp, to tumble noisily onto the stone slab.

As if he needed further humiliation. Holding back the frustration in his chest, Basil picked up the gourd more carefully. This time he lifted himself from the slab, slipping from his father’s hand, but only to sit anew a pace away, moving into the lotus position.

“Can I offer you a drink, Father?” Basil whispered, daring a glance. “It’s no wine, but it’s sweet for parching thirst in this humid air. I’m sorry I’ve no better seat to give than cold rock.”

His father consided him in silence. “Cold rock will suffice,” Darkhoof said, “if I may sit by you.”

The two bulls, then, came to sit together on the ceremonial slab, Basil’s father adopting the same position as he. Quietly, Darkhoof took the gourd, and drank, before he passed it back to Basil, who drank a lot more deeply.

Darkhoof watched him wipe his lips. “Basil Menander. What fault has brought you here? The Priestesses make no mistakes… and yet, I struggle to believe some mistake wasn’t made.”

A single, vivid memory flashed through Basil’s head.

Memory of the hot coals searing his hooves. And the anger, burning almost as hot, to know he could not do it, could not outlast the ordeal…

“I… lost. I lost myself,” Basil sighed. “The heated stones… They hurt, Father. I’d come so far, to the threshold… And yet, at the crux…” His stare went to his father’s namesake hooves. “I could not honour our family’s name…”

Yet he said no more.

“Your anger wasn’t unjustified,” said his father at last. “It’s a bitter leaf to swallow.”

“I know what I’m meant to have learned,” Basil said sadly. “Pain is an illusion, pain is the mind-killer… We are fed these refrains in our cradles. But…”

“Experience is the best teacher,” Darkhoof cut across him. Unannounced, his father got up, stepping away from him. “Yet we must also learn from our failures. What good would it do to keep you stuck here for years more? Despite what the Reverend Mother says, one loss of resolve, one burst of anger are no proof of a brutish nature.”

“Father, you can’t give me special favours,” Basil protested. “The Reverend Mother must have told you, I did not go gently on this.”

“The Reverend Mother has agreed that special times warrant special favours,” Darkhoof said. “And it may be that fate has dealt you a lucky hand. A Call has been sounded, inviting me to the Hall of Unity.”

Despite the pain in his wrists, Basil felt his eyes light up in wonder. “A Call?”

“Yes,” Darkhoof said tersely. “As hasn’t sounded since… none know when. But it’ll bring together the Twelve Families from around the world. A chance for learning and understanding…” He paused. “And, perhaps, another chance to prove your worth as a civilzed being. The Cyan Hive’s scholars are always thirsty for knowledge...”

“Does… does Samsara know about this?”

Darkhoof wrapped an arm around him, the other hand pointing towards the exit. “She has already guessed. I promise that if I lead you out now, she won’t attempt to halt us. Yet this might be the only time.”

Still Basil was hesitant. “I’ve had my share of hoodwink, Father… If I stay here, at least I know what I’m in for. We don’t know what this Call heralds. But…” He took a deep breath. “Yes. These two years were long enough. I’d like to see you again, and Thymos… and... Mother as well.”

It wasn’t often he called Unathi ‘Mother’. Ordinarily, the zebra his father saw fit to call wife might have added her own taste of the rod for his fault. But Basil was closer to manhood now. For all it was a disappointment that he lacked a ring.

His father smiled faintly. “Then let’s go.”

Nonetheless, once they’d left and found themselves upon the terrace, Basil Darkhoof saw that his father was looking not at him, but at the sea and the ship they would soon depart on.

~ Canterlot, Equestria ~

Moondancer’s gaze carried over the whole of the observatory, all of it new to her. The massive hourglass in the centre of the middle-tier storey, the countless bookshelves, the neatly-aligned stacks of scrolls.

“It’s all so… tidy.”

“The wonders of friends,” Twilight beamed. “I wanted to show them where we used to live, Spike and I. We had a bit of cleanup operation last week. Did I really never have you over? In all those years since we started as fillies at Celestia’s School?”

“Not once,” Moondancer said, her attention on the closest bookshelf. “It’s beautiful.”

Lyra ambled up to them. “If it makes you feel better, Dancer,” she said. “Twilight never had me over, nor any of our old friends. It just wasn’t her thing, even if she did read up that book on slumber parties.”

“Well, so have I.”

“Really?” Lyra chuckled awkwardly. “You do study everything, huh?”

“When I can,” said Moondancer, momentarily glancing at the huge telescope at the observatory’s very top. “I’m missing a few things for astronomy.”

Twilight came up to them. “And I want to make up for lost time,” she said sincerely, once more holding her old key. “I brought you here to give you this, Moondancer. All of it. You can come here whenever you want and study to your heart’s content.”

“Really?” Moondancer said, with a little shade of awe.

“Really,” Twilight nodded. “But first, you’ve gotta do something for me.”

The shade of awe left Moondancer’s face. “What?”

“I’d like you to meet my friends,” said Twilight. “Come have dinner tonight. They… they were with me at the library, you know? That day we… ran across each other.”

Moondancer listened to her stonily.

“And…” Twilight continued, while Lyra looked on worriedly. “Well, I thought you’d like to meet them– I mean, they’d like to meet you! I… I haven’t really told them much about my life in Canterlot, and I thought…”

“Sorry,” said Moondancer, turning back to the bookshelf. “I can’t. I’m reorganising my philosophy scrolls.”

“Look, Moondancer,” Twilight said quietly, feeling a chill creep on her anew. “I left too much behind when I moved to Ponyville, I see that now–”

“You can say that again.” Moondancer pulled a book off the shelf. “I recognise this. A first edition of Principles of Magic... Didn’t I give this to you?”

“Uh…” Twilight looked at Lyra, who shrugged helplessly. “Maybe?”

Moondancer leafed through the pages, as if she herself weren’t certain.

“I… I did,” she said, finding the right page. She sounded hurt. “Look, I even wrote something! ‘To my friend, Twilight Sparkle, thanks for introducing me to the classics’. I can see by the fact you left it here that it meant a lot to you.”

“Dancer,” Lyra said, stepping in. “I gave Twilight lots of of books. I’m sure they’re all waiting around here somewhere.”

“Does that make it better?” Moondancer asked, closing the book. She saw the key, still floating in Twilight’s aura, and pushed it away. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t about books, or observatories. I…”

Whatever she’d been about to say, it died in her throat. She seemed like she wanted to tell them something, but the words wouldn’t come.

In the end, Moondancer pushed past them, heading downstairs.

“I tried friendship, and it’s just not for me,” she said, not looking back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Seeing her chance slip away, Twilight tapped her head furiously.

“What if I said,” she called down, “I can get you a meeting with Princess Luna?”

On the verge of exiting, Moondancer stopped at the door, and turned her head. Visibly, if her magnified eyes were any indicator, she was considering it.

“That’s nice, Twilight,” she replied at last. “But surely the Princess has better things to do.”

That was when Lyra took a gamble. “Moondancer, listen, you don’t want to miss this!” She inhaled deeply. “Humans are real.”

The startled look Twilight gave her was exceeded only by Moondancer’s.

* * * * *

A deep, primal grunt forced its way past Alex’s lips as he took another step forward.

“How are you holding up?” asked Shining. “How’re the burns?”

“Painful,” Alex groaned, his grip tightening around the handlebars. “The poultice helps, but… God, every time I try to walk, I can feel the pain snaking down my chest into my legs.”

The runes on his arms began to shine.

“Captain,” Nurse Cross warned him.

Alex’s face was beaded with sweat, yet quite pale. And, although once he saw where the other two were looking, he scrunched up his eyes and forced the runes’ glow to abate, it wasn’t just the blue that diminished, as he seemed to go paler still.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Then he stopped, body hunching over, and remained standing there, between the bars.

Cross approached. “You’re using those runes too much,” she said sternly. “If you keep relying on them as a crutch, you’ll never heal as you should. They draw energy from you as well as the ambient magic. You’re not letting your body heal, you’re brute-forcing against it.”

He barely heard her. Simply standing was an agony. Wherever the adrenaline came from that had allowed him to crawl through the Forest or stand up and try escaping the hospital, it had long dissipated.

“Fuck…” he whispered, raising an unsteady, shaking hand to brush his matted hair. He regretted it instantly as it forced his weight onto his other hand. “Ugh… Why… why wasn’t this spell designed with regeneration in mind?”

“We’re still not even sure what the spell is,” Shining reminded him. The Captain came up and leant over a handlebar, eyes full of concern. “So far, my sister’s drawn a blank, and she’s still waiting for word from her old Headmaster on that sketch.” He grew thoughtful. “Miss Amethyst Star… I don’t really know her, but Twilight’s told me she’s Ponyville’s jeweler.”

“A teenage prodigy, if that’s what she’s already doing now,” Alex commented. He stumbled. “Shit! N-nurse Cross? I… Sorry, I can’t do this. I need to sit.”

“Fair enough, Captain,” said Cross. “But that’s not the end for today. We need to keep your nerves exercised. You can practice with the stressball.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be making plenty use of that…”

While Cross helped Alex into the wheelchair, Shining opened the balcony door.

“Let’s step outside,” he said. “Fresh air will do you good. And we’ve got things to discuss.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Outside? Aren’t you worried about getting eavesdropped?”

“I understand your paranoia, Captain,” Shining said. His horn sparked. “But no-one in Equestria casts a protective bubble like me.”

“Okay.” Alex turned to Cross. “Thanks, Sutra. I’ll take it from here.”

She nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be grabbing a drink. You know how to call me.”

Following Shining on wheels to the balcony, Alex spoke as soon as Cross as out of earshot. “Poor Sutra… honestly, though, she’s holding it together better than I’d thought, after what Redheart… I mean, the Imperial Redheart, told her.”

“From what you’ve told me, there’ll be more like Nurse Cross,” Shining commented. “Many not as lucky.”

“I wish it weren’t true,” Alex said bleakly. “But I’ve seen it often.”

Shining grunted, the sun catching his helmet. “I never met Redheart when she was in the Guard. But the reports I’ve read say she was a fine, dedicated defender of the realm.”

Alex let himself cackle. “And probably still is. Just not to the realm you know.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” Shining said, pulling up a deck-chair to sit opposite Alex. “We’ve been putting it off too long, but the summit will start soon, and I need to know more about this other-Equestria. Damn, it feels weird to talk like that of your own country...”

“Heh,” said Alex. “Don’t worry. I’m from America. We love half of it and hate the other.” When Shining chose not to comment, he continued. “Maybe it’ll be easier on you if you think of it as ‘the Solar Empire’. Lyra told me this is, what, Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae? Equestria’s become a very different place in Year 19 of the Era Imperator.”

Shining goggled at him. “Nineteen?”

“Yep,” Alex said. “Eighteen... Made it retroactive, mind. So it starts the same year as your current calendar, on the year of Princess Luna’s return. Guess they wanted to erase the Era Harmoniae from the records.” He leaned forward. “They needed the time to get ready to attack Earth. Is that really so shocking?”

“Not really, but…” Shining chewed his lip. “You’re right, Nurse Cross’s not the only pony Redheart bamboozled before we caught her. You know she invited Icewind, one of my Guards, on a date?”

“Yeah, I’d heard…” Alex shrugged. “Not sure I blame her. Probably fancied a lad in uniform who wasn’t a broken mess.”

“Except if you’re telling the truth, she’d be… fifteen years older than our Redheart. And Icewind’s already younger than her.”

Alex leaned back. “Shit, hadn’t thought of that. Mind you, didn’t seem to bother that guy who was running for President, back when I first got stationed in Paris…”

“That’s what I don’t get,” Shining said. “This other-Redheart… how come she…?”

“Looks so young?”

Seeing Shining nod, Alex smiled sardonically.

“The Equestria I know’s a treasure-trove of wonders, Captain Armor,” he said. “And I, too, find it funny explaining this to a guy who, in my world, would happily drag his runaway wife back there, to show her what she’s missing. Because Lady Cadance and other runaways, they’ve all reported the same things… the crystal-tech, the parades, the rainbows painted on the streets, it’s all true.”

“And that includes eternal youth?” Shining, it was obvious, felt marvel despite himself.

“Eerie youth is more like it,” said Alex. “It’s as phoney and sickly-sweet as the rest of what they’re selling. Ponies who spend time on Earth, after a while, they look the age that they should… Quite a few look older.”

He didn’t have to explain what he meant by that.

“Redheart was a recent recruit, transferred from Equus,” Alex finished. “Independent operative, not affiliated with the Equestrian Resistance. We thought that made her trustworthier. They like putting spies on our ranks, just as we do them. She sure played us all for fools.”

“I’m afraid she did,” Shining agreed. “My troops have been searching the Everfree River for five days. So far, nothing. She might have been lying about tossing your locket in there.”

“She might,” Alex said. “Yet what if she wasn’t? That’s the problem. And you’re sure Amethyst can’t help?”

“Miss Star’s already tried,” Shining sighed. “But as she said, water has a dampening effect on her magic... as it were.”

Alex scowled. “Yeah. Redheart must’ve known that.” There was a short silence. “Pardon me, Captain. You’re giving me an odd look.”

“I was thinking how good it’d have been to retrieve the locket before the Concordia,” Shining explained. “And then I thought of what you said about spying on your allies.”

“Don’t judge,” Alex said curtly. “We’re thankful for what we’ve got. Hell, another Equus, this here’s more than I’d ever dreamed of! But people… they all have their ‘hook’. Celestia and Galatea already said we couldn’t mention my locket at the Concordia, anyway. Because of what Discord might do.”

“You may find, sir,” Shining said somberly, “that our own web of strange bedfellows and fair-weather friends is hardly easier to navigate than yours.”

~ Macintosh Hills, South of the Great Continent ~

Even in Equestria, land of harmony and goodwill to all creatures, there was never a lack of natural predators, ready to fall upon the unwary at a moment’s notice. For the Equestrians, this might have been a source of things that go ‘bump’ in the night. To others, however, it was merely the way of things.

Some were quite pleased with it.

The Timberwolf trod the uneven, scrub-ridden terrain, leading the way for her two cubs, so they might not hit upon those rocks which studded the unwelcoming hills. With few trees to hold back the sweep of wind, it was the log-like limbs of the wolves themselves which rattled with a ghostly shiver that carried for miles – a wolf’s howl despite the wolf.

But the wind was no thing of fear to the mother. Every few steps, she would stop, and sniff. For wind, to those who knew it, could be a friend which gave warning of danger.

Unfortunately for her, there were also those who’d learned to hoodwink this friend.

From his hiding spot in the leaf-less tree several paces uphill, Garble observed the wolf family, confident the wind couldn’t carry his scent from here.

He smiled, stroking the rope slung over his shoulder. Ember’s gaze might have darkened when he’d told her he’d volunteered for what she decried as a ‘wasteful distraction’, but in the end, the Princess had to acknowledge that without any more raids planned, a young dragon needed to get his sport elsewhere.

Just a few steps closer… Yes, good… With that last step, as she walked directly into his line-of-sight, the mother Timberwolf had come into his reach.

Shrieking a war cry, Garble leapt. Grey, dry branches on either side of him shattered into a million pieces as his mass bowled through them.

Alerted, the mother Timberwolf’s eyes snapped his way, so fast that her wooden neck might have cracked as well, but it was too late. He landed hard on her, impacting her hind, sending her sprawling downhill under his weight, to the frightened yelps of her pups.

Garble ignored them, wasting no time with the rope. The trick with Timberwolves, the roach called Pharynx had explained, was that where another trapped animal might gnaw off their own leg, they could just snap apart and pull themselves together with no further harm. He wouldn’t give her the chance.

He bound her jaws first, knotting them tight, cutting off her angry, fearful whine and paying no heed to her claws – which scraped helplessly off his hide, failing to even scratch him. They were next, anyway, as he expertly locked his knees together, pinning her forelimbs between his powerful thighs. Her claws thus stilled, he knotted them with ease.

Secretly, Garble smirked to recall this was close to how the Princess herself had got tied up by Pharynx. For a roach, the Ebony soldier was good, that was true.

Speak of the draconequus, who else but Pharynx should drop in next to him, carrying a burlap sack outlined by the bulge of two small, struggling canines, a soft whimper coming from inside.

“Got her?” the Ebony soldier grinned, holding up the sack. “The kids are in.”

“Kids, pah!” Garble sneered, tightening the last knot, around the mother’s hindlegs. Trussed up and immobile, she stared at them, her glowing green eyes blazing with hatred. “I’ve got the motherload, roach. Heh, ‘motherload’… heh-eh-heh-hah!” He chortled at his own joke. “Whaddya think your Queen’ll like best?”

The soldier’s grin faded. “How many times… Never call me ‘roach’.”

“Oh, yeah?” Garble prodded Pharynx in the chitin, eliciting a hiss. “Then you gimme reason to think I can’t squish you like a bug. You still owe me that rematch.”

Wings buzzing angrily, the soldier began to lift himself and his sack back off the ground.

“I’m surprised you’re not too scared for a rematch, rock-brain,” Pharynx shot back. “In case you’d forgotten, I was that close to biting your head off.”

“Lucky you didn’t… for you!” Garble sniggered, pulling the Timberwolf mother into his arms for carrying. “You’d done that, you’da broke all your teeth, bug-boy. ‘Rock-brain’? Rock-hard, more like!”

Pharynx bared his fangs. “Don’t speak too soon,” he said, a forked tongue licking his teeth. Still buzzing, he fluttered closer to Garble. “Or else you’ll find that perhaps…”

Without warning, he delivered a swift kick. But not to Garble, who was startled to find Pharynx had aimed for the Timberwolf in his arms.

“... Unlike you, little guard-dog, her bite’s worse than her bark.”

Blanching, Garble saw what the roach had done. Pharynx’s kick had split the Timberwolf mother’s jaw. Resulting in many splintered, sharp pieces of log slipping out from between the knot he’d tied so smartly. And now they snapped – at him. He yowled as one self-animate piece shot up and bit him in the eye. Blinded, he dropped the Timberwolf with a ‘thunk’, clawing panickedly at the rebellious Timberwolf-pieces nicking and nipping his face, while Pharynx headed off in the distance, laughing.

* * * * *

But before too long, Princess Ember had seen her bodyguard return to camp, if lagging too far behind Queen Chrysalis’ captain for dragon pride, with only a swollen eye to show his wolf-hunt hadn’t gone perfectly. While Chrysalis had spent the wait cooing and making kissy-faces at the frightened cubs, it was after Garble returned with the mother that she truly beamed at the day’s catch.

The wolf family were promptly reunited, as Chrysalis’ drones sent the mother to join her cubs inside a great dog-crate, the metal door closing on the three with a soft ‘click’.

Seated on her rock, Ember focused on her guitar strings, trying to shut out the creatures’ pitiful whines. It also gave her an excuse to ignore Garble as he trudged up and sat by her in the gravel, rubbing his eye. She didn’t want to hear his whining either.

“Well,” Chrysalis smiled, patting the crate. “Luckily, we were more afraid than hurt.”

She’d spoken to no-one in particular, but Papillate never strayed far from her side, anymore than Ember let the Bloodstone Sceptre’s bag out of her sight. By now, Ember had learnt to map out the Harlequin Queen-in-Waiting’s response pattern. As always, it began with the little Changeling giving a nervous, uncertain flutter. Then she’d look up at the larger Chrysalis, almost puppy-eyed, as it were, in her eagerness to please.

“I… we were, Ebony Queen?” said Papillate. “Afraid?”

There were many things Ember hated about having to spend the rest of the trip together with Queen Chrysalis. Getting her thunder stolen, for starters – any grand entrance she’d imagined making at the Hall of Unity was now a bust.

But that was only pride talking. Whereas this went deeper. Everything about Chrysalis’ ‘master-student’ relationship with Papillate gave her a creeping sense of wrongness.

Scratch that, everything about Chrysalis felt ‘off’ somehow to Ember. If it’d simply been that Chrysalis loved catching wolves, or bossing Papillate around, Ember wouldn’t have minded. The strong lorded it over the weak. It was how the world worked.

Yet Chrysalis, damn her, why couldn’t she just punch people? Whenever Chrysalis opened her mouth, Ember got the weirdest sense she was saying it wasn’t your fault you were weak, you poor thing. Let her be strong for you.

And that was so wrong...

“Of course, my sweet,” Chrysalis crooned. “Why, did you want to see these precious puppies here in pieces, after Pharynx said he’d got a little rough with their mother? A shameful thing. One rule in this life, Papillate, is if you hurt the mother, you hurt the child.”

Further along, Pharynx, who’d been circling the camp, seemed unperturbed by her words. But opposite him, Mandible momentarily paused her own patrol to glance at Chrysalis, then took off again, shaking her head.

Garble, after eyeing her, returned to glaring at Pharynx.

Ember knew why. While her bodyguard considered himself the clear winner of his fight with the lumbering Red Warrior, Chrysalis had interrupted him fighting the Ebony soldier before their match had ended. And although both males showed some mutual respect as fighters – even if Garble was sadly undisciplined compared to the soldier – it was merely a matter of time before they settled the score.

“Ah-hem, Chrysalis,” Ember said loudly, her fake cough grabbing the Queen’s attention. “What do you plan on doing with these wolves when we get there?”

Hoof on the crate, Chrysalis looked surprised to be asked that.

“These wolves? I’m gonna keep them, what else, Princess?” she said. Gesturing at a few more empty crates standing by, she added, “After all, what’s the point of going on a royal trip if you can’t come back loaded? Not like I can expect Tia, or any of the other toppers to shower me with gifts.”

“Hardly surprising,” Ember snorted. “You did invade Canterlot. Was that also to say ‘hello’?”

Chrysalis started. “Say ‘hello’ to ponies that way?” she exclaimed. “Surely you jest! Their little hearts couldn’t stand it if you knocked them over with a flower!”

To Ember’s chagrin, this distracted Garble from Pharynx long enough to make him laugh.

“Hah! Too right,” he said, chortling. “What a bunch of pansies! They think they’re so smart cos’ their Princesses make the lights go on and off!” Then, ironically, his gaze darkened. “But... you know what? The only thing those than a pony, is a pony-loving dragon…”

This wasn’t something Ember had heard him speak of before. “Huh?” she said, surprised. “What’re you on about? What kind of dragon loves ponies?”

“Puny little dragons that live in Ponyville, is what,” Garble said darkly, chin on his hand. “Betcha we’ll be seeing ‘um in… in… wherever it is we’re going…”

“The Hall of Unity, nitwit!”

“Right, that.” Garble sighed, while Chrysalis and Papillate stared at them curiously. “Figures,” he grumbled. “Just figures!”

Ember suspected using those words made him feel smart, because Garble kept saying them when in doubt. Then again, part of why the Chaoskämpfer had chosen Garble to accompany her was probably because he could read, though she doubted he knew how to write.

“What figures?” Chrysalis asked.

“They say the Gauntlet of Fire’s gonna be in just a few years, maybe less,” Garble said, pinching his brow. “I swore that next time I met ponies, I’d be Dragon Lord, and they’d pay for crossing me! But now here I am, stuck with the Lord’s whelp, on her way to make nice with ponies.”

“Ah, trust me, kid,” Chrysalis said genially. “The irony’s not lost on me.”

None of this pleased Ember at all. Surreptitiously, she nudged the bag before her with a toe. To her relief, the Sceptre was right where she’d left it.

“You’re both nuts...”

Papillate blinked. “Who, me?”

“I meant them,” Ember hissed, pointing at Chrysalis and Garble in turn. “You’re each forgetting one thing. Need I remind you Equestria’s ruled by a Princess who raises the Sun? Hello?”

“Psh,” Garble waved her off. “The Sun’s a big ball of fire, right? So what, like that’s gonna hurt a dragon.”

“And if the Sun stops going up, what’re you gonna do then? Ever think of that?”

“What do we dragons care?” Garble chuckled. “We’ve got fire, we don’t need no other light!”

But Chrysalis raised her hoof. “No, no,” she said. “The dragonet talks sense. While I know Princess Celestia’s too… too restrained to make full use of her Sun powers… the repressed old bag,” she added under her breath, “it’d still spell disaster if she weren’t there to raise the Sun anymore.”

“Oh, so you’ve worked it out,” Ember said dryly.

“Indeed I have,” Chrysalis said easily. “There are ways, Princess Ember, to channel the power of an alicorn. Not many people know this, but it all goes back to how Equestria’s ponies, particulary alicorns such as Celestia and Luna, were originally a means to an end… Living tools to keep the world’s gears running.”

Her words were so portentous, Ember felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Let me guess…” she said slowly. She was trying to play it cool, especially in front of Garble. But as with so many things about Chrysalis, she felt more shaken than she wanted to admit, even to herself. “Your next cunning scheme will involve taking over Celestia with a Pearl Hive brain-parasite.”

Chrysalis grunted in annoyance, earning an anxious look from Papillate.

“Learn your history, Princess,” the Queen said. “It’s been tried before. The enhanced immunity in Celestia’s oh-so-perfect body rejected the fool Changeling within seconds… And the divine ichor that runs through her veins burned it to a black tarry lump.”

‘Celestia has veins?’ Ember thought. ‘Huh. I mean, I guess it makes sense, but I never would’ve thought.’

“No, if you want to harness an alicorn,” Chrysalis said, “you can’t do it physically. It’s got to be magic.”

Again, Ember felt her feet wander to the bag holding the Sceptre. “What magic?”

“Ah-ah-ah, that’d be telling,” Chrysalis said, wagging her forehoof. “But I’ll give you a clue. Well, for one type of magic that’d do it. There are others. If my spies tell me true... And they know they’d better, or else… There’s a certain... friend... of your Kirin teachers who’s been working on just such things. Ring any bells? Alright, here’s an extra clue. He’s got a... tempestuous disposition.”

“Huh?” said Garble, staring at her blankly.

“Don’t worry your head about it, dearie,” Chrysalis said. “No-one expects you to.”

Yet it certainly got Ember’s head thrumming. ‘The Storm King…’ she thought. ‘No… he’s no friend of Toshiro and Kuno’s. Although… that’s probably Chrysalis being sarcastic. Could he… no, it makes no sense! To hear Toshiro talk, the guy’s a loud-mouthed buffoon! How could he be a threat to Princess Celestia?’

“I wonder if that’s what Celestia’s called this summit about,” Chrysalis mused, sitting down by the dog-crate. “Although I’d be surprised. I know her spy network isn’t half as wide as mine. For someone in charge of making a big floaty thing go round the world, she’s not that well-informed.”

“You’re awfully trusting,” Ember said suddenly.

And at last, this caught Chrysalis off-guard. “What? Me, trusting?”

“Yes, you are,” said Ember. “What says this… summit isn’t just a big trap, a trick to lure you in as payback for Canterlot? Suppose it is, and the rest of us who got called are just wasting our times?”

Papillate was staring at her open-mouthed. Even Garble was looking thoughtful, no doubt riled to imagine the Sun Princess wasting his time.

But Chrysalis shook her head. “She wouldn’t do that. Not Celestia. Too under-hoofed. Nope, this is real, I promise you.”

“What, did your spies tell you that too?”

“Actually, I read it in the paper.”

Going with her words, Chrysalis’ horn lit up, and before Ember knew it, a roll of newspaper had dropped into her lap.

She unrolled it, examining the title. It was a copy of the Dodge City Gazette, headlined by the words Convocation of the Creatures.

“Took a little detour North, before heading back,” Chrysalis explained. “Mount Metazoa’s closest to the Badlands, but I figured Tia would be happier if I wasn’t first to show up.”

Ember leafed through the paper. Despite the eye-catching heading, the article itself was surprisingly sparse.

A grand summit of all the creatures of Equus, perhaps the largest gathering of the many peoples of our planet. The most prestigious companies will provide services for this event, with the best chefs of Restaurant Row providing catering. We’ve sent reporters to cover the event, and they report a truly massive undertaking.

Princess Celestia had only this to say, when asked for comment;

“This summit is meant to re-direct the future of Equus and forge agreements that will change the future of our world.”

There is so much to parse within this statement…

There was not. Celestia had said very little in very many words. Ember’s eyes glazed over as she tried and failed to read the rest of the article.

“They make it sound like… like some fancy tea party,” Ember muttered, muzzle scrunching up in distaste as she remembered the tedium of Kyorito’s tea parties. “No mention at all of why it’s been convened, just some faff about talks and trade deals!”

“Because they don’t know, and the paper is trying to fill space by finding ways to say that,” Chrysalis nodded, accepting the paper back from her. “But that’s what proves its authenticity. A summit of this sale could never be hushed up, even in a remote location like Metazoa. So what they’ve done is make it sound boring. Clever... Not like it’d interest the average guy on the streets needs, mind.”

“I still find it hard to believe,” Ember persisted, tapping her guitar. “After Canterlot.”

“It don’t matter,” said Garble. Apparently, he’d had his little think. “Just means more of Canterlot left for us dragons to plunder when I’m Dragon Lord, don’t it?” He stood up, stepping towards the bags. “Besides, Princess. Know who we can believe? After all, they’s the one who sent us. The Chaos-OW!”

He never got to finish, as Ember whacked him with the guitar.

‘Idiot!’ she thought furiously. ‘Idiot! The last thing we need is for Chrysalis to find out we’re carrying a canister of the Chaoskämpfer’s flame!’

“What was he going to say?” Chrysalis asked suspiciously.

Ember glared at Garble. While he glared back, he now seemed to get her drift, but the damage was done.

‘It’s a wonder my guitar didn’t break on his thick skull!’

“He… what he meant to say…” Ember said falteringly. “We were sent by my father. The Dragon Lord.”

Chrysalis narrowed her eyes.

“Well, there’s a big surprise,” she hissed. “And a big fat fib, if ever I heard one! Do you take me for a fool? I distinctly heard the word ‘chaos’ in there. What are you hiding from me, Ember?”

To her shame, Ember was unable to look the Queen in the eyes. Her gaze darted anywhere but the piercing gaze of Chrysalis. Mandible and Pharynx on patrol, the Timberwolves locked in their crate, the empty crates, the blinking Papillate – anywhere.

In the end, she sighed, shoulders sagging.

“Alright…” Ember said, resignation in her tone. “It’s not just the Dragon Lord.” She looked at Chrysalis and hoped her eyes betrayed nothing, only reluctant compliance. “The Chaos Lord had his say as well. Isn’t that right, Garble?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“What, old Discord?” Chrysalis said. “What’s he to do with anything?”

“Well, you see…” All while she spoke, Ember was furtively rummaging her mind for what Kuno had mentioned of Princess Celestia’s messages to the Mikado. “You know that Celestia recently had him freed.”

“Yes, I knew that,” Chrysalis said testily. “If nothing else, it’d be hard for me to miss the Canterlot Palace Gardens being down one memorably ugly statue.”

“Right. Well, I suppose you also knew he’s part-dragon?”

This wasn’t something Ember was entirely sure of herself, but she thought Kuno might have explained it once.

“So,” she continued. “When my father sent an early Call of his own, it drew Discord’s notice.”

“Really,” said Chrysalis. “And you expect me to believe a draconequus would be subordinate to the Dragon Lord?”

“Far from it,” Ember replied, feeling her lie take shape. “His voice carried as much weight.” One thing the Mikado’s Court had taught her was that old adage, the best deceptions contain a little truth in them. “Cos’ let me tell you,” she finished, indicating Garble, “it wasn’t Dad who chose him as my bodyguard.”

Chrysalis glanced at Garble. “You don’t say?”

“Of course it was,” said Ember. “Who else’d pick a drake who fantasises about raiding Canterlot for a diplomatic mission to the ponies?”

“Hah!”

To Ember’s relief, Chrysalis’ mirth was proof the Queen had bought it.

“Ooh, yes, ohh, yes, indeed,” Chrysalis said once her sniggers had abated. “Sounds like Discord’s work, alright. Guy’s got a marvelous sense of humour, I’ll give him that. Not the nicest teacher, but he has a way of getting lessons through in the end. Well, thank you, Princess Ember. This has been most educational.”

Ember tried not to let her elation show too much.

Then again, that wasn’t too difficult, as she felt it die down as Chrysalis turned her attention back to Garble.

“But I hope, young drake,” Chrysalis said silkily, “that you’ll put your plans of raiding Canterlot on hold. That’s taken. On hiatus, maybe, but still taken. After going to all this trouble, I’d rather not have to deal with... others barging in on my spoils.”

Although the Queen’s tone was light, Ember noticed Papillate must have detected something else in it, for she shrank back from Chrysalis.

Garble shrugged, unconcerned. “Enough for all of us. Ponies sure won’t be needing it.”

It didn’t surprise Ember that he hadn’t dropped this, but she just shook her head. The ponies honestly had less to worry about her slow-witted bodyguard than whatever schemes Chrysalis might hatch.

Evidently, Chrysalis had been reading Ember’s thoughts, given the next words to come out her mouth.

“Oh, sure.” Chrysalis rolled her eyes indulgently. “It took me all the super-concentrated love I harvested off Shining Armor to beat Celestia, and even I’m surprised that worked. So I’m lost as to how you were planning on doing it, unless your bite’s nasty enough to break her immune system.”

“I could try,” Garble said, baring his teeth in a feral smile. “Maybe we’ll know soon. Don’t think I bit… what’s-her-name, your Red roach, but I can’t tell for sure.”

The cold blood in Ember’s veins ran even colder when she heard this, and it was all she could do not to whack him again. Except, to her amazement, all Chrysalis did was raise an eyebrow. Almost as if she’d been expecting his reply.

“What’s this?” Chrysalis said.

Her voice had remained playful. But only her voice. Not her eyes. Ember knew this because the Queen was now looking straight at her.

“Tell me, Princess Ember,” Chrysalis said, speaking slowly. “Reassure me. Your guard-dog must be joking. A smart, well-educated dragon like you can’t possibly have left the country without giving him his shot.”

Briefly, Garble had blinked at what Chrysalis had called him, but he was staring at her too. Try as she might, Ember knew her discomfort must be showing, because a small smile was curving on his lips, and he’d sniggered at the words ‘smart’ and ‘well-educated’.

“No?” Ember said flatly. “No, I did not,” she added, with more conviction. She raised her arm to show the little, faded pin-prick. “I took my shot three years ago, when Dad sent me to the Kirin, and… haven’t thought of it since. Wasn’t expecting to go with a bodyguard...”

“Ah,” Chrysalis nodded. “Well, lucky I reminded you! Better catch up, pronto.” She reached for the bag at Ember’s feet. “Let’s see what you’ve got–”

Ember pressed her foot firmly on the bag. “That’s private property,” she said coldly. “And if there’s one thing Garble and I agree on, it’s we don’t like anyone messing with our stuff. Besides, you’re wasting your time. We packed no medicine.”

Chrysalis drew her hoof back, harrumphing. “Oh, like ‘private property’ means much to you when it’s other people’s, dragonet!” she snorted. “But, I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t… Still, that leaves me with one, eensy-teensy problem.”

Before she’d asked, Ember sensed it. “And what’s that?”

“Him.”

Chrysalis was pointing at Garble.

“He needs quarantining,” the Queen said. “And as leader of the Nine Hives, although I’d prefer you agreed, I needn’t ask your permission.”

Ember stood up sharply.

“What? Chrysalis, he’s one of my father’s subjects–”

“And a possible health hazard to mine!” Chrysalis said harshly, wrapping a wing around Papillate, who hugged her tight. “This is no laughing matter!”

Such force in those words, Ember hesitated. She took a breath.

“Then just how do you propose ‘quarantining’ him, huh?” she said, jabbing her finger at Chrysalis. “I won’t have you coccoon any dragons on my watch. Got anything else?”

Ember barely noticed Garble’s flabbergasted look at hearing her even consider it.

“I thought you’d say that. Fortunately, I didn’t come unprepared.” Using her spare wing, Chrysalis gestured behind her at the captive Timberwolves. “My group, my rules, Princess Ember. Either your guard-dog gets a prick of the needle, or he can spend the rest of his trip to the Concordia in a dog-crate.”

At this, Garble leapt up.

“I ain’t going in no–”

“You are.” Chrysalis said sternly. Then she raised her newspaper and whacked him with it. Once, twice, forcing him down. “I won’t risk top-notch Hive warriors catching a disease because of you. Hush now.”

Before Garble could react, Chrysalis’ horn and eyes were glowing a poisonous green.

Ember knew what this was. In the corner of her mind, she hoped it’d fail. If dragons were immune to one thing, it was most forms of mind-control…

But not, it turned out, to the Changeling Queen of Queens’.

The green of Chrysalis’ eyes became mirrored in Garble’s own. And Garble, who just then had looked ready to pounce again, instantly drooped, his arms and tail gone limp.

“Better,” said Chrysalis. She nodded towards an open crate. “Now. In you go.”

Obediently, Garble trudged forward awkwardly, nearly stumbling as his body acted independently of what little mind usually directed it – which couldn’t have helped when his head knocked against the door-frame.

Normally, Ember would have felt more concerned for the frame, but this was when she saw what it was made of. Its black colour, which she’d previously assumed to be a design choice, was in fact obsidian. The rock no dragon could chew through.

Too tall to enter upright, the hapless Garble had to crawl to get inside.

Satisfied, Chrysalis turned and kicked the door shut.

The sharp ‘click’ apparently awoke Garble from his hypnosis, because next thing they knew, he was shaking his head bewilderedly, then he’d snapped around, to find himself looking at them from behind wire-mesh.

“What the–”

He snarled and, with all the momentum his cramped quarters could allow, threw himself at the door, but it knocked him back, not budging an inch.

“You see, Papillate,” Chrysalis told her trembling ward. “That’s how you deal with ‘em. They may growl all they like, once you look them hard in the eyes and show who’s boss, they retreat with their tails between their legs.”

Sighing, Ember approached the two Changelings. “How long d’you plan to keep him?”

“As long as it takes,” Chrysalis said, releasing Papillate. “But it’s been ages since Changelings where at the Hall of Unity… No guarantee the stuff we need will be there. So, I might send a drone back to the Hives to pick some up… if I feel like it.”

Ember glanced at the scrabbling Garble and felt a pang. “Did you have to do this?”

“Your Highness, I’m from a species of leeches who live in places full of dirt and grit,” Chrysalis told her. “We take vaccination very seriously.”

Not waiting for a reply, Chrysalis took off, Papillate soon following after her.

Left alone with Garble and the Timberwolves in their crates, Ember thought that she read a look of some satisfaction on the Timberwolf mother’s face. And well she might, for Garble’s furious scraping was failing to make a dent.

Finally, he stopped, panting and left to clutch the wire as he stared up at Ember pleadingly.

“Hey, c’mon,” he whined. “Let me out of here!”

Ember knelt, bringing her face closer to his.

“Hate to admit it, but Chrysalis’s got a point.” She smiled wickedly. “You’re better off in there for a while. Maybe that’ll teach you about bone-headed plans for invading Equestria… or becoming Dragon Lord.”

She turned from him, ignoring his cursing, and went to pick her bags and guitar, to sit on a rock further away.

There, Ember pondered what Chrysalis had said.

‘The Storm King… Could he really have developed a means to defeat alicorns?

But her thoughts were interrupted by a scuffling sound from uphill. She looked.

It was a Changeling drone, whom she quickly recognised. The same one who’d tried impersonating Garble at the campfire, and whose neck she’d almost wrung, before choosing to spare him. The one Pharynx called his brother.

She’d never caught the drone’s name. Pharynx seemed more in the habit of calling his brother ‘dolt’ or ‘grub’ than anything else, which was not surprising. If the Ebony soldier hadn’t said so, she’d never have suspected he was related to the timid drone.

Had he been watching the whole time?

“What do you want?”

He took an anxious step back. “N-nothing.”

And he scuttled away.

~ The Mansion of the Proxenos of Delos, Republic of the Tauren Isles ~

Though he had known Unathi as “Mother” almost as long as he could remember, thinking of her as “Mother” had seldom come readily to Basil. Always, even without him being the older brother who perhaps hadn’t needed her as much as Thymos, there was that awareness she could not be the one who’d birthed him. Thus it went, when one’s father chose outside of one’s species to take a common-law wife.

And in her strict disciplinarian fashion, the zebra had let him feel the consequences of his misdeeds in ways Thymos – hapless, helpless, near-witless Thymos – never had.

On old instinct, for all he’d entered the Labyrinth a child and left it a changed bull, if not quite the man he should have been, Basil had feared her retribution for his shame.

Nothing could have surprised him like the force with which she embraced him, and kept him in her embrace. Eventually, he’d found himself returning the embrace, challenging as it was, all the more when his hands did not quite obey him yet. Well, that and the simple fact he’d grown so much taller than her.

He wondered how his father did it.

“Go with Philip, my boy,” Unathi said softly, when she finally released him. “You know he’ll do anything his honour allows to help restore yours. And… come back. Your brother needs you.”

Nodding wordlessly, he left her there. Much as he tried to hide it, the thought of what unknowns heralded from the Call caused his stomach to twist up, perhaps worse than when he’d entered the Labyrinth to remain two years inside. At least he’d had an idea of what awaited him then. Or so he’d thought. Without him meaning to, his eyes turned to the cuffs set tightly upon his wrists. He pulled his gaze away just as fast, but the image remained, and so did the weight.

With these thoughts in mind, he slipped into his brother’s room.

Thymos was on the floor, playing with his building blocks. Basil wasn’t surprised to get no proper greeting. It was simply Thymos’ way. He may have appeared not to have registered his older brother’s presence, let alone his long-delayed return, but he knew. The building blocks were his favourite toy when he felt sad.

Smiling crookedly, Basil knelt down by Thymos, careful to give him his space.

There was another toy, a letter-cube, lying carelessly strewn in the corner. Basil decided this meant it was alright for him to pick it up. He did, gently tossing it over in his hand, glad to feel his nerves responding, while his eyes looked over the letters written on opposite sides.

“Alpha…” he read. “And Omega. Beginning, and end.”

Basil chuckled, then glanced at the door, making sure no-one was listening. He leant conspiratorially towards Thymos, whose ears had perked up at his strange words.

“Don’t worry, little brother,” the young bull said, ruffling Thymos’ hair, making sure not to bump the little guy’s head against the heavy cuffs. “I’m sure this isn’t the last you’ll have seen of me. And… remember, don’t tell Mother this, but when I get back, I can do that thing with the candle. You like the thing with the candle, eh? Gets you to laugh every time.”

Thymos purred contentedly.

~ Canterlot, Equestria ~

Dinner with Moondancer had been no easier on Twilight.

Pinkie, much to her credit, had remembered not to barrage Moondancer with party talk. Knowing how tough this must have been made Twilight feel a rush of affection for Pinkie. But Twilight also knew Pinkie would be left unsatiated after the low-key birthday celebration Galatea had requested be thrown in her honour – nopony but Celestia and Luna and Cadance, a toast amongst alicorns.

Moondancer was lacking an important party in her life, and Pinkie was itching to give it, but to say so aloud, especially in public at a restaurant, would have alienated Moondancer.

By the time the main course was served, Twilight had noticed Moondancer, after exchanging the bare minimum with Lyra and Spike – though she had briefly admired Peewee – wasn’t interacting with any of her Ponyville friends. She’d asked the five about the human, but formally, and had few questions about they themselves.

Of course, they’d tried asking her about herself, Pinkie most of all.

“So you just… study?” asked Pinkie, once Moondancer, at her bidding, had outlined a long list of studies she was taking without specifying what for.

“How old did you say the human was?” said Moondancer.

Since the question didn’t seem addressed at anyone in particular, Lyra took it upon herself. “Uh... Alex didn’t tell me,” she admitted. “But I’d say his mid-thirties, give or take. A lot’s happened to him in that time.”

“Hum. Alright. So, not an ancient being, then.”

Applejack gave Rarity a look of uncertainty. “Well, ya know… they can’t all be, right? Ah mean… um… did ya know Flutters here’s friends with an ancient being?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s true,” mumbled Fluttershy. “Discord and me, we write to each other, or have tea together, mostly.”

Now Twilight would have expected Dash or Pinkie to make a good-natured quip about how Fluttershy and Discord were more than friends. Even a year ago, Fluttershy might have hid under the table with embarassment, but if nothing else, knowing Discord had worked marvels for her confidence.

Yet there was nothing but awkward silence, and it was clear why. Moondancer might as well have not heard about Discord, seeing how the mention of his name washed over her like everything else that evening.

“So he stopped causing Chaos by giving friendship a chance?” Moondancer stated blandly.

“I… guess?”

“... Can I go now?”

The abruptness caught Twilight by surprise. “Moondancer, please.”

“It’s alright, Twilight...” Rarity said. “We’re having a good time. Right, everypony?”

All the others at the table, including Lyra and Spike, made unsure sounds. Only Dash looked to have something different in mind, yet she merely kept quiet.

Moondancer gave a dissatisfied little groan and pushed her chair away, leaving the table.

Twilight glanced at her friends, wordlessly begging them to let her do this alone, before rushing after the unicorn who’d once been her friend.

She caught up with Moondancer just outside the restaurant.

“Moondancer!” she pleaded. “Don’t! I can’t let you do this to yourself.”

Her erstwhile friend stopped and stared at her. “Look, Twilight. Thanks for telling me about the human… well, Lyra’s the one who told it… Thanks for letting me meet your friends. But I think we’ve got nothing in common.”

“How can you say that?” Twilight said, her voice growing feeble. “You didn’t even talk to them...”

“The Princess gave you an assignment. I get it,” Moondancer said indifferently. “They must be great friends if there’s nothing in Equestria an animal caretaker, an athlete, a baker, a farmer and a dressmaker can’t handle. But it’s not for me.”

This was all she said before she walked off into the night.

Twilight was still gazing after her when Rarity trotted up, Spike at her side and Peewee fluttering above him.

“I’ve never seen a pony that unhappy,” Rarity said softly. “That’s what she is… Unhappy. Was she always like this?”

“I don’t know...” whispered Twilight. “I don’t think so, but... Maybe she had something inside her that was waiting to break. And when I didn’t show up at her party… it did.”

Rarity put a forehoof around her withers. “Stuff and nonsense, darling,” she chided gently. “She’ll come around. If you really were friends, she will. And she won’t stay back for long, not when there’s humans. She really wants to know more about them, anyone can see that.”

“Yeah,” said Spike, hugging her leg. “Chin up, Twi’. Making it up to Moondancer’s not going to be the hard part…”

“I’m not so sure, Spike,” said Twilight. “Seeing how my actions affected her is one of the worst feelings I’ve ever had.”

“Perhaps Moondancer’s the one who needs to hear that,” Rarity said solemnly. “That and… maybe you ought to get your old friends together. Not just Lyra. I saw it in her eyes right before she left… She know’s it’s wrong, but it hurts her to see you’ve made new friends.”

Twilight swallowed. “I should’ve thought of that…” she admited. “But thanks for saying it out loud, Rarity.”

“I’ve got to learn from Applejack sometime,” Rarity smiled. “Let’s go back inside.”

At the table, no-one seemed to have much appetite, let alone for dessert, not even Spike. Only Peewee continued picking happily at the leftovers.

“If you ask me, Twilight,” muttered Dash, dipping her fork into her plate, “your old friend’s gloomier than a grey cloud on a stormy day… But… if you want to make things right with her, I’ve got your back. We all do.”

All the others rumbled their agreement.

“You didn’t tell her about your expedition, huh, Lyra?” Spike remarked.

“No, well…” sighed Lyra. “It’d have been too much to pile on her. Just like the stuff about the Solar Empire. Besides, for that expedition, first I’m gonna have to call some professionals.”

“And, who knows?” Pinkie smiled faintly. “They might still give us a proper party after all.”

* * * * *

In the Canterlot Palace, a bottle lay within a unicorn’s sights.

It was empty, a vintage label – Chateau Equitales Unicornia – plastered on its side. Though the wine was long gone, the bottle alone, with its beautiful makesmanship and crystal glass, was worth something.

In his mind’s eye, Awesome Fire lined up his lit horn to aim at the bottleneck, the exact point to shatter the entire thing with the right spell. The air was still, the distance not too great, and his magic was prepared. All it needed now was a steady hoof to keep the spell on target.

“Take the shot,” he said in a low tone.

Without warning – at least from his perspective, considering he’d given the order – he felt a hoof yank his tail, pulling him off balance. A moment later, his tail was tugged up and down, back and forth, like a crank. Involuntarily, spellfire erupted from his horn, scattering energy in the bottle’s general direction. Spells flew across the room and hit the floor, walls, drapery – which was very distressing – and the table the bottle sat on. Everywhere but the bottle itself.

“Don’t worry,” spoke a slurred voice. “I can do this.”

Head pounding and tail smarting, and aggrieved by the failed shot, Fire had to grit his teeth to stop himself snapping back that, no, he doubted it.

“Wait,” he began, “hold on, I need to– Ow!”

He didn’t get to finish as, unbidden, his tail got gracelessly janked again, sending one long burst of spellfire whooshing up to the ceiling, where it impacted in a puff of ash.

“Stop that!”

Fire wrenched himself away before this could get any worse. He turned heel to glare at the other stallion – feeling acutely that he wasn’t all balanced himself. Already he had trouble telling if they’d readied two more empty bottles, or four.

“You oaf! That hurts, you know,” he grumbled, rubbing himself. “One’d think you’d never held the rudder in your life, with that sloppy-flanked pull. Besides, why must I always play the ‘cannon’?”

If Blueblood was at all ashamed, he did not show it. Fire saw him teeter, sure, but that undoubtedly had more to do with booze than a friend’s indignation.

“Cosh’ your tai… tailsh… your tail’s no rudder, Shoo… Sooty,” the Prince replied, with the soft giggle of the pleasantly inebriated. “But you’ve got the besht firepower of any unicorn alive, ish what. Not my fault you won’t hold shteady on land…”

A strand of Blueblood’s golden mane fell across his eye, and he hastened to brush it away, barely staying up on three hooves.

“Whoopsh!” Blueblood said cheerfully, hoof clattering to the ground. “Not the shame… it’s not the same without the wind brushing back one’sh hair.”

‘How drunk is he?’ Fire asked himself, levitating a glass of that same wine the still-undamaged empty bottle once held. Taking a sip and pausing to appreciate the taste, he briefly shot a glare at the drink’s former container.

“I might have the best firepower,” he muttered, next fixing the princely stallion in his sights, “but if you want to hit that bottle, you’d better put some effort into directing me, rather than throwing my hindquarters everywhere.”

He returned to position, just in time to notice the drapes were beginning to smoulder, two very nervous servants already rushing to extinguish the fire. He was a little surprised. He thought someone, he’d forgotten who, had dismissed all of the staff an hour ago.

Blueblood had taken a step back to direct a new bottle over – this one intended for drinking. Fire, upon seeing his markspony would be indisposed, as the Prince was already struggling with the cork, straightened back up and limbered his neck.

“So we’re done here?” he asked.

“Mmm-huh?” Blueblood replied. He’d given up on uncorking the bottle with his magic, and now held it in his mouth, teeth tugging at the surprisingly resistant stopper. In all likelihood he wasn’t sure either.

“Brilliant,” Fire muttered. Shooting one last disapproving glare at the frustratingly intact Chateau Equitales Unicornia bottle, he took another sip.

The entire gala hall was full of activity, albeit of ungainly variety. Most in the party had split off into groups. Some were chatting, others were wobbling around, following a ringleader in whatever they were up to. Quite a few lay slumped in front of the buffet line, specifically the wine and spirit tables, asleep or too bleary to do anything other than sit, loll and sway.

There were, however, a few outbursts here and there drawing attention. In fact, his and Blueblood’s attempt at indoor clay-pigeon shooting had gone largely unnoticed because of the other daring – if comparatively safer – antics that had unfolded around them while Awesome Fire lined up his shot.

The biggest cluster was gathered around one of the alicorn statues. From here, Fire couldn’t quite tell, but he thought it was famed railroad owner Oiled Spoke whom four or five stallions were watching try to walk across the statue – on his hindlegs. With an empty bottle jammed over his horn, the hapless darer had to rely on holding his forehooves outstretched to stay balanced. And he was tottering.

Beside him, Quiette Shy, daughter of well-to-do Canterlot nouveau riche, was busy cheering him on, a huge smile on her face.

“Go! Go! Go! Go!” she yelled, sounding like she was trying not to laugh.

It took everything Fire had in him not to join with Quiette Shy. If that was Spoke, Fire couldn’t hold back a small, smug smile at thought of a long-time rival failing to make it across. He knew that, given a free rein, he was good at these games. Privately, he could even allow that it came from not having grown up pampered like these fops...

Once again, he turned to the bottle and lit up his horn. With Blueblood still engaged in his valiant battle with the Vite D’Aquila, Fire decided to take the shot himself.

Firing off a bolt of magic, exactly the same as those Blueblood had squandered, Fire went for the Chateau Equitales Unicornia once again. To his utter shock and horror, it missed by a hair and struck the wall.

“How!” he cried, venom dripping from the lone syllable.

There was chuckle from up above. “Guess who.”

Recognising the voice, Fire raised his eyes, to find his fears confirmed by the sight of trademark green streaks in a black pompadour. He locked gazes with said hairstyle’s owner, who looked unperturbed, and infuriatingly sober.

“Wally!” said Blueblood, momentarily forgetting his stuck bottle to throw up his forehooves in greeting. “Glad you could make it!”

Breaking eye contact with Fire to look at Blueblood, Shieldwall smiled, pulling up an amulet that had been dangling from his neck, more affected by gravity than he.

“I’ve been busy,” Shieldwall said. “Ever since you said this was gonna be a… ‘serious’ party, Bluenose,” he explained, perhaps slowing as he stared over the gathering, from his unique vantage point. “Figured if I was gonna be late, best make an entrance. And what better way to do it,” Shieldwall finished, patting the amulet and grinning down at Fire, “than showing up old Sooty? You’re good, buddy... but admit it, my shielding beats your firepower once again.”

Which was truer than Fire wanted it to be. Even now, he could barely see the tell-tale haze of where the cocky blue earthpony must have thrown up his shield to block the shot.

Shooting the upside-down Shieldwall a glare, Fire downed the rest of his glass in one go. ‘I’m really going to need it now.’

“Ah-hah!” a joyous – and slightly gargled – cry came from Blueblood as he took the cork in his teeth once again and pulled it off, holding it in his teeth like a trophy. “Atch lasht.”

“Well done,” Shieldwall commented from his place on the ceiling.

“Yes, yes,” Fire added, placing his own glass on a nearby chair. “Good job. What do you say we get some fresh glasses and go enjoy it,” he shot a look Shieldwall’s way, “alone.”

“Enjoy,” Shieldwall snarked, keeping eye contact with Fire before turning to find the right wall to walk down.

Ignoring the other stallion, Fire ushered Blueblood to a cluster of immaculately set tables – several of which had been swept of tableclothes, cutlery and other decorations. Empty bottles sat on most of them, along with half-empty glasses.

“Good year,” Blueblood commented as he read the label, squinting a little.

“Oh?” Fire asked, now interested in his friend’s pick.

“Oh, yesh,” Blueblood replied, taking a seat. He then poured himself a glass. “And I don’t think I got too much shlobber on the neck either. Sho don’t you worry.”

“Thanks for the... reassurance,” Fire said, sitting in another chair. He tried not to grimace at the realisation that Blueblood had been practically fellating the bottle during his epic struggle to uncork it.

Blueblood poured him a new glass. “Don’t shay I don’t think about my friendsh.”

“Depends on what you think about, though, doesn’t it?” Fire shot back with a smirk.

“Whaddya mean?” Blueblood asked, looking confused.

Awesome Fire blinked as, at last, his brain rushed to catch up with his mouth. “I… uh, I don’t know anymore.” He then took a large gulp from his glass.

Eagerly, Blueblood followed his lead. Topping up their glasses, they took big, strong gulps until their glasses were empty.

A loud bout of laughter shook the room. Fire and Blueblood turned just in time to see the unicorn who’d been climbing the golden alicorn statue toppling onto the floor. There was a momentary pause, broken by uncontrolled chuckles, as the group waited to see if the hapless climber was alright.

“I’m good…” the unicorn said, wobbling as he clambered to his hooves. “I’m good.”

“Didn’t look like that to me,” Shieldwall hollered as he hauled himself up the statue’s plinth and got into position to begin climbing. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“The climbing or the falling?” Fire shouted, getting the earthpony’s attention. “Because without that amulet of yours, I think the latter’s all you could really accomplish.”

“Oh, think so?” Shieldwall blustered. “Well, let me show you,” he said, pulling the amulet off his neck, “what a master wall-walker can do.”

Fire snorted derisively as the earthpony gripped the statue’s legs and heaved. In a matter of seconds Shieldwall was almost on the alicorn’s back, but he’d slowed down.

“What kind of mounting do you have in mind, Wally?” Fire shouted again, drawing raucous laughter from the crowd. “If you want some time alone with Her Highness’ likeness, I’m afraid you’ve come at the wrong time. Room’s kind of busy at the moment!”

Shieldwall ignored the ribbing and continued climbing. Soon he was on the statue’s back, his face locked in concentration. The jeering slowed as everyone watched Shieldwall walk along the sloping alicorn’s back, then use its wings to jump up onto its head, levering into position quickly and gracefully. In a moment, he had jumped the distance between the alicorn’s raised wings and its regal head. Gripping the sculpted horn to steady himself, Shieldwall stood as tall as he could on his hindlegs and looked down at the crowd, fixing Awesome Fire with an arrogant grin.

“That, Sooty, is how you do it,” Shieldwall crowed, throwing up his forelegs in triumph.

Awesome Fire simmered as the crowd burst out into cheers. Shieldwall stood in place for a few more moments, before turning to climb back down. The earthpony’s attempts to get off the statue were less impressive, but that didn't matter to the others in the room. Shieldwall’s return to the floor was met with ungainly pats on the back and many offers of drinks from his new admirers.

Fire returned to his own drink, grumbling. He was contemplating just drinking directly from the bottle when he saw Blueblood smirking at him.

“What are you looking at?” Fire said, a weak glare on his face.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Blueblood drawled, waving Fire’s harsh glare away. “Just haven’t sheen you that worked up since Neighpon.”

Fire blinked for a moment as his hazy mind registered Blueblood’s words. “Neighpon?”

“Yesh, Neighpon. Remember, when Boiler Plate shpent the Shtarshpear’sh petty cash on thoshe four jugsh of shake… no-no wait, saké, ugh… con… convinshed it was engine fuel or shomething?”

“A little, yes,” Fire answered. “Why does this remind you of that?”

“Cosh’ we never let him forget that.” Blueblood clarified. “What did you call him again? Broiler Plate?”

“No, that was after the incident with the galley and the cabbage,” Fire replied. “That stallion had the worst luck, and never figured it out. I wonder how he even got in the Guard in the first place.”

“Hish father’sh Iron Plate,” Blueblood immediately answered.

“Oh, yeah. The Guard Captain.”

“No, Shining Armor’s the Guard Captain,” Blueblood chuckled, sipping from the bottle. “Thish ish a Guard Captain. Different thing entirely. Anyway, that’sh why not just anypony can be trushted with fuel and oil greashe and all that, least of all in the Guard. Particularly not thoshe who got in through family tiesh… good thing they kept you in, Sooty,” he said, pouring Fire more wine, “or we’d be down a few brainsh in our upcoming challenge.”

‘And whose fault might that be, I wonder?’ thought Fire, even as he outwardly accepted the drink.

He decided to say nothing, either, about Prince Blueblood commenting on family ties.

“Nice of you to say that,” Fire said instead, clinking glasses with Blueblood. It wasn’t too hard for him to smile at this, at least. Because he meant it, all around. “And you know, something else I never told him, the poor fellow, is that I’ve thought perhaps you could make fuel out of alcohol… not saké, far as I know, or the Kirin would already be looking into it… But I read promising things about wheat somewhere…”

Blueblood nodded disinterestedly. “Well, yes, it’d be a damn sh…” He caught himself in time. “A damn sight better than putting wheat in drink… Ugh, nashty common carnival fare, beer… Never undershtood the pony who tried it, least shider is made from good Equestrian apples.”

“Oh, come now. I thought you were all about foreign things.”

“Wheat, Sooty,” Blueblood insisted, with a shudder. “Wheat. All there is in life is wheat… Oh, wheat? Lotsh of wheat! Fields of wheat! A tremendous amount of wheat… Yellow wheat. Red wheat. Wheat with feathers. Cream of wheat. Harmony help ush…”

Fire looked at his drink, then back at the Prince, an eyebrow raised. “You’re drunk, Astron. I mean really drunk. Even for you.”

Blueblood merely shrugged. “Sure.”

Fire lay down his drink. Hooves pressed together, he leaned in, throwing a glance around.

“Look…” he whispered. “I know there’s things you can’t tell me yet. But you mention ‘war’, then make it sound like Celestia’s getting involved in some proxy war without giving me all the details… now you’re talking about wheat. Are we… do we need to stock up?”

“Ah, not that I know… it’sh a… piece of poetry I heard, I think.”

“You really are drunk...” Fire leaned back, shaking his head.

“Nope, jusht the product of a clashical educashion,” replied Blueblood, hiccoughing. “Be glad you never had to go through that, my friend. You didn’t mish out on much, in whatever midtown Canterlot school you went to.”

“Anyway,” Fire said testily. “Point is, setting aside all faff about wheat, if we got a ‘challenge’ ahead, I don’t think it could’ve come at a better time for bright minds to face it. The return of the Crystal Realm’s been tremendously exciting for the Guild of Engineers…”

He nodded in the general direction of Shieldwall, sharing drinks with a huddle of admirers.

“And, full of himself as that lug over there is, why, you saw what he did with a simple amulet,” Fire acknowledged grudgingly. “Imagine the possibilities on a larger scale! Shieldwall’s thinking in terms of crystal as reinforced building material and special charms. Because, of course he is.”

He leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially.

“The Saddle Mareabians,” Fire said, keeping his voice down, “have beeing using their crystals for experimenting with the things’ combustive properties… or even as boosters for equines’ hidden powers, I’ve heard! Think of it, Bluenose. With our pure crystals, we might enter a whole new era for ponykind.” The thought made him smile. “And I know where I’d start. A new type of engine for our airships. No more long, wearying days whittled away in the airs…”

Blueblood, who until then had been nodding, plainly only half-listening, suddenly seemed to come awake.

“Say again?” he said loudly.

And Fire noted the lack of slurring in his voice.

“What are you twaddling about there?” Blueblood said, sounding, to Fire’s surprise, rather indignant. “Fast-moving airships? What, where’s the point in that? Where’s the point in flying, when you can’t just lazily watch the world drift by?” He shook his head, pouring himself a large quantity of drink. “Seriously, if we want fast flying, we’ve got the Wonderbolts. Know what, I think you’re just saying that because you’re the only non-pegasus I know who, when caught in a storm, shouts ‘go faster’!”

“That happened once,” Fire snapped, annoyed he’d been interrupted just to have that incident thrown back in his face again.

“Three times, actually,” Blueblood said. “And that’s not counting your best day.”

Awesome Fire flushed as mortifying memories of thunder claps, lightning strikes and maniacal laughter sifted through his slightly foggy mind.

“And the only reason you had your best day,” Blueblood continued, “is becaushe… because the Starspear was moving slow enough to float through. You’d never have had such a lovely time if we were going too fast for the storm.”

“Wha… what kind of logic is that?”

“It’s good logic,” Blueblood immediately said. “And tell me I’m wrong.”

Fire began to smoulder again as Blueblood continued to ramble.

“I mean,” Blueblood then said. “I’ve said it all before, but I just can’t believe you had it in you. You were just standing there on deck, practically begging the lightning to hit us. Then we went through that pod of storm-whales, and you went completely mad.”

Fire’s shoulder started to smoke as he glared at his friend.

“I mean you looked like a colt whose birthday and Hearthswarming came all at once. It was kinda… uh, um, cute? Yeah, cute. Your face just lit and then you started laughing. I think your eyes crossed somewhere.”

Smoke quickly began to billow from Fire’s mane and coat as the unwanted memories surfaced again. Small licks of flame were beginning to from the ends of his mane and tail. His eyes twitched and the edges of his licks curled up to reveal grinding teeth.

“Bluenose...” Fire hissed.

“Yeah,” Blueblood said, taking a swig from his drink. The grin he was wearing was wiped out immediately the moment he took one look at Awesome Fire.

“SHUT IT!” Fire shouted and with that he burst into flames.

A collective shriek swept through the ballroom, as a large sphere of fire burst out from one of the tables. Flames licked and shimmered along the surface of the sphere, as it seemed to engulf everything around it. The fires span and rolled around one another for an instant and then they were gone, snuffed out.

The collective scream had now been replaced by a long pause. The ball of fire was gone, the table Blueblood and Fire had been sitting at was knocked over and stained with soot, as were the chairs. Standing in the middle of a charred circle was Awesome Fire and nearby was a stunned, sooty Blueblood, lying on the floor and bobbing his head.

‘Oh, no’ Fire thought as he looked around. ‘I’ve done it again.’

He looked himself over quickly. His dinner jacket was fine, if bedraggled, but he was sure he’d come in a uniform shirt and a cravat. The pile of ash at his hooves, along with a set of partially melted cufflinks, told him exactly where both now were. Fire cringed at the thought of not only having to buy new sets, but to probably compensate the palace for the furniture he’d damaged.

“I...” Blueblood started as he tried to reorient himself. “I haven’t seen that in a while.”

“Well,” Fire sneered, “that’s what happens when you keep pushing me.”

“What did I do?”

“You brought up the storm,” Fire answered. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Right,” Blueblood said as he clambered to his hooves. “Sorry about that. I didn’t notice.”

He was just about to dust himself off when he noticed what state he was in. Blueblood let out a gasp, whic became an indignant yelp as he realised his coat was stained black and grey with soot and ash. The jacket he’d been wearing was gone, leaving him completely bare, except for the remaining ash scattered across his body.

“What have you done to me?” Blueblood moaned. “I… I spent hours getting ready for tonight and you… you’ve destroyed my coat, my mane, my jacket… I...”

Fire watched as Blueblood trailed off and sank to his haunches. It amazed him how quickly Blueblood’s moods could shift. One moment he’d fancy himself a raucous sailor wanting to experience everything the world offered, the next he’d worry about scuffing his hooves on the flawless floors of the palace, or upsetting the quaff of his mane in the wind. It was almost impossible to understand.

“Don’t worry about your mane, we’ll get it fixed up in no time,” Fire said, moving forward. Irritated though he still felt, he wasn’t going to leave Blueblood there feeling sorry for himself. “Why, it’s halfway to that windswept look already, eh, Bluenose?” he said, a bit more gently. “But you do need something to wear. Here, hold on…”

Swiftly, he began unbuttoning his jacket. As he was doing so, he glanced around, and like he’d hoped, caught the eye of a certain stallion.

“Help,” Fire mouthed, trusting Shieldwall to read his lips before anyone else reacted.

Luckily, Shieldwall got his meaning instantly.

“Well now,” the earthpony spoke out, from among the throng gathered around him. “Got a bit overenthusiastic there, didn’t you, Sooty? But look at that,” he said, stepping in to pick up what Fire saw were bottle shards. “It worked! Beyond all expectations, I daresay, gentlecolts! In fact,” Shieldwall peered at the shards, which were different colours. “Yep, that’s three bottles in one go! Let’s hear a round of applause for Sooty and Bluenose’s firing skills, everyone!”

There was scattered, uncertain applause. Then the clapping of hooves on the floor became louder, more rhythmical, until whoever in the room still conscious had joined in, cheering Awesome Fire’s purported prowess.

All Fire did was sigh in relief, as he draped Blueblood’s withers with his jacket. And if anyone in the esteemed gathering noticed they’d swapped one clotheless stallion for another, they were too caught up in the cheer to register it properly.

“C’mon,” he said, picking the Prince off his haunches. “Better get you cleaned up. Me too, come to think. They put up some wash-basins in the antechamber, we can use those. Shieldwall’s gonna keep the lads busy for a while…”

He was right, as it turned out. With Shieldwall gabbing away about a splendid evening, no-one else threw them a second glance as Fire led Blueblood out of the gala hall and into the neighbouring antechamber.

Along the way, however, Fire lit his horn, surreptitiously picking another of the many empty bottles littering the tiled floor.

Blueblood was back to his senses once the double doors to the hall closed behind them, enough to head for the nearest wash-basin without needing to be guided. Quietly, Fire took place at the next basin, placed along a table that stretched the chamber’s length.

Neither said anything while they rinsed, though Blueblood was the first to reach for the towel-rack so he could dry himself off. In his haste, Fire saw Blueblood let the jacket slip from around his withers and drop to the floor. But that wasn’t a problem, Fire thought, going to step by it.

Cleaned of soot, yet still a bit shaken, the Prince tossed the towel aside.

“That was…” Blueblood panted. “That was pretty spectacular.”

“Good word for it, isn’t it?” Fire agreed, not wanting to show he’d been taken by surprise too.

Blueblood shuffled from hoof to hoof. “And you’re absolutely positive, you’ve not got a drop of Kirin blood in you?”

“Now don’t let’s get started on that...” Fire said warningly.

“Right, right. Sorry, again,” Blueblood said. A few drops of water still clung to his mane. “Well, I… I think the wash’s helped me sober up. The evening was dying down, anyway. So I think I’m going to go back in there and thank everyone for coming. But, first…”

His horn lit up, and the spare jacket began to lift off the floor. Until Fire stepped on it, pinning it down with his forehoof.

“Sooty! What in Auntie’s name!?” Blueblood spluttered. “I need that!”

“And I’m going to give it to you, don’t worry,” Fire said calmly, patting himself over. “I can go without. Except before you check up on the lads, I figured you still owe me a favour.”

“A favour for what? You’ve already shown me up tonight!”

Fire nodded sincerely. “Which is why it seemed best to me we keep this to ourselves,” he explained, TK working in the meantime on moving the wash-basins off the table, dragging the table to the centre of the chamber, and setting the empty bottle at the table’s far end. “No-one’s got to see you make a bigger fool of yourself, Bluenose.”

Blueblood’s eyes fell on the distant bottle.

“You’re not serious. No. I’m not doing it.”

“Then I’m keeping the jacket.” For emphasis, Fire dug his hoof deeper into the pinned-down piece of clothing. “Not that I mind you having it.” He gestured at the empty space between him and the table. “Go on. Please? I’m not even asking you to hit the bottle. Just, you give it a shot for a change, okay?”

A mix of looks rushed across Blueblood’s face as he weighed his options, staring from the bottle and to the double-doors in turn.

Eventually, however, just as Fire had expected, vanity won out. Grumbling under his breath, Blueblood moved to position himself, turning on the spot so he stood in a straight line, with his eyes on the table and his back to Fire.

“I hate you, Awesome,” Blueblood muttered, lowering his head, horn aiming the bottle.

Fire smirked, too pleased to even cringe at his first name. Employing the military practice his friend had neglected to spend his year’s service on a joyride instead, he balanced himself by pressing one forehoof across Blueblood’s withers – ignoring the grunt of discomfort – whilst beginning to crank the tail.

“Oh, I’m not awesome... But what I do is.”

* * * * *

“It’s a funny thing, friendship,” Lyra was musing in bed that evening, while Bonbon stroked her mane. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, but you never really do, do you? People, they never act exactly as you want them to. So you just… sort of learn the flow. When to go with it, or ride the wave.”

“Mmh…” Bonbon nodded absently, kissing her nape. “Somepony’s got her mind on travelling the high seas...”

“Clouds, really,” Lyra murmured. “But… yeah. Mostly seas. Searching for a ship hidden on the sea-floor. A ship, and a place.”

Delicately, she touched the well-worn, open copy of Ponyland: Fact or Fable Bonbon held in her lap.

Bonbon sighed. Lyra didn’t blame her. Just because her girlfriend had started reading the book for herself, wasn’t to say she shared the same enthusiasm.

“Five days on, nothing I’d say could stop you, huh?”

“Doesn’t look like it…” Lyra said, trailing. “Although, I… don’t feel comfortable, leaving before Twilight’s sorted this out. I’d promised to help her.”

Bonbon straightened herself as she closed the book. “Expeditions aren’t set up in a day, Lyra. You’ll have plenty of time. I just want us to have all the ‘us’ time we can get.”

Lyra briefly smiled. “Friendships can get wrecked in a day, though,” she said, smile fading. “And it might take a lot longer to patch things between Twilight and Moondancer.”

For a time, Bonbon said nothing. But Lyra knew it wasn’t because she had nothing to say. Her girlfriend was deep in thought.

“Lyra,” she said. “You remember how we first met?”

“Wasn’t it at that party Pinkie threw for all of Ponyville, when we were all foals?” Lyra giggled. “Boy, you sure looked cute with glasses.”

Tutting, Bonbon punched her playfully. “I meant as grown-ups,” she explained. “When we first caught on that we might have a thing.”

“Oh, yeah…” Lyra began, thinking back. “That was a bit rough, though, wasn’t it? If only we’d seen it sooner. Not to say you haven’t got impeccable tastes… if I were into musicians, I’d have been all over her.”

When Bonbon sighed again, it was a fond sigh. “Of course. Cellist, second chair, Canterlot Symphony… saw her play whenever I was in town. You’ve seen a beautiful mare play the cello. You know it’s something else. Also, she laughed at my jokes, which was a bonus. You’re not sure you can tell a good joke, when you’re a pony who laughs at anything.”

“Yeah, well, er…” Lyra snickered awkwardly. Privately, she felt Bonbon actually overestimated her own sense of humour. “Octavia was never my girlfriend.”

“Mmh,” said Bonbon. “It’s a pity. Pity Octavia never was one for a threesome. That’d have made things easier...” She cupped Lyra’s cheek. “But you’re still friends, right?”

“It was touch and go for a while, but, yeah,” said Lyra, fiddling the covers. “Its you I still feel worried for, whenever we cross her in the streets…” She went silent. “Bonnie, what are you trying to say?”

Bonbon rolled so she lay over Lyra, looking her in the eyes.

“I mean, Lyra,” she smiled, “that you should believe in yourself. You’re a bridge-builder. Not many mares would stay on speaking terms after one left the other for her best friend.”

Lyra blushed under her gaze. “Honestly, Bonbon…” she mumbled. “Even now, I don’t get it. A beautiful, professional cellist… what’s a scruffy, unemployed lyrist next to that?”

“Heh, maybe I don’t want a professional.” Then Bonbon leant in to kiss her.

They held the kiss for long enough. But when they pulled apart, Lyra felt that, just then, a kiss was all she could take.

It was a shame. The night was warm, neither felt too tired, and Bonbon had even thought to pack her lyre when they’d left Ponyville. Playing the lyre before bed was always good.

She rolled away, to the bed’s edge.

“Where are you going?”

Lyra stared back at her regretfully. “Excuse me, Bonnie,” she said, getting up. “I’ve gotta go for a walk… I’m not feeling the music. Maybe the night’ll help.”

“... In your condition?” Bonbon blew her cheeks. “Okay.” Her forehoof went for the discarded Ponyland: Fact or Fiction. “Well, I’ve got some reading to do. But if I fall asleep… wake me up when you get back?”

Nodding distractedly, Lyra picked up her crutches and headed for the door.

* * * * *

Wandering the palace hallways wasn’t too bewildering to a former student of Celestia’s School. The palace had been almost as much a part of Lyra’s childhood as Twilight’s, along with the love of Princess Cadance. Even late at night, with her injuries, comfortable familiarity wrapped up Lyra as she passed by the indoor greenhouses, the dining hall and the Guards’ quarters, though she knew not where she went.

But it was when she came to one of the many balconies that Lyra saw a soul other than a Guard on patrol.

Curious, she peeked past the open doorway.

A rather out-of-sorts-looking Prince Blueblood was sipping the last of a bottle, throwing the occasional wistful look at the night-time skies.

While Lyra hoped to talk to him by day, seeing him like this, she deemed it best to move on. Yet he noticed her before she could trot away.

“Ah!” he cried, surprised. “Is that you, Madame Heartstrings? You’re up late.”

It would be impolite to ignore a Prince. Putting on her gentlest smile, Lyra hobbled to join Blueblood on the balcony.

“No later than you, Your Highness,” Lyra said lightly. “I was, ah... looking for my muse.”

The last time she’d spoken with the Prince was shortly after her failed tryout for the Canterlot Symphony Orchestra. The formal “hellos” and “goodbyes” she’d exchanged with him when Celestia gathered her inner circle at the Canterlot Archives didn’t count. Typically, Blueblood had been wrapped in himself at the time.

She actually spoke her next thought out loud. “I’m surprised you remember my name.”

“Really? Why wouldn’t I?” Blueblood said. “Anypony who’s important to Auntie needs to be important to me, after all.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “I…”

“What is it?” Blueblood said casually. “Don’t worry, speak up.”

“Well, I… Sorry for saying this, but… I’ve heard you’ve got an odd way of showing that.”

The Prince chuckled. “You must be referring to your fashion-designer friend and the Gala,” he said. “A stallion in my position’s got to lot of mares off his back, you know. No matter who they are.”

He waved her off before she could reply.

“Madame, I grew up with Celestia for an aunt. Who’d you think livened up the Gala before she invited Miss Sparkle’s friends? Not like she’s the only one who hates it...”

Shifting her hooves, Lyra didn’t know what to say to that. So, leaning on her crutches, she let her gaze wander, until it fell upon what Blueblood was wearing.

Somehow, a fiery-orange shirt didn’t seem his usual attire.

“Is that a new jacket, Your Highness?”

“No, I…” Blueblood blushed a little. “A friend lent it to me.”

“Oh... Okay,” said Lyra. “That was nice of them.”

“Mmh-hm, yeah, sure…” said Blueblood. “But it is good to know who your friends are. There’s nothing like sharing few crazy, wild ventures to sort out who’s the real deal.”

Lyra nodded. “I’m sure Twilight would agree,” she said. “Although, from what she says, eighty percent of her friendship reports are based on normal, everyday stuff.”

“Yes, well…” Without looking, Blueblood held the bottle over the railing, and let it drop down. “I’ve a feeling there won’t be much of a ‘normal’ for a long time.”

The sound of the bottle breaking echoed from below.

“Aren’t you’re all about crazy, wild ventures?”

“Not these ones,” Blueblood whispered. “They’re no fun. But, Auntie C’s counting on my easy way with foreign cultures, and who am I to waste it?”

Then and there, Lyra decided she would ask him.

“Yeah…” she said. “I might have something to say about that. Did the Princess tell you I have a plan for the Concordia?”

Blueblood peered at her inquisitively.

“She mentioned it, yes…” he said. “You wish to request international funding for scientific research into humanity’s ties to Equus?”

“That, and more.”

Lyra had never thought herself a grand mare. Yet when you were dealing with Prince Blueblood, it paid to act grand. Despite how he behaved around some mares trying to get close to him.

“Prince Blueblood,” she said. “I don’t know you that well, but Cadance speaks highly of your talents as a navigator, and I’ve heard you’d never turn down a daring venture into the exotic. I believe…” Here she raised her voice by an octave. “I believe there’s some piece we’re missing in this puzzle. There’s a book I’ve read, one that Howie Waggoner wrote about LP-426 and his Dream Valley Expedition. He claimed he found the Sunken Dream Valley.”

She paused for effect.

“But whatever he discovered there, the proof was lost with his ship, when the Nellie sunk in a wild storm. And I’d… like to go looking for it. It’s been lost too long. Because… if we can’t find Alex’s, I mean, Captain Reiner’s locket, maybe we’ll find something else there.”

Her piece was said, except one thing.

“What say you, Highness?” asked Lyra Heartstrings. “Want to go for a ride?”

She observed Blueblood’s features, keeping herself composed, yet pumping to see just how far she’d got to him. His face was awash with rapidly flittering emotions – astonishment, a little fear, perhaps incredulity. Yet if he felt afraid or disbelieving at such a proposal dropping in his lap, it all suddenly gave way to one, glowing emotion. Joy.

While previously he’d sat, Blueblood stood up, tall on all four hooves.

“My answer, Madame Heartstrings,” the Prince said, with a galant flourish, “is ‘yes’. Gladly will I assist you in unearthing the secret of the monkey planet.”

Lyra chuckled lightly. “If only we could visit the planet itself… and in better days.” She turned from him, gazing towards the gardens. “To think, whatever terrible things happened to her, this is the one thing other-me got to do. She saw Earth as it should be…”

~ Another Canterlot, Another Equestria ~ Eight Years Ago, Eight Years From Now ~

Dinner by candlelight. It was a romantic image, but tonight, it wasn’t for lovers solely.

Naturally, though, it was her lover who’d determined the guests’ seating arrangements. While both knew who the charmer was between the two of them, she’d learned to defer to her long-suffering girlfriend for matters of practicality.

It made her more than a little anxious. She’d be expected to handle an ambassador’s duties, and not just as an ambassador to merely a country, but to a whole new world. At the same, this only made her feel glad she wouldn’t do this alone.

From her place at the middle of the table, Lyra smiled softly as Bonbon showed the guests to their seats. The bell had rung. Dinner would soon be served.

Two were missing, yet most had chosen against being fashionably late, and arrived when they were meant to, mingling amongst each other. Some were old friends to one another, others were meeting for the first time tonight. One thing they all shared in common was that they were her friends.

There was Cadance, cutting a regal figure, yet approachable too – and neither impression was spoiled by the look of her stunted wings. She’d learned to wear them with pride.

Besides, in the last few years, people had lost more than a chance to fly...

Octavia and Vinyl were seated together, eternally inseparable, despite being as chalk and cheese in their different music and personalities. Though it was an old story, Lyra still felt a twinge of relief to see Bonbon and Octavia act perfectly cordial to one another.

Time Turner and Derpy’s family took seats for four, the parents and sisters sitting in pairs. Lyra noticed little Dinky blush as Amethyst teased her about something. Probably something to do with her not being so little anymore – Dinky was shaping up to be a beautiful young mare, the cutie mark of four bright stars she’d earned a few years ago shining proudly upon her flank. Doubtless Amethyst knew of a boyfriend the fourteen-year-old would sooner have kept a secret.

Speaking of which, old Professor Shriek was there too, still oddly handsome in his moth-bitten, hardy thestral way. He sat next to Time Turner, with Headmaster Nexus at the other side of him. In all of the mingling, the three scholars, eccentrics to a stallion, had chatted incessantly.

Last of all was Minuette. And her, Lyra couldn’t ever look at without something unspoken, melancholic, though they’d both spoken about it many times, when they could bring themselves to.

Minuette was the only one of Lyra’s school-day friends in attendance. There should have been more people at this party. Shining Armor had an excuse, much as it might pain Cadance, with all his new duties, but the rest…

“Good… good evening? Sorry I’m late.”

And when Lyra heard who it was, she grinned. “Moondancer,”

She rose to meet her old friend, who was standing there at the doorway. Moondancer looked unsure on how to properly greet her.

But Lyra decided for her, taking her into a big hug.

“Lovely to see you too, Lyra,” Moondancer said warmly, once they’d broken the hug. Her magnified gaze drank in the assembly. “I see Twilight’s decided to skip another party, though…”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so,” said Lyra. “Can’t say I’m surprised. She’s had a lot on her plate lately. She and Shining both have. Still, when I saw you there… if you could make it, I’d hoped she might too…”

“Don’t judge her too harshly,” Moondancer said, with a wry smile. “Twilight’s been doing everything she can for Equestria, more than ever.”

“So have you, I hear,” Lyra remarked, leading her to the table. “Will you be telling us about it tonight?”

“Maybe.” Moondancer winked. “But you know what? I think you’re going to do so much more, Ambassador Heartstrings.”

Refreshments were served in due time, brought in by Palace staff.

Lyra marvelled to think that, for this one night, they were entirely at her disposition. Yet, at the same time, she sought to read their faces. If she looked closely enough, she knew she would see the same as she saw in her friends’ faces – discrete, most of the time, yet always lurking somewhere.

She glanced at Minuette, who’d started a chat with Moondancer. Catching her glance, Minuette stopped and smiled at her sadly.

It was as good a time as any...

“Ahem,” Lyra coughed, tapping her glass with her spoon. All conversation ceased as everyone in the room fixed their attention on her. “Before we begin, I’d like to propose a toast. To what lies ahead… but also what’s behind us. I think… we should toast to absent friends.”

There were murmurs and nods of agreement.

“To absent friends,” Minuette said, raising her own glass.

Cadance followed suit, soon joined by Moondancer and all the others, as under their breaths, they repeated the names of people who should have been here tonight, but weren’t, nor would they ever be.

Moondancer’s older sister, Morning. Spell Nexus’ younger brother. Shriek’s whole family. Neon Lights. Lemonhearts and Twinkleshine. Roseluck.

And while Lyra couldn’t hear what was whispered, she knew the names. All victims of King Sombra’s cruel and pointless war.

Her parents’ names were on that list.

Eventually, the glasses were lowered. Dishes were served, from appetiser to dessert, as the evening progressed, much as life did, with all in attendance thankful for what they had, including the person beside them.

Towards the end of the evening, with Bonbon now preparing the goodbyes for the first to go – Time Turner and his family, since Dinky was still the youngest present and needed sleep, much as Vinyl was attempting to be a bad influence on her – Lyra and Moondancer once more found themselves away from the table, talking in a private corner of their own.

“Amazing to think, isn’t it?” Moondancer mused. “Humans. It’s been a strange few years, but… perhaps now it’s going to be strange in a good way.” She tapped her chin. “I wonder what they’ll be like?”

“Me too,” Ambassador Lyra told her, with quiet pride. “I look forward to meeting them all.”

Author's Note:

Spectrum 2.1 - Autumn 2021

VoxAdam:

• The circumstances of Proxenos Darkhoof’s visit to the Labyrinth to retrieve his son Basil have been rewritten. Here I would like to thank RanOutOfIdeas for his guest-writing collaboration on this scene. Thanks!

Spectrum 2.0 - May 01st 2019

VoxAdam: Yes, here we have another 20,000+ words of a chapter. Eagle-eyed readers will have spotted I broke my pledge from last time that Chapter Eleven would be the penultimate chapter to the finale of Act One, but this here is the penultimate chapter. Be prepared, though, while Chapter Thirteen may not precisely be Avengers: Endgame, it’s certainly set to be the longest chapter in the new Spectrum. Ever. Once it peaks at that point, the pace will tighten considerably with Act Two. In story-progression, if not publication.

Shuffled over from Chapter Eleven is the comic-relief segment of Blueblood and Awesome Fire, which is a product of me getting to write together with the underrated RoyalPsycho. Thank you, Royal, for your patience and willingness to put up with months of bouncing madcap ideas which we then had to trim down into something workable – though I’ll have readers know, Awesome Fire’s spontaneous combustion ability was Royal’s idea.

And though DoctorFluffly’s direct involvement on this chapter was relatively limited apart from his inimitable Pinkie, guess which “good-ish” counterpart of one of his characters makes an appearance here? :-) Thanks, Doc, for lending him.

Many thanks to Sledge for his constant support throughout, it’s been an especially mutual process in the last few months, with the preparations he’s putting in for Act Two an area in which I’ve sought to return the favour, considering I’m stepping away somewhat from the writing process for Act Two.

Comments

[Warlord1911D1]

The story description kind of reminds me of Mortal Kombat 11's story.

[TheIdiot]

9599109 What's funny is that there isn't time travel involved in this story.

[gakposter]

Can’t wait for that long shlong chapter!

[Mr cold ghost]

Thanks for the update! Just getting off prednisone so this is a great distraction! I look forward to the next chapters!

[Jed R]

9600517
Ah, Faust isn’t the mother in this story who failed...

[Titan Commander Sebaste]

Finally caught up, and I must say, this has my full and undivided attention!

[Sledge115]

9607578
It's actually very light gray, going by the wiki - though unofficially so.

[AppleTank]

9600517
the Celestia in this continuity isn't evil, the Empire one is, both Fausts did the same thing. Faust's actions had to effect in the creation of the Solar Empire. I assume you never read the original fic where it explained the origin of the divergence.

[Yutah123]

9609535
Only problem is that the Equestrian map is clearly not the same as the North American continent – hell, there's no South America. The being said, even if the land is somewhat different they can still have 'the same' countries, and the map covers only about a quarter of the globe at best.

[VoxAdam]

9615665

Because Ember is a dragon, and that's what dragons do? The events on Equus Prime in this story occur roughly around what'd be Season 3 in the show's timeline, so this is a Princess Ember who hasn't yet been through the Gauntlet of Fire or learned about friendship.

9609277
9609535
9615879

The being said, even if the land is somewhat different they can still have 'the same' countries, and the map covers only about a quarter of the globe at best.

Considering the times Discord outlines for Fluttershy - very conveniently - in Chapter Eleven, I'd hazard a guess that you're on-point in estimating that the Map released for the 2017 movie still only covers about a quarter of the globe.

As Luna estimates in this same chapter that it'll take about a week by airship for everyone to reach the Hall of Unity, disregarding the myriad instances of "Travelling at the Speed of Plot" on the show, we can probably infer Equus is a smaller world than Earth.

Though, as with the convenience of it being possible to communicate with Equus' people using English, an Earth language, we can also politely ignore that the gravity appears to be the same as on Earth, since Alex doesn't seem to notice a difference.

[keroko]

9607578
9609077
As is Rarity's, and Celestia's is actually a very light pink. There's a reason for this: pure white is an incredibly annoying colour, both to look at and to work with, so even just a little bit off-white tends to make a lot of things a lot easier.

On to the chapter, I knew I'd read Blueblood's little party before. That was driving me up the wall. Meanwhile Chrysalis continues to induce urges to strangle, as well as make me look over my shoulder wondering if there's a knife sticking out of my back.

And let's hope Alex manages to avoid running into Shieldwall...

[Sledge115]

9617494

Meanwhile Chrysalis continues to induce urges to strangle, as well as make me look over my shoulder wondering if there's a knife sticking out of my back.

Mission accomplished. She's meant to make your skin crawl, though she is fun to write!

Yeah, some scenes were moved on to here

[VoxAdam]

9617494

I was ready to point out that if Alex can deal with Celestia and Twilight being a lot friendlier in this Equestria, he could deal with Shieldwall... but given that TCB!Shieldwall is a lot more hands-on about his antagonistic role in DoctorFluffy's side-stories, now I think you're right, there'd be a personal nature to the stallion's crimes which is perhaps more than Alex would let slide.

Still, it seemed a nice idea to introduce Shieldwall to the main story as his Prime counterpart, just a cocky young stallion who's one of Blueblood's friends.

Yeah, that party scene was moved here because we agreed it made the previous chapter longer than it needed to be and didn't really fit with the rest of the scenes around it. Placing it here, what with this chapter being very Lyra-centric, allowed to more smoothly transition to Lyra telling the Prince about her idea for an expedition.

And, to cap off, there's no doubt in the new Spectrum that you should watch your back when Chrysalis is around. It may have come at Garble's expense when the previous chapter gave him a little bit of dignity, but that ought to show Chryssie herself has no honour. Fun to write, though.

[Admiral Q Ponyform]

9617494
Nope white

[Admiral Q Ponyform]

9609613
Leaving it to chance yes. Faust could have stopped the Tyrant.

[AppleTank]

9619378
I'm pretty sure Faust had to go do an important thing somewhere else, and she had friends she trusted to watch over them. Faust can't exactly squat around everywhere stabbing shadows for millennium. The reason for the Tyrant's existence was not Celestia deciding one day that all non-equine life shall die. Anymore is spoiler territory As mentioned in many blogs, the Tyrant is as much a victim as everyone else.

[Admiral Q Ponyform]

9619415
I know a bit. Nearly forgot the original. But still no she didn't she decided she couldn't hack it anymore and left it to daughters that she left simple instructions. And the fact Nightmare Moon was a thing shows my point. She could have stopped this but know she cowardly left the world and the world suffers for it. Hell and minimum sge could have caught on to what has happen to Celestia and ended before this point

[Jed R]

9619378
Spoiler warning (well, kind of, since what I’m saying was true when I was on the team).

No, she really couldn’t. Why do you think she left? She gave everything she had, and did nothing more than lay the big bad low temporarily, at the cost of most of what she was before. She’s described as being pale and aged for a reason. To use a Lord of the Rings metaphor - she’s Elendil, who lost to Sauron and beneath whom Narsil broke, and Celestia’s (at least potentially) Aragorn, who redeemed the line of Isildur.

[Admiral Q Ponyform]

9620637
Sorry but my opinion does not change.

[Jed R]

9620658
Quelle surprise. 🤷🏻‍♂️

[Admiral Q Ponyform]

9623577
But he should trust HIS PRINCESS s not some agent that already tried to kill a pony

[FolkloreBrony]

“Prince Blueblood,” she said. “I don’t know you that well, but Cadance speaks highly of your talents as a navigator, and I’ve heard you’d never turn down a daring venture into the exotic. I believe…” Here she raised her voice by an octave. “I believe there’s some piece we’re missing in this puzzle. There’s a book I’ve read, one that Howie Waggoner wrote about LP-426 and his Dream Valley Expedition. He claimed he found the Sunken Dream Valley.”

*squints at text*

LP-426 and his Dream Valley Expedition

*Squints with suspicion*

LP-426

*Squints harder*

LV-426

Shit. They're doomed.

[TheIdiot]

9624849 Do you need some eye drops? You're squinting a bit much.

[FolkloreBrony]

9624896
Maybe. That and get them a flamethrower. They're gonna need it

[VoxAdam]

9624849

quickmeme.com/img/5c/5ce668328bacc8d7c507c47ba08f8e55d6cde11de873e047f54a6e78a165daf2.jpg

But don't worry, if Blueblood is as skilled a navigator as Lyra makes him out to be, they should be able to skirt around certain directional mistakes - like getting lost in a maze even with sophisticated mapping tools at your disposal, running away in a straight line from a massive falling object, or handing in scripts that raise too many more questions than they answer - thus increasing their survival chances.

[FolkloreBrony]

9625043
But will they survive the penis-heads?

[VoxAdam]

9625054

We've got smiling pony-zombies instead. Though not necessarily here, mind.

[FolkloreBrony]

9625068
I'm just sayin'. If next chapter or two we see overturned space donuts I'm requesting the Colonial Marines

[VoxAdam]

9625074

What a lot of audiences tend to forget is that, in the movie where they originally made their appearance, the Marines were portrayed as largely a bunch of loud-mouthed braggarts, and it was a civilian consultant who had to lead them out of this mess.

[FolkloreBrony]

9625082
I... I know that.

But all that technicality doesn't make much for a joke, does it?

[VoxAdam]

9625086

It's ping-ponging jokes.

[FolkloreBrony]

9625090

[angel3591]

Ready for Act 2!

[TheIdiot]

9626289 Act 1 has one chapter left before bowing out for Act 2. So, wait just a little bit longer.

[Yutah123]

9616371
Yes, and there's always the option of throwing away canon and building your own world because why not.

[Sledge115]

9629006

As we've done with the Crystal Realm and the addition of the Reindeer to the Princesses, yeah. When needed of course

[Yutah123]

“What do you want?”

He took an anxious step back. “N-nothing.”

And he scuttled away.

Knowing what they can be together makes this scene – aye, the whole situation – seem that much worse.

Without warning – at least from his perspective, considering he’d given the order – he felt a hoof yank his tail, pulling him off balance. A moment later, his tail was tugged up and down, back and forth, like a crank. Involuntarily, spellfire erupted from his horn, scattering energy in the bottle’s general direction. Spells flew across the room and hit the floor, walls, drapery – which was very distressing – and the table the bottle sat on. Everywhere but the bottle itself.

I've just realized that this probably came from that scene during the Changeling Invasion.

“Well now,” the earthpony spoke out, from among the throng gathered around him. “Got a bit overenthusiastic there, didn’t you, Sooty? But look at that,” he said, stepping in to pick up what Fire saw were bottle shards. “It worked! Beyond all expectations, I daresay, gentlecolts! In fact,” Shieldwall peered at the shards, which were different colors. “Yep, that’s three bottles in one go! Let’s hear a round of applause for Sooty and Bluenose’s firing skills, everyone!”

A good cover-up, considering.

[shadysandycity]

I appreciate this story's usage of downtime to develop the characters and foreshadow future events a bit. It really gives this story a needed depth the original didn't have, pardon the comparison.

“Ahem,” Lyra coughed, tapping her glass with her spoon. All conversation ceased as everyone in the room fixed their attention on her. “Both we begin, I’d like to propose a toast. To what lies ahead… but also what’s behind us. I think… we should toast to absent friends.”

Is... Is that a Star Trek reference?

[dvdspires]

“Hah! Too right,” he said, chortling. “What a bunch of pansies! They think they’re so smart cos’ their Princesses make the lights go on and off!” Then, ironically, his gaze darkened. “But... you know what? The only thing those than a pony, is a pony-loving dragon…”

Worse.

[dvdspires]

He was just about to dust himself off when he noticed what state he was in. Blueblood let out a gasp, whic became an indignant yelp as he realized his coat was stained black and grey with soot and ash. The jacket he’d been wearing was gone, leaving him completely bare, except for the remaining ash scattered across his body.

Which.

[RDT]

> longest chapter yet
Hmmm, let's check... Oh, it's 50k. Damn.

I like how it's going! Amending Fences: Spectrum Edition was interesting, and I'm always a sucker for Moondancer appearances.

[Sledge115]

11057688

You know it

Glad you enjoyed the Amending Fences what-if Vox would be happy to hear that too.

[Fiddlove Enfemme]

“Touché,” Lyra sighed, folding up the café menu. “Well, if we’re done pouring ourselves liquid courage here, might as well head over and talk to her. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s a Monday morning, and the first thing Moondancer does is go to the library.”

Yay, alcohol!

“Do I really need to answer that?” replied Lyra. “Simple. You never asked. You didn’t even check up on me all that often after I decided to move in full-time with Bonbon, except to say I was overdue on a book.”

... you know, something about this hits me right where it hurts. Old friends end up in the same place as you, but you never get around to rekindling what you used to have. It's normal for interests to change, for people to change, but while not all change is bad, there's something that gets lost in the aftermath.
Twilight's old friends visited, but she never tried to keep in touch. Of course, friendship, like many things, is a two way street. She might have forgotten them, but it's hard to say how much effort her old friends put into reconnecting. How could she accept an offer to rekindle their relationships if they never offered it? Twilight literally forgot about them because she was so wrapped up in her work, which means she was entirely unaware of their continued presence around her.

“She’s telling the truth,” Lyra said quietly. “I really miss you, Moondancer. I didn’t realise how much until Twilight told me she’d met you. And I know Minuette and Twinkleshine and Lemonhearts must too...”

This is quite the interesting way of melding canon events taking place further on the show's timeline with Spectrum's canon. Involving a second character who was known to have a relationship with Moondancer? Makes the scene messier, but also avoids the whole song and dance that the corresponding episode had.

“When Pinkie gets like this, it’s best to let her work and step back,” Celestia said. “She only wants to make people happy, after all.”

This is why, while I don't always find her methods to be the most effective, I respect Pinkie Pie. I myself want to make people happy, and seeing that people are in a good mood will often make me happier, too.
However, not everyone (myself included), actually likes parties. Loud, noisy, full of people, the expectation to spend all of your social battery in one place, possibility of alcohol being involved, music i don't really like, and being forced to spend time with people who don't respect me and my life choices.

“Here it is,” said Celestia. “Freshly unboxed, the Crystal Mirror.”

*squints*
Nope, no humans in here. I think. Wouldn't that be something, though? Not only would you have the inhabitants of Equestria, but also their duplicates in Pedestria. You know, so you can have another Lyra as a backup. In case this one dies too.

“The Old Ones built the Prism as a containment field for the stardust, under the belief that if they accumulated enough, they’d be able to forge a new world out of their dreams. Instead, they came close to making it all vanish into a maelstrom of Chimerae, spirits and plague.”

And here we have another candidate for Queen Celestia's powersource and prime corrupter.

“Experience is the best teacher,” Darkhoof cut across him. Unannounced, his father got up, stepping away from him. “Yet we must also learn from our failures. What good would it do to keep you stuck here for years more? Despite what the Reverend Mother says, one loss of resolve, one burst of anger are no proof of a brutish nature.”

Darkhoof is a kind, and loving father. Minotaurs across the world should take note of his respect, and care.

That was when Lyra took a gamble. “Moondancer, listen, you don’t want to miss this!” She inhaled deeply. “Humans are real.”

Lyra, you meathead! You're being a wrench in the gears!
Ahhhh, but what better way to tempt your old friend than by baiting them with kernels of knowledge?

“ Eerie youth is more like it,” said Alex. “It’s as phoney and sickly-sweet as the rest of what they’re selling. Ponies who spend time on Earth, after a while, they look the age that they should… Quite a few look older.”

Could be related to whatever Queen Celestia is using to control her soldiers, and manage her infrastructure.

“Lucky you didn’t… for you!” Garble sniggered, pulling the Timberwolf mother into his arms for carrying. “You’d done that, you’da broke all your teeth, bug-boy. ‘Rock-brain’? Rock-hard, more like!”

Garble's dialogue is quite homoerotic. Fascinating how overly macho guys tend to overflow into sounding gay, even if they want to avoid homosexuality due to societal, social, and cultural factors.

But that was only pride talking. Whereas this went deeper. Everything about Chrysalis’ ‘master-student’ relationship with Papillate gave her a creeping sense of wrongness.

Yeah, this relationship is toxic and somebody oughta beat up Chrysalis for a second time.

Yet it certainly got Ember’s head thrumming. ‘ The Storm King …’ she thought. ‘ No… he’s no friend of Toshiro and Kuno’s. Although… that’s probably Chrysalis being sarcastic. Could he… no, it makes no sense! To hear Toshiro talk, the guy’s a loud-mouthed buffoon! How could he be a threat to Princess Celestia? ’

Woooo, more splicing canonical characters and events into the timeline!
Guess that's just one more place where Spectrum has the benefit of being written when most FIM media had been finished and released.

“You see, Papillate,” Chrysalis told her trembling ward. “That’s how you deal with ‘em. They may growl all they like, once you look them hard in the eyes and show who’s boss, they retreat with their tails between their legs.”

gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss

“Your Highness, I’m from a species of leeches who live in places full of dirt and grit,” Chrysalis told her. “We take vaccination very seriously.”

Well, at least she's not an antivaxxer? Still evil, still wanna beat her up.

Thymos was on the floor, playing with his building blocks. Basil wasn’t surprised to get no proper greeting. It was simply Thymos’ way. He may have appeared not to have registered his older brother’s presence, let alone his long-delayed return, but he knew. The building blocks were his favourite toy when he felt sad.

Basil is a good brother. Thymos is different, and it's nobody's job to change him. His family simply has to work with the differences, and find the ways that work best for him.

“You oaf! That hurts, you know,” he grumbled, rubbing himself. “One’d think you’d never held the rudder in your life, with that sloppy-flanked pull. Besides, why must I always play the ‘cannon’?”

more homoeroticism
I approve!

“Oh, I’m not awesome... But what I do is.”

ughhhh, just make out with him already

“Heh, maybe I don’t want a professional.” Then Bonbon leant in to kiss her.

Knew there was a reason Bonbon loved Lyra!
Also, while that's not what I meant, glad to see somepony deciding that kissing is a worthwhile activity.

“No, I…” Blueblood blushed a little. “A friend lent it to me.”

See? He's hella gay. Or at least bisexual. No way he isn't one of the two.

“My answer, Madame Heartstrings,” the Prince said, with a galant flourish, “is ‘yes’. Gladly will I assist you in unearthing the secret of the monkey planet.”

uhhh, Blueblood, that's kinda racist.

“Yeah, I’m afraid so,” said Lyra. “Can’t say I’m surprised. She’s had a lot on her plate lately. She and Shining both have. Still, when I saw you there… if you could make it, I’d hoped she might too…”

Considering what we know... that is not a good sign. This can only mean that they're making war preparations elsewhere.

“To absent friends,” Minuette said, raising her own glass.

To absent friends. They may not grow old, as we who are left grow old.

Wow. Now this was a good chapter. I'm sure that there's been something brewing to properly close out Act One, but at the moment I'm not quite sure what it could be. No doubt, it's somewhere in the massive text that is Chapter 13. Single biggest chapter in the fic.
The thing that I'm most satisfied with in this fic is the consistency. Scenes don't overstay their welcome, characters aren't forced into pointless diatribes that exist solely to soapbox the author's beliefs and interests, and the characters react in believable ways. We have canon characters being introduced earlier than they appeared in the show. We have characters getting expanded lore, backstories, and origins that don't detract from their canon appearances. Where retcons are made, they are made to allow smoother flow between latent canon and introduced canon, instead of sloppily covering for the author's mistakes.
And yes, the characters continue to be well written. For major show characters, they feel like natural extensions of their original selves. For minor show characters, it feels as if we're being exposed to facets of their existence that the show never bothered expanding upon for their brief appearances. And most importantly of all, for fan favourite show characters, they aren't being made into over-the-top caricatures of their most popular fanon incarnations.

Tomorrow: my foray into Chapter 13.

[Sledge115]

11353911

... you know, something about this hits me right where it hurts. Old friends end up in the same place as you, but you never get around to rekindling what you used to have. It's normal for interests to change, for people to change, but while not all change is bad, there's something that gets lost in the aftermath.
Twilight's old friends visited, but she never tried to keep in touch. Of course, friendship, like many things, is a two way street. She might have forgotten them, but it's hard to say how much effort her old friends put into reconnecting. How could she accept an offer to rekindle their relationships if they never offered it? Twilight literally forgot about them because she was so wrapped up in her work, which means she was entirely unaware of their continued presence around her.

Amending Fences is my second-favourite episode of the series for a reason. But this alternate take hurt, for various reasons. You meet old friends and... things have changed. You're friendly and polite but it just isn't the same anymore.

This is quite the interesting way of melding canon events taking place further on the show's timeline with Spectrum's canon. Involving a second character who was known to have a relationship with Moondancer? Makes the scene messier, but also avoids the whole song and dance that the corresponding episode had.

Oh, yes. For want of a nail, and all that.

This is why, while I don't always find her methods to be the most effective, I respect Pinkie Pie. I myself want to make people happy, and seeing that people are in a good mood will often make me happier, too.
However, not everyone (myself included), actually likes parties. Loud, noisy, full of people, the expectation to spend all of your social battery in one place, possibility of alcohol being involved, music i don't really like, and being forced to spend time with people who don't respect me and my life choices.

Pinkie's my sixth-favourite of the Mane Six for a reason. There's also a reason why I prefer Izzy over her, or at least Izzy in the movie.

*squints*
Nope, no humans in here. I think. Wouldn't that be something, though? Not only would you have the inhabitants of Equestria, but also their duplicates in Pedestria. You know, so you can have another Lyra as a backup. In case this one dies too.

Hehe. Pedestria's a fun word. But that Lyra will have even less of a context to understand just what the heck is going on, you know.

And here we have another candidate for Queen Celestia's powersource and prime corrupter.

Twists and turns, and they continue to unfold...

Darkhoof is a kind, and loving father. Minotaurs across the world should take note of his respect, and care.

Lyra, you meathead! You're being a wrench in the gears!
Ahhhh, but what better way to tempt your old friend than by baiting them with kernels of knowledge?

Well, yeah. She's Twilight's friend, after all.

Garble's dialogue is quite homoerotic. Fascinating how overly macho guys tend to overflow into sounding gay, even if they want to avoid homosexuality due to societal, social, and cultural factors.

no homo, they say.

Yeah, this relationship is toxic and somebody oughta beat up Chrysalis for a second time.

I maintain that Queen Chrysalis is, genuinely, perhaps the vilest character in the show.

Woooo, more splicing canonical characters and events into the timeline!
Guess that's just one more place where Spectrum has the benefit of being written when most FIM media had been finished and released.

The later seasons aren't all bad, you know.

Well, at least she's not an antivaxxer? Still evil, still wanna beat her up.

Valid.

Basil is a good brother. Thymos is different, and it's nobody's job to change him. His family simply has to work with the differences, and find the ways that work best for him.

It's what we can do to help them that matters. They care.

more homoeroticism
I approve!

Knew there was a reason Bonbon loved Lyra!
Also, while that's not what I meant, glad to see somepony deciding that kissing is a worthwhile activity.

hah, gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

uhhh, Blueblood, that's kinda racist.

You're right, it's the ape planet.

Considering what we know... that is not a good sign. This can only mean that they're making war preparations elsewhere.

People seldom notice things are off before it's far, far too late...

To absent friends. They may not grow old, as we who are left grow old.

They shall not grow old...

The thing that I'm most satisfied with in this fic is the consistency. Scenes don't overstay their welcome, characters aren't forced into pointless diatribes that exist solely to soapbox the author's beliefs and interests, and the characters react in believable ways. We have canon characters being introduced earlier than they appeared in the show. We have characters getting expanded lore, backstories, and origins that don't detract from their canon appearances. Where retcons are made, they are made to allow smoother flow between latent canon and introduced canon, instead of sloppily covering for the author's mistakes.
And yes, the characters continue to be well written. For major show characters, they feel like natural extensions of their original selves. For minor show characters, it feels as if we're being exposed to facets of their existence that the show never bothered expanding upon for their brief appearances. And most importantly of all, for fan favourite show characters, they aren't being made into over-the-top caricatures of their most popular fanon incarnations.

SQUEEEEE

I'm touched that you'd appreciate it. It's what we strive for - consistency, but also patching things up that isn't meant in a mean-spirited way, but in a way that appreciates what the canon intended for it to be.

Celestia made some mistakes? No problem, instead of making it so she'll be a horrendously incompetent nonce with ulterior motives, she's just a kind mare who made a genuine mistake.

Also, expanding on minor characters, that's what we aimed They are people, with many facets. We want to see those facets explored, in various depths, because they aren't just props milling about to be used. They're their own characters, with lives outside of the main plot.

Thank you I'm glad it resonated.