• Published 14th Oct 2019
  • 3,186 Views, 142 Comments

Never Seen - semillon



Ten years after Princess Twilight’s coronation, the Student Six are no longer friends.

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FOREVER I

Gallus leaned against the edge of the Coralvreckan’s deck. He breathed delicately, savoring each inhale and exhale of ocean air as the breeze swept across his feathers and face. It hadn’t noticed it until now, but back when he was in that...that maze of kelpies and broken memories, the air was dank and thick. He was grateful to be breathing fresh air again.

“What did you see?” Silverstream had asked him, not long after she rallied the crew into working after a brief rest on their part.

“Nothing important,” he told her.

She knew he was lying. He knew she wanted to tell him about all the terrible illusions she’d seen under the kelpies’ influence. He wasn’t interested.

He left her in her quarters to deliver a report to Seaspray using her weird hippogriff communications orb. Apparently it stopped working when the fog came in. He wasn’t surprised.

It wasn’t long before he tired of the dusky sky’s reflection on the ocean. He turned around and observed the crew as they worked. Lots of callouts and grunting and long, swinging ropes. Gallus sighed. The Navy was a bit of a bore when it came down to it. He couldn’t imagine ever being a part of it. He had toyed with the idea before—some of the jobs sounded like a fun thing to do during the summer break—but he figured he could leave that to a him in another universe. Someone better, who deserved it a little more.

“Gallus?”

Terramar hovered down from the sky in Gallus’s peripherals, landing somewhat near him.

“Hey, shrimp.”

“What are you doing?” Terramar looked at him like a puppy to its master. His eyes were wide and adoring and so full of pure innocence that it almost pushed out the glimmer of sapience that shone underneath his irises.

Gallus snorted. “Hanging out, I guess. Not much else to do on this ship.”

“You haven’t fully explored it, then. There’s a ball pit and a rock climbing wall somewhere in the lower decks.”

“Mmm.”

Terramar’s hesitation hung tangibly in the air. He twitched forward, but stopped. It was like Gallus had a glass cube around him.

And maybe he did, in a way. Gallus rolled his eyes and pat the space beside him. “C’mere. I’m not gonna bite you.”

The hippogriff got closer and sat down. Gallus tried not to feel bitter that Terramar of all creatures was now taller than him. His feelings, predictably, won out over his will.

“Are you and Streamie friends ag—?”

“No,” said Gallus.

“Oh.”

“Was that all you came to talk about?”

“I also wanted to ask how you’re doing,” Terramar said.

Gallus smirked. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because Deadwater said you have a concussion.”

“Nothing like a good concussion to wake you up in the morning.” Gallus tried to chuckle, but right then the ship swayed in the worst way, and he doubled over. His brain felt like it was spinning inside his head like a globe.

Terramar’s claw found his shoulder. “Gallus?”

“I’m fine.”

The claw left. “Okay.”

Gallus rubbed his temples for a few moments. Eventually, he found the strength to sit up again.

“Harvest was wondering where you were.”

“Was she?”

“I think so. I just saw her looking around the medical bay. I don’t know who else she’d be trying to find on this ship.”

“Maybe she’s checking for ghosts,” said Gallus. Another wave of dizziness washed over him, and he resorted to lying flat on the floor. The firmness of the wood against his belly and chin helped calm the warzone inside his skull.

“You should lie down or something,”

“What do you think I’m doing, shrimp?”

“Fair enough.” Terramar tried to laugh. What came out of his beak didn’t sound happy.

That was concerning. The kelpies had gone after everyone on deck back there, hadn’t they? And that must have included Terramar. Was there something he saw that upset him? Was that why he was over here, acting friendly and making pointless conversation?

“Are you okay?” Gallus asked. He tried not to act surprised that he had even asked.

Terramar’s brows rose high.

“You heard me, didn’t you?” Gallus was blushing. He didn’t dare acknowledge that, either.

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking, Gally.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Terramar laughed. It sounded much better than his last attempt.

Gallus was...satisfied. Still not happy, but it was better than nothing. Terramar being all sullen wasn’t right.

The moment didn’t last long, of course. Silverstream’s voice came braying on the wind not seconds after the sound of her cabin door opening made its way to them. “Gallus!” she called. “We need you in here!”

“Good luck,” Terramar teased.

Gallus grunted and left.

It had been a while since he had come into contact with hippogriff technology, so he was only mildly embarrassed when a projection of Admiral Seaspray burst forth from the communications orb on Silverstream’s desk and he launched himself backwards with a yelp, banging his ribs against the sharp corner of a nearby table.

Silverstream giggled. Seaspray, thankfully, hadn’t seemed to notice. Perhaps the spell was still processing.

Coralvreckan,” said the projection of Seaspray. So it was still processing. “You—” He stopped suddenly and took note of Gallus rubbing his side. “Hello, Captain. Are you injured?”

Gallus, biting down the urge to whimper, looked at the glowing purple hippogriff as stoically as he could. “I’m fine. And I’m not a guard anymore, Seaspray.”

Silverstream entered the conversation, saluting Seaspray cheerfully, with Brine following the action from the corner of the room. “You were saying something, Admiral?”

“Captain.” Seaspray saluted her in return. “Now that comms and sonar are finally working again, we’ve reestablished surveillance of our waters. Unfortunately, that has led to the discovery of something perplexing.”

“Perplexing,” Silverstream repeated. “Fun word! But... this probably isn’t something very fun at all.”

“It’s not,” Seaspray said. “Do you remember that old saying about kelpies, my girl? It seems to have proven true. The magical fog that accompanied their appearance seems to have been a cloak to conceal an enemy even more dangerous.”

Silverstream’s smile fell. “I was right. Not fun at all. What did you find?”

“Our sonars have detected the imminent arrival of a living creature swimming up from the depths of the deep sea, approximately the size of Mount Aris. Its current trajectory appears to be towards Mount Aris and Seaquestria as a result, and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down any time soon. By our estimates, we place the time of arrival at around twelve hours from now. 0600.”

“Huh.” Silverstream’s wings stretched out halfway. She preened herself briefly, organizing a few misaligned feathers on one wing. Gallus saw from the wooden, forced way that she did it, she was just trying to make herself relaxed. He waited for a reprimand from Seaspray—preening wasn’t the most respectful thing to do in the presence of one’s Commander—but the other hippogriff said nothing, waiting patiently until she finished. Was this a nervous tick that she had developed in the last few years?

Silverstream’s stern, authoritative facade came back. “What are our orders, Admiral?”

“We suspect the creature to be a kraken, or something similar,” Seaspray said. “Your orders are as follows: Stay at your current location. I’ve sent a third of the fleet to rendezvous with you. As of now, their estimated time of arrival is one hour from now, at around1900 hours. After you rendezvous, I am placing you in charge of the fleet to eliminate the creature before it gets too close to our home.”

“I’ll have to work in the dark,” Silverstream said. Her wings shook, and there was a trembling in her throat, but as soon as Gallus took note of it, she made herself still again. “Okay. Anything else?”

Seaspray shook his head, wished them good luck, and his image disappeared.

A contemplative quiet entered the room. Gallus waited, watching as Silverstream paced back and forth, her wings fluttering tightly against her sides. Brine, on the other claw, stayed frozen in the corner of the room, statuesque. When the time came to speak, Brine went first.

“I have several options in mind, Captain, but did you have an opinion on how to handle this?”

Silverstream, who had paced to the other side of the cabin, walked slowly back towards Brine and Gallus, stopping when she was close enough that Gallus could see the details of her face. Her tight, nervous face. “Yes,” she said. “But I want to talk to Gally first.”

Don’t call me that, Gallus was about to say, but kept his beak shut. Instead, he shrugged at her. “What?”

“I’m thinking we hit it with a triple-chocolate double-decker layer cake.”

Gallus couldn’t help but smirk. The Dessert Code. Not approved by the Equestrian military—or any military unit ever for that matter—it was the result of Pinkie Pie getting hold of a military tactics book and incorporating it into her lectures at the School of Friendship. She was ultimately shut down by the rest of the teaching staff, but the Code had stuck with Gallus, Silverstream, and four other creatures that he didn’t want to think about right now.

Triple-chocolate double-decker layer cake: tackle the target head on with a squad of skilled combatants, usually the Elements of Harmony or a similarly skilled team. Try to make friends with it, and if that doesn’t work out, like it usually doesn’t, kick its ass.

“That would be fine,” said Gallus. “Who would be the team?”

“We have a zonal spell that soothes primitive creatures,” Brine said. “Cases of giants like this are rare, but the fleet being sent to us likely has enough able shamans to bring one down. The only problem is that the ritual would take hours.”

Sometime after Princess Twilight’s coronation as the Ruler of Equestria, the hippogriffs had a big cultural push to reconnect with the magic and technology that it lost during their period of hiding underwater. What happened in the following years could be described as three things: cool boats, advanced communications tech, and weird sea magic.

Gallus had no idea how the magic worked, but he knew it was similar to what zebras used, at least in terms of the ritual. And that, as Brine said, took time. More time than they had in claw.

“Magic’s out, then,” Gallus cut in. “We might need to rethink this. What if the thing has armor? I doubt that you guys have any weapons to account for that.”

“Krakens are all soft tissue,” said Silverstream. “Except, you know, really muscular. They’re like anacondas except even bigger.”

“It’s also not confirmed to be a kraken,” Brine said.

“My point exactly,” said Gallus.

“What do you think we should do, then?” asked Silverstream.

Gallus rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Honey salsa cupcakes for the appetizer. Mint chip ice cream to finish it off.”

Silverstream licked her beak. “You’re making me hungry!”

Gallus raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And what do you think of the plan?”

“It’s good, Gally,” Silverstream said, puffing her chest out. “Pretty common sense.”

Brine stepped between them. “So we set two fields of explosion runes, one for when the creature is a third of the way to us, and another when it nears the surface, and when it breaches the surface we cannon the cracks that the mines have made in its skin or armor. I have major reservations with that plan.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Gallus asked. Then both his eyebrows raised.

Brine had understood. She knew the Dessert Code. Who had taught her...?

Gallus shot Silverstream a look. She smiled innocently.

If Brine had picked up on his displeasure, though, she didn’t show it. She went on: “We’re depending on those last few cannon shots to take the thing down. If the runes fail to detonate, or they do detonate and the creature isn’t exposed, then the cannon shots will be ineffective and we’ll be obliterated. That’s not even considering the fact that there’s no record of our people ever killing, or even injuring, a creature of this size. We’ve only ever sedated and soothed krakens, megalodons and the like enough to divert them away from us.”

“We can combine the first plan and this one, then,” Gallus said, tapping his claws on the floor. Who else knew the code now? Probably the whole ship, knowing Silverstream. “What if we used the runes to slow it down enough to make the ritual viable?”

“Again, placing a lot of faith in the explosions,” said Brine.

“Can you think of anything better?” Gallus asked.

“No, but I’m sure the Captain can,” she replied, turning to Silverstream. Gallus did as well, if only to glare at her.

Silverstream’s eyes widened. “Um. Actually, I can’t. Gallus’s plan sounds good to me.”

Brine frowned. “Is there no other way?”

“There’s an hour before the fleet gets here,” said Gallus. “Let me know if you think of something better by then, but I think you’ve been outvoted, Lieutenant.”

Brine scoffed. “Will do.”

“Now—” Gallus coughed. “If you’ll excuse me, I really gotta hit the can.”

He was halfway out the door before a cheery whistle stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see Silverstream smiling—an ordinary sight, but this time feeling brighter, somehow.

“Gally?” she said. “Thanks for your help. I haven’t had that much fun planning something in forever! I’m really happy that we’re working together again. ”

Together again, whispered Gallus’s mind. Again.

Forever.

“Sure,” he said, and he walked away.

He found the male’s washroom before his breathing got too out of control. He lurched over the sink, thankful that he was alone.

Something was wrong with him. It wasn’t the concussion. Well, part of it was the concussion, obviously, but not all of it. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. The Gallus staring back at him looked like an entirely different griffon. He looked tired and old, which was fine, he was incredibly tired and he was getting damn old, but there was something indescribably off about himself.

What was he doing? And why was he doing it?

He wasn’t a guard anymore. He said so himself. Silverstream didn’t need him. Couldn’t need him.

And he couldn’t need her.

He thought of warm nights by Gilda’s fireplace. Gabby’s laughter. Her smile whenever she left on trips to Canterlot. Her smile whenever she came back. He thought of the passing conversations in the morning as he left to deal with Greta’s broken stove or another dispute between Gilroy and Glenda. He would never be able to replace all of that.

At some point, he’d gotten distracted. He’d forgotten why he was really here, and why he wasn’t home. He barely even had time to think about home, what with all of the horseshit since the night Gabby and Gertrude disappeared. He needed to leave. Get support from Canterlot. Come back for Gabby and any other griffons that might need help.

They were probably all dead, but he had to try. That was the plan. He had to stick to it.

Gallus’s life—his life before Griffonstone, with Silverstream and the rest of them—was ruined. There was no point in salvaging the shards of broken glass he had left.

Silverstream watched from the foremast as the fleet arrived, thirteen ships strong, and all at the same time, too. It was fun to see! It was like being the first one to the party because you got there early by accident and waiting hours and hours until suddenly, at some magic time that everyone agreed on unconsciously, the rest of the guests arrived all at once. Silverstream felt like laughing in joy at the sight. She didn’t, though, because she was too busy being as nervous as she could possibly be.

She had never been in charge of a fleet before. Why had Seaspray suddenly decided she could do this? Why didn’t he ask, first? She would have said yes, obviously, but he could have asked. But that wasn’t really how the Navy worked. How it worked was that you did what you were told to the best of your ability, and Silverstream was going to do just that. Even if she was being asked to fight a kraken in the dark. She didn’t even know if it was a kraken.

Kraken-thingy.

The ships all parked (“parked”) just behind hers, but also beside hers, too. Kind of. That wouldn’t make much sense if she said it out loud, but luckily she was thinking this and no one would have to know.

The first order of business was the ship taking the prisoners to Mount Aris. Silverstream oversaw the first half of the transfer, and when she was sure that the rest of it would go off without any problems, she went to greet her assigned officers. Brine was surely already waiting for her in her cabin.

She made her way back just in time to see the iridescent orb in the middle of the room erupt in light, spitting out different projections of hippogriff captains she had never met across the walls of the room. They all saluted her as soon as the orb scanned her and sent her projection to all of their orbs in kind.

“Captains,” she said. “Thanks for coming to my aid!”

They saluted again, muttering a chorus of things about the respect they had for her and the fact that they would do their best to carry out her orders.

Silverstream was thankful that Brine was in the room to step in and explain the plan. She felt weird. Nervous about something more than just the responsibility. Nervous about the plan.

Brine was right. There was too much counting on the explosions’ ability to stun the kraken-thingy in Gallus’s plan, and it was the plan now, because they hadn’t been able to come up with anything better.

Brine finished her explanation, and the captains didn’t have any objections, surprisingly. Or maybe they did and they just weren’t voicing them. And just like that, all of a sudden, Silverstream was spearheading a plan to neutralize a giant kraken-thingy before it crashed into Mount Aris and/or Seaquestria.

Well, she was already spearheading all of that, but now it was official. Now it felt real.

The images of the other captains blinked out and the orb went dark, and before Brine turned around, Silverstream gulped.

She needed advice. Fresh, insightful advice from someone who knew about being a leader. Brine would work. The lieutenant was an admiral in the making. But Brine wasn’t the best for emotional support. Not the kind she needed right now, anyway. So, who was left? There was Terramar, but he didn’t need any more stress than he already had right now.

All Silverstream could think of was Gallus. Gallus, the ex-royal guard captain. Gallus, who had taken down many a villain plotting to overthrow Equestria in his time. In their time. Gallus, with whom she was barely on speaking terms again.

The Crown of Grover never left any permanent information in the minds of those it linked together. There was true understanding under its influence, but out of it, there were only simple impressions. Silverstream could only vaguely remember what it felt like to be in sync with Gallus, but she knew that he was hurting and tired and old. She knew that he wanted to move past the bitterness surrounding their past. She didn’t know if that was because the run-in with the kelpies had changed his mind, or because he always really wanted to fix things, or a little bit of both, but that was enough.

The decision was made. She needed Gallus. He would help her. Hopefully.

Silverstream stepped out of her cabin, only to run over one of her sailors. He was a private, one of the fresh-faced new recruits she had brought with her on this specific outing. His powdered-blue feathers matched his eyes and general demeanour, and reminded her of his name.

“Private Cerulean,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing outside my cabin?”

He looked at her with a slight frown, his eyes wet. “I have a message for you, Captain.”

Silverstream could feel it in her gut. This wasn’t going to be a message that would make her happy.

The Coralvreckan grew smaller in the distance, receding underneath the purple sky above. The shape of it was blending into the ocean’s darker hues, and soon it would be indistinguishable from the vague, crashing shapes of the waves upon which it sailed. Gallus kept his eyes on it through the small window beside his table. Yet another thing he had run away from.

Without looking, he took a tater tot off of the plate that he’d acquired from the kitchen before he left, and side-eyed the pony and the hippogriff sitting across from him.

“If you didn’t want to come, you shouldn’t have,” he said. The ship that had arrived to transfer the prisoners from the Coralvreckan was happy to take him, Harvest and Terramar back to Mount Aris, especially because it didn’t know they were on it.

“What else was I going to do?” Harvest asked.

“We need to turn back,” Terramar said quietly, turning to look at his ship. Nearly out of sight, now.

“No, you need to turn back,” said Gallus. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble for leaving your station?”

“I’m a magic advisor, not an actual member of Her Majesty’s Navy. I can come and go if I want. The rest of my team is on the ship if Streamie’ll end up needing anyone to consult on runes, or whatever she needs.”

“You’re a shaman now?” Gallus ate another tot. “That’s kind of a weird thing for me to be learning right now, as we’re leaving the ship, no longer in danger of magical creatures.”

“You never asked,” said Terramar.

“Fair.”

“Gallus, why—”

“Why the fuck did you leave?” Harvest asked. “And why did you try to leave without me?

“You found me before I could find you,” said Gallus.

“Yeah, thankfully. Now answer the first question.”

“I already did when you found me. If only you were actually listening.” How hard was it to understand? The entire point of leaving Griffonstone—of leaving Gabby and Gilda—was to haul ass to Canterlot, grab some alicorn-style backup, and save his hometown and everygriff in it, though with how long it was taking to even get across the sea, it was unlikely that there would be anyone left to save. So he was a failure already.

Silverstream, the Kelpies, the fucking Bloody Herring going down. It was all fluff. A ball of yarn that he didn’t need to untangle. He had to leave before it tied him up.

“Well, your reasoning is stupid,” Harvest spat, taking one of his tots for herself.

“Okay,” said Gallus.

“Okay?” she repeated. “So you’ll go back?”

“No.” He turned, finally, to look at the two creatures narrowing their eyes at him, and he looked to the off-white hippogriff. Terramar smelled like a sea breeze, but then, maybe that was just the sea.. “What about you, shrimp? You look like you’ve got something you want to say.”

“I…” Terramar started, but he cut himself off, his beak twisting into a scowl. He stood up out of his seat. “No. I’m going to the deck.”

Gallus watched as he walked away, eventually disappearing around the corner, leaving him and Harvest alone.

“Are you going to be yelling at me the rest of the way?” Gallus asked. He had a feeling that he already knew the answer, seeing how stiffly she was staring out of the window. The Coralvreckan was gone. So was Silverstream. It wouldn’t be long until they arrived at Mount Aris.

Harvest didn’t speak to him for the rest of the trip. She didn’t leave, either, which he appreciated.

He popped another tot into his beak. Hippogriff potatoes tasted extra starchy.


Later, Gallus found himself staring out at the sea. The sun had long since set and the air had become cold, and the water was now akin to a galaxy. It looked like the void of space, and if he squinted he could see the dim reflection of the sky on its surface. He began to shiver.

“Are you looking forward to seeing Mount Aris again?”

Gallus turned to see Terramar standing beside him. “Not really.”

“You sure?” asked Terramar. He sat down. “I remember that even grumpy old you couldn’t help but love the sights. You have to have at least one good memory.”

Fireworks. Seafood. The beach. And—

Gallus opened his eyes. His gaze settled on Terramar’s beak and he promptly redirected it to the upper half of the hippogriff’s face. His face had aged. it was elongated and more slender and elegant than the nervous, soft wreck that it used to be, but Gallus knew that this trembling beanpole of a hippogriff was the same Terramar that he had known since his teens.

“Why are you crying?” asked Gallus.

“I’m not,” said Terramar, blinking the tears out of his eyes. “Gally, don’t go. It’s not too late.”

“Don’t call me that,” he sighed. “I have to. It’s—” He stopped. “Gabby. She’s somewhere in Griffonstone. I can’t do anything to help her by myself. I mean, look at me.” Gallus made a show of spreading his busted wings. “I need to go and fetch Twilight. Spike too, for good measure. All the elements. I don’t know, I just need help.”

“Auntie Novo could help you,” said Terramar. “Seaspray too. You’ve done a lot for Mount Aris and—”

“I happened to, under service to the Equestrian Crown.”

“You’ve done a lot for Mount Aris,” Terramar repeated, raising his volume, “and I know that they would want to help you out.”

“That’ll take too long,” Gallus grumbled. “Assuming that Queen Novo and Seaspray would even consider mobilizing against Griffonstone. They’ve got too much on their plate already, anyways, running a nation that’s still in the process of reclaiming its lost magic and technology and all of that junk.”

“What, Princess Twilight doesn’t have anything to worry about?”

“It’s not that hard to run Equestria,” Gallus said. “I could do it for a few days if I wanted. Besides, Griffonstone’s got better relations with Equestria than it does Mount Aris. You know that.”

“Well, sure, but—”

“But what?” Gallus asked. “The answer’s no, shrimp.”

Terramar crossed his arms and sighed. Gallus gripped the railing harder.

“What are you going to do, then?” asked Terramar. “Just leave?”

“Yeah,” said Gallus. “You don’t need to come with me. You might be able to fly back to the Coralvreckan in time to help your sister out.”

“I...no.” Terramar sighed again. “I have time to get back. I’m going to see you off. Someone should.”

Gallus blinked. The sea had suddenly become more interesting. “Alright.”

Gallus was gone. He’d taken Terramar with him. Silverstream was supposed to command an entire fleet of ships into battle, and she was alone. She was stressed. Obviously.

Mister Gallus leaves his apologies. He wanted to say that he wishes he could stay, but he can’t. Specialist Terramar went with him, as did the pony, Miss Late Harvest. This is really awkward, Captain. I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you this.

This was fine. Everything was fine. And it would all stay fine as long as she didn’t freak out.

She was going to freak out any second. She knew exactly why: she wasn’t actually a very good soldier. She commanded her own crew fine enough, but catching pirates and battling the odd sea serpent was one thing. Something on the scale of Mount Aris was entirely different. Besides, the amulet had always done most of her job for her, and she didn’t know if it was going to fail her again.

Silverstream fiddled with the amulet. She wished she was outside, in the cold evening wind. Instead she was trapped in her cabin with Brine, waiting as the dive team got ready outside. Elsewhere, the sea shamans from the fleet were preparing to dive themselves and meet the team as soon as they were in the water. After that, they would travel to two locations.

The sea shamans would be dropped off about two hundred metres from the surface. Some of the escort team would be charged with keeping them safe as they conducted their ritual. The rest of the team would travel farther down, just to the border of the deep sea, and set up the explosion runes. In theory, it was a fine plan. Hippogriffs were practically royalty in their own waters, and no sea creatures would dare get in their way while they set up the ritual. The only thing that could go wrong was the runes. There was a chance that they wouldn’t work on the creature. The kraken-thingy. There was a chance she was sending a lot of seaponies to die.

“Is something wrong, Captain?” Brine asked. She was standing by her desk, poring over various documents that Silverstream didn’t feel like asking about. Too much in the brain already.

“The plan’s going to work, right?” Silverstream asked immediately. “No. No, don’t answer that. I don’t know why I’m doubting things. If there were problems with it, you would have told me.”

“Correct, Captain.” Brine nodded. “And I misspoke just now. I should have asked if there was anything you wanted to talk about.”

“Nope!” said Silverstream. “All good.”

“Please, Captain. You’ve never had a problem confiding in me before. It’s necessary for me to do my job.”

Brine made Silverstream feel strong on good days. Brine helped her remember her duty on the bad ones. But she couldn’t help now.

Her brother was gone, whisked away by her friend—her ex-friend—and with them left Silverstream’s confidence. She should have been professional about all of this. This shouldn’t have been hurting her as much as it was. Yet there she stood. Heartbroken.

Silverstream was alone in this world. Part of her wished selfishly for another chance to glimpse at her past. She wanted to remember why she deserved this, if she deserved this. She wanted a reason. There were none.

“Something about all of this doesn’t feel right,” said Silverstream, disgusted with the waver in her voice. “I’m really worried. I-I have a bad feeling that something bad is going to happen, and now I feel worse because I feel like because I said it out loud, something bad is definitely going to happen!”

“I believe that everything will be fine,” Brine said. “You and Gallus were right. This plan is the best available to us, and your crew is ready to do whatever you wish. Morale is high. We have a decent chance of success... as long as the sea is kind.”

“I...but what if I can’t pull it off?”

“I believe in you, Captain.”

That should have comforted her. It really, really should have.

The communications orb lit up.

“Team’s in place, Captain Silverstream,” came the voice of Whirlpool, one of the captains from the fleet. Her image burst forth from the orb, treading water as she stared forward. She had volunteered to escort the sea shamans with her own dive team, one member of which was probably holding their orb right now. They would switch to purely audio-based communications once they were in the deep water, but formality dictated that Silverstream was to literally see them off.

Sriracha honey cupcakes, triple chocolate double decker layer cake right afterwards.

What if the dive team got something wrong? Or what if they did everything right but outside circumstances came into play and they didn’t know how to react? Communications orbs weren’t the most reliable things in the world, as seen mere hours ago, when they were all jammed by dark magic.

They would need someone there to help them.

Whirlpool could do it. Whirlpool was great! But this plan was risky to begin with. Everyone down there needed morale. A bright light to guide the way. And it wasn’t like Silverstream was going to do much up on the surface anyway.

“Captain?” Brine asked.

Brine was a good leader, too. Steadfast. Strong. Calculating. She was just the hippogriff to command an entire fleet.

“Captain,” said Whirlpool, tilting her head. The passive light from the orb in her person made her pastel red scales shimmer with iridescence. “Permission to submerge?”

Silverstream’s heart raced.

She cleared her throat. “Um. No. Hold for a second.”


Silverstream loved Princess Twilight and everything she did to keep the sun and moon going all day long, but this night sky was definitely not her best work. The sun had set super early, and while the moon and stars that replaced it looked bright, it was a trick. Their combined light petered out before it touched the sea.

Down where Silverstream was, standing at the edge of the Coralvreckan as it coasted on the sea, there was only dark water. Gloomy water. It looked like a shifting, eternal void. She didn’t want to jump into that. So why was she about to?

Brine stood beside her, breathing heavy in the seaside air. Her voice was stony.

“You’re acting like there aren’t any competent soldiers besides us two on this ship. In this fleet.”

“I’m not,” replied Silverstream.

“Still, I don’t agree with this decision, Captain,” Brine said. Ordinarily, her tone would soften just a tad, but it seemed that she was past pleading. “You’re abandoning your command.”

“I’m overseeing the mission directly.” Silverstream couldn’t take her eyes off the water. It was supposed to be her second home. Seaquestria wasn’t very far, after all. But now it seemed alien. “I’m making our chances of success better.”

“Are you sure this decision isn’t coming from something... unrelated to the mission, Captain?”

“What are you implying, Lieutenant?” Silverstream asked. There was an edge in her voice she didn’t care to dull.

“Nothing, Captain.”

“Good.” Silverstream nodded. “You’re Acting Captain while I’m gone.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to do great.”

“...Be careful,” said Brine. “Don’t be reckless, and you’ll come back safe.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so. Whirlpool’s waiting. Dive towards the water, halt momentum ten feet above, submerge after that,” Brine said. “On my mark. Captain—you’re sure about this?”

She nodded again.

“Three. Two. One.” Brine exhaled. “Mark.”

Silverstream jumped off of her ship. The cold, dark void received her wholly.

Gallus couldn’t find anything to do. He retreated back to his room after twenty minutes of silence with Terramar, and had stayed there for another hour just staring at the ceiling. He didn’t feel like sleeping, he couldn’t talk to anyone else, he wasn’t hungry...

He found himself back at the deck, but instead of staring at the sea, he laid on his back on the freezing metal floor and gazed up at the moon. Twilight had given him a shining night sky to light the way to Canterlot. He wondered what she was up to, nowadays. He wondered if he ever crossed her mind.

The sound of the water churning underneath the boat began to put him into a sort of trance. It sounded angry. Alive. But it didn’t sound dangerous.

Gallus wished he had someone to talk to, if only to talk about nothing at all. He supposed that he could have found Harvest, but she didn’t seem to be in a social mood. She had holed up in her room and he had left her to it. She didn’t approve of him leaving the Coralvreckan. No surprise there, but Gallus had anticipated it. He knew that—

That this wasn’t the right thing to do.

But neither was staying.

Gallus kept his eyes on the moon. Somewhere across the sea was Silverstream, about to fight something incredibly dangerous. And he was here.

He didn’t regret it, and he didn’t envy her. She would be fine. She had the amulet, and an entire fleet to back her up. All she had to do was sit pretty inside her cabin and wait for her crew to get the job done. Piece of cake.

Terramar wasn’t even there right now. That meant that he thought she would be fine too. Why else would he tag along with Gallus in the first place?

You know why.

Because he was an idiot, of course. Terramar had always been soft. Too sentimental. Darting in and out of creatures’ lives and always, always having it turn on him.

It felt like something was watching him. A sailor, maybe? Gallus didn’t really care. Whether there really were a pair of eyes on him was irrelevant. Only two creatures on this boat knew him, and neither of their opinions mattered.

His mind drifted to Late Harvest. He had never really apologized to her for dragging her into the whole kelpie thing, had he? In his defense, it really wasn’t his fault, but it sure felt like it. She had seen so much of his past. And he had spent way too long in that incomplete memory of hers.

Say sorry. That’s why she’s been avoiding you.

Gallus decided to apologize when he could. Right after he finished staring at the sky.

He remembered being a guard, helping Admiral Seaspray capture a fleet of former Storm King affiliates. That had been a simple affair. Earned him a medal. There was a nice party, too. The hippogriffs sailed in with their party boats. It lasted for two days straight.

He wasn’t sure why he started thinking about his old job. He loathed doing that.

His mind flowed in and out of thoughts and memories, the tide on a rocky shore, spreading over the crevices that the rocks made and swimming underneath them only to retreat when it got too close to the sand.

The ship shifted suddenly, like it was slowing down. Gallus sat up like a shot, startling a passing hippogriff sailor. Then he stood.

Mount Aris loomed overhead. Its buildings contained a soft orange light. Gallus thought they looked like eyes.

The trip to the train was depressing. Gallus felt like he was walking to somegriff’s funeral. The saddlebags that laid across his back—heavy with the Crown of Grover and a pile of compensated bits from Silverstream’s personal chest—may as well have been a coffin. Terramar and Harvest hadn’t said anything past one word answers since they left the docks. At some point, they quickened their pace to get ahead of him, and he didn’t have the energy to catch up. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

The only good thing about the walk was seeing the town of Mount Aris again. Its buildings and roads had become more beautiful over time, though the overall atmosphere was about the same as Gallus remembered.

In general, the hippogriffs favored two styles of architecture: one where buildings looked like the trees of the Harmonizing heights, and one where the buildings were like crystals—tall and narrow and geometric.

Like walking through a forest! he remembered himself saying, years ago. A forest with giant crystals and giant bird ponies flying around everywhere. Except now the trees were even bigger, the fine polish of the crystal-like buildings shinier than ever. And the hippogriffs themselves looked as serene and grateful to be alive as they ever had. They were flying everywhere, laughing and screeching like a flock of feral birds in the summertime, even though it was ten o’clock and the sun was down. Obviously they hadn’t been told about the maybe-a-kraken headed their way.

Gallus was jealous. If he could fly now he would have been in Canterlot by now. If he could fly he could fight the entirety of Griffonstone. He wouldn’t win, but he could try.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the station, a dome of pale red glass with rows of benches lined up in parallel like the pews of a Celestial church. A clawful of creatures sat waiting to leave.

Gallus froze by the entrance, and it took Terramar and Harvest a few steps to realize that he’d stopped moving. Almost in unison, they turned around. Terramar spoke first.

“Hey,” he ventured, staring intently at the ground next to Gallus. His beak was quivering. “I don’t really know what to say. Bye, I guess.”

“Follow me,” said Gallus. He eyed the both of them before walking to the side of the building, away from any creature in earshot. It was as private a place as Gallus could find in less than thirty seconds.

Terramar and Harvest followed him sullenly.

“What?” asked Terramar. He looked uncomfortable, unable to stand still. Some part of him, his legs or his eyes or his wings, fidgeted continuously. It was like the air around him was turning unbearably hot.

“If you think I’m making—I don’t know—like a mistake or something here, then come out and tell me,” Gallus said, eyes narrowing. “Seriously, shrimp. You think that being a meek little baby bird’s gonna get you what you want?”

“Since when do you care about what I want?” Terramar scratched at the station floor, leaving slight marks in the tiles that probably weren’t as deep as he hoped. “Do you even—? No. I should go.” He grimaced. “I didn’t say anything because I’m sad. Disappointed. But I shouldn’t be. I should have expected this. Goodbye, Gallus. Harvest.”

Terramar tried to move, but Gallus was already blocking Terramar’s path. He was half of Terramar’s size, but that didn’t stop him from making it feel like the opposite was true. The hippogriff trembled before him.

“Excuse me?” asked Gallus. There was a rising tension in his voice. “You ‘should have expected this’? Are you kidding me? I told you to leave me the fuck alone when you found me. This is your fault.”

“You did,” Terramar replied. His voice was waning with every word. “And somehow, I’m here. But I’ve learned my lesson.”

Gallus scratched at his neck. The shrimp was starting to piss him off. “You didn’t learn shit, shrimp.”

“Whatever.”

“Terramar, I—”

“Do you want to know what Silverstream was like when she first came home?” Terramar growled. His wings shot straight out, unsheathed like swords.

Gallus jerked his head back.

“She barely took care of herself,” Terramar continued. “She’d go out and she wouldn’t come back for days and she’d never tell us where she went. Sounds bad, right? But she was just making friends. And staying in their homes. And then making more friends and staying in their homes. She was doing what she did best, but she was lost. Just, forever couchsurfing with no point and no goals. That’s why she ended up with the navy. It was my idea. I wanted her to have the family that she was looking for, because clearly me and Mom weren’t enough.”

The muscles in Gallus’s legs tightened. His throat was dry. “Whuh—why—?”

“It’s good that you’re leaving,” explained Terramar. “I’m sorry for thinking that you should have stayed. Maybe you were right, you know? Maybe we should all just stay as far from Equestria as possible and never have anything to do with it.”

Terramar stepped towards Gallus, and Gallus stepped backwards. Just once. His gaze fell to the polished floor.

He heard Terramar say something else—some kind of weak attempt to salvage the situation. Then he took to the air. By the time Gallus’s feathers stopped tingling from the breeze Terramar made with his takeoff, the little baby bird was gone.

There was a drawn out silence. Gallus noticed Harvest biting her lip. The sounds of the train station patrons filled the space between them.

Finally, Harvest sighed. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” asked Gallus.

“This is definitely the worst time to tell you this, but... the train’s coming soon.”

“You’re right.” Gallus cleared his throat. He straightened his posture, looking at her in her tired eyes. “We should go.”

“Right,” she said. She smiled slightly. Bitterly.

“What?”

“I’m…” Harvest sighed. “I’m not coming with you either, Gallus. I can’t go to Canterlot yet.”

Gallus closed his eyes. “Really,” he said.

She had to be joking. But there wasn’t anything funny about this. She was serious. She wasn’t coming with him. Gallus would be getting on this train alone.

He had spent so long in Griffonstone. So long dealing with the same old griffons, with Gabby and Gilda, not thinking of anycreature else. He didn’t have to there.

A friend. He had made a friend. The first in years. He had barely noticed that it happened.

And now she was leaving.

Harvest shook her head. “I’ve seen a lot of shit in the past few days, buddy. I—I need to make things right.” She stomped a hoof, staring down at it with her jaw set. “I’ve decided that I have to go back home. You helped me see that. So I’m catching the next train to Fillydelphia in the morning.”

“I see,” was all that Gallus could say.

He knew what she was getting at. And from the look on her face, he could tell that she knew that he had figured it out.

Terramar, Silverstream...Gabby, Gilda and Gertrude—they were all made worse for having known him. Harvest saw that. She saw into his past, literally, and the messes that he’d made. Gallus was a walking vial of poison. It was only a matter of time before he slipped and broke and contaminated whoever was around him. The smart thing to do was to leave while you could.

He had never told her, but she reminded him of himself. A younger, less stupid version of himself. And that’s part of what he liked about her. She hadn’t had the time to fuck her life up yet.

And that meant that she could still be saved. He was duty-bound to let her go,no matter how much he wanted her to stay.

“I’ll be seeing you, then,” he said.

“Yeah.” Harvest’s smile changed slightly, becoming less taut. “Thanks for getting me out of Griffonstone, dude. I don’t know where I’d be without you. I’ll... be seeing you.”

She held her hoof out. He shook it. An awkward, standard goodbye.

He remembered something. It felt ridiculous to mention now, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Zebrica.”

Harvest tilted her head. “What?”

“Remember back on the Herring?” said Gallus. “I was thinking about going to Zebrica and never thinking about Equestria again. And you said that we could go together. I’m, uh... gonna be needing a vacation when all this is over.”

She put a hoof overtop his claw, smiling wider. “It’s a deal, Gallus.”

“I’ll come find you,” Gallus said. “Score us tickets when I see Twilight. And I’m sorry.”

“...For what?”

“The kelpies. Everything at sea. That wasn’t a good time.”

“It was eye-opening.”

Harvest gave him a wink, slipped her hooves out of his grasp.

Pale yellow coat, short red mane, leaves for a cutie mark. The colors of autumn walked away from him, and he did his best to still his quivering back when they were finally gone.

Gallus was alone, completely.

Trains came and went, hippogriffs and ponies alike got on and off. The train to Canterlot would be arriving in fifteen minutes, according to the signs.

Gallus sat in the corner on the floor, away from the benches, glad that he had nothing more than his saddlebags with him. The sizes of the suitcases that some of these passengers were dragging around made him feel exhausted just looking at them.

There was a knot in his stomach. He doubted it would unravel with food or drink. But a splash of water to the face might do the trick.

“Where’s the nearest washroom?” he asked a passing hippogriff wearing a bright striped vest.

The hippogriff directed him to a flight of stairs going down into a dimly lit hallway, and at the end of that hallway he found a clean washroom with a mirror that he was almost too short to see himself in.

Gallus turned a faucet with a blue stripe on the handle. No water came out.

Hot water would have to do. He turned the other faucet.

Nothing happened.

“There’s no water here,” said a voice.

Gallus’s breath stopped. He looked up at the mirror.

Just over his shoulder, standing behind him, was Gabby, smiling wide with that same squishy face, gray feathers and green eyes he had seen every day for years. Gallus used to joke about how her colors were those of a water dam. Or a sewer. She used to tell him he looked like a parrot one would find in a Somnambula night market.

But there was something off about her. The soul in her eyes wasn’t the same. There didn’t seeem to be a soul there at all.

“Hello, Gally.”

“Who are you?” asked Gallus.

“Straight to the point.” Gabby snapped her claws. “Very nice!”

“Answer me.” Gallus narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t think I will!” said Gabby, tilting her head.

Gallus turned around, expecting her to be gone, just a hallucination in the mirror, but there she stood. Exactly like how he remembered her.

Every bone in his body was torn between relief and rage, flowing between one and the other so seamlessly that he was no longer sure which was which. Someone was wearing Gabby’s face. Was this Gabby’s real body? Was this a projection? Did this mean she was still alive?

The next time Gallus blinked, she was wearing a dress. Scarlet red. Her least favorite color.

“You’re not Gabby,” Gallus breathed.

“Very astute,” Gabby said. Her face turned coy. “You know, you’re a lot different from what I expected!”

“Are you a kelpie?”

“Kelpies can only do half of what I can,” Gabby snapped. “Kelpies play with memories.” She paused to look over her red dress, almost flirtatiously. “Do you ever remember seeing me like this?”

She had him there.

“Tell me,” she continued, taking a step forward. “Are you happy with the Crown of Grover?”

“What?” Gallus stepped to the side, turning his rear towards the exit. He put a claw on one side of his saddlebags. The crown was in the other side. It wasn’t the most clever ruse, but it was hard to think of anything better.

Gabby smiled at him hungrily. “Is your hearing broken too, Gally? I said… Are you happy with the Crown of Grover? ”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s tainted your life so much!” She took a few teasing steps toward him, giggling. Her dress swayed, sanguine fabric rippling like disturbed water. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you? It’s that thing that makes you special. It’s why you were on all those adventures with your friends that—between you and me—ruined your life. It’s probably why Princess Twilight Sparkle made you a guard in the first place! Without that crown, Gally, you’d just be a normal, sad little orphan griffon, and your life would’ve been so much better. That crown is for those who have people to command. To bring together and unite! That crown isn’t for you.”

Gallus slouched his posture slightly. Gabby looked playful, but there was a catlike tension in her movements and the way she stood. Any second now, she would pounce.

“All these bad things happening to you,” Gabby went on, “are because of that crown, Gally. Do you really think something so powerful wouldn’t attract equally powerful things from the universe? That it wouldn’t attract kelpies, or sea monsters, or just plain bad luck?” Gabby pouted. Gabby never pouted.

“Shut up,” said Gallus tersely.

“Gally.”

“I said shut up!” Gallus snapped. “Don’t call me that! You—you aren’t Gabby!”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m Gabby or not,” she said. Gallus’s breathing sped up. She sounded so much like the Gabby he knew. The Gabby he had to abandon. “What matters,” she continued, “is that we both come to an agreement.”

“...What kind of agreement?”

“If you give me the Crown of Grover, then you can save Griffonstone.”

Gallus blinked. The room they were in—the washroom—it wasn’t there anymore. They were somewhere dark. Candles were scattered across the floor, engraved with some sort of floral patterning that he could swear he recognized. Heat attacked his skin and feathers, digging deep. The scent of dust and sand entered his nostrils.

Gabby was standing in the midst of a circle, drawn crudely with sky blue chalk.

“Why have you been clinging to the crown for so long?” asked Gabby.

“I haven’t,” said Gallus. “I’ve nearly lost the thing more times than I can count.”

“It follows you,” said Gabby, “because you still want it. Come on, you’re smart enough to know that. You’re still bound to it, in your heart. You still keep it. You never throw it away when it comes back into your arms. You never dare.”

Gallus simply stared. His neck was tense. “Where are we?”

“You’re not in the washroom anymore?” Gabby put a claw to her beak and looked around. “That’s interesting. It’s got to be the crown enhancing your magic.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Gallus.

“Your latent magic,” Gabby explained. “Your reserves.” She put her claw down. “You barely even know how the thing works! That poor artifact. Please, give it to me. I would treat it so much better than you.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t!”

The crown had stumbled into his life by accident. It had chosen him as its sole user by accident. There was something important about that. The same kind of happenstance that had pushed him into the School of Friendship was what brought him to glory. He had become useful by accident, but he was useful. He was needed, maybe not now, but in the past. The crown reminded him of that.

He couldn’t lose it.

“You’re useless with or without it,” said Gabby.

Gallus’s eyes widened. “Get out of my head.. Now.”

“Even when your wings worked, and you had friends who loved you, and you felt like the crown was yours, you felt useless.” Gabby raised her eyebrows. “If you gave it to me, you could save your friends. No, wait. You don’t think of Gabby and Gilda as friends, do you?. You think of them as sisters. Your second chance at a family, and you lost them. How sad… But if you give me the crown, you could get them back, Gallus.”

Gallus’s stomach twisted, feeling like it was folding around itself. He doubled over.

“You’re useless with or without it,” Gabby repeated.

“I don’t feel like that anymore,” Gallus muttered.

Gabby blinked. “What?”

The sudden nausea, and even the nausea he was feeling earlier, went away. Gallus let out a breath. “I don’t feel like that anymore. I don’t think I’m useless.”

Gabby squinted at him.

I need to make things right. You showed me that, Gabby.

“I don’t feel useless,” he said again, standing a little straighter. “Not anymore. I saved an innocent pony.”

“And brought her into more chaos.”

“That she’s getting out of now,” Gallus said. “And sometimes we can’t help but run into chaos. The kelpies—we made it through their attack.”

“Because of Silverstream.”

Exactly,” Gallus said. He felt lighter, all of a sudden. “And you know, Terramar still thinks I’m a good person.”

“That hippogriff is an idiot.”

“Definitely.” He looked Gabby in the eyes. There was determination in them, but it was unraveling like a rope, string by string. “You’re telling me that if I give you the crown, you can save Griffonstone, right? How?” He pat his saddlebags again.

“Not just Griffonstone. You can save Silverstream, too,” said Gabby. “You can save all of them. I can stop all of it.”

“Tell me how!” Gallus yelled. “You’re not going to stop them, are you? You’re what’s behind everything. You’re pulling every string. Who are you?

Gabby roared in response, and it was a terrible thing to hear. Whatever was putting on Gabby’s face as a disguise was done pretending. Something deep, desperate, and warped came out when Gabby roared.

She pounced. In a moment one claw was pushing Gallus’s head to the ground as another searched the depth of his saddlebag.

She realized what was going on too late.

“Did I not put it in there?”

Gallus jerked his head to the side, escaping the claw that was pushing his head down. He took the crown, which he had slipped out of his other bag, and bellowed as he decked her across the face with it.

Then he was in the washroom again, staring into the mirror. His claws were in the sink. Hot water poured over the crown.

His face was slick with cold sweat, but he looked like himself for the first time that day.

You can save Silverstream, too.

What did that fake Gabby mean by that? Was something coming for Silverstream? Something other than that giant creature that the navy detected hours ago?

Did something go wrong with the creature?

Gallus was drawn to the crown in his claw. He still knew how to use it, but he doubted that it would have any effect from this distance.. He already knew it would fail. It was pointless to even try.

It wouldn’t matter if he did try, though.

The Crown of Grover seemed to grow heavier. It was like it could read his mind.

Gallus lifted it to his head and slipped it on.

The crown glowed. He was thrown into a current of blinding, twisting lights—a current of magic.