• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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The Dream Maker, Part Two (New)

The Dream Maker, Part Two

“No reply yet?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha sighed. “No,” she murmured, putting her scroll down on the table beside her. Her head bowed forwards slightly, causing one of the strands of her ponytail to fall across her shoulder. “She’s still not answering.”

Sitting across the table in Beacon’s cafeteria from the three present members of Team SAPR, Yang felt her hands clench into fists.

None of them noticed. They had other things on their mind, like the fact that there were only three present members of Team SAPR.

‘I’m not going to run,’ huh, Sunset?

Watching them fret, watching them worry, watching them wonder where she’d gone, watching them trying to reach her … perhaps she should have been worried too, or perhaps she should have been sad for them to be going through this.

Yang found herself getting angry instead.

“Do you think we should call the police?” Ruby asked. “I mean, maybe something happened to her, out in Vale?”

“Like what?” Jaune replied. “This is Sunset we’re talking about; it would take someone pretty serious to take her on, and ever since the Breach … Vale’s been pretty quiet. I mean, I guess it’s possible, but personally, I don’t see that happening.”

“Then where is she?” Ruby demanded. “And why isn’t she answering any of Pyrrha’s calls?”

Because they never answer when they decide to run, Yang thought.

“Perhaps we are all worrying over nothing,” Pyrrha suggested. “After all, it has only been one night. Perhaps she … perhaps she simply had such a good time that she forgot to come home, and didn’t notice the messages I left.”

“When you say ‘had a good time,’” Nora said, leaning forwards on the table a little, “you’re talking about getting blackout drunk, right?”

Pyrrha coughed into one hand. “Not … necessarily,” she answered. “She may have … she may have come across some handsome young man — or woman, for that matter — and woken up in their apartment. I believe that sort of thing happens all the time.”

“In sitcoms, maybe,” Nora replied.

“Well, I’m sorry, I don’t have a lot of experience with these situations!” Pyrrha snapped.

She closed her eyes and bowed her head yet further, the teal drops on their chains falling so that they were about level with her closed eyes. A sigh escaped.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a calmer, softer, more contrite voice. “I just…”

“It’s okay,” Nora told her, reaching diagonally across the table to place her hand on top of Pyrrha’s. “I get it. I shouldn’t have said anything; I was just…”

“We’re not altogether sure that’s likely,” Ren said.

No, there’s something a lot more likely that’s happened here, Yang thought.

Jaune put a hand on Pyrrha’s arm. “We’re all worried,” he said. “But … I’ve gotta say, I’m with Nora on this one. Why would Sunset decide to go on a bender, or clubbing, or whatever, on the night we were all supposed to go to the wake together? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“No,” Yang growled. “It doesn’t.”

None of them paid her any attention.

“Do you think we should tell Professor Ozpin that she’s gone?” suggested Ruby.

“Not yet,” Pyrrha replied. “I don’t want to get Sunset into trouble unnecessarily; we should give her some more time before we bring her absence to the attention of the authorities.”

“So what do we do until then?” asked Ruby.

“Look for her in Vale, maybe?” Jaune answered. “Other than that, I don’t know that there’s much we can do, until she decides to reply to Pyrrha’s messages.”

Ruby looked down at the table in front of her. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “Why would she just disappear like that?”

“Because she’s gone!” Yang snapped. “She’s gone, and she isn’t answering because she doesn’t intend to come back, and she doesn’t want to be found. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. You won’t be seeing her again.”

“You don’t know that—” Jaune began.

Yang glared at him. “I know what I’m talking about,” she said, in a voice as cold as ice and as sharp as a blade, “which is why I should have known better than to trust her.”

“'Trust her'?” Ruby repeated. “What are you talking about?”

“Sunset promised me that she wouldn’t do this!” Yang growled. “In the hospital, she promised me. ‘I’m not going to run,’ she said, and I believed it.”

Ruby started to speak. “You don’t know that—”

“Yes,” Yang said. “Yes, I do. She’s run away, because she’s the kind who always runs away. That’s just what people like her do: they split when the going gets tough.”

“That’s not fair,” Pyrrha declared, her head snapping up to look at Yang.

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” Pyrrha said, her voice rising. “I don’t know what prompted Sunset to say something like that to you, but I do know that Sunset is a woman of her word; if she gave you that promise, then she will hold to it.”

“Then where is she?” Yang demanded.

“Miss Shimmer is doing a job for me,” Professor Ozpin’s voice, light and smooth as ever, interrupted the conversation between the students. They all looked around to see that the headmaster had stolen upon them while they quarrelled and now stood over them at their table, looking down upon them all.

“I apologise,” he continued, “I should have notified you earlier as Miss Shimmer’s teammates, but the task itself arose on very short notice, and you were preoccupied at the wake for the victims of the Breach.”

The six students stared at him in silence for a moment, and for moments more which stretched onwards while Professor Ozpin stood there, a cup of hot chocolate held in one hand, looking unreadable as he waited for their response.

“Sunset … Sunset’s on a mission?” Ruby asked.

“That is correct, Miss Rose.”

“By herself?” Jaune added. “Without us?”

Professor Ozpin took a moment before he answered. “That is also correct, Mister Arc.”

Another silence, only a little shorter than the first, greeted that announcement.

“Because that’s something we do now?” Nora said warily. “Is this something that we should all expect from now on, you to pick on someone to go out by themselves?” As she spoke, she wrapped both her hands around Ren’s arm.

“Nora,” Run began.

“Ren, I love you, but you would be dead in ten minutes without me, and we both know it.”

Yang didn’t say anything, but privately, she didn’t disagree; Ren was very intelligent, very disciplined; he worked hard and had good instincts, but he was also a prime example of why the huntsmen academies brigaded students into teams of four and why some huntsmen chose not to work alone after graduation. He was definitely the kind of person who needed teammates to cover for him.

But, to be fair to Ren, that was most students; of the six of them sat at this table, Yang would only trust herself and Pyrrha to go out on a mission by themselves and come back in one piece. Was Sunset also part of that select group? She had the raw power for it, but did she have the instincts, the awareness? Yang thought not.

Which raised the question of why Professor Ozpin thought otherwise.

“No, Miss Valkyrie, this will not be a common occurrence,” Professor Ozpin explained. “Students are placed in teams for a reason.”

“And yet you sent Sunset out alone, Professor,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “Events moved swiftly, and the situation … is rather unique.”

“What is the situation?” asked Ruby.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you any more details than I have,” Professor Ozpin said. “Rest assured, Miss Shimmer’s absence, regrettable though it may be, is known and has my authorisation. And, while I understand your worry, I trust you will recognise that, in the field, it may simply not be possible for Miss Shimmer to respond to your calls.”

Pyrrha’s voice was very quiet as she said, “Of course, Professor.”

But why did you send her out by herself? Yang wondered. What about events moved so swiftly that you could only get Sunset, and not the rest of Team SAPR?

It occurred to her that perhaps this was something to do with Salem and all the other business that Sunset and the others were involved in. The trouble with that hypothesis was that the others were involved in it just as much as Sunset. So again, to come back to the same old question, why send Sunset on her own, and not her teammates who were equally involved in Ozpin’s secrets?

Of course, Yang did not discount the possibility that Professor Ozpin could have been lying. But about what, and to what purpose?

She just couldn’t work it out.

But … she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t glad to be proved wrong.

“I’m sorry, guys,” she said. “It looks like I jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry I judged Sunset that way.”

“Given the … circumstances, Miss Xiao Long, I’m sure that nobody begrudges you your suspicion,” Professor Ozpin said. “And there was no harm done. However, please try and have a little more faith in your classmates in future; you may need to rely on them one day.”

I wasn’t talking to you, Professor, Yang thought. “I already do, Professor,” she said.

Professor Ozpin smiled. “I’ll leave you to get back to breakfast in peace,” he said. “I just thought that you should know.” He took a sip from his chocolate before he turned away and began to walk out of the dining hall.

“Huh,” Jaune said. “That … wasn’t what I expected.”

“At least now we know,” ventured Ruby.

“Yeah,” Jaune agreed. “At least now we know, right, Pyrrha?”

“Hmm?” Pyrrha murmured, her eyes still fixed upon Professor Ozpin as he left.

“Pyrrha?”

“Yes?” Pyrrha asked, looking around at him. “Will you all excuse me for a moment?”

“Uh, sure, but—”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before she got up and began to walk briskly after Professor Ozpin.


“Professor!” Pyrrha called, as she walked out of the dining hall, the sunlight glinting upon her gilded armour, the contrast in brightness making her eyes narrow momentarily. “Professor Ozpin!”

Professor Ozpin looked over his shoulder at her. “Was there something else, Miss Nikos?”

Pyrrha approached him. “Professor Ozpin,” she said softly. “May we speak a moment?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a little while. “Is this the sort of conversation that would be better held in private, Miss Nikos?” he suggested.

“Professor,” Pyrrha replied. “What you have … this mission that you have sent Sunset on … it is highly irregular.”

“I am aware of that, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin acknowledged.

“Might I ask if it is in any way connected with other … irregular happenings of late?” asked Pyrrha.

“No, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said at once. “It is not related in any way.”

“I … see,” Pyrrha murmured, although, truth be told, she saw very little. “Thank you, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Good day, Miss Nikos.”

He made to walk away again, and Pyrrha let him go. She stood in front of the dining hall doors, making way a little for the students still drifting in for breakfast.

She saw very little. Sunset’s mission was nothing to do with Salem; Professor Ozpin had told her as much, and Pyrrha did not doubt his word. In truth, it would have made little sense for Sunset to have been despatched alone on such a task, given that they were all in on the secret.

And it made little sense that Sunset would be despatched on her own on any errand. That was the thing that bothered her, the thing that Professor Ozpin had made very little effort to explain, and what explanation he offered had not been a good one.

Sunset, if she had been here and Pyrrha had been the one sent on a mission by herself, would doubtless have seen malice and mischief in it. Pyrrha herself was not so suspicious and yet … what was going on? Why had Sunset gone by herself, even if the task was a simple one, why could they not have undertaken it together?

The headmaster’s explanation, that there had been no time … Pyrrha was afraid to say that it did not hold water with her. What could have been so urgent? And even if it were urgent, why could the rest of them not have followed, with Sunset going on ahead? Why were they condemned to wait and wonder?

Why was this happening all of a sudden?

Where are you, Sunset?

Wherever you are, be safe.

Be safe and come back to us.


The crimson barrier closed behind them as the three huntresses stepped through it, the red energy descending like a curtain, sealing off the archway through which they had walked mere moments before.

Trixie gathered up her starry cape around her, lest any of it be caught in the closing doorway like… well, like a cape caught in a closing door.

The barrier sealed itself up, leaving no way back out that Sunset could see. No way back to where they had been before.

Starlight got out her scroll. “Well, I can’t say that I’m too surprised, but we’ve just lost all signal. Whatever this is, it’s disrupting communications. Which explains why nobody’s heard from Arcadia Lake in a while.”

“Which implies that this barrier, whatever it is, has been up for some time,” Sunset murmured.

“It’s better than the other implication,” Trixie said. “Starlight’s implication at least implies that the village is still there, waiting for us. I mean, why raise a magical barrier—?”

“We don’t know for sure that it’s magic yet,” Starlight pointed out.

Trixie ploughed on regardless. “Why raise a magical barrier to keep people out if there’s nothing left to keep people out of?”

That was a good point. A point that was reinforced as the group of beowolves — a score of them in all — came into view, darting out of the thickets and the brush that lay on either side of the road, loping across the grassy plains, running towards them with their teeth bared. The barrier, whatever it was, magic or otherwise, did not restrict sound, and Sunset could hear the beowolves howling as they bore down upon them.

Sunset took a step back and raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder, but the beowolves slowed as they approached the barrier, stopping altogether a few feet away from it. They stalked back and forth, glaring at the huntresses with their red eyes, growling and snarling — one in particular, a one-eyed alpha who towered above the rest of the pack, seemed to have its one eye fixed on Sunset, staring straight at her as though it recognised her from somewhere — but they did not breach the barrier. They did not even try. The wall of red did not open for them, and they seemed to recognise that they could not break through it.

They simply waited, so close to the huntresses and yet so far away at the same time, separated by this force, whatever it might be.

“Does it occur to anyone else that there’s a certain irony here?” Starlight asked.

“'Irony'?” said Trixie.

“It seems as though our mission is going to involve bringing down … whatever this is,” Starlight said, gesturing at the barrier, “if only so that contact with the rest of the kingdom can be resumed. But if we do that, then Arcadia Lake becomes vulnerable to the grimm again.”

“It still has the lake,” Trixie pointed out.

“True,” agreed Starlight. “But you know what I mean, right?”

Sunset frowned. “Maybe … maybe that’s not our mission?”

“How do you mean?” asked Starlight.

“I mean, if this barrier is keeping out the grimm, then maybe we should leave it up,” Sunset said. “It’s not doing any harm.”

“That we know of yet,” Starlight responded. “And that’s assuming that you don’t count jamming communications as ‘any harm.’”

“We should push forward,” Trixie declared, twirling her wand above her head like a baton, “and discover more about what’s really going on around here.”

Sunset wondered who had put Trixie in charge of what was supposed to be Sunset’s mission, but it would have been churlish to have argued over what was, ultimately, a pretty good idea, no matter whose idea it was, and so, she nodded in agreement.

The three huntresses turned away from barrier and beowolves alike, and walked away down the dirt road that led to Arcadia Lake.

And the beowolves sat on the other side of the barrier and watched them go, growling softly as they waited.

Now that they were on the other side of the barrier and moving past it, it became easier to notice that the barrier was, in fact, a dome of some kind; it did not rise straight up but curved as it rose, curving over their heads, running past them and pointing the way towards Arcadia Lake, casting a crimson glow over the world as it filtered out the sunlight that passed through it. It was as if the world here was trapped in an eternal dawn, and a particularly red dawn at that.

Of course, it being a dome made sense, far more sense than the idea of a great wall that had suddenly bisected Sanus. Even so, the revelation that it was a dome and not a wall brought them — brought Sunset, at least — no closer to understanding just what it was than she had been before.

Could it be magic? Certainly, it could; there were shield spells that could produce a similar effect — in fact, if the shield spell were cast by a unicorn with a crimson magical aura, then it would look exactly like this. But a shield of this size, covering so great a distance? Sunset couldn’t see the dome curving at the sides, though she presumed that it was doing so; it was not only Arcadia Lake that was being covered but a great chunk of the surrounding area also. This was not impossible; a powerful unicorn, with command over the vagaries of magic, could do as much: Sunset had never tried it, but she might have had the power to do so; Princess Celestia, of course, could have done it with ease; as an alicorn, it was probable that Cadance could have done as much; and of course, Princess Twilight would have found it easy. Even a more ordinary unicorn with a talent and cutie mark for shields and barriers might have been able to accomplish the feat. It was by no means unthinkable, but that was in Equestria. Here in Remnant, where magic was so much weaker … how? Who? What? What might be waiting for them there?

Sunset found herself wishing that it was not magic; she didn’t really want to be confronted by someone who was so much more powerful in this world than she was.

Of course, not all magic came from Equestria; she knew that there was magic native to Remnant also, although nothing that she had read suggested it could be used in so unicorn a fashion as it was being employed here.

Even if that were the case, if a prophet was waiting for them on the island, she would, again, be considerably more powerful than Sunset.

Or she might be a Red Queen. After all, the colour of this dome suggests as much.

And it would explain why they wanted to cut off Arcadia Lake from the rest of Vale: how better to rule than to isolate the place you want to rule from anywhere or anyone who might dispute it?

But then why let us through?

That had been a conscious decision on somebody’s part, Sunset believed, in part because she could not believe otherwise. Magic was not sentient; it did not have a will of its own. Well, not unless you separated it from all control, as she had done when she gave Twilight some of her magic to study, but magic released and out of control would not have formed a dome like this in the first place, still yet have opened it in a single spot to admit Sunset and the others.

Someone had created this dome and remained in control of it. Someone had sensed that Sunset — and possibly the others too, but the fact that the archway had appeared as Sunset’s magic struck the barrier struck Sunset in turn as a very telling fact.

Someone had sensed their presence and decided to let them in anyway.

Welcome to my parlour, said the spider to the fly.

Sunset shivered. She had walked into a trap set by her enemy once before; she had no desire to repeat the experience — or see the consequences repeated.

Her equine ears pricked up, assailed by a far off, distant sound, a sound which seemed to be coming closer and closer.

The sound of a train rattling down the tracks, speeding along with that juddering noise, the screech of metal wheels upon the rails, the shrill, high pitched whistle.

Coming closer and closer, bearing down upon her.

“Do you hear that?” Sunset demanded, looking around, turning in place to see what lay nearby.

“Hear what?” Starlight asked.

“I … I thought I heard a train coming,” Sunset murmured.

“'A train'?” Trixie repeated. “Where would a train be coming from? Or going to? Magical dome cutting off the area, remember? Even if there were any train tracks, it’s not like anything would be running on them.”

“Right,” Sunset muttered. “Sorry, I just … I could have sworn … never mind.”

Just my imagination. My thoughts run amok and so infect my other senses.

I must not be ruled by fear; this is not Mountain Glenn. There need be no great evil waiting for us at the lake.

With good fortune, it may even be something good, a benevolent protector, perhaps.

One may hope at least.

Or at the very least, not give in to fear before its time.

Sunset pushed all concerns about what might be waiting for them at Arcadia Lake to the back of her mind as the three of them pressed forward. On this side of the dome, there was no sign of any grimm in evidence — none could pass the dome, and none had been on the inside of it when it was raised — and so, without danger, Sunset was free to appreciate the countryside through which they walked.

It would have been prettier under a blue sky, no doubt, but even cast in a crimson dawn-like glow as it was, the land here was quite beautiful. Save for this single dirt road, which did not seem a great imposition, the landscape seemed practically unspoiled by man, and even the evidence of human presence — the windmill atop the rise falling into disuse, the rustic cottage that seemed uninhabited — added to the idyllic charm of the place rather than detracting from it. Trees grew tall, and flowers of red and yellow sprouted from their branches; daffodils blossomed by the side of the road; berries grew ripe upon the bushes, and the fact that Sunset wouldn’t have stuck any of them in her mouth didn’t detract from how nice they were to look upon. Little molehills disturbed the grassland, while a red squirrel darted down from a tree to dash across their path. Birds sang, heedless of the power that held them captive, content in their moment to moment existences.

We should all be so lucky.

“Nice place, isn’t it?” Starlight murmured.

“A little empty for Trixie’s tastes,” Trixie replied.

“You think so?” Starlight asked.

Trixie glanced at her. “You don’t think so?”

“It reminds me of Canterlot,” Starlight explained.

“Canterlot had Canterlot,” Trixie pointed out. “A town at the centre of things.”

“And we’re on our way to a village,” Starlight reminded her. “My point is that it reminds me of the land outside of Canterlot.”

“Trixie finds the land outside of Canterlot to also be empty,” Trixie declared. “Otherwise, it would be a part of Canterlot and not outside it.” She paused for a moment, before adding, “Trixie prefers her flowers in a vase.”

“You really don’t appreciate this?” Starlight asked, a touch of disbelief creeping into her voice. “It doesn’t do anything for you?”

“Is there any reason why it should?” countered Trixie.

“Because it’s beautiful,” Sunset suggested.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, no?” Trixie said. “I mean, look at your teammate, Jaune Arc.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting that he beholds beauty wrongly or that he wrongly is beheld?”

Trixie smirked. “Which do you think?” she asked.

“I think you should keep your opinions on that to yourself,” Sunset said flatly. “I won’t stand to hear my teammates insulted.” Even if I’ve said much the same thing at times.

Especially because I’ve said much the same thing at times.

Trixie held up her hands. “Fine, if you don’t want me to say it, I won’t say it. But you know what I mean, right?”

“I’m surprised,” Starlight said. “I mean you’ve talked about wanting to travel. I thought that meant you’d appreciate the open road and, well, what lies around it.”

“The point of travelling, Starlight, is to get to the place you’re travelling to,” Trixie explained. “Trixie wants to see places, not to see the nowheres that lie in between places. That’s why, if The Great and Powerful Trixie were to travel, Trixie would do so in a camper van or something, so that she could enjoy the comforts of home even when in between places.”

“Your military career might put a dampener on any travel plans,” Sunset pointed out. “Or do you plan to go independent after graduation?”

“No,” Trixie replied. “The Grrrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrrixie will be lending her talents to the Atlesian military. After all, how could I expect them to get on without me?” She winked. “But I’ll get some time off some time to pursue my passions.”

“You’d get more if you choose your own work without reference to anyone else,” Sunset said.

“And in return, Trixie would be all by herself,” Trixie said. “Great and Powerful and all alone.”

“I don’t disdain working solo,” Starlight said. “Well, okay, I do disdain working solo, and I’ve kind of admitted that already, but what I mean is … working on your own, that’s just stupid in my book; everyone needs someone to watch their back, no matter how skilled or how smart, no matter how many people think that you’re ready to bear the weight on your own. Something will always come along that you never expected, something that you aren’t ready for, no matter what people think, and if you try and shoulder that weight alone … you’ll break. You’ll break, and your only hope is that someone, a group of someones, will help to put you back together again. So I don’t think any huntsman should work by themselves, with no backup. In point of fact, I think that’s why we end up with so many dead huntsmen, and the quicker people realise that and knock it off, the safer the kingdoms will be, but what I’m trying to say is that if anyone wants to work for themselves after graduation, that’s fine. I’d rather they do it in a group, but even someone like Robyn Hill can do good. I’m sure she’s got her reasons for doing the things she does. But personally … the more people standing alongside you, the more people you can rely on when that thing you never expected happens, the better. And I don’t just mean that for myself; I’d like to think that I mean it for the people that I can be there to help too.”

Trixie nodded. “Trixie … I want to stand alongside everyone, not just Starlight and Sunburst, but Dash and Applejack and Maud if she decides to come back, and Blake if she decides to join us. I don’t just want to be the lone star, even though of course The Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie would be the brightest star that ever shone in the firmament. But Trrrrrixie wants to be the brightest star … in a whole sky full of stars.” One hand brushed against the edge of her starry cloak.

Sunset smiled. “You make it sound almost appealing.”

“But not appealing enough that you’d consider transferring,” Starlight guessed.

“Not a chance,” Sunset replied.

Starlight chuckled. The three of them continued on a little way, progressing down the dirt road towards — hopefully — their destination, before she observed, "You know, as pretty as this is, there is one pretty big reason why we need to bring this dome down somehow, whatever it is, in spite of the danger of the grimm."

"Really?" asked Sunset. "What's that?"

"Can you see a single farm around here?" replied Starlight. "Because I sure can't. Not a single farm or field or even an orchard. If this dome stays up, where is all the food going to come from?"

Sunset hadn't considered that, but now that her attention had been drawn to it … yeah, this countryside really was untouched, wasn't it? Which was largely responsible for its idyllic appearance, but on the other hand meant that it wasn't really producing anything useful beyond the calm and spiritual renewal that came from spending time in nature.

"Maybe they could fish the lake?" she suggested.

"They'll fish the lake clean out of fish if it's all they have to live on," Starlight muttered. "This dome might be keeping them safe from the grimm, and perhaps whoever raised it had good intentions by it, but if Arcadia Lake stays cut off from the rest of the kingdom…"

"Right," Sunset murmured.

"If whoever cast this spell did have good intentions, they'll understand that," Trixie said.

"We don't know that it's magic, Trixie, not for certain," Starlight pointed out.

"Trixie can feel it in my bones," Trixie declared. "And with a show of power like this, we can prove it! We'll be able to prove to Remnant that magic is real; nobody will be able to deny something like this! If only Twilight were here!"

"The person whose magic it is gets a say in all this," Sunset said.

"If there is a magician there and they were concerned at all about secrecy, then they wouldn't have done … this," Starlight said, gesturing to the dome above them.

"It's particularly conspicuous," Trixie declared. "Even by your standards."

Sunset's eyes boggled as she felt a chill run down her back. "My standards?" she spluttered. "What do you mean, my standards?"

Trixie said nothing, but smirked and winked at her.

She knows. She knows … well, I mean she doesn't know; she probably doesn't know that I'm from Equestria, but she knows that I have magic.

A fact for which I probably have only myself to blame; as she said, I've not exactly been inconspicuous in the way that I've used my powers. I haven't troubled to hide my light beneath a bushel since my duel with Pyrrha.

I have relied upon the fact that nobody believes in magic to be my cloak, trusting in the fact that nobody would even consider that I might have magical powers, since magical powers are the stuff of children's tales.

But of course, someone who did believe in magic, someone whose mind was open to the possibility, would see that the power she possessed was inconsistent with a semblance. It had happened with Cinder, and it had apparently happened with Trixie too.

Thinking about it, Twilight should feel disappointed that I had to tell her before she worked it out for herself.

Out-thought by The Great and Powerful Trixie, Twilight, tut tut.

I'm never going to let her hear the end of it.

Perhaps Sunset ought to have been more worried that someone else knew her secret, but at least Trixie only knew part of the secret, and not the worrying part, the part that touched upon other people and other worlds which she would rather have spared from all this; no, Trixie only knew the personal part of the secret.

And it seemed that she had no intention of doing anything with it. It seemed, indeed, that she had known the secret for some time and sat on it for all that time, and why would that change now?

And Rainbow Dash seemed to trust these two, relying on them for backup whenever backup was required, which meant it was probably fine for Sunset to trust them too.

She'd better hope so, given that they were all in this together with no way out.

Nevertheless, Sunset did not confirm Trixie's unspoken assumption, saying nothing further about it. That seemed to suit Trixie just fine. As Sunset had said, the other mage got a say in the matter, and Trixie seemed to accept Sunset's desire to keep her magic a secret — however much she showed it off at the same time.

It was not too long after that that the three huntresses finally arrived at Arcadia Lake, reaching the end of the dirt road and coming to a wooden pier which extended out a little way over the clear water.

The lake was large, fed by a river descending down from out of the mountains to the east, and — though with a settlement built atop it it could not quite call itself unspoiled as could the lands around, nevertheless — it matched in beauty the countryside surrounding it. The water was unpolluted, and though the reflections on the waves were a little marred by being as red as blood, Sunset thought that, in the natural sunlight, this lake would sparkle like a sapphire. At present, it had a ruby hue, like the wine dark sea of which the Mistralian poets sang. Birds sat atop the water's surface, dipping their heads down below the gentle waves, before taking off, little fishes wriggling in their mouths, shrieking out to another as they spread their wings.

An island sat in the surface of the lake, and upon the lake had been raised a village, a village which had outgrown the island that had nurtured it, extending outwards over the water via synthetic platforms resting upon stilted poles sank into the water. From this distance, the houses seemed small — even closer, they would still seem small, being only a single storey as they mostly seemed to be — but well-built, the stone or brick covered up in decorative cladding that climbed up the walls, forming what almost looked like crowns about the roofs. Piers extended out over the lake, with boats of various sizes — tending towards small or medium, although Sunset saw at least one that looked large enough to carry goods in bulk — tied up alongside them.

That, it had to be said, was more than could be said for the situation in which Sunset, Starlight, and Trixie found themselves.

"Any ideas how we can get from here to there?" Trixie asked.

Starlight's eyes narrowed a little. "I'm not sure that's going to be a problem."

On the other side of the lake, in the village itself, they could see a trio of figures moving; they were very small at this distance, and indistinct, more resembling shadows than people, little dark shapes emerging from out of the village and striding out onto a pier nearby. Nevertheless, no matter how small they were, Sunset could make out two of the figures climbing into a modest red boat with a flat prow, while the third person remained behind upon the pier, lingering there as the red boat set out across the lake.

They could hear its engine chugging away as it drew closer, churning the red-tinted water up behind it as it made its way to them. As the boat drew closer, they could see the two figures in the boat more clearly. One was a man, dressed in a red plaid shirt and faded blue jeans, with a little stubble on his face and a dull brown bucket hat upon his head, masking his hair; he was standing at the back of the boat, one hand upon the tiller of the onboard motor.

His companion standing at the prow — posing, almost, with one foot planted upon the edge of the vessel — was a young woman, about the age of Sunset and the others; she was a fanus with a pair of equine legs, ending with iron-shod hooves, emerging from underneath her midnight blue shorts. Midnight blue too were her eyes, which were somewhat slanted and very striking, accentuated with purple eyeshadow and long eyelashes, set in an alabaster face with high, angular cheekbones and a button nose. A circlet of cold iron, black as Soteria's blade and adorned with little points that looked almost like unicorn horns, sprouting from it like the points of a crown, emerging from out of the waves of her hair, adorned her brow. Her hair was a rich purple, streaked — Sunset thought, for it was hard to be sure — with slightly paler shades of pink and, more noticeably, with one or two streaks of pure white; it was voluminous and fell in waves behind her, falling languidly over her shoulders, expanding out on either side of her head and descending past her waist. Above her shorts, she wore a black blouse, with a royal blue waistcoat over the top of it, whose buttons were silver with sparkling gemstones set in them. The collar was undone, revealing a necklace of silver grey clasped about her throat fashioned like a pair of wings enfolding her neck. A long coat of midnight blue fell around her, dropping almost to the floor of the boat in which she stood, and out of the sleeves of that coat, her hands emerged, clad in segmented gauntlets of dark metal, with each segmented section on her fingers or knuckles bristling with a sharp spike, so that it almost seemed as though she were wearing thorns.

As the boat drew up alongside the pier, the girl leapt up onto it, her hooves making a solid thump against the wooden planks. She smiled and tossed back the hair that had crept over her shoulder.

"Reinforcements!" she cried. "And such estimable reinforcements besides: Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, and The Great and Powerful Trixie. We are honoured. Should I expect Pyrrha Nikos to pop up from behind a bush?"

"Sadly, no," Sunset murmured. "Perhaps sadly, at least, although I am not sure how sad it is when I am as uncertain of what she would do if she were here as I am of what we should do now we are here; but — perhaps sadly — she is not here. The rest of Team Sapphire is as absent as the other half of Team Tsunami. But it appears you have the advantage of us, Miss—?"

"Eve," Eve said, holding out her hand. "Eve Viperidae, leader of Team Eden of Haven Academy. It's a pleasure."

"Likewise," Sunset said, taking the offered hand. Eve had a firm grim, made a little rough by the gauntlets she was wearing. "Of course, now that you remind me, I remember Team Eden, of course."

Eve's delicately plucked eyebrows rose. "Really? And what do you remember?"

Sunset hesitated, rather wishing that Eve hadn't asked her that question. "Well…"

Eve grinned. "It's okay. I'm well aware that my team hasn't made a name for itself on the level of the illustrious Team Sapphire, or even Team Tsunami, for that matter."

"‘Or even’?" Trixie demanded.

Eve did not explain, but the smile remained on her face as she shook the hand of Trixie and then Starlight. "I'm glad to see you," she said, "although I'm not certain what brings three huntresses from two different teams — two different academies, even — out here to Arcadia Lake, but I am glad to see you. How did you get past the dome?"

"It opened for us," Starlight said.

"Really?" Eve asked. "It opened for you? How did you achieve that?"

"We wish we knew," Starlight replied.

Eve whistled. "You girls really are special, aren't you?" she said.

"Do you know what it is, this dome?" asked Sunset.

Eve shook her head. "Not a clue. It went up not long after my team arrived. Not long after that girl got sick. I have to admit, I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing at this point. Our mission was to shadow a huntsman hired to protect this village from a spike in grimm activity. Now, the huntsman is dead, half my team is gone, and we can't get out. If … if it seems like I'm fawning over you…" — she looked away, her eyes turning downwards toward the surface of the lake — "it's because I could really use the help right now."

Sunset's jaw hung open for a moment. "Half your team," she repeated, her voice soft, quiet, barely more than a disbelieving whisper.

Half her team, gone? She could scarcely imagine what Eve had just said. Half her team. That was … that was the stuff of nightmares. Pyrrha and Jaune, gone; Pyrrha and Ruby, not there anymore; Ruby and Jaune, snatched away in the blink of an eye. A team cut down from four to two, and all in the course of a single mission. A single training mission, a mission that was supposed to be — inasmuch as anything could be said to be in this line of study — safe.

How could Eve still smile in the face of such loss? How could she still laugh or smirk or joke? Half her team gone, and yet, here she was. Bon Bon had been broken by losses half as severe, and Sunset … the threat of such losses had driven Sunset to such things…

"I'm sorry," Trixie said, reaching out to put a hand on Eve's shoulder. "I am so, so sorry. What you must be going through … I can't even imagine."

Eve smiled, thought it seemed a little stiffer and less genuine than it had been. "Keep moving forward, right? We can't be conquered by our sorrows. I still have a job to do here."

A part of Sunset admired her resolve, and thought that she deserved to be far better known amongst the students than she was, possessed as she was of the right stuff that made a huntress; another part of her could not help but find Bon Bon's grief and incoherent wrath to be … more human.

"How?" Starlight demanded. "I thought the dome was keeping the grimm out?"

Eve hesitated for a moment. "I don't know for sure," she admitted. "It seems to be, but … the best I can theorise is that the dome doesn't obstruct the flow of water, so aquatic grimm are able to get through."

"We need to get this dome down," Starlight declared. "Not only is it cutting the village off, it isn't even keeping it safe at the same time."

"You're right," Sunset admitted. "We need to bring down the dome, then we can summon reinforcements against the grimm if we need them — and get what's left of your team out of here."

Eve nodded. "You should come to the village," she said. "We can make plans there. Come on, this boat will take us back."

She climbed into the red boat, more carefully than she had leapt out of it just a few moments before, and after a moment, Sunset, Starlight, and Trixie followed her. The boat rocked a little as they climbed in.

“Take us back, Clive, if you wouldn’t mind,” Eve said.

“Right,” the man in the plaid shirt — Clive — muttered, as he began to push the boat off the pier and back out into the water.

“You said there was a girl,” Sunset said, wobbling just a little as she tried to keep her balance on the boat. “A girl who was sick, not long before the dome went up.”

Eve looked at Sunset strangely. “You can’t think there’s a connection there?”

“At this point, I’m open to any possibility,” Sunset replied. “Tell us about the girl.”

Eve shrugged. “There isn’t a lot to tell, except perhaps that describing her as having gotten sick might have been misphrasing it a little. She … is in a coma.”

“An accident?” asked Starlight.

“No one knows,” Eve said. “Or at least, if they know, they aren’t saying. Her name is Plum Pole. A nice girl, by all accounts, although I didn’t see much of her before … you know. Parents are working out in Vacuo, I think, sent the girl here to live with her aunt.”

Sunset frowned. “You say that as if it’s so natural.”

“It is what it is,” Eve replied. “I’m not saying that it’s right for the girl, but I’m not saying that it’s wrong either. Sometimes … sometimes your parents don’t have your best interests at heart. It’s best to come away from them as quickly as possible. Find your own niche. Carve your own path.”

“Is that what Miss Pole was doing?” Starlight asked. “Carving her own path?”

There was a moment of silence, broken by the sound of Clive starting up the engine again and turning the boat back towards the village as the propeller began to churn the water once more to send them back that way.

“What she seems to have been mostly doing was hanging around with a boy her own age,” Eve said. “Malmsey Scrub, his father is also working in Vacuo, but his mother is ill, so the two of them have moved out here, hoping that the more benign climate and the clean country air will do them good.” She snorted. “Has clean country air ever actually helped someone recover from serious health issues?”

Nobody answered, except that Trixie said, “You seem remarkably well-informed about everyone’s comings and goings.”

“It’s a small village; people like to gossip,” Eve said. “Or at least they did, before … well, before all of this. Anyway, the two of them are the same age, they get along, and they spent a lot of time at the house of Scrub’s uncle, Professor Scrub. Some sort of scientist, I think; nobody knows quite what he does. That’s where the girl was when she suddenly collapsed, apparently. Won’t wake up. As you can imagine, it’s got people on edge.”

“Has she seen a doctor?” asked Starlight.

“There isn’t a doctor here,” Eve said. “He unfortunately passed away. She’s in the care of Doctor Diggory—”

“You just said—” began Starlight.

“He’s a PhD, not an MD,” Eve informed them. “But he is a scientist, so I suppose he’s the next best thing, although not good enough, judging by Miss Pole’s refusal to wake up. And it was about that time that the dome went up, and we lost all contact with the rest of Vale.” She smiled. “And that, as you might say, was when our troubles began.”

“That’s when the nightmares started, too,” Clive muttered.

“'Nightmares'?” Trixie repeated.

“It’s a coincidence,” Eve said dismissively. “Nothing more.”

“'Coincidence,' is it?” Clive demanded. “Coincidence, the whole village or near enough start getting nightmares round about the time that young Miss Pole fell down? She’s cursed.”

“You’re blaming a comatose girl?” Starlight demanded. “You think that she’s … what, sending you nightmares?”

Clive wrinkled his nose. “It ain’t right, so many nightmares, not all at once.”

“You want to know what’s really not right?” Trixie said, her voice trembling. “How about that shape in the water that’s coming right for us?”

Sunset looked around at her, turning so swiftly that she almost lost her balance and fell into the water. She followed Trixie’s shaking hand, pointing out into the water where something, some shape, some large dark shape clearly visible beneath the waves, was making its way directly and unmistakably towards them.

“Oh gods,” Clive groaned. “Oh gods. Oh no, oh gods, oh no.”

Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder. “One of your aquatic grimm?” she asked as Starlight likewise raised her weapon.

“Possibly,” Eve said casually as a baton dropped out of her sleeve and into her hand, before unfolding with a series of clicks and clanks into a spear. “That, or the lake suddenly has sharks in it.”

“Don’t worry,” Trixie said, reaching into one of the pouches at her belt. “One blast of lightning dust, and this thing will be fried before it ever breaches the water.”

“Trixie!” Starlight cried. “You can’t electrocute the lake.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll kill all the fish,” Starlight pointed out, “and anyone who might be so much as touching the water.”

Trixie groaned. “You always want to do things the hard way.”

She had begun to reach into a different pouch for some other dust when the grimm breached the water’s surface.

It was serpentine, with a long black body that emerged from the water in coils, rising out of the lake’s depths only to sink back down again, then rise and fall then rise again in a series of n-shapes, sinuous black lumps like hollow hills emerging under the light of the sun, the light that was turned crimson by the dome that surrounded them.

The grimm was large; judging by the way it extended backwards, Sunset estimated it had be hundreds of feet long, and its head was the size of a Bullhead, but it had very little visible bone on it, just some small spikes running along its back, but much smaller than Sunset would have expected for a grimm of this size. Only its head could be said to be armoured, and even that but slightly, a bony plate covering the top of its head and incorporating the red eyes that stared down at them. The head was as snakelike as the body, save that it was full of teeth, jagged like the teeth of a shark, and all exposed to view as it growled at them.

Clive cowered in the bottom of his boat, whimpering wordlessly at the sight of it.

The grimm seemed to be looking at him in particular.

Sunset gritted her teeth as she opened fire, her rifle cracking. The bullet struck the side of the serpent’s armoured head, ricocheting off the bone. The grimm did not flinch. Sunset aimed a little lower, and her next two shots struck the grimm on its lower jaw, where it was not armoured, but still, it did not flinch. It did not turn its attention away from Clive, huddled in the bottom of the boat, trying to hide from the gaze of those red eyes.

Starlight was firing too, blue bolts blasting from the muzzle of her rifle, peppering the long neck of the serpentine grimm, striking below the head, strafing up and down the body. The grimm didn’t appear to feel it, still less to take injury from it. It continued to growl at Clive, seeming to take grim pleasure in his fear as it loomed over him, casting a shadow over the little red boat.

Starlight fired four more shots, which all hit home but might as well have struck with the force of spit for all the good they did.

“How tough is this thing?” Starlight demanded. “Does it not feel pain at all?”

“It’ll feel this,” Sunset growled as she threw Sol Invictus into the air, the compressed air shoving the bayonet forward until it was the length of a spear or a small pike. Sunset caught the weapon with her telekinesis, her hand surrounded by a glowing green aura as she directed her weapon upwards, through the air, towards the grimm’s head.

It didn’t flinch or move away as Sunset rammed Sol Invictus into its eye.

Clive made a noise that might have been a gasp of disbelief, or might even have been a laugh of hope as the bayonet pierced through the ember-like red eye and penetrated into the head until nothing before the chamber of the rifle was visible.

That got a reaction from the grimm. It roared in pain, bellowing to the heavens, and dived forward towards Clive?

What is with this grimm and this guy? Sunset thought, as she used telekinesis to grab the grimm and hold its head in place, both hands glowing as she focussed all the magic at her command to hold the creature in place.

The serpentine grimm struggled against her, it fought with her, its whole body squirmed, making great splashes in the water, sending foam flying up and waves rising, coils descending and ascending into and out of the water as it tried to push itself forwards, trying to break Sunset’s grip, tried to power through to its prey.

Sunset could feel the pressure on her magic. She could feel it like a drum beat in her head. Her tail flicked back and forth as she scowled, concentrating, pouring her magic into the effort. The green glow that surrounded the head of the grimm as she held it fast flickered in the face of the grimm’s strength and its resistance. But Sunset hung on.

Trixie slotted a vial of ice dust into the bottom of her wand, then gestured with a sweeping motion out at the grimm in the water beyond. Ice leapt from the tip of her weapon, freezing the water from the boat on outwards, an expanding cone of ice covering the surface of the lake until it reached the grimm, freezing the water all around the long neck where it rose above the waves.

“Now, Starlight!” Trixie cried.

Starlight leapt out of the boat, her rifle transforming in her hands into a glaive with a glowing blue blade as she charged across the ice, a war cry rising from her lips. The ice crunched beneath her boots as she reached the grimm, spinning her weapon above her head before she slashed at its neck in a wide arc, cutting into the black flesh. She slashed again, and again and again, not severing the head but seeming as though she meant to do so piece by piece since she could not do so in a single stroke. Again and again, her weapon cut deep, and as it cut so, the blade seemed to glow brighter and brighter than before.

And then the grimm … vanished. It did not die, not as Sunset had seen grimm die. It did not cry out in its death throes, it did not descend beneath the waves, it didn’t stop moving, it didn’t turn to smoke or ash, it just … vanished. One moment, it was there, and the next … gone. As if it had never been.

“What … what just happened?” Trixie asked, as Starlight stood at the edge of the ice, looking down into the water as though the grimm might have retreated there to trick them.

“I … I don’t know,” Sunset admitted as she summoned her rifle back into her hand. “But I’m inclined to take it.”

“It’s gone,” Clive gasped, looking out over the edge of the boat. “It’s gone! You got rid of it!”

“That they did,” Eve said. “Bravo, to all of you. Your reputations are certainly not unfounded.”

“I wouldn’t give us too much credit,” Sunset said. “We—”

“Saved a man’s life,” Eve reminded her. “Whatever the mysteries of what occurred here, that is undeniable, no? And that is enough in the end, is it not?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Starlight deserves the lion’s share of the credit,” she said softly, as Starlight walked across the ice and climbed back into the boat.

“As you wish,” Eve said. “Yet there is credit to be shared.”

They passed the rest of the journey back in silence, arriving at the pier extending out from the island itself, the same pier that Eve and Clive had set out from to pick them up.

Ditzy Doo was waiting for them on the dock, dressed in her blue shirt and green skirt, still wearing the pads upon her knees and elbows and the bandages around her hands and arms.

The bandages were starting to look a little grubby and in need of changing. But it probably felt indulgent to ask for clean bandages to protect your hands in a place where bandages of any kind would be in short supply until this dome came down.

She was dry washing her hands as she waited on the pier, rubbing them over and over. "Eve!" she cried, as the boat returned. "Are you okay? I saw that grimm, and who did you—?" She stopped. "Trixie?"

"Ditzy?" Trixie replied, as she climbed out of the boat and onto the wooden pier. "I didn't realise that this was your team." She paused for a moment. "I'm sorry about your teammates."

"We're all sorry," Starlight added. "If there's anything we can do—"

"No!" Ditzy yelled, cutting her off. "No, you … you can't be here! What are you doing here, Trixie? You need to leave, now!"

"That might be a little difficult, in the circumstances," Sunset murmured.

Ditzy shook her head. "But … but you got in, right? So you could get out, too?"

"Not necessarily, Ditzy," Eve said softly.

"But they have to, you have to!" Ditzy shouted. "You have to get out of here, Trixie, right now!"

"Me?" Trixie replied. "Ditzy, what are you talking about?"

"You … you have to leave," Ditzy insisted. "It's not safe!"

"We know it isn't safe," Starlight informed. "We know what's happened; that's why we're here to—"

"There's nothing you can do!" Ditzy screamed. "Except get out of here! NOW!"

Trixie took a step forward, the wood boards of the pier creaking beneath her boots. "Ditzy—"

"Stay away from me!" Ditzy yelled, turning away and fleeing from the group, her trainers pounding over the dock as she dashed down the pier and into the village itself.

"Ditzy, wait!" Trixie cried as she took off after her, her starry cape billowing out after her as she ran.

Starlight glanced at Sunset.

"Go," Sunset said quietly, with a slight nod of her head for further confirmation, and watched as Starlight followed Trixie, the both of them running in Ditzy's wake.

"They know each other?" Eve asked. She gestured ahead of them, and she and Sunset began to walk up the pier and into the village, leaving Clive behind to see to his boat — and recover his nerves.

As they walked, Sunset nodded once more. "The three of us went to combat school together," she said. "Canterlot, in Atlas."

"And yet she didn't seem upset to see you here," Eve pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly Miss Popularity in those days," Sunset replied. "Ditzy … was the kind of girl who it didn't take a lot for her to be kindly disposed towards you, but I … that wasn't a bar that I managed to clear." She paused for a moment. "I take it that she's taken it hard, the loss of her teammates."

"She blames herself," Eve explained.

"It's hard not to, in the circumstances," Sunset murmured. It took a moment for her to realise what she'd just said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Eve assured her. "I'm aware that my … sanguine attitude can be a little … off-putting, to some."

Sunset furrowed her brow, not bothering to deny it. "I daresay it is healthier than wallowing in grief," she said. "While we are here … we have an overabundance of team leaders here at Arcadia Lake, but for my part, while I'm here, I will look on you as our leader."

Eve's eyebrows rose. "Me? You want me to lead you?"

"Is it so unbelievable?"

"From the leader of the celebrated Team Sapphire? Somewhat," Eve replied. "I have no reputation, my team has no reputation—"

"My team isn't here, and the only reputation I deserve is for good fortune," Sunset said. "I haven't been half so skilled as I've been lucky. You, on the other hand … what you have endured here would have broken me."

Eve took pause for a moment. "So you think leadership should go to the strongest?"

"In the present circumstances, yes," Sunset replied. "Can it be denied?"

"It might be, by some," Eve said. "But, though I would not be so vain as to call myself stronger than you, I agree. And so, as I thank you for the compliment, I will accept this leadership you offer me. I hope I lead you better than I led my own teammates."

"How did they die?" Sunset asked.

Eve frowned. "Would you take it the wrong way if I told you I didn't want to talk about it?"

"No, of course not," Sunset said quickly. "I shouldn't have … I simply wondered … if nothing else, you have preserved this village," she pointed out. "Some might say that is worth losing half your team."

"'Some'?" Eve asked. "But not you?"

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. "That," she said, "is another reason why another is better suited to lead us than myself."

"I must confess, I'm a little surprised," Eve admitted. "This wasn't the attitude that I expected from Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset offered Eve a wan smile. "These missions … they make of us different people than we were, don't they? Glory … seems very far away now."

"Glory was always far away," Eve said. "Glory, honour, duty, they're just words. Words, words, words."

"All of them?" asked Sunset.

"Is it not so?" Eve responded.

They had left the dockside behind them for some little way by now, and were walking down the streets of Arcadia Lake itself. Up close, the village was as picturesque as it had seemed from a greater distance across the water, but up close, it was harder to ignore how empty the whole village felt; there were precious few people out and about, and those that were out seemed keen to get in as quickly as possible, moving with hasty steps, nobody stopping to chat, nobody interacting at all with anyone else who crossed their path. Front doors banged shut as people dashed into their homes, and out of the corners of her eyes, Sunset saw people watching them from out of the windows, their lace curtains twitching as they tried not to be caught in their observations.

"Cheerful place," Sunset observed dryly.

"It was, when we first arrived," Eve told her. "But … events have contrived to make everyone nervous."

"If it were not for this dome, then it would be drawing far more grimm, no doubt," Sunset muttered.

"Perhaps, although without the dome, maybe people wouldn't be so anxious," Eve suggested.

They arrived at the centre of the village, or at least at a village square, large enough to accommodate various stalls on market day; Sunset could imagine that, in normal times, there would be fruits and vegetables sold here, and other things besides. In these decidedly abnormal circumstances, however, they were absent, no doubt huddling in their homes waiting for all of this to pass.

"How are you fixed for food?" asked Sunset.

"Us, or the village?" Eve replied, drifting over to a public bench on the edge of the square.

"Either or both," Sunset clarified as she sat down.

"We're alright for now, I think, for another week or so, at least," Eve said. "And after that—"

"After that, we will not be here," Sunset said reflexively. "We will have brought down this dome and completed our mission."

"Confidence?" asked Eve. "Or optimism?"

Sunset hesitated. "There will be a way," she said. "It opened to let us in—"

"It has opened to let no one out," Eve told her.

"Have you tried application of brute force?" Sunset inquired.

Eve chuckled. "I fear that we may be here for some time," she said, "cut off far from home."

Sunset had no answer to that except to slump forward. She had not really — or at all — considered that possibility. Death, yes; she had considered that they might be going into a trap when they stepped inside the barrier, but not that they might be walking into a sort of stasis, a place where they would endure, apart from the world, unable to rejoin or to affect the world.

Apart from her friends. Cut off from Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Blake, all the rest. Not dead, alive enough and conscious enough to miss them, to wonder where they were and what they were doing, but unable to talk to them, to protect them, to stand with them.

Agonising. The very idea was … awful.

Death, at least, would be swift.

And her death would invite no one else to walk into this trap looking for her.

"I won't let that happen," Sunset declared. "And that is not optimism, nor is it mere confidence."

"No?"

"When I put my mind to a thing, it happens," Sunset insisted. "As this will happen."

"How?"

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Well, don't expect me to come up with everything at once; I've made a stirring statement, that's enough for a minute," she snapped. "Let me think." She paused. "Where is home, for you? Mistral?"

Eve smiled slightly. "No. My home … is much further away than that." She leaned back upon the bench. "To be honest, I chose Haven rather at random. These Mistralian values … they leave me cold."

"Yes, you've said," Sunset murmured. "Honour and glory are just words."

"Do you disagree?" Eve asked.

"Words have meaning," Sunset replied. "Glory seems far away to me, but it may yet be won; it covers Pyrrha like the gilding on her armour, and even I, if you speak true, seem to have acquired some of it."

"And to what end?" Eve demanded. "What good has it done you? What benefit does it serve? You have glory, and I do not, but we are both stuck here together, and you have vowed to acknowledge my commands, so what is your glory worth? And honour? What is honour, what is this precious thing that is so dear in Mistral? Will honour bring my teammates back? Will honour restore Mistral to its former…"

Sunset smiled. "Its former glory?"

"Its former strength," Eve insisted. "Its former power, its influence, these are the things that matter."

"And how we are seen by others matters not at all?"

"The dead in their graves may be thought well of, but they are no less dead," Eve replied. "And the opinions of others cannot hurt us unless those with ill opinions decide to hurt us. That's where strength comes in."

"Strength for what?" asked Sunset. "Strength to do what? If honour and glory mean nothing to you, then why are you here?"

"Because I was driven out of my home by those who had an ill opinion of me and the strength to act upon their malice," Eve declared. "But one day, I shall become strong enough that I will go home, and I…" She hesitated. "I will pay them back their cruelty."

Sunset said nothing, but the pursing of her lips together and her very silence must have spoken volumes to Eve, for she said, "You disapprove?"

Sunset sighed. "I know you not. I know your story not, your home not, the people that did you wrong are strangers to me, but … I have found it better to…" She stopped, realising that anything that she could say upon the subject of finding a new home and living better in it instead of obsessing over past wrongs and old losses would invariably sound crass to someone who had just lost half their team, two of their closest comrades and dearest friends. Who was Sunset to lecture someone who had borne so much, who could endure so much, was so much stronger than Sunset herself? "You must do as you see fit, of course," she murmured. "I am sure that, in the moment, you will make the right choice, as you have done here."

"And you?" Even asked. "What will you do? Have you had time to think on it?"

"Yes," Sunset agreed. "I would like to start by speaking to these two learned gentlemen, Professor Scrub and Doctor Diggory; it may be that there is something they can tell us about this dome. One of them may even have caused it by an ill-advised experiment."

"If that is so, they've kept it quiet till now," Eve said. "But I will take you to them, nonetheless." She got to her feet. "Come, follow me."

Eve brought Sunset first to the house of Professor Scrub; it was a modest place, about of a size with the pretty, rustic houses of his neighbours all around him, and its location by the waterfront offered a rather nice view of the lake. Or at least, it would have, if the professor didn't appear to have shut up all his windows.

"Why would he do a thing like that?" Sunset wondered.

"Maybe he's afraid someone will spy on him and steal the secrets of his research?" Eve suggested. "Or maybe you can ask him yourself."

"I think I'll stick to business," Sunset muttered as she knocked on the blue front door.

There was no answer. Sunset waited for a few moments, and then a few moments more, and then another little while after that. She knocked again, very gently and politely, doing her best not to seem impatient about it, just to let him know that they were there in case he'd been in the bathroom the first time and hadn't heard them.

There was still no answer.

"I'd say that he might be out, but that doesn't seem very popular around here," Sunset said, as they waited outside.

"Not at the moment," Eve agreed. "And as I understand, the good professor wasn't much of a one for mingling with his neighbours in any case, even before all this."

"He did let his nephew play with Miss Pole; he can't have been a complete recluse," Sunset countered.

"I suppose that's true," Eve allowed, before she hammered heavily upon the door.

"There's no need for that," Sunset said reproachfully.

"You want to call on Doctor Diggory as well, don't you?" Eve asked. "I want to be done by nightfall."

"Why?" responded Sunset. "What happens at night?"

"What doesn't happen at night?" Eve asked, before banging once more upon the Professor's door.

"WHAT?" demanded the man who flung open the door and stood in the doorway. He was a middle-aged man, or perhaps older, although most of the signs of age were contained within his bouffant hair, which was white with a few streaks of grey. His face, although sharp-featured, was not lined or wrinkled or spotted in any way, although the sharpness of his nose combined with the sharpness of his chin combined to give him a rather unfortunate aspect. "What do you…? Oh. It's you."

Eve smiled. "Professor Scrub, allow me to introduce Sunset Shimmer, a huntress of Beacon Academy."

"'A huntress'?" Professor Scrub repeated. He looked up, as though the dome might have collapsed while he wasn't looking. "But—"

"A fortuitous circumstance which may or may not be repeated," Eve said.

"I see," Professor Scrub replied, although from his tone, Sunset couldn't be sure if he actually did see or not. "Well, charmed, I'm sure," he added, and this time, Sunset was in no doubt as to his lack of sincerity. "But if you don't mind, I'm very busy, and I'm sure that you—"

"This won't take long, Professor," Sunset said. "I just wanted to ask you about Miss Pole? May we come inside?"

"No, you may not," Professor Scrub declared. "I'm in the middle of some very complex experiments, and I'm in no position to drop everything and entertain guests."

"What kind of experiments?" asked Sunset.

"The kind that are far too complex for a mere huntress and a child to understand."

"Try me," Sunset said.

Professor Scrub rolled his eyes. "I've already told half the village, it seems, that I have no idea of what came over Miss Pole. I've no idea why everyone keeps harping on the girl; aren't there more important matters to be concerned with?"

"It seems like quite a coincidence," Sunset pointed out.

"But it is a coincidence regardless," snapped Professor Scrub. "And even if it were not, I still couldn't tell you anything about what happened to Miss Pole."

"Could your nephew possibly tell us more?" asked Sunset.

"Perhaps," Professor Scrub allowed, "but Malmsey isn't here. He's … with his mother. Now, if you'll excuse me." He slammed the door in their faces, whether they excused him or not.

Sunset glanced at Eve. "Charming."

"Do you want me to pound on his door some more?" asked Eve.

"No, it seems he doesn't know anything," Sunset said. "I can't think what incentive he'd have to lie if he did. He must want to get out as much as anyone else."

"Well…" Eve said, gesturing at the boarded up windows.

"Correction, he must want food from the outside as much as anyone else," Sunset said. She looked up, the sun was getting pretty low in the sky, and Eve had spoken of wanting to get this wrapped up before dark. "Maybe we'll have more luck with Doctor Diggory."

Doctor Diggory lived in what might have been the largest house in Arcadia Lake, set near the centre of the village, or certainly upon its highest point, at the zenith of the island that rose out of the lake. Although not wide, the house was three storeys tall, which was more than any other house that Sunset had seen in the village. They were greeted at the door by the housekeeper, one Mrs. Macready, who welcomed them both and led them down into the basement, to an oak-panelled room illuminated by a single overhead light, where plants sat in trays upon tables, mingling with various arcane bits of scientific equipment that Sunset could have hardly have guessed at the use of.

A girl, a young girl, around the age of Applejack's sister and her friends, lay on a bed in the middle of the room, her golden hair spreading out behind her like the tail of a comet, her eyes closed and her body unmoving. She was hooked up to various medical devices beeping calmly as she lay. A man sat by her bedside, an old man for sure, and unlike Professor Scrub, he looked it in more ways than just his hair as grey as his three-piece suit; his face was lined with years.

"Doctor," Mrs. Macready said, "sorry to disturb you, but these two huntresses were at the door, asking to speak with you."

"Of course," Doctor Diggory said, rising to his feet and in so doing revealing a slightly stooped back. "Miss Viperidae, hello again, and … I don't believe we've met before."

"No, we haven't, sir," Sunset said, walking towards him and holding out her hand. "Sunset Shimmer, I only just arrived."

"You only just…" Doctor Diggory trailed off in the act of shaking Sunset's hand. "You mean—"

"I'm afraid not," Sunset admitted. "The barrier — the dome — let us pass, but then sealed itself again behind us; I do not know if it will let us leave again."

"Oh, but you must try it, Miss Shimmer!" Doctor Diggory urged. "Now that we know that the dome is not immutable, that it can shift, can even open, then you must, you must see if it will do the same the other way. This could be the key to opening a permanent way through, or at least to getting word of our predicament. It must be attempted — but perhaps not today; it is getting rather late."

"But you are right regardless, Doctor," Sunset confessed. "My friends and I were so focussed on finding out what would await us here at the village, but … yes, tomorrow, we will go back and see if we can persuade the barrier to open up for us again the other way."

"Excellent. Excellent, yes, that … that is not the best news you could have given me, but it is good news, and for that, I thank you, Miss Shimmer. Please forgive me, I haven't introduced myself; my name is Diggory, Doctor Caen Diggory, and you are a huntress. From Haven, as Miss Viperidae is?"

"No, I am a Beacon student."

"Ah, Beacon!" Doctor Diggory. "Yes, dear old Beacon. Tell me, does Bartholomew still teach history there?"

"Bartholomew…" Sunset frowned. "Do you mean Doctor Oobleck?"

"Yes, Doctor Oobleck, of course, that's how you would know him, being a student."

"Yes, he does still teach history, and legends, too," Sunset replied. "You know him?"

"I taught him," Doctor Diggory explained. "I taught Plant Science for a time, a very long time ago, of course, when I was a much younger man."

"You were a huntsman?" Sunset asked.

"Once, yes," Doctor Diggory said. "I always had a soft spot for Bartholomew; teachers shouldn't play favourites, as a rule, but it seems that we struggle to avoid it."

"The fact that Professor Ozpin can be rather blatant in his favouritism probably doesn't encourage restraint," Sunset noted.

Diggory snorted. "No. No, indeed, although I daresay a man of his achievements can afford to engage in a little … well, to bend the rules of best practice a little."

"I did not mean it as a criticism," Sunset said. "Or at least, not too great a one."

"No, Miss Shimmer, neither did I," Doctor Diggory said gently. "Mrs. Macready, will you bring some tea for our guests?"

"That won't be necessary, Doctor," Sunset said. "Or at least, not for me," she added, with a glance at Eve.

"Nor for me," Eve said. "This won't take that long."

"Very well," Doctor Diggory said softly. "Thank you, Mrs. Macready."

"Doctor," Mrs. Macready said, before she took her leave, shutting the door behind her.

Doctor Diggory drew in a deep breath and then exhaled, his chest rising and falling. "So," he said, "what can I do for you?"

"I was going to ask about the dome," Sunset said. "But I don't suppose a botanist would be able to offer much assistance."

"I'm not just a botanist," Doctor Diggory declared. "But I'm afraid none of my specialities give me much insight into mysterious forcefields suddenly engulfing our community." He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid the best advice I can give is practical experimentation."

"Do you think there might be any connection to Miss Pole's condition?" Sunset asked. "One followed hard upon the other, I understand."

"And so did a bout of nightmares amongst the people here, as many of them will tell you; will you hold Miss Pole responsible for that too?" Doctor Diggory demanded. "I may not be an expert in this particular field, or a medical doctor for that matter, but as a scientist, I may say that the comatose find it very difficult to do anything, let alone such things as we have seen."

"I … forgive me, Doctor, I know it sounds absurd when you put it like that," Sunset murmured. "But are you certain there is no connection there?"

Doctor Diggory was silent for a moment. He walked — revealing a limp in the process — across the room, standing over one of his trays of seedlings, casting a shadow over them. "Do you know that poor girl's story, Miss Shimmer?"

"Her parents are away in Vacuo, I understand," Sunset said quietly. "She lives with an aunt."

"An aunt who never asked for the responsibility of a child and does not care to have it thrust upon her," Doctor Diggory said. "Meanwhile, Miss Pole … I fear she feels abandoned, and who could blame her for it? An unhappy girl, it was plain to see, and now … now this. Trapped inside her own mind, no doctor to attend to her, just an old botanist and retired huntsman." He turned around, facing Sunset. "But she is in my charge, and I will do what I can for her. I'm afraid that you must tackle the dome and our imprisonment yourself, Miss Shimmer; my task is here, on that bed. And I am certain that she had nothing to do with any of this."

Sunset bowed her head. "Very well, Doctor. I will leave you to your work. And attend to mine."

She and Eve took their leave of him and of his slumbering patient, leaving the house and emerging out of the front door into the forest.

Into the forest.

Sunset looked around at the village that had been taken over by trees in the short while that they had been inside; they were everywhere, filling every space, clogging up every gap, the streets were gone. There was only grass underfoot, and fallen leaves.

And trees. Plenty of trees. Trees with gnarly branches and twigs that stretched out like grasping fingers, trees that cast long shadows, trees that had sprung from nowhere.

"This wasn't a wood when we went in, was it?" Sunset asked.

"No," Eve replied. "No, it was not."

"Then how—"

Sunset's question was cut off by the sound of a child screaming.

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