XXVII. The Confusion of Twilight Sparkle
XXVII. The Confusion of Twilight Sparkle
TWILIGHT
Twilight’s breath was hot and ragged.
“Are you sure? This… this is what you want?”
“Yes, of course,” she answered. Her eyes were wild, unfocused. Every inch of her body pulsed with need, with something she was too ashamed to name. She craved this. Without it, this moment would ruin her.
“You would ask this of your princess?” asked the voice. It was indistinct, distant, yet right at her ear, like a cat purring. Twilight shivered in ecstasy. To be subordinate, to be in the presence of a greater light! She groaned.
“Yes,” she rasped.
Was it Celestia? Or was it Luna? She did not know. The figure was dark, indistinct. Like the dark side of the moon, or perhaps the sun eclipsed. It was strong, hard, yet also gentle as Applejack was. Twilight thought for a moment it had the shape of Tradewinds, with an unsure step. But she knew it was her princess, her very own, the one she needed and craved and wanted so desperately.
“Please,” she said. Her voice embarrassed her. But she couldn’t stop. Even the embarrassment fueled her feelings. Her desire. Her… whatever the hell this reckless feeling was.
“But why? There are ponies of your own kind, Twilight. Younger than I. More suited than I. Less damaged.”
“You’re perfect,” Twilight responded. She was in awe. She felt a compulsion to kiss the ground and worship.
“I am not.”
“Please love me,” Twilight whispered. “Please love me, Princess. Please, I’ll do anything. I would be happy just to be your slave, to lick your heels. I will do anything. Please love me.”
“Twilight, stop this. Twilight!”
“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”
Twilight trembled.
“I’m not leaving. Twilight, calm down. Let us talk about this…”
She was filthy. Dirty. Impure. She felt the corruption in her heart, in her mind. On her skin. In the heat that creeped from her loins up her spine. In the way her legs shook and her head throbbed. Unclean, unclean, unclean.
“I’m not good enough,” Twilight whispered. “Of course you wouldn’t… Of course… but please, Princess, have mercy. I know I’m worthless. I know I would never be a lover worthy of you.”
“Twilight, you’re a wonderful mare. I—”
“Take me anyway. I would be a plaything in your hooves, a throwaway and I would be pleased.”
And then there was a bright light. Twilight screamed. In pain? In ecstasy?
Who cared what an Apostate felt?
*
Twilight had left the long road begirt with ruins behind. The highway was a memory. Her friends at her side were silent. She was silent. The air was still. She stood in a field of roses that stretched on for miles.
There was nothing to say in a place like this. Before them, on the other side of the last bridge, was the end of the world. The rolling hills and plains had given way to mountains. No, no that wasn’t right. The mountains didn’t rise; they jutted. They tore up from deeper place like trees or like...
Twilight had no words. It simply defied words. The mountains were impossibly high. They continued on past the clouds that lazed by and kept going. She couldn’t see the ends of them, the peaks obscured by the limit of her mortal vision. They were the apotheosis of all mountains, the first mountains—she was sure of it.
Her eyes wandered down them like timid climbers and came to rest on the wall.
It was a tiny enclosure beside the roots of the mountain’s sheer inclines. The walls were of brick that looked like it had just been set. Twilight looked at it, and her heart stopped. This was it. The final steps. All of their searching…
Applejack, at her side, doffed her hat and gaped.
Twilight took a step forward then another. Her legs began to move of their own accord as if it were not Twilight that took these steps but the gate ahead that had hooks in her legs, working them. She could hear Applejack and the other behind her, but they might as well have been miles away. This was it. This was the end. The Well was ahead.
Her long quest, through Sarnath and Ulthar and Jannah, was over. Luna had sent her West to find her sister, and now...
“Celestia,” Twilight whispered, and she was gone, running. Her mane was pulled back by the wind. She kept to the path that cut through the roses, and they were red blurs in her vision, unimportant. The mountains faded from her mind. No, there was something else to pay attention to now, something dear. Something close.
Twilight stood before the gate into the enclosure, her friends forgotten. She could hear them yelling, but she cared not.
“Let me in,” she whispered and then bit her lip. Her breathing was harsh in her own ears, the loudest sound. Her eyes raced over the ageless wooden door, looking for a handle or a lock. How long had it been here? Since forever? Since the beginning? She didn’t know.
She found an iron lock and despaired.
The cold iron resisted her magic. She took it in her hooves, holding it up. She stared futilely inside of it.
“No no no no no no no,” she muttered, turning it over and over. She formed her lockpicking key of magic and forced it in, but it began to fall apart as she worked. She poured more magic onto it, cursing iron in all of its forms as she had so many times before. The only thing that resisted her magic! Here, of all places! How dare it? How dare it exist in this most holy zone?
Raw force made a way. The lock shattered, and the door shook with the discharge of unshaped and uncontrolled magic. Twilight shuddered as tiny purple discharges arced on her coat. But she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Not anymore.
“Let me in!” she cried, beat the door with a hoof. It didn’t occur to her to pull it open with her magic. Nothing occurred to her but the Well, the water, the Song from the beginning of the world waiting. It was like Jannah all over again, diving into the heart of creation, and she wanted it so badly.
“Twilight! Twilight, come back!”
“I made it!” Twilight cried, laughing. “I made it! I made it, and no one can ever stop me! I’m coming, Celestia! I’m coming, and we can go back!”
“Twilight! Aw, dammit, Pinkie, help me grab her. This place ain’t good at all. It’s all a trap.”
Twilight felt hooves begin to pull her away from the door, and she lost it. She flailed, hooves striking something soft. She heard Pinkie cry out.
“Twilight, stop it! Stop it right now, you hear me? Gods, Pinkie?” Applejack growled. “Pinkie? Aw, Luna... Ya hurt her, Twi!”
Twilight stared holes in the door. “Celestia.”
“This place... it ain’t right. We ain’t supposed to be here. It ain’t meant for—”
Twilight began to scream. She had walked for months, over two continents. She had watched ponies die and killed them and cried and walked thousands and thousands of steps. She might never see Ponyville again. All she had was Luna’s quest to find her sister.
“—Twi! Twi, please, stop it. Oh, Luna, this place…”
Twilight’s vision blurred. The roses around her seemed to grow, and the mountains seemed to shrink. It was all swimming before her eyes. Applejack was still talking. Twilight flailed, and she thought that Applejack’s hat hit the ground, but she didn’t care.
“Aw, hell, go! Go! I jus’ wanna go home. We ain’t supposed to be here! I’m a pony, not a god!”
Twilight was free. She laughed happily, madly, and bounded off. The door opened. Inside, there was a quiet, still orchard with little paths. In the center was a well. Just as Luna had told her would be, the Well at the end of the world.
Twilight passed through the opening and into the orchard. The journey was complete.
The door shut behind her.
Twilight woke on her bed. She was still on the Alicorn, somewhere between home and the great western continent.
Waking up was, again, a slow process. It had always been so. Her eyes never seemed to want to focus, not at first. Everything was blurry, uneven, unreal. Her arms and legs slowly remembered what they were and who they were attached to, but in stages.
One of those stages was interrupted by the realization that her bed was soaked with sweat. Sweat and something else that smelled like spoiled sweetness, sickly and alluring. Obvious.
Twilight hated herself.
She was silent as she straightened out the twisted sheets, grimacing at the signs of her hateful presence, and piled all of the filthy things against the wall. She would clean them. When she knew nopony would be around to ask what it was they smelled. Sweat was bad enough. She stank already. The showers on this damn ship had never worked well, and now they were just sort of pathetic.
When that was finished, she sat on her bed, staring at the door. Isolation was an interesting thing. On one hand, she thoroughly enjoyed it. It was nice to be freed of the burden of other minds. Minds beyond her own were a problem. They were a beautiful sort of problem, at least according to Celestia. Twilight just found them to be a problem.
I used to think that it was a good problem to have. Like Celestia thought.
She sighed and lay back. If she were being honest with herself, she did enjoy the presence of other ponies. She liked her companions. She felt safe with Applejack. Pinkie could make her laugh. Tradewinds was honest and open, and her smiling, cheerful stoicism—what a strange combination—was infectious. Applejack kept her level. Pinkie kept her brave. Tradewinds could make her joke on the edge of hell. She needed to learn some of that mare’s strange vocabulary. She had the feeling Tradewinds was far more foul-mouthed than she seemed.
She had spent much of the voyage dreaming. For Twilight, sleep was a good alternative to wakeful meandering. In sleep, she experienced. She could live. What was there to do on a ship for one such as her? She understood how this sort of vessel worked academically. Engines, boilers, things like that—she got it; she really did. A younger Twilight, a more energetic Twilight, would have dived headfirst into the challenge on nothing more than educated guesswork based on old manuals and guidebooks. But the new Twilight was like a dog that has been burnt or a child that has been scolded. Some cautions died hard.
So, instead, she dreamed. Some of her dreams were happy, even blissful. Some were strange, muddled, baffling. Some were awful. A few were even shameful. She did not want to think about those. But they were happening more and more these days.
It’s because you’re alone.
She got up and opened the door. Nopony was in the halls. Typical, honestly. This ship could carry four times as many ponies as it did with room for a few dozen more with ease. She had no idea how many it could hold, but with their little band, there was almost too much room to spread out.
Twilight walked the lonely, echoing halls, and soon noticed that they were a bit too empty. Nopony in the dingy mess hall, none in the halls, none in the infirmary. Grousing, Twilight decided she would have to ascend up into the sun. It was not a particularly pleasant prospect, but if it led her to companionship, she supposed she would risk discomfort.
She was lucky. A stairwell was pretty easy to find—the last time she’d gone up into the sunlight, it had taken her ten minutes to find one. Embarrassing, to say the least.
As she mounted the stair, the door above her opened. Applejack came through, the day streaming in around her, illuminating her. Twilight and Applejack blinked at each other and then chuckled.
“I’m glad to see somepony,” Twilight said first. “Ship seems deserted.”
“And I was about to come get you. There’s a reason for that. We made it, Twi.”
“Made it?”
“West,” Applejack said and gestured. Twilight followed her up onto the deck.
She shielded her eyes from the sun’s harsh glory, giving a quiet little groan. One of the disadvantages of spending all of her time inside, she supposed. After a moment, she was fine, and then she could see.
The cliffs were the first thing she noticed.
They were taller than mountains or seemed to be. Red as blood or the rusted iron of some forgotten dancefloor of slaughter. The sun shone on them like they were the very walls of morning, as if there were battlements of natural rock high atop them. Sheer cliff faces, unforgiving in their steepness. Twilight forgot to breathe for a moment.
The cliffs were not endless, she saw. There was a break in the imposing wall, and there, nestled between natural sentinels, was a beautiful city. It was a dusty red, the same as the cliffs were, and it sprawled out like a relaxing cat with one eye still open. Its port was massive. Dwellings were pressed together so tightly she wondered if there could even be streets, and she saw now that even more homes were built into the natural walls themselves.
“It’s beautiful,” Twilight said to the air itself. Not for Applejack’s benefit. No, such a sight deserved to praise itself, intrinsically.
“I said the same,” Applejack said. “Cap says it’s named Valon. Biggest port he knows of on the coast here and the one that does business the most with our continent.”
“I’ve read that name before. Valon, you say? There’s never much about it in the old historiographies. I remember being irritated because it was like everypony assumed it was common knowledge.”
“Maybe it was.”
“Still doesn’t excuse such gross omission,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes, but then she focused. “Where is our captain? I’ll need to speak to him immediately.”
Applejack looked around. The rest of the crew was also staring out over the water. Perhaps they, like Twilight, had almost forgotten the point of the voyage, where it was going. That it even had an end.
But Twilight saw her quarry and went to speak to him. Applejack followed closely.
The makeshift captain greeted Twilight with a big smile and open arms. “My good ladies. Welcome to the true west!” He laughed, freely and openly. Twilight found it fascinating. “I’m sure Applejack’s already told ye a bit about this place. Valon on the blood-red cliffs and all that.”
“It’s a sight for sorest eyes, Captain,” Twilight said. “I was losing hope that we’d ever make it.”
“Ah, ye of little faith.”
“Not in you, my good stallion. Rather, it is the waves themselves I have little faith in. But we’re here now, so I guess it’s time for me to stop sleeping in. I have something to give you before we land…” Twilight stopped, blinking. “It just now occurs to me, after all of this time, that they might not welcome us. Do you think they’ll be hostile?”
He shook his head. “No. I’d be shocked. The ponies of Valon value two things: wealth and hospitality. Trade is the lifeblood of this place.”
“The towns that prosper from trade are often treacherous for the naive,” Twilight countered. “But I believe you. Regardless, I’ll giving you something. It’s just a silver plate, nothing special… to the sight. It’s enchanted.”
“And its purpose?”
“Communication. I have two letters in my saddlebags. One says to flee, and the other says to wait. I’m going to go ashore with only Applejack, Pinkie, and Tradewinds. If we run into trouble, we’ll contact you.”
“I’m noticing a lack of a third option, in case you need help, miss.”
“If it’s something that the four of us can’t handle…” Twilight smiled. “Then I think running would be your best option.”
They docked with little incident. In fact, if Twilight could be honest, she had expected more fuss before the Alicorn found its berth. It made her nervous. Very nervous.
But the city of Valon more than made up for its quiet welcome. Even before the gangplank was lowered, the docks were filled with curious onlookers, gawkers, merchants hawking wares, and an official-looking earth pony loaded down with gold and jewels and flanked by guards in strange barding.
Twilight met him when he came aboard. He did not even pretend to ask permission. He boarded as if he had bought the ship and all of its crew outright. His eyes were bored—or seemed so to Twilight. The way he walked about her ship was the way a bored aristocrat walked through a perfect garden, noticing it but only barely.
Twilight looked to Main Sail. “Captain, they speak Equus, right? They can understand?”
He nodded. “They ken you, Twilight Sparkle.”
Twilight looked back to the official-looking pony. She bowed—not all the way, something in her would keep her from that, for it belonged to a pony who did not put on airs—and then rose.
“Thank you for providing us with a safe berth, sir,” she began. The stranger stared at her with a glazed look, and her tongue was stilled.
When she was thoroughly baffled, he spoke at last. Or perhaps he intoned, in the thickest accent she’d heard in her entire life. “The City greets you, stranger out of the East. The city provides you succor, stranger out of the East.”
Silence.
“Uh. Thank you,” Twilight said, trying to muster all of her forgotten dignity. “We are very grateful. We promise to abide by the City’s laws and, uh, not break anything,” she finished, like an absolute idiot. Great going. Perfect. Slayed it, Twi.
“And ye’re sure about this, goin’ alone?” Main Sail asked for perhaps the tenth time.
“I’m sure. I’m very sure. We will be fine, Captain. I… Well, we’ll be fine.” Twilight smiled. “And if I tell you to run, please, do so. There is no shame in knowing when a battle cannot be won.”
“There is much shame in leaving a friend, if I may, miss.” Main Sail looked as if he had been pursued from the mouth of hell.
All at once, Twilight felt terrible. She had written her notes and done her enchantments a week ago. Nothing had seemed out of the norm about them. She had never seen this reaction coming at all, and now she had nothing with which to counter it.
“If… if I feel that a judicious use of force on your part might be required…” Twilight sighed. She scratched her temple with a hoof and did not meet his eyes. “I’ll amend one of my letters if I must, if you can do anything to help. I promise,” she added.
He seemed to relax. Maybe. Honestly, she wasn’t sure. She hoped that was what she saw. Resignation she could not handle. “I’ll accept that, aye. Be careful.”
“I intend to,” Twilight said, and with that, she looked away from him to the others.
How long since she had truly taken stock of her companions? It felt like an age. Applejack looked little worse for wear. Her mane was unkempt. She’d mentioned something about borrowing a ponytail holder from one of the engineers after losing the last of her own. Twilight remembered this with some detached amusement. It was strange, the things one remembered. Her hat, through thick and thin, through literal hell, remained in one piece. There were miracles. Her body had healed of its hurts, and only scars remained. These could only be seen through her shaggy coat if one looked. Twilight did not look too closely.
Pinkie had recovered. The bone had not broken, after all, and with some help from the Vanhoover sailors and their stand-in doctor, she was walking fine. Her wounds had been harsher than Applejacks, but they too had faded with time and rest. She had a brace over the wounded leg, but apart from this, Twilight would never have guessed what Pinkie had seen and done. Her smile was wide as ever, untarnished. Once again: there were miracles.
Tradewinds’ wings were still on the fritz. Not much could be done about that, for now. But despite this, she seemed happy enough. Eager to be off, grinning much like Pinkie. Her expression was an open one, and her eyes shone as always. She wore her barding—though, their misadventure in Vanhoover had rendered it all but useless. Twilight was shocked to see just how much damage the thing had been done. It was more thing than barding, honestly. There were holes—bullet holes? By the Diarchs! They were; she knew it—scratches and cuts from hoofblades, dented plates on her shoulders. The whole ensemble was a complete wash. Twilight decided she would replace it all in town if she could.
And then there is the last one. The Apostate. She sighed and gestured with her head for them all to follow her as she walked down the gangplank into the squirming hordes of Valon ponies.
Yes, the last one. The Apostate. The Inquisitor. Perhaps the worst for wear of the bunch. Hell, no “perhaps” about it. She was a mess, a ruin. She slept more than half of each day away. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was kept up for days, sometimes by thoughts. Sometimes by nothing. Some nights the waves lapping beneath her hooves finally won her over to sleep. Most nights, she simply lost herself in remembering. Sometimes she saw Axiom die, his eyes locking with hers as his body was obliterated. She had imagined death, when she was young, as being something about noble last words. Something that was drawn out, something one did with dignity. But he’d just vanished like an exhalation of smoke, like the kind that rolled over Applejack’s lips. No, that was too beautiful, more like—
Twilight was back in Valon. Applejack touched her shoulder.
“You alright?”
Twilight’s eyes were wilder than they should have been. Her body felt electric—her mane stood on end. She shivered.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Looked like you were a little overwhelmed. Told the merchant fellas you were distracted.”
“I… I was. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you later,” she added when Applejack’s lips pursed. “I will. I promise.” I promise. Promise. “Well, did you talk with them? We’ll need, uh, supplies. You know.”
“I do, actually.” Applejack chuckled softly, but the almost-reproachful look did not leave her eyes. She saw much. She followed Twilight’s omissions as a dog followed a trail of blood—Twilight knew it. “There’s a few you’re gonna wan’ to talk to, pony to pony.”
“Yes… what about, specifically? And when?”
Applejack smirked. “About sellin’ a few items, and now, if you’re up for a walk across town. They just left. I’ve got directions.”
Twilight looked around. Many of the merchants and gawkers were gone. She raised her eyebrows at Applejack.
“We bought some odds and ends. Hope y’all won’t mind, but I did refill my baccy pouch. Bought some nice lookin’ apples to. Figured we could use something fresh.”
And she was hungry. “Apples, fresh apples? I would probably kill for a nice apple.”
“Now, that’s a sentiment I can respect!” Applejack chortled.
“Guys!” Pinkie danced into view. This was not exaggeration. She danced on the dusty red streets. “Are we gonna go or not?”
“Yes, I am agreeing,” Tradewinds said, ruffling her feathers. “Are you alright, Twilight Sparkle? It will be long journey if you are already tired!” She giggled as if this were the height of humor. “But I have water for you, if need.”
“That sounds lovely, actually,” Twilight said, distracted now by the view of the town before her. “These streets are going to be winding,” she said to nopony in particular. “Hard to navigate. Like Canterlot’s lower tier only worse, I imagine. You said you had directions?”
As Tradewinds gave Twilight her water, Applejack nodded and spoke. “You betcha. I got a good sense of direction, girl. I’ll get us there.” She frowned and stepped closer. “Twi, you look like somethin’ isn’t right. I’m serious—I can handle this if you ain’t up to walkin’.”
Twilight felt a surge of irritation. She would not be babied. But even as she opened her mouth, she shivered again. “I’m sorry,” she said instead, lamely, pathetically. She felt smaller than before. “I’m just… remembering. Look, I’ll be alright. I promise. I’ll be fine.” Promising again. “Let’s just go. The sooner we’re done and back onboard, the sooner I can rest.”
Applejack grunted her assent.
The streets were winding and tight. Ponies crowded them, chattering in at least a dozen tongues. Twilight heard Equus, the common tongue of ponies, but when she heard it it came in three flavors at least. The accents were heavy, as if the words were buried underneath sandstorms. Most of the ponies of Valon were earth ponies, but even in this they were dissimilar. She was used to brighter coats, but here the ponies’ coats were more subdued, earthy colors. Lots of brown, lots of dark reds, very few greens and yellows. It was strange, but not that strange. What was more odd were the relatively small numbers of pegasi. Unicorns were in abundance. But pegasi? She saw perhaps four.
What Twilight saw a lot of was batponies. Until then, she had seen only a few of the most elusive of Equestria’s inhabitants and then only a few at a time and all of them in the barding of Luna’s guard. But there were whole families on display here. She saw tiny batpony foals running in the street, playing at ball in the alleyways.
Every street, it seemed, was a marketplace. The whole town was a huge engine of commerce, spending and earning and buying and making. A great moveable market, a feast on ten thousand legs and held up by almost as many hooves and heads. Brightly colored overhangings shadowed merchants who called in half a dozen languages and their wares. Some things she recognized—it was hard to deviate much from the norm with an apple. Jewelry she knew even if she wore little. Heavy perfumes, bolts of the most luxurious cloth and silk, strange artifacts whose purposes she could only begin to guess at but whose magic she felt from the street. Seedy taverns where, between the stringed glass beads, she could almost make out the indistinct shapes of ponies playing at cards and rolling loaded dice. Caravan guards drank and argued. One sharpened his knife with a grimace on the steps of a brothel, and Twilight knew the place’s purpose by the mares who rubbed their lithe, nubile bodies against her own and made her cheeks flame. Children were everywhere, under every hoofstep even, it seemed. Yet only one pickpocket, and Applejack had seen him coming a mile off. Word traveled, she thought. No others had tried.
Twilight was easily distracted at the worst of times. She had trouble walking in straight lines, caught by new sights or sometimes by a book. So it was no surprise really, when she came too close to the stallion’s booth. Right where the merchant wanted her.
She didn’t see him coming at all before he was taking up most of her vision. He was buried in robes, with only his golden eyes present. She couldn’t even tell what tribe of pony he was or if he was a zebra.
“Ah, yes, you are the lady of the ship, is this not true?” he asked, his common tongue thick with the Valon accent. “But a lady so unadorned! Surely you must be searching for something to better present yourself to the Emirs, yes? Or perhaps in your dealings with the my brothers in the guild, hm?”
She didn’t like how he said “present” but Twilight smiled awkwardly on despite this. “I’m not, but thank you…”
“Please, if I could but show you what I have in mind! I do have something very specific, as soon as I saw you grace our humble street I knew exactly what you would be needing, hm?”
Twilight tried to maintain her awkward, defensive smile. She really did. But she was just not feeling it. At all.
“Look, sir, I know you’re just doing your job… and I know I’m a naive easterner with supposedly endless gold, but only one of those things is really true. I don’t really wear jewelry, anyway!” she said as if this would solve everything.
The merchant didn’t miss even a single beat. He laughed—and Twilight was taken aback by his laugh. It was rather honest sounding. It reminded her of Applejack’s laugh. There was nothing forced or awkward about it. “Oh, I know you are not made of coins, lady out of the sea, yes. I surmised that you did not wear much adornment. But I thought perhaps you might want to change that. For you see, Valon is the city of new beginnings. I would know—I’m the one who told your captain that! Try new things, yes? Will you see the piece? It will take only a minute. If you but lay eyes upon it—”
“I’ll buy it.”
“Then you will be satisfied, whether you buy it or not, you will be satisfied. To gaze upon beauty is good, hm? And besides, I think you will see why I chose it for you very quickly.”
Twilight was tempted to tell the strange pony—zebra?—where he could stuff his baubles, but something held her back. Applejack came into view behind the merchant, trying to mouth something to her. Twilight waved her off. “Show me,” she said.
Pinkie was at her side. “Oh! Maybe it’s magic! Or like, an ancient necklace of super ancient power that does all kind of ancient things!”
Twilight chuckled. “Maybe it is,” she said.
The merchant dug through a chest behind his little cart and Applejack seemed to be trying not to laugh at her. Twilight stuck her tongue out.
“Now, you gotta admit, that this here is funny. Twi, you? Bein’ pulled in by a jewelry hawker? Ain’t realistic. I wouldn’t have believed it a bit if it wasn’t happenin’ in front of me.”
“New continent, new me,” Twilight said lightly, and then the strange jeweler had returned with a small jewel on a golden chain. Twilight stared at it, captivated immediately. Pinkie had been more right than Twilight had expected: she did indeed detect a modicum of magic in the crystal.
The gem itself was blue like the ocean. It was perfectly cut, perfectly shaped into two sharp poles. The chain seemed to be truly golden, as far as Twilight could tell. It was, to put things bluntly, one of the most deceptively beautiful things that Twilight had seen among the market stalls.
“This…”
“Is not what you expected,” said the merchant. “Do you see?”
“You’re not a jeweler at all. You’re an artificer! I apologize,” Twilight said. “I’m not sure what this does, exactly. I mean, given enough time I could.”
“It focuses,” the artificer said. “When worn on the horn, it becomes a secondary, stacked focus for the flow of aetheric energy. It… focuses.”
Twilight’s mind moved far beyond him. She was already thinking of how it had been done. She thought she might know. Regardless, she was grinning like a fool. “How much?” she asked. “This is a wonderful bit of work here. It’s wonderful.”
“For you? Twenty bits. I have to tell my wife I didn’t give it away, yes?”
Twenty. Three was a fair day’s wages. Twilight hummed.
“That’s reasonable,” she said. It was expensive, but with a look in his eyes, she knew that both of them were aware of this item’s true value. She knew he was telling her the truth now. She had been examining it with her own magic as he had talked. With this little trinket… Yes, she needed this.
“Excellent. Then take it, yes?” He held it out, and Twilight took it with her magic. She tried to tie it to her horn, but her vision failed her. She chuckled.
“Tradewinds, could you help me here?”
“Yes, I can do this,” Tradewinds said, and took the pendant from the air. It took only a moment to affix it, and she was pleasantly surprised that it rested right in the blind spot between the edges of her eyesight, along the line of her nose.
“Thank you,” she said to the artificer, and he bowed.
“I know where you are going, I think. You will need this.” He paused. “Lady of the Ship, if you are asked where you go, be honest. Truth is valuable, and in this case, it is priceless. Peace be with you.” He melted back into a passing gaggle of ponies, and Twilight realized that the stall she had thought was his was not his at all. It was empty.
She blinked, but before she could really say anything about it, Applejack pulled her along. All the while, Twilight grinned up at her almost invisible acquisition. Yes, this would come in handy. She would need to practice with it, or the amount of power she would put out would be ludicrous. Painful to her and probably useless for anything that wasn’t a straight-up explosion.
Around her, Twilight noticed that the crowds were thinning a bit. They were several blocks into the city, and already Twilight knew that her original assessment of this place’s navigability was accurate. It was a nightmare. A beautiful, frightfully interesting one, but getting from point A to point B by a straight line was impossible.
And out of nowhere, it occurred to her that the streets were clear. Where there had been a constant hubub of commerce and conversation there was nothing. They had gone down a side street, and now things were wider. Just a little wider. Wide enough for a few more ponies on either side of their little clump.
She felt a shiver up her spine.
“Applejack?” Twilight bit her lip. “Applejack, are you sure this is the right way?”
“Mostly,” Applejack said, and sighed. “Honestly, Twi, I’m startin’ to wonder if I took a wrong turn back—”
Time stood still, or seemed to stand still, or had always been one mass entire and Twilight had just been fooling herself in this city. Her head turned. Her green eyes like emeralds, like leaves caught in the sun, locked with Twilight’s own. The wind had just funneled through the street, pushing her hat slightly up. Twilight could have memorized the scene in perfect detail, down to the smallest hair on her head.
And then the knife came down like a lightning bolt, crack, nearly non-existent. It cut along her face, grazing the chin. Blood splashed up into the air, right in front of Applejack’s eyes.
And then a hoof from on high smashed into her cheek.
Behind Applejack, Twilight saw a wide-eyed Tradewinds. Together, they watched Applejack fall, limp, out like a candle thrown into a pool. Twilight could say nothing.
“Chyort! Tradewinds roared, and narrowly avoided another kick from the rooftops.
An ambush is a beautiful thing. Even when it is sprung upon you, and the waters of the flash flood are about to cover over your head, there is no way not to see that the whole thing is a bit beautiful. Ponies jumped down from the roofs in perfect unison, hooves bare to hit but not to wound. They would take their quarries alive, or most of them, at least. They had tried to kill Applejack. But the others could be overcome. Which meant that they had watched the party at least for a few streets and had picked the group apart.
Twilight’s magic came to her call effortlessly. She felt almost light. But the pendant had slipped her mind until she had unleashed a bolt of arcane energy so wide and so hot that it hit one of the ambushers head-on and he was ash and smoke. Tradewinds avoided being clipped by her magic by only an inch.
And then there was no room for magic. Twilight was dodging, trying to put distance between herself and the hooded bandits. Four. Five? She couldn’t tell. There was no space or time or air to tell. She saw Tradewinds whirl on a bit and kick with both hindlegs, catching an assassin and throwing him sky high. Pinkie avoided kicks with ease, like a tumblers’ artistry, and pushed her foe with her shoulder into the waiting blows of Tradewinds, who was like a berserker.
There was one left. They were going to make it.
The pony went stiff before Tradewinds could charge him, and then fell, with a dagger dug into the back of his head. Behind him stood a new stranger, a pony who wore a hood, taller than Twilight but not by much, his features completely hidden.
Tradewinds stopped. They all stopped. They stared at the newcomer.
“A cool reception,” he said.
No answer.
Until Twilight spoke. “Take your hood off,” she demanded, her voice raw. Her eyes flicked down to Applejack. She was still, far too still. They needed to get her off the street. They didn’t have time for this. “Quickly,” she added.
“I expected you to get to the point. Admirable.” The pony took his hood off, and Twilight saw that he was a batpony, like many she had seen walking the streets. Had she seen the stranger earlier? She had no idea. He smiled at her. She did not trust his smile. “I am called Abdiel,” he said and bowed. “Abdiel of Sarnath.”
“I don’t know the place,” Twilight said lamely. She looked to Tradewinds and Pinkie. Neither of them moved. Tradewinds seemed ready to take the interloper’s head clean off. Pinkie seemed… curious? Twilight couldn’t tell. Not hostile, at least not immediately hostile. Applejack, of course, was out cold. Right when Twilight needed her keen eye for character. Perfect.
Celestia had always told her that it was a good policy to make friends. In fact, the teacher who had given Twilight everything had insisted on this: Greet every stranger with a smile, she had said warmly, her voice like the sun’s warmth in the gentle spring.
“Twilight,” she said, introducing herself without much ceremony. “Abdiel. That’s a strange name.”
“This talking goes long,” Tradewinds growled. “You, bat, what is design you are having with this? Eto piz`dets, you are being here and doing this and no explanation. I don’t like it,” she said and then spat into the street. “‘Tchyo za ga`lima?” she said again, and took a menacing step forward.
“I’m afraid I don’t know that tongue,” the stranger said with a disarming smile. “My ‘design’ as you put it, was to aid you. I am sorry I could not get to you sooner, but there was a second party at the next intersection, and they delayed me.”
“You took out a whole group of them. By yourself,” Twilight said. These were not questions. Her voice was flat, almost dangerous. Tradewinds could jump at him, but her hurt wing had her off balance. Twilight knew she could hit him, but without being accustomed to the focuser, she couldn’t insure that Tradewinds wouldn’t be caught in a lethal blast. Pinkie was up, but Pinkie was not a fighter. She could fight, but this batpony was going to be far beyond her skills. She would not be able to dance around this one. Twilight could feel it.
“I did. I am one who watches and strikes. To the authorities of Valon, I am known as a Thieftaker. To my compatriots, I am known as a Taker. My profession is one of watchfulness. We wait for those who wait for the unsuspecting. When they move, their trial has already been decided. This particular group has harmed merchants before. They escaped me the last time, but this time…” He looked down at their still forms. “This time they were not lucky. I thank you for your assistance.”
He bowed. Tradewinds seemed to breathe a little easier. Her combat stance loosened.
“So you’re like a city guard,” Pinkie said. “Fighting crime! Like Batmare.” She giggled. “Get it, because you’re a batpony too? Isn’t that great?”
Abdiel smiled at her, and Twilight thought it was genuine. “I will take your word for it. I have not heard of this batmare, but if she is like the mares of Sarnath, then I am sure she is both gorgeous and valorous.”
Twilight knew it was time to choose. Did she trust this stranger? She had no immediate reason not to, after all. He had come to their aid. He had spoken to them, and on top of that… the way he seemed to be amused and not annoyed by Pinkie tugged at her to accept him. Celestia would have.
So she did. She took a few steps forward and brought up a hoof. Tradewinds was at her side, ready, but not bracing as before. “Thank you, sir.”
Abdiel touched her hoof. Twilight noticed him now for the first time as a pony and not as another hooded blade. His aspect was surprisingly friendly, now that she was giving him a chance. Crimson eyes. Positively handsome, actually. She was reminded of the dashing heroes out of Rarity’s ridiculous novels. Twilight has always made sure those came in just for her friend to enjoy.
“You are very welcome, Twilight of the East,” he said. “My duty as a thieftaker has been done. But now I think we have another one: Your friend is injured.”
Twilight startled. “Applejack! You’re right.” She turned and fell beside her friend. Gods, she had been so worried about her own safety she’d forgotten. Stupid. Stupid.
“She will be alright, I think,” Abdiel said. “But medical attention will be required. I do not know if they poison their blades. I do not usually ask thieves and brigands of their preferences. If I may?” He gestured. Twilight nodded, unsure of what he wanted.
With a huff, the thieftaker bowed and with a little help from Twilight, took Applejack up on his shoulders and across his back. Seeing Applejack limp and weak hurt Twilight in a way she could not describe. It was wrong. It was the opposite of Applejack, everything that she should not be. And as they bore her away, Twilight worried. She did not despair, but some part of her wanted to do so. One day in the West and already they had brushed with complete and total failure.
APPLEJACK
Dreams and portents.
The fields go on forever, tree on tree and row on row. They are the world entire. Beyond the fence there are other worlds, but this is her world, marked off by the walls of morning and proscribed by her father’s patrol against the night. In the mornings, she rode on her father’s broad back. They rose as the sun rose, and her father told her the names of the trees and taught her the fields.
Where do the trees come from? She asks, and her voice is small like a shrew in the grass.
They are spun out of the song, into seeds, and we plant the seeds. The earth gives us all things, Applejack, he says. Have I told you about the song and the earth?
In the beginnin’ the earth was spun like granny’s knittin’.
That’s right.
And there was a song and everyone was happy.
Right again, hayseed.
And then lots of stuff happened, and now it’s now, and now is happy too, isn’t it?
Now is happy too. Right you are, little one.
When she is small, the moral arc of the universe is short and swerves upwards towards an infinite sunlight. But there are other worlds than these. Far away, there is school, where her father has taken her many times and left her waving at the step. She watches him depart, and he has left her world, but she knows that there are other worlds than school and town, and somewhere there are fields, and her father is tending apple trees and watching over the wheat in the far fields.
Her mother is there too. She also walks the fields, and when Applejack dozes off on her father’s grand Saturday review of the proud and stately trees, she is the one who bears the sleeping child down and finds her a place to doze in peace and dream.
Dream. Dreams and portents.
Twilight sitting on an ornate pillow. The scent wafting by of exotic spices, of incense to unknown and foreign gods, perhaps, vanilla and lavender, distant cinnamon, the smell of herbs in mason jars. A rag on her forehead, wet and cool.
Pinkie hovers over her head. She whispers. She coos. Tradewinds sitting by her side, humming. Twilight is never close. Applejack sees her watching. Her eyes are tiny pricks of lavender fire, strange to behold, far in the distance.
Applejack sees and does not see.
She is younger, and Ponyville is bright. Or would be, if it were not nighttime. The stars and candles are bright enough for friends three rounds deep in their mugs. Applejack tastes the sweet ghost of apple wine on her lips.
They are young, and they are beautiful. Applejack has thought about how beautiful her friends are before, and every time, she feels the oddness of the thoughts that come when she is deep in her cups.
They laugh over Twilight. Oh Twilight. Lost in books, lost in work, lost in the mundanity of day to day and never looking up. Applejack is grounded, but she looks up. Rainbow Dash has roughly two hard-working bones in her body and both control her wings.
Was gonna get her t’ come y’know, Applejack slurs with a giggle.
She’d pass out by now.
Yeah but don’t you think that would be cute? Aw, I ain’t tryin to be mean but I’d reckon to wager on it.
You’re trying too hard, Rainbow Dash says. She laughs. I know you ham those weird little country sayings up.
I ain’t never, Applejack said. I ain’t never.
I miss her.
I miss her too, sugar. She’s a good one, that Twilight. I know she drinks. Why didn’t she come, I wonder?
Too big a crowd.
Perhaps, she thought, it was just that. She did not say: Do you think we’re too much for our Twilight with our loud ways and our boisterous airs. She did say: But you know she would be comfortable, I think, with you and me. She did not say: Do you think Twilight does not like us sometimes?
The rag on her forehead is replaced. How soft the pallet that some unseen friend has laid her upon! How warm and welcoming the scent and the air!
Twilight comes to see her. She says things. They sound nice. Twilight’s voice is bright and energetic. It is not good at soothing, but it tries, like Twilight tries. She tries so very hard. Applejack appreciates trying. Even when it goes nowhere, and not to say she won’t be honest, but she likes a soul that tries, likes a heart that strives as her parents strove as she expects herself to strive.
Twilight, a lone bureaucrat trotting down a country road to pay her visit as duty demanded. Applejack was determined to show this stranger a happy place. It was her place. There were other worlds, but this was her world, and she would make it a good one. Her family was here; her food was hot and ready; her farm bright and in season. All things were bright, and all things were beautiful.
She thought idly that Twilight seemed the kind of pony who knew few and loved few, not out of coldness but out of lack of opportunity. She wished that this pony lived in her own town, so she could show her what the congeniality of the country was like. The congeniality of her world where the apple trees and the wheat and the fallow fields stretched on into the horizon and her father’s ghost patrolled against the night and her mother’s shade watched for the veil of morning to fall gently over the world again.
PINKIE
Pinkie paid attention as long as possible. This was not as long as perhaps others would hope, but Pinkie knew that their expectations were not always right.
Still, she wasn't a fool. Fools did not last long in a kitchen. There was a wisdom that one reaped and sowed slaving day in and day out over ovens and stoves. There was a sideways sort of philosophy to be found whilst stirring a hot pot of soup.
The point was she knew what was going on. Not only did Twilight's dealings not go over her head, but Twilight's feelings were laid bare. To be honest, Pinkie found that this was true much more of the time than Twilight wanted to think! So it went.
Twilight had sold the rusty but serviceable armament on the Alicorn for supplies, barding, and trustworthy maps. She'd been told that the quickest and safest route inland was by following the river. Specifically, by taking a steam boat up it. Twilight had asked many questions. The Alicorn could not navigate the river, as she was far too large and far too deeply keeled. They wouldn't make it even halfway. The ruler—Pinkie quite forgot what his name or title was—had offered Twilight a deal. A steamboat on loan for the Alicorn on loan. Valon was having trouble keeping pirates and the other poets from bothering its trade and the mining camps it controlled up the coast. The Alicorn would be a wonderful patrol vessel. When Twilight returned, she could trade back.
Twilight hadn't seemed interested in the trade, really. Or at least, in the trading back. She had written the captain and talked back and forth about it with him. Pinkie got the impression he had been reluctant. But Twilight was firm.
Applejack was too, but she slept now.
The apothecary made them tea. Pinkie liked him. He was nice. He had told her that Applejack would be fine, and so she liked him. He laid her friend’s head on soft pillows and treated her with reverence, and so Pinkie trusted him.
Poison. Poison was a nasty word. Pinkie hated the sound, and she loved the sound of most words. Kumquat? That was an awesome word. Incredibly fun to say. Poison, not so much. The apothecary’s explanation had been a little beyond Pinkie’s herblore, caught in scraps and bits from her mother’s table as a foal. But she understood enough to know that the poison was not quite as fatal. The plant was one she’d not encountered before, which the stallion called “Zondervin” flowers. She thought that was it. Instead of death, the goal was deep sleep and paralysis. Mostly Pinkie just cared that Applejack was going to be better.
Twilight traded with Valon. They got the Alicorn and Twilight got an unnamed steamboat for traveling upstream. No cannons—the city couldn’t afford to loan her any. With Twilight aboard, they probably didn’t need any, actually, Pinkie realized. Barding for Applejack, barding for Pinkie and Tradewinds. Twilight had asked for a new cloak for herself. Food enough for two months on the river—though, she was told that it would not be that long. A little bit of Valon coinage so she could buy information or supplies as needed upriver. A few firearms for the crew. Some potions and medical supplies.
Pinkie noticed something, but wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Never, at any point, did Twilight say where it was that she was going. Why? Wasn’t that important? Did she not know? Perhaps she wasn’t sure that the obvious destination would be the real one. Or perhaps she was the Apostate still, somewhere, somehow. This last prospect troubled Pinkie. Apostate was another word she did not like. It did not fit. It was wrong.
Twilight changed, then changed again, and now the third turn was coming, and Pinkie tried to water the new sapling as best she could. Made sure it had sunshine. Talk and laughter and company when it wanted company—earth ponies knew how to make the world grow, her father had insisted. The world and sentiment were not so different to Pinkie. There were few differences at all to Pinkie. So to see Twilight withdraw, to see her cast even a single sidelong glance, worried her. To see her withhold trust and warmth troubled her.
But perhaps Twilight knew what she was doing. After all, this city was not safe. Pinkie had been hoping it would be safe and normal and happy, but her hopes had been quite crushed. No, dangerous as much as any other. More put together, yes, but still perilous.
“And you were saying that your destination was… Ah, forgive me, Lady, but I have forgotten,” mewled the… Pinkie thought he was a vizier. The Vizier’s representative. Whatever. But this was the fifth time at least.
“West,” Twilight said. For the fifth time. Every time she answered this question, Twilight got shorter and blunter and more irritated. She was bad at hiding it.
Pinkie felt an impulse, one she knew that Twilight would not appreciate. But it was strong. Honesty was asleep, so somepony had to do it.
“Jannah,” Pinkie blurted.
Twilight glared daggers at her. Predictably. She mouthed something which Pinkie could not understand, partially because she wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.
The merchant shivered. He drew back as if confronted with a corpse.
“You should have said something, Lady of the Ship,” the stallion said hoarsely, his eyes wide. “You should have said!”
“After the… attack today, I thought it would not be prudent to give our destination out freely,” Twilight said, just barely managing not to make it an acidic hiss as she continued to glare at Pinkie. Pinkie shrugged and mouthed sorry. Twilight sighed and covered her eyes.
“Very prudent. But, ah, I’m afraid this deal will no longer be satisfactory.”
Twilight stood. “What? That is—”
“No, you misunderstand. I cannot charge you as much as I have. The merchants of this place have a custom, Lady. We provide succor and discounts to those bound for the Ancient City. They… ahem. They receive the reverence we mean to preserve for the dead, if you are following. Not many return, and they return quite, ah, broken.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then please, let us rearrange this deal. Allow me my honor intact, yes? I would not give normal prices to a pilgrim bound for the Ancient City.”
Twilight sat back down. To Pinkie, she no longer looked angry. Mostly, she looked confused. Pinkie looked away from her, and turned her attention back to Applejack. She hoped her friend woke up soon. She hoped Tradewinds woke up from her nap as well, but she had a lot more faith in that happening. Applejack was too still. She was not used to seeing her still at all.
What a way to begin the final leg of the journey.
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5977860 I expect the end will leave me on a bender and you blowing up whatever there is out there to blow up
Yay Roses
Really? I thought this one was only okay. I did nejoy Applejack's part and being all McCarthyish
Ahhhh oh god I can't handle this
10/10
Another good chapter, but first half was confusing. I dont expect that Twilight can save Celestia alone. Aj part was very good, now i understand, why she want befriend with her.
And Tradewind
Hillarious
I saw this updated and pretty much cheered. yay.
5978097 I enjoy finding new curse words in Russian just for her and then mangling their usage horribly
Cynewulf, consummate ship teaser.
Also, Assassin's Creed much?
5978607 Only ever played the first one! Never beat it. Enlighten me
twilight and luna...romantically interested in each other....hmm, I shall read more yet ^^
a grand chapter to be sure. I enjoyed it.
Two phrases come to mind with this chapter:
"Sunk cost fallacy" and "Prose so purple you worry it is asphyxiating."
And yet I press on.
I can't say I'm a fan of the Twiluna here, I admittedly have a bias towards Twilestia, so take that for what you will, but I feel like there is a bit of awkwardness in how it's carried out.
It feels like it came out of left field for me, given the overwhelming focus the story had for the first act on what Celestia meant to Twilight and the slow build towards Twilight's feelings becoming romantic. To have the Twiluna ship tease pop up so late in the story and be so brief before moving on felt jarring to me.
This adds to the problem that it also feels terribly unbalanced. The story's importance on Twilight's relationship to Celestia(and I don't mean that in just the romantic sense) is just so much more massive and central to the whole piece that the crush Luna has developed on Twilight, and whatever new development Twilight has for Luna comes off as very shallow to me when put side-by-side.
I can't help but feel as if the idea of Twilight suddenly developing a new crush after obsessing so hard on someone else after so many months, and possibly years a bit hard to believe. Lastly, and I know it's horribly presumptuous of me, I can't help but feel apprehensive as to what a fleshed out Twiluna romance would add or detract to the story's central theme of Twilight and Celestia.
Forgive me, I am shipper trash and I needed to rave a little bit, don’t take it too seriously. With that out of my system; this is another fantastic chapter. It takes me a while to really pin down what I love about a story and articulate it into comments, so this is coming a bit late but I’d like to say the way you describe scenery and environments is always really captivating to me, and I love how you portray them as very surreal with a sense of foreboding. You have a very unique way of narrating through your characters’ heads that I find really engaging. Can’t wait for the next chapter man!
Also a quick question: Is that artifice Twilight picked up the same as the one she is wearing in the cover art?
5979824 Blackjack's sexual misadventures were actually the final straw that made me quit Project Horizons. So no, no worries of a trail of one time bangs and boinkings. (boink is a fun word). Send me a PM and I'll tell you what I can without spoilering? Or try to. Though I also encourage you to just go with the story! There's a joy in discovery and all that. But if you PM me I'll give you something to go on.
5981364 Yes! Same little artifact.
I'm not sure it has been brushed aside. Consider Twilight's insecurity about Celestia. Why the change in the image? Does she really want the others, or is she insecure about whether or not she deserves what she wants and so perhaps is trying for a surrogate? She's shared intimate, if obviously not really sexual, moments with both Applejack and Tradewinds, and before their scuffle enjoyed the confidence of Luna. For some one who is feeling very, very lonely, these sorts of things can become anchors. The first dream, honestly? I mean it's weird cause I can't just lay out my plans and stuff, but I would say it has more to do with loneliness-created frustration and the whole confining herself to quarters out of moodiness than true infatuation. She's sad, she's withdrawn from her friends after the trauma and Axiom popping like a cherry, and so instead of fulfilling that lonely ache in a healthy manner, her mind dumped its frustration out the easy way. At least (he said, revealing his hand) I intended it to be easier to read that way. But that's the risk with writing really close to the characters, is that you lose a bit of control over how a thing can be read.
Thank you for the comment. It's helpful to have third parties make this kind of in-depth look that's genuinely thought out, y'know? I like that. For what its worth, I like Twilestia over TwiLuna myself! Usually. I also think Luna likes Twilight a lot more than Twilight likes Luna.
Maybe Pinkie and Gummy could could take a quick detour to Sarnath and smooth over that kerfuffle with Bokrug?
5985859 Was it Ulthar or Sarnath with the cats
Ulthar had the cats.
(Now I have this barmy picture in my head of Gummy as Bokrug and Opalescence as Mene's kitten...)
I finally decided Twilight is The Crowing (not just because I've powered through all those albums in order multiple times lately).
5990831 Some of the groups its in are a bit of a ship that has only one paddle. I.e. onesided. Or may not be onesided eventually. And stuff. I'm not sure what all groups its in actually, now that you say that. huh.
5986288 I loved those cats. :D
5989722 she's also the four horsemen, the anti-
ChriCelestia, the eighth coming of the NoodleGod and also Paul Mua'dib, the base of the Pillar and leader of the free pones of Dune5992604 now I'm picturing her riding a sandworm.
I'm rather curious what the fellow at the end there would make of Twilight if he knew that she knew Luna personally. Twilight the modesty powerful unicorn is very different than Twilight the student of Celestia and friend/close acquaintance of Luna. I'm assuming most ponies in the world are at least indirectly aware of the two alicorns. He'd probably be very startled to know that she'd, unless I misremember, actually seen Jannah as it once was if only through the eyes of another.
I thought it was a good chapter if a bit fast.
Well that was something. Giving Twilight a magic amplifier was an interesting choice.
6435365 if he had known that he would have almost certainly been terrified of her. In Equestria Celestia is a benevolent ruler. In the West they remember her as a wandering hero and a great warrior
6891426
Interesting. Funny how she can be terrifying and yet not at the same time... Knowledge matters a lot I suppose.
5992624 The bookworm riding a sandworm? THE READER HAS AWAKENED!!
10/10 would totally visit a place that tells me that they'll offer discounts if I tell them I'm going a city that's 2spoopy4them
Absolutely stellar chapter. I can only hope I finish reading this by the end of the year.
8444808
Oh man you just got here? You're close to the WEIRD
8444876
Oh no, not The Weird!