The Night is Passing

by Cynewulf

XXXVIII. Jannah III: Beloved

JANNAH

The inner city of Jannah is different from the outer districts. In the outer ring, the Fallen roam chanting and singing their praises to a city which ignores them. But inside? There are Fallen, but the inner ring is home to things which do not appear in any other bestiary because Celestia kept them bound in Jannah. They would scour the earth if they could. They would devour all things if she would only let them do their work.

What is evil? Celestia once asked this question on Jannah’s tableland. The city remembers--it remembers all things, after all--the four ponies who sat on holy ground in a dead city.

Celestia, younger, but still ageless and the lightest pink imaginable, the first rays of dawn. Luna with a scowl, a dark gaze, the voids between the stars sometimes, the stars themselves at other times. A young unicorn mare with a bobbed mane and a pipe named Harmony. A batpony from Sarnath named Kristoff.

It was not grand symposium, but simply a rest. They had seen things. They had endured the lonely streets and the dread and the dreams and the visions. But Celestia had kept them going. She had business here, and she included Luna in that business almost by default. The cracks between them were widening, but she did not know that yet. It would come with time.

What was evil, really? She asked dully as they huddled around a pathetic fire made from the cuttings of one of the temple’s trees. What made places like Jannah? Why did pirates raid and steal? Who created monsters and set them on foes?

Of course there wasn’t an answer. Because that was easy, wasn’t it? Maybe it was mindless, grasping impulse. Luna did not care, because motivations matter little to a good and heavy hammer.

The mistake that most sojourners in Jannah make is to think that Jannah is mindless impulse. Celestia can be forgiven, perhaps. The mist blurs thought and reason, and even Alicorns born in Creation’s Song would tire after the city’s trials. The city does not help anyone to see the truth, of course. Truth is just another weapon in its infinite arsenal. If mindless malice works, then that is what the city is. If malevolent personality is what works, then that is what the city is. What is Jannah, anyhow? A being? An idea? An answer? Questions like this are foolish because the answer is really rather simple. It’s just a step from that answer, just one step, but its one that Celestia did not make. A pity. A great pity.

What do you do to an animal or a pony who you do not wish to be free? What do you do with somepony dangerous to ensure they can do no harm?

You put them in a cage of course.

What do you do with something that has no body to trap? What do you do with something that has Will but no Form?

Some cages need to be bigger than others.

TWILIGHT

Of course Tradewinds was losing it. Could Twilight blame her, really? With all the blood on her hooves, was she in any position to judge the madness, the violence of another? No, but she did anyhow.

Twilight jumped back as one of the Black Hoof missed her head by a fraction of a second. She formed her magic into a great block of energy and punched the snarling mercenary in his face, sending him flying.

They were lucky. It was just a four pony patrol, and Tradewinds had of course made that two ponies by the time they could fire back. Twilight had just finished one. Applejack--

There was a sickening crunch and a breathy, drawled curse. And Applejack had finished the other.

Twilight sat on her haunches and rubbed a hoof over her face. “Those gunshots are going to carry,” she said, suddenly exhausted. Had she stopped being exhausted? The outer city had made her anxious, on edge, panicky. The inner city? Mostly she felt tired. But why wouldn’t she with how long they had traveled, how many times she had called on her magic to defend herself?

“They fight Fallen every day,” Tradewinds said as she landed. Twilight’s ire did not completely shove aside her better instincts. When Tradewinds winced in pain, Twilight took a step forward.

“You have to let that wing rest,” she said. “Please. Seriously.”

“Rest when--”

“You’re dead,” Applejack finished. “Stupid as hell sayin’,” she said and sighed. “Even when I say it. Don’t matter now, Twi. Mine’s dead, and yours looks mighty dead.” She looked over at the others. “And Tradewinds got two more notches to make. If she does that.”

“Da.”

Twilight’s stomach lurched. “Ugh. Just... “ She groaned. “We could have… I don’t know, if we had rushed them and tried to force them to surrender…”

“No,” Tradewinds said curtly. “No surrender. Death.”

“Why?” Twilight yelled, suddenly more than just sickened or frustrated. “Why?” She was in Tradewind’s face now.

“You would not understand.”

“Because you won’t… you won’t…” She seethed, and shook Tradewinds. “You wont f-fucking tell me. Why do you need to kill them? Why do you have to keep… looking like that? I’m so tired of ponies suffering and not knowing why because they don’t think they can tell me. Because that’s what it was like, before I left. And I’m so, so tired of killing.” She pushed a wide-eyed Tradewinds and fell back. “There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to care. Just… let you murder them or whatever. Why not? They’re bad ponies. You said that and I believe you. But I’m so tired of that just being enough.”

“Twi,” Applejack began, but Twilight shook her head vigorously.

“Twi nothing, AJ. You aren’t any more comfortable with shooting first than I am.” She looked at Tradewinds. She looked her right in the eye like she could dig it right out of her friend’s head.

Tradewinds’ mouth was a firm line, and Twilight knew she wouldn’t explain. They were bad. They were from Petrahoof. She could have figured that much out on her own after watching them laugh at their dead companions and speaking the northern tongue.

And Tradewinds had personal issues with them. That much was obvious. But she didn’t want to explain. No one could stonewall like a Petrahoofan, Twilight had decided. And why should Tradewinds tell her, really?

She was the Apostate, wasn’t she? The one who decided all that stuff Celestia tried to tell her was bullshit, that the world was awful and she would be awful too. Why should anyone tell her anything?

Twilight sniffed, feeling her eyes stinging with tears. She’d killed somepony. A lot of them. And Tradewinds had just made her kill two more. Twilight wasn’t angry. She was, somewhere, but mostly… she was sorry. She was very sorry. She was tired, and she was sorry, and she was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Something wrong with Tradewinds.

Maybe she was right all along and something was wrong with everything.

It was not until Twilight and her friends camped in the buildings at the Citadel’s edge did she truly understand how massive the tableland was. In a strange way, it reminded her of a hoof jutting out of the ground. From what Luna said, she expected some sort of temple compound on the top. Miles of hallways inside like honeycomb. Around the whole outcropping was one final layer of wall, with evenly placed towers and watchful Black Hoof snipers. From the bell tower at the top of whatever building this had once been, Twilight had seen flashes of black, hooded figures. But observation meant being in the crosshairs of rifles, so they’d abandoned the tower for now.

There wasn’t much discussion. Twilight and Tradewinds didn’t look at each other. Applejack had tried to talk to both of them and gotten grunts or sighs for her troubles. Pinkie wouldn’t look at Tradewinds and stayed close to Twilight. Abdiel said nothing and stared at the heart of Jannah.

Maybe it was for the best. She had to think of a way, anyhow.

“How--” Twilight coughed, and everyone looked back at her. Great. Perfect way to smoothly start the talking up again, Twilight. “Sorry. How much light do we have?”

“It will be gone soon. Why?” Abdiel said before turning back to the window.

“I was thinking of walking around, trying to see if they have any holes we could slip through.”

“They won’t,” Tradewinds said.

Twilight really wanted to ignore her. The Apostate wanted to ignore her. “I figured as much, but still wanted to try it.”

Tradewinds looked at her and Twilight--not the Apostate, but Twilight--looked back. They locked eyes for what felt like forever, and then Tradewinds’ cold demeanor seemed to slough off. Her ears drooped. “Would you like company while you walk?”

Twilight didn’t, honestly. She wanted to be alone. Both Twilight and the Apostate wanted to be alone. “Sure,” she said, regardless. Because it was right, one voice told her. Because you’re an idiot, the other one said.

LUNA

When she stepped through the scaffolding around the blasted door, Luna felt ill. Days later, and the damage from the attack was still obvious. The bomb that had destroyed the door had charred much of the facade and shattered windows. The detritus had been swept away, but now she saw bullet holes drilled into the walls as she walked. They were small things, easily overlooked, but Luna still saw them.

Her visit had been entirely unannounced. It was better that way--the last thing she needed in coming to House Belle was fanfare or hangers-on. If anything, she had left the Princess behind at the palace. At this moment, she was Luna and only Luna.

A few of house staff saw her as she walked the long length of the main hall. They stared at her with wide surprise and then bolted. Luna pointedly ignored this.

She had come here at the edge of night after meeting with Twilight in the Annex. They had talked a long time, and Luna had laid her failure bare before her beloved. Twilight had given her advice. Luna was here. Most of her found this as frightening as sitting on the wall.

The fleeing maids had summoned their mistress, and so Luna found herself face to face with Head Maid. Luna blinked, remembering the mare for a moment as Head Maid brought her up short by bowing.

“Your Highness,” Head Maid mumured.

“I am glad to see you safe,” Luna said. And she was. When Head Maid had come to House Belle, it had been a relief. Celestia had told her stories about this mare’s fierce nature and by all accounts Head Maid had been a right terror.

“And I am glad to be safe,” Head Maid said, and then straightened. “You will be looking for my lady, am I correct, your Grace?”

“Yes, if… if Sweetie Belle is here, I would like to see her,” Luna said, suddenly feeling extremely out of place.

Head Maid sighed. “Forgive me, I am lacking in diligence. I am unsure of my lady’s exact location, but I will find her for you. If you will come with me, we will provide you with--”

“If you don’t mind,” Luna cut in, and then paused. “Ahem. If you do not mind, Head Maid, might I look for her myself?” Please? she didn’t add, but thought it hard right at the mare.

Head Maid paused, as if weighing this, and then sighed. “Of course, your Grace, I would not impede you.”

Luna smiled. “Thank you, Head Maid.” She blinked, remembering. “Oh. Spic and Span send their love and inquired after you.”

“Those two?” Head Maid wrinkled her nose. “Those louts asked after me? My legs ached from kicking them about the palace, your Grace.”

Luna chuckled. “I remember. I profess that I happened to overhear them cleaning in my chambers before I left. They thought me asleep, but I was not. I spoke to them, and they were very insistent I send their good wishes.”

Head Maid snorted. “Well, if you would, you may tell them that I accept those wishes. And, of course, if they are lax in their duties to your Grace, I will personally come back and return said good wishes with swift kicks to their rears.” She cracked a smile, and then curtsied with a small goodbye and vanished.

Luna looked about, sighed, and then strode down a hallway.

She found the library and simply gaped at the carnage within. It had been untouched by the cleaning staff. torn paper and maimed books littered the floors. Shelves were overturned. Bullet holes marked shelves and walls alike.

Luna found no sign of the Lady of the House, and so she continued, crisscrossing the halls of the old manor. She found the barracks, and returned the levies’ salutes with one of her own. She meandered in the garden. She peeked into the great dining hall. The armory was empty of Scootaloo or Sweetie.

Feeling defeated, Luna lingered in the armory. Scootaloo had done a fine job, she thought. The quality of the barding on the walls was substantial. It was a bit light for her tastes, but still strong. The hoofblades she found fascinating. She had missed ages, but street ruffians were always the same, and she recognized a brawler’s weapon easily. It was an interesting choice. In fact, re-examining Scootaloo’s chosen armaments, Luna realized that she had been very deliberately different. The Houses chose bright colors and flashy arms and armor, anything to make them easy to see. Anything to show off. But House Belle wore muted colors, fought with what worked, and wore only a silver bell somewhere on their person. They were not beautiful things--Rarity would be quite put out!--but they were functional ones. Quite so, she thought as she grimaced at the hoofblade’s serrated edge.

Luna left the armory and found a house levy standing at attention beside the door. She glanced down at him with a raised eyebrow.

“M-my lady and her, uh, she invites you,” he managed, his face a little flushed. “To her, uh, chambers. Up there.”

Luna smiled. “And you could take me there, could you?”

“Oh! Yeah. I mean, yes, your Highness,” the jumpy soldier said, and she followed him with a chuckle.

Luna let her mind wander on the way. Twilight’s voice echoed about in her mind. You need to go see them, she said. You promised, and you feel awful, and you need to go see them. Don’t just punish yourself alone, Luna.

But Twilight, how can I face her? If I had just posted my Duskwatch there that night… the one night… she had begun to say, but Twilight had shook her head vigorously.

No, it doesn’t matter. What happened happened. You should go see her. Celestia… told me that it was wrong to flee when your friends needed you. And she was right. They’re your friends! Sweetie Belle was counting on you, and you messed up. Is it your fault? A little. But the ponies who bear the most fault are the ones that blew up her door, Luna. Don’t blame yourself and let them get off scot free. They blew up her door. They started shooting. Not you. Just go see her. You owe her that. And afterwards, you can’t keep bottling this up.

Luna smiled. She was glad to see the Apostate had been destroyed at last.

The guard had brought her to an ornate door, untouched by violence. She smiled down at him. “I believe this is my stop, master…?”

He blinked up at her. “Wha--”

She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t teased a flustered guard in ages. She giggled. “Your name, sir.”

“Oh! Uh, Go Fish,” he supplied, blushing. “I’ll just get back to my post.”

“Carry on,” she said as he retreated, and then turned back to the door. Her mirth died.

Well. It was time.

She opened the door, and within she found a sitting room not unlike her own. A couch, a table, chairs. And on that couch, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle sat together, their bodies close. Very close. Luna averted her eyes, face flushed as Sweetie was frozen in mid-kiss.

The two separated, Sweetie babbling an apology and Scootaloo laughing. “I didn’t hear you at all!”

“Rarity would murder you, Sweets,” Scootaloo said and jabbed her in the ribs. “Kissin’ in front of princesses.” She looked back at Luna, and behind the mirth the princess sensed something else there and she wasn’t sure what it was. “Damn, that’s awkward.”

“I am happy that the two of you are happy,” Luna said. She paused. Why not? She grinned. “Also, might I say: Finally. One felt the courting phase would drag on forever.”

Sweetie laughed, and this time it was Scootaloo who went red. “I thought I was sneaky,” she grumbled.

“No one has been fooled. At all. At any time,” Luna added.

“Ugh.”

Sweetie Belle rose. “It’s good to see you, Luna. I was surprised when Head Maid told us you were looking for me.”

“She knocked first,” Scootaloo said.

“Well… yes, that was perhaps unwise on my part,” Luna admitted. “I have been wandering the House on my search. To be honest, it was as educational as I had hoped. May I sit?”

Sweetie nodded, and she did. “Educational?” she asked.

“As to the extent of my failure,” Luna said, meeting her gaze.

Sweetie Belle’s brow furrowed. She mouthed the words, as if not understanding them. Scootaloo looked from mare to mare, her own expression too much for Luna to read, for all of her attention was on Sweetie Belle. What would she say? Would she reject Luna? She would perhaps be right to.

“Your failure? Like, you messed up?” Sweetie asked.

Luna winced. “Yes. I failed you spectacularly. I could have spared at least two of my Duskwatch to watch the manor. I was so caught up in in the plight of the Elements and chasing the whitecloaked ponies in the lower tiers that I neglected you. And you paid the price for my gross negligence.” She hung her head. “I am in your debt, Sweetie of House Belle. I have stained my honor and am unworthy of you and your sister’s trust. Even my sister's, I feel, for failing her beloved House.”

There was silence. Luna, confused, looked up to find Sweetie staring at her with something approaching fear.

“Is this… but… I don’t get it,” she said.

“I cry your pardon. What eludes you?” Luna asked, frowning.

“But it was my fault,” Sweetie said. “I failed my House, and I couldn’t save any of the cleaning staff or help my soldiers at all.”

“I didn’t train them well enough, and I should have had tighter patrols,” Scootaloo added, avoiding her gaze. “I was so caught up making sure my guys could fight like they were in a back alley that I totally forgot about, you know, rifles and guns and sh--stuff.”

“You… you are not angry with us?” Luna asked.

Sweetie shook her head vigorously. “No. I guess you could have done more, but… but I didn’t do enough and I live here. How could I be angry at you when I screwed up so bad? You trusted me and Rarity trusted me, and I’ve really fouled it up.”

“We were not wrong to trust you,” Luna said quickly.

“Ponies died,” Sweetie said, her voice rawer than before. “And it was my fault.”

“And mine,” Scootaloo added.

“Both of us,” Sweetie said. “We screwed up. These ponies paid a price for our screw up, and they still… they stayed. All of them. Our soldiers died for us. Head Maid went on a one mare crusade to find out where they got their weapons and track down who did it, and she’s not done yet. They all stayed.” Sweetie Belle sniffed. “We don’t deserve this. I don’t. I’m going to get them killed and I only know one way to not get all of them killed.”

“Sweetie…” Scootaloo laid a hoof on her shoulder.

But Sweetie shook her head. “No, I was considering this anyway. Luna--sorry. Princess, I think it would be best if I surrendered the title and privileges of House Belle to you until my sister returned. I am not fit to lead, and I am not fit to have anypony’s allegiance.”

Luna looked from mare to mare. Their pain was real. She had spoken to many nobles in many lands, over countless years. In her short time back on Earth, Luna had seen many more, and their complete lack of sincerity had bored her. Fury over their pettiness drained away with repetition. The banality of evil is really rather startling. But this? She was reminded of another Lady, a long time ago. She too had been a Belle. Like that, she was back before her exile, before her great war had burned the House of Belle, and Clarion was doubting herself. Manticores had attacked a settlement in her lands, and Clarion and her levy had driven them off. But she had lost several soldiers. Luna had spoken to her upon her return to Everfree.

“Clarion,” Luna said. “Clarion Belle. I’m sorry. I simply remembered her.” She blinked, shaking her head to dispel the sense of disorientation. “She said something similar, once upon a time. Do you truly think that you are unworthy?”

“I very much think that.”

“Tell me,” Luna began, “how many died?”

“Fifteen,” Scootaloo said, and Sweetie Belle nodded.

“Fifteen, and most of the staff has at least minor injuries. Even if it’s just some bruises from tripping while they ran,” she added, and smiled a fragile sort of smile.

“And you think surrender would serve them best?” Sweetie did not respond. How did one answer that? Surrender? Luna continued when the young mare had no answer. “It would not. You would be abandoning them, Sweetie Belle. You care for these ponies who stand with you. I know you do, for I hear it in your voice. If you love them, serve them. Protect them. Do better than you have before. Rebuild. You have seen what can happen--do not let it happen again. Rise out of this ruin and be the House that Equestria needs, here in her darkest of hours. The Houses watch you. The ponies in the streets whisper.” Luna looked out the window, where the slowly dipping sun shone in. “They do not know you yet. They know you are injured, but the city asks what you will do. There is a place for the House of Clarion Belle, defender of the plain, in the front lines of this war. There is a place for Silver Belle’s descendants in Canterlot, protecting ponies as they always swore to do. Once, Belle was the light in a great and long darkness, longer than even this darkness. What stops it from being so again? The sword that is broken…”

“Can be reforged,” Sweetie whispered.

“And the house that is dashed may be rebuilt. Even from what looks like ash a fire may yet spring.”

“We don’t have enough troops. We don’t have a levy to draw from,” Scootaloo said.

“You do.”

Sweetie paled. “The old… the old titles. I looked at them, Luna. I can’t do that. Not…”

“House Belle owned large tracts of land in the central province. She led those ponies to war when war come for them. She led them against monsters and bandits when those came. Now you are here, and they are waiting. Speak to them. Be honest with them. You are their highest hope in sight, or you could become so.”

“But we already lost Ponyville. I can’t ask my neighbors to fight. There are so few of us left.”

“Ponyville is the biggest settlement in the lands the crown saved for such a time as this. There are other villages, of course. But who else? I ask you both, would you not rather work for the salvation of your home beside your own people? Would you not fight for a future Ponyville with those who will one day live there?”

Sweetie shuddered. “But…”

“She’s got a point,” Scootaloo croaked. “We don’t have to conscript them, Sweetie. We can… we could just ask. Let them choose.”

Sweetie swallowed. “I could ask. But what if they say yes? Then what? We’ll just send them into a meatgrinder out there. You heard the guns.”

“Then we don’t,” Scootaloo said, standing. She flared her wings and continued in an excited tone. “Sweetie, I can see what we could do. We could focus on the whitecloaks. Their traitors, we know that now. They’re the ones that came here and killed our ponies, attacked our house. Luna’s right. Let’s ask for help.” She turned and grinned at both of them. “Let’s show those assholes how tough Ponyville can be when pushed.”

TWILIGHT

Two mares walked through Jannah’s streets side by side. Twilight’s mission so far had been a bust, not that she was really all that focused on finding a weakness. She’d really just wanted to get out of that room. She’d wanted to walk off her restlessness and her restlessness had simply followed her in the form of a grim pegasus toting a high-caliber rifle on a battle saddle.

Neither of them spoke, of course. Twilight could tell herself it was because caution was prudent, but even if they found a safe place, she doubted that she and Tradewinds would talk.

And she wasn’t completely convinced she wanted to. What would she say, really? Please tell me what happened to you in the last few days? Yeah, insult her. Did they hurt you? That brought her up short. Tradewinds was walking ahead now, and Twilight was glad for it. The worst thing that could happen was for her to see the horror that spread over Twilight’s features. Did they hurt you?

It would make sense, wouldn’t it?

Twilight felt very small all of a sudden. She had been so angry. She still was kind of angry. She didn’t want to kill ponies. Tradewinds had forced a pitched battle twice now, ones that had probably been pointless, and in doing so had forced Twilight into situations where being non-lethal had been too dangerous. So yes, she was pretty sure her anger was justified.

But at the same time, this was Tradewinds. After Vanhoover, Twilight had laid in bed without light or companionship. She had turned everypony away. As those ghosts had wailed at her from the walls, it had been Tradewinds who had finally broken her isolation. Applejack had tried, but she had been busy helping keep the ship afloat. Pinkie had tried, but her cheeriness had only pushed Twilight deeper into darkness. But Tradewinds, with her tenacity and her oblivious smile…

An earth pony buck with a battle saddle ran past, shouting something. Following him were crazed ponies in ragged armor and makeshift weapons. He--

Twilight saw the hallucination. She also, for once, could not care less.

Where did you go? Twilight wanted to say something. It was like Applejack all over again. She won’t leave, don’t start thinking stupid things again, Twilight. Keep it together. Now she had to say something, yet still she wasn’t sure how. In the corner of her eye, she saw a short alicorn with a cheerful smile and a sunflower cutie mark trotting through an open door, but looked away.

Celestia’s letters had spoken about the benefits of companionship. Friendship. It’s magic, Twilight thought with a smile that did not reach her heart. It had been, hadn’t it? But there wasn’t exactly time to deal with the little bumps now. There might be time later. She hoped there would be.

Time waits for nothing. It has not waited for me, and it will not wait for you, Twilight Sparkle.

It took her a moment to notice. She continued on several steps, berating herself for a dozenfold foolishness, and then it hit her.

“What?”

Tradewinds looked back at her sharply, as if expecting an ambush. They locked eyes. Twilight shook her head and thought fast. “Sorry,” she said softly. “I was trying to figure something out.”

Tradewinds visibly relaxed. “Ah. Is fine.” A pause. “We should be heading back now. Darkness falls.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said. The whole trip had been a bust, really. She hadn’t found a single gap in their defenses, just as Tradewinds had predicted. Even worse, the two hadn’t said a meaningful word to each other and as far as Twilight was concerned, they probably wouldn’t on the way back either. Suddenly it felt like Tradewinds was leaving her. Which was stupid, because she wasn’t leaving, Twilight, she--

You. Twilight thought. That wasn’t my thought.

No, it was not.

Let me guess. Do I get three guesses? Cause my first one is Eon.

I am Eon.

Twilight let out a sigh. It was all in her head, all her own voice. Was this it? Was this how she started losing it? Didn’t Jannah make you crazy?

I assure you, you are not mad. Not yet, her own voice amended in her mind without her will behind it. It was a creepy sensation, like something moving your legs for you, and frankly it made Twilight more angry than frightened.

You can’t just invade my mind and steal my… uh. Mind voice. Thoughts. That’ll work. I thought you were finally willing to talk.

I was, but then Luna made the annex, and I speaking to you was difficult.

Twilight hummed. You tried to warn Pinkie about the Black Hoof, didn’t you?

Yes. I am sorry. I tried, but you were far away. I had to… unseal things. Unseal parts of myself. Memories. It was agony and I let myself wallow in it and failed to warn you as I should have. I am sorry.

Whatever you did hurt?

Yes, it hurt. It was awful.

Twilight grimaced. Does doing this hurt?

She felt that the answer was no, and so she sighed and smiled. Twilight thought, okay then. I’m glad to hear that. You tried to help us. Thank you.

You are welcome. But I wanted to warn you about more than the Black Hoof. There is a zebra here, with other zebras. His name is D’Jalin. I could have learned more, I know I could have, but he frightened me. I did not want to touch his mind at all. His followers scared me. It was like… like their minds had thorns in them, veins of darknes--

Twilight jolted. Veins. Darkness. Why was that familiar? She dug through her mind frantically. It felt important. Who--

Luna, both of them thought together, arriving at the same memory.

Twilight had forgotten everything but her mental communication with Eon. Luna said that the dreams--

--were infected. Raiders, rioters, nobles, commoners--

--Axiom! I didn’t think--

--that he was serious, but he was. Things fall apart. What pushes ponies but--

--souls. Hearts and minds. Dreams. The Mad God--

--when he was in Zebrahara he spread death everywhere he went. He danced in their blood and coated himself with it and--

He was horrible but that wasn’t the point. Nopony knew where he got all that power so quickly.

Twilight picked up speed, lost in her excitement. Why had Celestia left? Why? It was a question that had plagued her. If she were honest, it had brought her all the way here. Why would she leave, right before the world fell apart? Why would things fall apart at all? The sun fought, the ponies of Equestria fell into chaos--it was impossible. It was too perfect. It had always been too perfect. Arrive at Manehattan too late to parley. Food riots are calmed and order restored in Las Pegasus, and then suddenly the grain stores are destroyed.

A Mad God in the background. They had thought of him as insignificant and far away in the scheme of things. They had hoped he was dead. And yet here he was. Vaguely, she remembered him dancing in her imagination at the beginning of this adventure. Twilight had ignored him. How could he be a problem at all?

Vanhoover. Blues and Grays. A city with working infastructure and with order falling into civil war and anarchy because… why? Had there been any explanation but a shrug? And just the city she would need to get across the sea. The only captain left around who knew the way about to be summarily executed.

Assassins in Valon. Mercenaries from far in the north with ties to one of her companions this far west.

I’m paranoid.

Paranoia isn’t just paranoia if you’re right. She’d said that before. She would probably say it again.

Luna’s observation in the Aether suggested a disease or some sort of malady of the soul… I thought maybe it was just, I don’t know, despair? But I knew. I knew when she told us. Something was taking them away and doing things--

Soarin’ diving out of a blinding desert sun. Zebras refuse to scatter but wait for him with glazed-over eyes ready for--

I can’t take much more of this, Twilight said. Her head was aching and her body felt strange. Eon? Eon, is this hurting me?

I am sorry. I have talked with too much force. You will recover, Twilight. I promise. All you need is to lie down, and you will be fine.

Twilight nodded to herself, not noticing the looks Tradewinds was giving her at all. She saw another vision, knowing this one was of that other future, or past, or whatever--the one where Big Mac went to war in the Zebrahara instead of being a farmer. The one where he wrote broken letters home from where the mad god danced. In the corner of her eyes she saw him trying to compose letters by candlelight. She saw him lying on his side, staring at a point beyond mortal eyes. Tears stinging her eyes, Twilight watched him staring down at his hooves as they shook, and Twilight found that she did the same.

I know what its like, Twilight said. I don’t know if you’re real. I’m sorry.

They are real in their own way. Are you real, Twilight Sparkle?

I’m real, she thought dully. Even if her own voice asking that question in her mind without her actually wanting to think that thought was… well, it muddied the issue. It was not an ideal condition to answer a question like that. That’s a stupid question, she added.

Not really, Eon told her in her own voice and Twilight thought she felt light amusement. For what it is worth, I am sorry I cannot use my own voice.

It’s okay.

Zecora scrambling over mountain roads, evading the rebel patrols and keeping one step ahead of the Mad God’s hunters. In her pack, under her potions and talismans, she bears a letter from Celestia, a sign of divine and royal favor. With this she will bring hope back to the besieged emperor and with it she will bring her kinsfolk together with the promise of aid and blessings from the sun herself--

All of those visions are true. They are not the future, nor are they the past. Nopony sees their own world flash in the streets. They see others. They see--

Celestia, somber and muted as she watched the sun rise. Luna, exhausted and battered, standing by her side. The Mad God in his keep among the crags. They are so tired. If he had been a pony or zebra with a mind, they could reason with him. Celestia wants to weep but she cannot. Why won’t he just talk? Why can’t he just give up? Doesn’t he know that if he doesn’t, all of his followers will die? Doesn’t he care? She would lay down her very life for her little ponies. She loves them so much. Every time one of them dies to save the zebras and the world from this monster, she feels it like a knife in her stomach. No! No! No! She writhes as they die. She tries to save them, and she saves some. Why won’t he love his zebras? Why won’t he love them? Why won’t--

Twilight stumbled. Tears were in her eyes. No, that wasn’t enough--they streamed down her face. Tradewinds was on her in a moment as she began to shake. I can feel… I can feel what they feel. How?

I don’t know! I don’t know how! Eon was panicking. Her own agonized refrain--I don’t know what’s happening!--joined in and her thoughts were riotous. Tradewinds was shaking her. “Twilight? Twilight, what is happening? Twilight!”

“Tr-tra--”

“Do not die. Not you too.” Tradewinds was trying to pull her to her feet. “What is happening? Your eyes, they are… oh, chyort,” she choked. She let Twilight go and turned towards some other source of noise. Twilight lay on the ground, blubbering, seeing--

Fluttershy in the mobile medical center, trembling as she kissed a dying forehead. “I’m sorry,” she was saying. He was coughing. He was drowning in his own blood and all she could do was say sorry. They were low on everything but time and horror. They--

The city is… I don’t understand! Twilight, I am trying to shield you. Please, get up. Your friend needs you.

Tradewinds reaching over a table in a dusty desert tavern and planting the most inebriated, sloppiest kiss she can on the stallion across the table. Golden Field is suitably horrified. Their companions are laughing, falling out of their chairs laughing. No one thought she would actually do it! She’s crazy! Don’t hurt ‘im, he’s just a kid, they mock beg, as she bowls him over. His virtue’s all he has! Not sure he’s ready to be a stallion yet, Trades! Cries another. But she lets him up and she laughs and she tossles his hair and he won’t ever forget the feel of her body and also the burn of vodka that reminds him of her--

I can’t… thinking is hard. Does the city… does it think?

My connection to you is at fault. I am fixing it. Please, Twilight, you must get up. I am shielding you as much as I can.

This was better? Twilight wanted to scream. She felt what it was like to be male, to be Golden Field. She felt what it was like to be Tradewinds and Macintosh and Celestia. What had she done, how had she set all of this--

She was dreaming. She had to be.

Celestia was smiling down at her. “Really, Twilight?”

“Whatmr?” she grumbled. Because grumbling was, in fact, a suitable form of talking when one has fallen asleep drooling all over the table. She stirred, and then realized belatedly what she had done. Twilight sat up and grimaced. Always with the falling asleep in the library and the drooling and the drooling on books. Every time. “Ugh. Seriously? I can’t believe…”

“Twilight, I told you not to push yourself too hard,” Celestia said quietly. She said that a lot, actually.

Twilight looked at the spot of drool--gross--and flushed when Celestia produced her own silk handkerchief to clean it. “Sorry,” she said, not meeting her mentor’s eyes.

“I wish that were true,” Celestia said. Shocked, Twilight risked looking up at her with wide eyes. Fear spiked through her heart. Just one, brief pulse, but it was so enormous.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t be upset, your Highness, I mean, Pro--I mean--” Twilight stumbled over titles and Celestia sighed until she quieted down. “I know you told me to take it easy over the break, Princess, but I just got so excited. I didn’t mean to defy you, or ignore you, or any of that. I just… I was reading, and I really like reading, and…”

“I know.” Celestia did something wonderful. She nuzzled Twilight. Her cheeks were so soft, her coat perfect. Her voice was so kind. “I know, my faithful student. I am usually very delighted with that.” Of course, her voice could also be sterner. “At the moment, I am not. I worry. There are others who have stayed for the holidays, but they have family abroad. Why did you not go home?”

Twilight knew she was about to skate out over thin ice. “I just… I wanted to…” Celestia had seperated herself, with no dissapointment or sternness in her eyes. Just… concern. She cared. It wasn’t about Twilight’s winter break plans. It was about something else, something a little bigger than her for-fun paper on sub-harmonics. “I wanted to stay,” she finished in a small voice.

“I understand that. I confess, it makes me very happy that you have enjoyed my school so much, Twilight. My students are my greatest joy,” she said, and she smiled. But her eyes did not smile. They said--don’t you trust me? Don’t you love me? Tell me, Twilight, tell me everything. Even that.

“I love my mom and dad… I like my house, and my brother, and everything… I was going to see my friends but we rescheduled,” she said, squirming. “I just… I like it here. I wanted to stay with you,” she said, and then froze. “I mean…”

But Celestia still smiled, though differently. It was… was it sad? Twilight didn’t know what to think. Why are you always so awkward? She asked herself. You really have to work on being confidant! You’re Princess Celestia’s personal student now! You’re like, the face of Canterlot now. Mare up.

“Me?”

“Yes ma’am,” she said, a little steadier. “You’re my teacher, and you’ve taught me so much. I just like being here, and I like talking with you sometimes, and I like going on walks in the palace, and I…” she flushed. “Hehe, I guess I kind of like all these books and that napping corner with the beanbag Shiney loaned me.”

Celestia snorted. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” she admitted.

Celestia rolled her eyes. A little bit of her concern was gone. A little. “I shall let you keep that beanbag in my library only so long as you keep your snoring to a minimum, keep it here in the private archives, and you visit your parents and friends regularly. Shall we make ourselves a contract?” She asked with a cheeky smile, and raised a hoof.

“Pretty sure you need some consideration for a contract.”

“Ah, but see, I’ve let you use my real property in exchange for performance,” Celestia said. “It’s all quite square. Unless you have a counter-offer.”

“My brief foray into law hurt my horn,” Twilight admitted, once again. “Property was the worst.”

“And Contracts was the best! I should know, my faithful student--for I taught it,” Celestia said and then laughed. She still held her hoof out. “Come, come, all things in decency and order,” she said.

Twilight couldn’t help it. She surrendered, giggled, and to her mentor’s delight, fulfilled the hoofshake. “Deal, your Grace,” she said with mock gravity.

Twilight opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Or what she assumed was a ceiling in the pitch black darkness.

Her chest felt heavy, as if her heart were slowly being crushed. This pain… was it even hers? She had no way of knowing if it was her own sorrow, or sorrow shared with those visions. Maybe it was both. Her thoughts were still a jumble.

It was raining. She realized this only after a few moments of being alive and her self again. Somehow, Twilight was shocked that the sound of the raindrops falling on the roof above was still pleasant, even here. Even in Jannah, she liked rain. And besides, she added with a ghost of a smile, Abdiel said that rain curtailed the mist. That’s nice. Anything that gets rid of mist is good.

Where was she? As Twilight didn’t feel like moving at the moment ,there was only one other way to find out. Thunder interrupted her first attempt, and Twilight rolled her eyes. She coughed and tried again. “Hello? Tradewinds?”

She felt somepony’s hoof touch her forehead. “Twilight? You are awake?” asked a very familiar voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Hi, Trade,” she said. “What happened? Where are we?”

“I had to take shelter inside of a house,” Tradewinds muttered. No light. “You stopped talking to me and you were shaking very badly, so made due. Night is…” She made a noise of disgust. “It is unpleasant,” she said, absolutely clearing that up. Twilight wished she could see, but they had nothing to light their way. They hadn’t planned on this.

“You brought me here?”

“Was pulling you here little by little. When got dark, I found a house and I carried you on back upstairs. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Good,” Tradewinds breathed. “I was very worried… You… You went somewhere else, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight tried to sit up and found that her head didn’t just ache in response--it pounded. She grit her teeth, but found Tradewinds and hugged her. Tradewinds stiffened. “It’s okay. You got me here. You saved me! Thank you.”

Tradewinds suddenly wrapped her forelegs around Twilight and squeezed a bit too tightly. “Was thinking you would die and be mad at me forever,” she grumbled. “I am sorry.”

“Whatever for?” managed Twilight as Tradewinds choked her with affection.

“I was not telling you of important things. Black Hoof. Me. Petrahoof. I put in great danger all of my comrades in arms instead of being controlling of my own emotions.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Twilight wheezed. “Uh… could you… can’t breathe--” Tradewinds loosened up, and Twilight chuckled breathlessly. “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier. I was just so…”

“You were right,” Tradewinds said firmly, and then sniffled. “Any of my comrades could have been hurt because I was being fool. I will tell you about Black Hoof and Tradewinds.”

And she did. She told Twilight about how a small neighborhood militia rose, fought, and became enamored of their might. Envious of perceived bounty of others.

“When they controlled the city, they ruled as raiders,” she hissed into the darkness.

“I… We didn’t hear anything at all,” Twilight said.

“Of course not. Is just Petrahoof,” Tradewinds said a little too harshly. When Twilight wilted beside her, she hastily continued. “Black Hoof killed messengers we sent and also was killing royal guards of princess. They hid us.”

“Why did you go all… scary?” Twilight asked softly. “Was it that? I… I guess it would be enough. I don’t know.”

“They hurt me,” Tradewinds replied. Twilight felt her heart skip a beat.

No. No, you don’t have to tell me. Please don’t let that be true. Not there. Not in Equestria. She wasn’t foolish. She knew it happened, even in Equestria, maybe even at home. She knew.

“Used me,” Tradewinds said. “I escaped when riot came. Black Hoof kept Tradewinds locked in town hall, but gnawed through ropes when they… when they were not with me. You know, is hard to die,” she added suddenly, her voice breaking. “Fires were not big enough and was afraid of them. Find gun but was small unicorn gun with no bullets and could not hold with wings, da? And then could not decide to go hungry because love food too much. Rioting Petrahoofans not shoot me. Black Hoof in town hall remember me and only want to bring me back so after they…”

“Tradewinds,” Twilight interjected. “Tradewinds, I--”

“So ran away,” Tradewinds continued. Twilight held her as little sobs made her tremble. “So ran away far and fast and pray they never catch me. But everywhere was becoming home. Where was there to go? Just wanted food and bed and place to die.”

“And then we showed up,” Twilight grumbled.

“And then Twilight Sparkle blows up everything.” Twilight stiffened, and then she felt Tradewinds’ chin on the top of her head, nuzzled up against her horn. “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Dock was… dock was bad place.”

“But it was full of innocents!” Twilight said, shocked. “Tradewinds, what about the prisoners or--”

“Underground,” she replied.

“Under…” Twilight felt something twist in her. “What?”

But Twilight’s mind was quick. She spun out half a dozen alternatives, what-ifs that were wilder with each breath. As Tradewinds struggled to translate her thoughts, Twilight’s heart beat with a wild hope.

“When attack comes, Blues send… not-fighters down underground,” she said. “Attack veryfast, so maybe not all, da? But some. Some hide in sewers and things. Where they told to go.”

Twilight laid back and stared at nothing. Her heart throbbed in her throat. Her eyes burned.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice choked. “Thank you.”

When they returned with the morning, Pinkie was the first one to greet her. This she accomplished through a sharp cry and a hug that could crush steel beams.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! Applejack was so worried but I knew you would be safe but it was taking foreeeevvverr and--”

Twilight hugged her back. “Good to see you too, Pinkie. Sorry.”

Pinkie lowered her voice. “Please don’t run off like that,” she said, and then let go.

Applejack was next, meeting them at the door. “Mornin’,” she drawled.

“Morning,” Twilight said.

“Wait, I though was ‘good morning’,” Tradewinds said, with a look that could only be described as betrayed. “Does mornings have multiple greetings?”

“Just a shorter form. Good morning to you too, Tradewinds,” Applejack said and grinned. “Knew you’d take care of her. Thank you.”

“Was what any pony would do,” she grumbled.

“Regardless, you’re a good one. Now, Twi, I wasn’t overly worried. I knew you would be smart and safe, but I can’t say I ain’t been antsy. Learn anything?”

Twilight sighed. “Ugh. No. I need time to think and work on a plan. I’m going to need to find a new place to use as a spotter’s tower.”

“Can help with that,” Tradewinds supplied quickly.

“And I can watch the door below,” Applejack said. She spat off to the side. “Never thought we’d have to sneak around a dern army to get there.”

“We never thought a lot of things,” Twilight said with a sigh.

IXIL

She was dead. She was so, so dead. Doomed. In the words of her friend Sunny Days the Barmaid she was fucked.

But she wasn’t Ixil. Ixil might be fucked, but Amity Fields was a whitecloak and nopony touched a whitecloak on her beat. Those few ponies who saw her in the streets shied away and tried very, very hard to forget.

More made sense everyday. The cloaks were enchanted--of course they were. The uninitiated, those of weaker or more pliable mind felt extreme abjection when they looked at the cloaks. Of course they didn’t remember. They didn’t want to remember anything about where the whitecloaked madponies went or what they did. The very thought of trying to remember made them feel positively ill.

So there was really no need to even sneak. Whitecloaks walked in the city freely. Ixil saw now how many of them there were. At least a hundred. Maybe two.There was at least one on every street somewhere, glaring at everything. Biding their time.

Amity’s job today was just to talk to a few of the watchers. Receive their reports. She had done this before, but then things had seemed much more calm and settled. Now? If you wandered towards the wall you could almost hear the sounds of the dying. The city was not bustling. Ponies left home and went where they absolutely had to go as swiftly as possible. A few milled about, but there was little of the usual casual fellowship that marked these byways. Just grumbling. Waiting.

Amity found that these streets made her very, very hungry.

But she had a job to do, and not the one the mean looking whitecloak with the scar had given her. That stallion could go die in a hole. Luna herself had given this task to Am--Ixil. And Amity too, she guessed. Whatever.

She was thinking about somepony else when she approached the napping whitecloak. She kicked him awake. Gently. “Oi.”

The stallion flailed, disrupting the precarious balance he had achieved on a broken wall. His wings tried to catch the air, but it was no good. He fell in the dust, coughing.

“Thanks a lot, ya great maleficent bitch,” he growled.

“Shouldn’t have been asleep on the job, O fried one,” she intoned.

The whitecloak cracked a grin. “Well, good to see ye know how to address a Trottinghammer properly even now, lass. Guess you’re here about the report?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, I have nothin’ for you, yer Grace,” he said, bowing and doffing a nonexistent hat. “Aint’ got a single bleedin’ thing.”

“I figured. Just a few stragglers on their business?”

“Yes. Though the absence of the guard is a little strange. I guess the Manichean was right. They’re giving up on us.”

“Or maybe we forced them out,” Amity said softly.

The watcher regarded her with a raised eyebrow, but he shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, try not to sleep too much, okay? You’ll get in trouble if it’s not me next time, Thames.”

“Right, right,” he waved his hoof dismissively and returned to his perch.

Amity moved on. Most of the others weren’t much more diligent. It was, in fact, why they were in the streets watching. Amity had learned a lot in the last week.

For instance, she had learned that there were whitecloaks and there were whitecloaks. There were former gangers, layabouts, malcontents--and then there were zealots. Each pony came to the White by themselves, separated early on from any friends joining at the same time and further isolated in service.

And this was significant. Amity was a barmaid and a smile, but Ixil was a student of the nature of ponies. Left alone, they floundered. Ponies--in general, most thinking, feeling things--needed others. Friends. On their own? Why, they went one of two ways. They withered and became shapeless ruins like Thames, layabouts slouching in a quiet despair. The alternative was that they sharpened to a point, like a knife. They became intolerant of touch and breath, infuriated by difference, their thoughts an endless looping routine. The first type was relegated to the grunt work, the boring duty. The second was tasked with the arduous and secret work.

Amity had proved to be very receptive.

More and more, Ixil found it harder to maintain her character. It was unforgivable. She was ashamed of herself in ways that could not be described to those whose life is lived only in their own skin. Her worth as a changeling was tied into her ability to maintain the mask, to be Amity. But it was hard.

She had feared death by those who called Amity friends, and then later mere rejection. She had feared that her sources of food might dry up, or that the temptation to suck a pony dry would ruin them or bring the law down on her. It wasn’t like Ixil had never faced danger. She had faced danger many, many times. She lived in danger. But that was mere violence.

She had met the Manichean himself. She had spoken to the Good Stallion. She would need more than to wear another’s face and walk as they did. She would need something special.

It was time to find a safe place. The alley between the Bottletree Bakery and the Brown Lending building was a good choice--it was not well traveled, and she saw a small mountain of trash. When she ducked into the alley, it was only when she was sure of safety. She would not be caught again, because it would not be Princess Luna doing the catching. She waited. A few ponies crossed the mouth of her sanctuary, but none entered.

She would have to do this very, very carefully. Amity leaned into the wall and listened. It was Ixil who deciphered what her now untransformed ears heard. She prayed for forgiveness, hoping Luna would understand, and then opened the door to Bottletree.

She knew all of the ponies here. Plain Bagel and Buckwheat were working today, which was a mild annoyance. She liked being a mare. Not that it was difficult to switch, just not her favorite thing.

She lingered in the corner of the kitchen. She didn’t need to see either of them. She could feel slight vibrations in the floor. She licked her lips. Just because she didn’t want to do this didn’t mean she wasn’t going to enjoy it. She’d had her eye on Buckwheat awhile. He was a nice stallion.

It was, to her pleasure, Buckwheat who returned to the kitchen first. He lit his horn up, and Ixil watched him retrieve a tray of bread.

And before he could move, she was on him. Her lips were on his ear, her body draped on and over his own, her horn almost touching his. She changed, just her throat and lips.

“Shhhh. Don’t say a word, pony. I do not aim to hurt you.”

“W-who… what?”

“Ah, shh. Silence. Listen, hm?” She nibbled on his ear. That part had nothing to do with anything. She just really wanted to. “Now, you are going to help me. I need to be you for a moment. Do you smoke?”

“Y-yes.”

“You are going to lift your cigarettes out and put them on the floor to your right, yes? And you aren’t going to do anything else, because I think that you know what I am, and you are very afraid, aren’t you? I can smell it.” She really couldn’t, not like he probably imagined, but why not confirm his fears?

“Oh stars. Oh shit…” He was shaking, and she felt through her primal excitement a stab of shame. He wasn’t a bad pony. She… she was toying with him. “Please, I don’t wanna die.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said again. “If you don’t give me a very good reason to, I won’t. I promise.”

“What do you want from me? Or with me or--”

“I need to be you for five minutes,” Ixil breathed in his ears, the sultry edge gone from her voice now. “It’s very important. I don’t need to break any laws. Unless something goes horribly wrong, I won’t need to fight anyone or hurt anyone. I need you to tell your friend you’re going on a smoke break, that you really need one, could he watch the place for just a minute or two. Then I need you to go outside and smoke a cigarette. That’s it, okay? Just stand in the alleyway.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. Except I’m going to need one of those.” She lifted one out and levitated it next to her. “Got a light?” she asked with a little chuckle.

He gulped and nodded. “I can’t light it in here, the…”

“I figured. Now, you are going to sit here. Sorry. Can’t trust you.” She gripped him in her magic tightly, stuffed her hoof into his mouth to gag him, and forced him to the ground. She coughed, and then spat up a thick, sticky phlegm on his hooves that hardened quickly. She did so again on his mouth. “Sorry. Breathe through your nose,” she said, and then with a veil of green flame, she was him.

She stuck the cigarette in her mouth and whistled. “Hey, Bagel, you mind holding the fort for a minute or three? Need to have a smoke.”

“Already?” the earth pony at the counter frowned at him.

“Eh, feel like shit today. Sorry. Is it okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Just bring me that tray. I’ll get it.”

Ixil turned, retrieved the tray, and brought it to him. With a few mostly friendly gruff words, Plain Bagel waved her off, and she went.

She returned and undid her bindings slowly. “Don’t say anything,” she warned. He didn’t. He stared at her, wearing his form, and trembled. She felt shame again. She gestured with her head, and they walked out the door.

He lit a cigarette with his magic, his eyes wide and his body shaking. “What are you gonna do as me?”

She was honest. “I need to talk to an agent of the princess, actually. On the job.”

She had thought that would make him feel better but it only seemed to make him panic more. “You work for Princess Luna?”

“Eh.” She shrugged, and pointed to her own cigarette. “Get it over with. You have terrible taste in cancer, by the way,” she added as he lit hers. “I never got the hang of fire. Changelings aren’t big on it, you know?” She took a test drag and grimaced. “Awful, really, really awful. How much that pack cost you?”

She approached and tensed. A stalker’s body made it seem like natural shifting of weight. She was barely listening to him, just focusing on what was about to happen. She took another drag to give the illusion that she was having a conversation.

“Two bits, it was cheap and I--”

Was out of time, she supplied and as she levitated the cigarette out of her mouth and made sure it was going to fall a safe distance away. And then she lunged for his throat. Before he could cry out, her fangs had sunk deep into his neck. God, he was a heady draught. She wanted to just cling to him… suck and taste and feel his life squirming and…

She didn’t. Her poison was in him already. She let the poor stallion go and set him carefully upon the ground, hidden in the rubbish. Sighing, she made sure the fallen cigarette wouldn’t burn him, crushing it beneath her--his hoof, and then Buckwheat made his way into the street.

Ixil held the baker’s essence tightly to her as if it were another white cloak. And perhaps it was, in its own way. The White had mages of surprising strength and skill, and though she was not by any means an expert in arcane arts, she was no fool. There would be scrying spells at work.

And now for the complicated part. No time, only one try.

She pushed against the essence of poor Buckwheat, and it was pliant. His fear made it almost disgustingly rich. Ixil hated herself slightly for doing this, and that was only partially because she had begun to think like the furred ones. She tore the essence in twain, humming as if she were in dream, in the Hive, and did with souls what she did with her Self. She made one half into Amity, and she made one half as a cloak for Ixil. There was nothing left of Buckwheat’s warm, rich, decadent fear. She had denatured what little she had stolen from him. A purely primal, base part of her regretted that. But he would wake up with a headache in a few minutes, feel very, very tired, and be fine.

The humming stopped. She took a deep breath, and brought the still burning cigarette to her mouth, only to frown in displeasure at it as the tip had a long ashy reminder. She flicked it.

“Disgusting,” she said.

But what was done was done. She walked towards the meeting place, and any spell on her would see Amity with no changes, wearing her white cloak.

She felt the Duskwatch before she saw her. It was the abject feel of danger that alerted her. Buckwheat’s ears swiveled towards the darkened door and the yawning mare who occupied it. Buckwheat was not a changeling, so he did not hesitate. He trotted over calmly, still smoking--ugh, just because she could stand it didn’t mean she liked it. The things one did to maintain character--with an easy gait. But Ixil whimpered.

Buckwheat coughed as Ixil retreated inward. “Mind lettin’ me by?”

The hooded mare grumbled and shifted her weight. Buckwheat entered the store and found it, not surprisingly, empty. There were a few articles of clothing here and there, but it was either doing very poorly or a sham. Maybe both. He blinked, and where the counter had been empty before it was now occupied.

The Duskwatch that sat on it yawned again. She kept her thick robes on, but it didn’t detract from Ixil’s crawling horror in the slightest. Her bright ruby eyes burned in the shadow. Buckwheat melted away and Ixil was left in another’s form, her composure completely gone. Monster. Monster. Slayer. Devourer.

“Well, it’s silly, but I do need to hear the password,” said the Hunter of Souls.

Ixil’s voice may have been deeper and more masculine, but it shook like a terrified schoolfilly’s. “A-Amaranth.”

“Yeah! Say my name!” the Monster said and then she giggled.

“Seriously? That is horribly unprofessional of you, La--Amaranth,” said a pegasus, white as snow, as he stepped out from behind a clothing rack. Ixil hadn’t even felt his presence. She had been too busy staring down the nightmare her kind had almost succeeded in forgetting.

“Not a lancer anymore, cap! Heheh. Oh. You’re not Cap anymore, huh? Colonol really isn’t as fun to say,” said the Duskwatch, and she smiled. Ixil couldn’t understand. That smile--those fangs!--those eyes! How could this pegasus not want to run screaming back into the safety of sunlight?

“It’s not very fun to be either, I assure you. Nor had I expected to be transferred into the Lunar Guard,” he added with a deepening frown. “Hello, changeling. How am I to address you? My knowledge of your kind is woefully inadequete, and I do apologize.”

“She’s just a pony, same as you an’ me,” Amaranth said and hopped down from the counter. “Isn’t that right, Ixil?”

“Y-yes.”

“Ixil,” said the polite one softly, as if tasting the sound. “You have a lovely name, ma’am. I apologize for my companion’s rather lacking decorum.” He sighed, but made it sound almost like a chuckle. “So much changes, and yet so much remains the same.”

“Yup! Now, Ixil, you came to report?”

Ixil nodded dumbly and reached into her pouch to retrieve the scrolls. She held them in her magic’s hold and offered them. Amaranth took them and then immediately passed them to the Colonol. She opened her mouth to say that it was urgent that Luna see what she had written, and soon, but Amaranth said it for her. “Luna will want to see these,” she said. “Will you be alright? I would come with you, but…”

The pegasus smiled at her softly. “It’s alright, Amaranth. I’ll be fine. Sleep soon, alright?”

She nodded. “Sure, sure. Good hunting. Er, or not. No hunting. Try not to hunt.”

He laughed, and then left out the back door.

Ixil was alone with the Monster.

As soon as the pegasus was gone, those baleful eyes turned to her. “So, now that Storm’s gone, I have questions. Or, well, one question that will probably become other questions. You mind?”

She gulped. “I… I will answer.”

“Why do you seem… not you.”

“I… I had to hide. I don’t know if they have scrying spells on us or not. Some of the White said yes, others said no. So I took precautions.”

“How? Cause you smell different.”

That was not what she wanted to hear the most terrifying sort of creature in existence say. “M-my… oh… oh no, no no no…” Her breathing came fast. She lost control briefly and Buckwheat burned away to reveal a cowering changeling underneath. She held onto the deformed essences protecting her only barely. The Duskwatch could smell her? They could find her. There would never be any way to escape. When Luna wasn’t watching--

And the Thing That Should Not Be was touching her. Two hooves trying to pin her down. This was it. It would tear out her throat, she knew this, the memories of the ancients pulsed through her--this was how it ended, pinned and drained and devoured and--

“Calm down! What’s wrong? Ixil? Ixil, snap out of it!”

Ixil lay very, very still. “P-please, mo--please.”

Amaranth backed off slightly. “What the hell was that? What happened? Did they do something?” She grimaced, showing those fangs again. “Shit. Please don’t tell me it’s magic, I don’t get that stuff. I can’t--”

“It isn’t,” Ixil said softly.

The Duskwatch let out a sigh. “Good. Thank the stars. I’m sorry, you started freaking out and going all changelingy with the fire and stuff and I was worried.”

Her breathing was steady. The fear remained. “The memories know you,” she said, not knowing if this was the right choice. “The… the Hunters. The Devourers. They come in the night and they devour and drain… We live in memories, dread one.” She was a changeling once more. Buckwheat was gone. Her voice was ragged and alien, her words formed by a mouth not meant for pony speech.

Amaranth winced. “Are you okay? Your voice sounds bad, Ix.”

She became Amity again and felt infinitely better. Amity patted herself down and allowed herself a small smile. “A mare again,” she said. “It is nice.”

“Don’t like batting for the other team?” Amaranth asked with a smirk. She laughed when Ixil made a involuntary face of mild disgust. “Yeah, much rather be a mare. Way cooler. More aerodynamic too,” she added, nodding. “It’s because I’m a Duskwatch, isn’t it?”

Ixil--Amity--nodded.

“I’m sorry,” said the nightmare of her kind.

Ixil blinked.

“I… well, from one monster to another, I figured… ugh. Words are dumb. I don’t mean you’re a monster, I--”

“From one outside to another outside,” Ixil said softly.

“Yeah. I figured you’d be the last to be afraid of me becoming the bogeyman. Geeze, am I that scary?”

“Absolutely terrifying.”

“Thanks.” Amaranth groaned. “And now a lack of sleep catches up with me. Stupid day. Stupid nocturnal...ism? Whatever. If it were night, I could wink you out, but… well. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Ixil did not tremble as before. She felt even more ashamed. “I am sorry I was afraid,” she said, not looking up. “You smelled Buckwheat’s essence. I bit him and used the tiniest shard to mask myself. I am… not proud. It is not a good thing. To feed with fangs is dangerous because it is easy and too tempting. A memory comes to me from the long count now that the Duskwatch often took those who fed in such a way, and I feared. I did not harm him. I promise, Reaper,” she added, not knowing why.

“I’m not a reaper. I used to be… I’m still kind of a batpony. I don’t know. It’s okay. He’s fine, right?” When Ixil nodded, she sighed. “Then it’s okay. You’re fine. I like, absolve you or something. Also, I’m really friggin--” she yawned again. “Tired. Do me a favor?”

“What need you of me?”

“Don’t get yourself in too much trouble, Ixil. You’re my first mission ever in the Duskwatch, I wouldn’t want you getting all dead and stuff on me.” She smiled. “And besides, I think maybe if… if all you guys are so afraid of the Duskwatch, maybe it’s about time one of us wasn’t trying to like, off you or something. I’ll let you leach off of Ice Storm’s obsessive duty-mongering if it gets the stick out of his ass,” she added with a flashy grin.

And Ixil grinned back--waveringly, of course--but she meant it.

TWILIGHT

Eon came to her as she watched the citadel ring around the tablelands.

I am very glad to see you better, Twilight Sparkle, though I understand if--

You didn’t mean any harm. It’s okay. Honestly… that little spark of danger did me and my friend a lot of good, so I think we’re even.

I am glad to hear that, Twilight. You still intend to come to me?

Yup. She pursed her lips. Stupid Black Hoof. Stupid crazy zebras. Stupid--oh stars, that was him, wasn’t it? She focused the binoculars she held in her magic on the strange figure, large and more lurching than walking.

That is D’Jalin.

He’s freakin’ massive. Yeesh. How am I supposed to get in? Please don’t tell me that it’s all apart of some elaborate test. I will be very, very put out with you.

Twilight sensed something… laughing? Maybe?

Games were never my forte. Not the kind you are thinking of, anyhow. No, the problem you wrestle with I too am wrestling with, if in a very… different fashion.

What does he want? Why is he here? This is just… it’s weird. It’s uncanny. It’s--

--Unfair. To have come this far and to be barred entrance.

Is Celestia even there? Honestly. Should we just… skip this?

There was a silence in her head that dragged on longer than Twilight was comfortable with. She fidgeted, lowering her binoculars and running a hoof over her face.

I am unsure how to answer that question for a few reasons. Partially, because the real answer would seem like a lie or a ploy. Partially, because time is… difficult. Partially, because I fear you would take far too many risks if she were here.

Tell me the truth, then, Twilight thought. I’ll deal with it. I have to.

She is here and she is not here. She is here in one sense, in a very real sense, but not in the sense you are hoping for. I cannot explain. You will have to see.

Twilight expected her heart to leap, but it did not. She only felt still. She said nothing.

Thanks, she thought dryly.

I am sorry. But there is a more immediate threat. D’Jalin’s followers fill the most holy sanctum of my city. They have defiled it with their presence alone, not to mention their further blasphemies. It hurts me, Twilight Sparkle. I feel them even now. I can stop them, but…

Twilight pulled away from the window. Tradewinds raised an eyebrow, but Twilight shook her head. Not now. She was thinking.

Do not mention me, Eon was murmuring. They should see anything I say as coming from you. They do not know me, but you are their friend.

Sounds suspicious.

I am more worried of what will happen if you do not hold your peace.

Twilight closed her eyes, put hooves to her temples, and thought.

She saw the tableland jutting out from the city, the ring of stone around it, the guards on that ring, the cultists milling inside. She saw the buildings which abutted the high place, she saw herself huddled in one of them, she saw the pattern of streets that were now seared into her memory.

There’s just no way to get in there without a fight. Twilight tried every plan she could think of. Waiting until dusk and then slipping over the wall--ponies were not built for climbing. Fighting their way in was suicide. Making a distraction somewhere else along the wall and then sneaking Abdiel over to open the gate near dusk might work… except that the only ways they could make a distraction were by using her magic or by sending ponies to do it, and that would leave somepony outside.

Would it help if something else distracted the foe?

Twilight opened her eyes. Yes it would help. Something big, loud, whatever, could draw not only attention… if it were loud enough or if it seemed dangerous enough, they might all move off the walls. If it were something that gave them no choice but to defend against it, then guarding the door from some wandering ponies would be far less important.

Abdiel could fly up and let the gate open, and then as soon as they were through he could close it and keep the night out. Under cover of darkness they could make a break for the tableland--

Look. I can… I can hold the illusion for a moment. Look and see.

Twilight, confused, did so. She lifted her binoculars.

Another one of the city’s visions. Rarity snuck across the great courtyard within the walls, moving from pillar to pillar carefully. Two earth ponies followed her. A dark shape moved ahead of her and she paused. Twilight felt her heart in her throat.

“Careful, Rarity…”

It was hard to remember that this wasn’t Rarity, and it was harder not to feel like it was, indeed, Rarity. The little vision-Rarity in my binoculars clung to the pillar she hid behind. Her small chest heaved in the distance as other shadows passed. But they did pass. None of them seemed to notice her.Twilight felt her heart beat in her ears as Rarity detached herself from the pillar and sneak forward to the rock face.

What? She was doing something--and then Twilight understood. She saw the door in the cliff face. Rarity fumbled with some small tool. Lockpicking? A version of Rarity that picked locks?

She restrained her chuckle of surprise for the others’ sake and watched as Rarity seemed to succeed and then vanish.

So a door, right there. I could find it.

Yes.

“That could work. But I’d need a distraction big enough,” she grumbled and scooted back.

“What?” Tradewinds asked.

Twilight rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “I’m starting to get ideas,” she said, as if that explained everything. Apparently, it did explain everything, because Tradewinds sniffed, chuckled, and then was silent again.

Well, Eon, can you do that for me? Something goes boom or roar or whatever? Is that something you can do? If you really don’t like these guys and you actually want to help me, this is your chance.

Silence. Twilight wondered, lazily, if she were finally losing it. Being the Apostate was a little better than being the Insane. But she wasn’t. Eon was probably trying to come up with a plan. Obviously. Communication via the mind wasn’t that bizarre, with magic in the mix. And Eon was in a crazy city, so her methods being a little… unorthodox? That was also understandable. Luna could make a pony hear her voice, but it was her voice. Maybe Eon was using an older version of that? Something she found in the city? Or had all along? Or…

Twilight groaned and squeezed her eyes shut again.

I can do this, Eon thought. I think I know what I must do. It… I am afraid. Will you promise to come to me if I do this?

Twilight sat up in a hurry. Yes! “Yes!” she said forcefully, lowly. “Absolutely. Totally. Please.”

Tradewinds just looked at her. As Twilight began to pace, her mind coming up with contingencies, Pinkie peeked her head in.

“Talking to herself?” Pinkie asked.

“And if I can just manipulate that tenebrae spell…” Twilight was muttering to herself.

“Da.”

Pinkie grinned. “Good.”

Twilight found Abdiel snoozing in the afternoon sun.

The building they had taken refuge in was, according to the whispering of Eon, a temple. The benches that Abdiel was sleeping on were pews. The great block to her right was an altar. All in all, the stained glass windows made a lot more sense now, as did the bell tower.

She thought about just talking to wake him, but something like a plan was happening and it made her feel a little giddy. So instead she tickled his hooves.

Abdiel woke kicking and fell off his perch, rolling into the tight space between pews. “Sun and Moon! Sarnath’s Grace, stop, Apprentice! Stop!”

She did, and laughed softly. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

He grunted and sat up. “Of course. Ugh. What need you?”

“I need to know what night is like in Jannah.”

Abdiel stared at her.

“Please?” she asked.

“You cannot be seriously asking. You… oh. Oh, you are serious.”

She had been grinning at him. “I have a plan,” she announced.

He stared at her. “A plan.”

“Yes. A plan. I have a way of distracting all of those Black Hoof losers and make sure nopony cares about a few sneaky ponies slipping into their little base.” She rubbed her hooves together. “So, do you think you could get a hundred yards right as night falls?”

RARITY

She awoke and lay still in her tent.

Rainbow stirred beside her, and Rarity blinked away the sleep in her eyes to just… gaze. Rainbow really was beautiful. When she slept, tension dropped away. More than a year--it was two years now, wasn’t it? Maybe. She wasn’t sure--melted away. Anxiety was gone. Just her snoring, peaceful face. The snoring wasn’t ideal, but to be honest, with all Rarity had seen and heard snoring was the least troublesome thing imaginable. She hardly noticed it.

Stifling a yawn, Rarity felt around with her magic for the little alarm clock. It hurt to do so, but not as much as it could. The clock floated above her head, and she gazed at it in the morning light that filtered through the tent flap. An hour before she would be expected to be awake and moving about. Wonderful. Just enough time to enjoy how awfully warm and soft Rainbow was and how surprisingly comfy these covers were…

It occurred to her, of course, that this was probably going way too fast. But thinking about improprieties did not stop her from curling around Rainbow. Things like propriety were important. They also took time, effort, and energy, and she barely had even one of those things, so it would simply have to wait. Maybe forever. Rainbow was awfully comfortable. Besides, even before they had… well, even before, all three of their little band had slept in piles.

She really should not be thinking about that right now. Oh dear.

Rainbow stirred. “Mmm?”

“Good morning,” Rarity whispered.

Rainbow grumbled something and then scooted closer. With a smile, Rarity nuzzled her and then kissed the top of her head.

“Morning is dumb,” Rainbow said. “I don’t want to go back to bed, but I also don’t wanna get up.”

“Well, we’re not due for awhile. We could simply lie here. That was my plan, actually,” Rarity said and then hummed. “Personally, I think it’s a fabulous plan. Why, Rainbow, I do believe it’s Sunday. This is Sunday morning, and as I’m sure you know, that means one thing.”

“Uh… nothing?”

“It means luxuriating, Rainbow.”

“So, like, doing nothing.”

She huffed. “Well, yes. But doing it wonderfully. Nothing, that is. Bother.” She kissed the top of Rainbow’s head again, and was pleasantly surprised when Rainbow looked up and met her lips with her own.

They stayed like that awhile, testing each other with kisses, enjoying the infinite alterations of that small intimacy. There wasn’t much urgency. That tiny nagging voice in the back of her mind continued to tell her that this was too fast--that whispered, shouldn’t you be worried this is hormones and adrenaline?--and other things… it was not quite gone. But it was quieter. It was manageable. She and Rainbow sent it away down the road, to stay somewhere else for the morning.

Rainbow nibbled on her neck boldly, and Rarity hummed in her ear. That little voice was about to ask if it was wise to think about the things she was thinking about--but, ah, it was far away, wasn’t it? Quite far away. A few blocks over. She wrapped her forelegs around Rainbow and pulled the mare over as she rolled onto her back. Rainbow obliged, letting herself be handled. And then she obliged. Rarity was as quiet as she could manage.

When they had finished, Rainbow lay panting on top of her, and Rarity played with her colorful mane.

“You know,” she murmured, “when we were younger, I was so sure you colored your mane artificially.”

Rainbow snorted. “Everypony in Ponyville thought that. Like, they didn’t even bother asking me. I coulda totally shown them a picture of dad.”

“Mmm. It made me think you were something of a rebel, as I recall.” Rarity smiled in the semidark. She continued to play with Rainbow’s mane idly. It was a pleasure of hers, fooling about with hair. She’d once entertained the idea of being a hairdresser, once. “I love you, you know,” she said.

“I know,” Rainbow said. “Working on why, but… I know.” Rainbow kissed her chest softly, not looking up. “I was kind of surprised you wanted to… you know.”

“That you of all ponies would be coy is perhaps the proof positive of the strangeness of reality. Irony is the heart of all things,” Rarity said.

“It’s kind of different,” Rainbow countered. “I mean, you and I act differently when we’re alone, in a tent, in, well… compromising positions.”

“Like with your head--”

“Yes. Yeah, like that. I mean, you gotta be a little different when you’re all alone and stuff. It’s just… different.”

“Do go on. I’m fascinated, actually.”

“Well… sometimes you come across kind of like you’re playing a part. Outside,” Rainbow began. “You try really hard to seem like a ‘lady’ or whatever it is at the time. But when it’s just you or me--heck, when it’s just you, me, and Flutters, or us and the girls--you’re different. Like, you still care about the same things, but it feels different.”

Rarity hummed. “That’s surprisingly thoughtful, Dash.”

“I can think, y’know.”

“Oh, I know. You’re not a fool, dear.” Rarity strained down to kiss the top of her head. “Not in the slightest.”

“I’m really good at flying and running and fighting. Usually, I’m all about being fast, being noticed, being on top of everything--if you laugh I swear--but I’ve always been weird about touch.”

“I knew you have an aversion to your hooves being touched. I have tried to avoid them,” Rarity said softly.

Rainbow squirmed. “Yeah. T-thanks for that. Like, remembering, I mean. But I get awkward about touch in general. I mean, not all the time. What kind of pony can’t hug her friends? Not a very good one.”

“Not a very happy one,” Rarity said, staring up at the ceiling of the tent now. She thought of her metal leg. She also realized for the first time that morning that she wasn’t wearing it. They had… and she… A chill went up her spine. It took quite a bit of the edge off the postcoital glow to be reminded she was down a limb.

“Yeah. But I guess its like… prolonged touch? I get… I mean, it’s not like I’m uncomfortable--”

“Flustered,” Rarity supplied gently.

“Yeah.”

“I can begin to understand.”

Rainbow shifted. She moved up Rarity’s body and kissed her. “You alright?”

Rarity thought rather seriously about deflecting attention or simply lying. Yes, Dash, I’m fine. “Mostly,” she answered vaguely. “Did you…” she bit her lip.

Rainbow looked down at her. Tentatively, she pressed a hoof to Rarity’s cheek, and then withdrew it almost immediately. “Was it… I mean, was I not--”

“No, no no no.” Rarity shook her head, and managed a haphazard smile coupled with a sharp tone of denial. “Dash, you were wonderful. Amazing.” Her voice softened. “You were.”

“I’m not like… good at this sort of thing.”

“Being good at it is not the point, good heart. Quite not the point.” She chuckled. “Don’t let anypony tell you otherwise. Though I do know how much you enjoy winning…” Rainbow rolled her eyes. “No, I shouldn’t have worried you. I realized just now that I didn’t have that ghastly prosthetic on. So my… ahem. My lack of a leg,” she said finally, as if this expressed everything.

Behind Rainbow’s eyes she saw the cogs turning. “Oh. I… Uh.” Rainbow flushed--she could see it even in the low light. “I sorta didn’t even notice? Like, at all. I was kinda preoccupied.”

Rarity blinked. She stared.

And then she laughed quietly, and hugged Rainbow tightly so that she wouldn’t see the moisture clinging to her eyes.

They still hadn’t gotten up, but Rarity found that she felt little urgency too. The army wasn’t moving today, anyhow. Today they prepared.

“Dash?” Rarity spoke into the comfortable stillness.

“Mm?”

“Might I ask you a question? An honest question. Not an accusation or a chastisement. I just want to understand.”

Rainbow was silent at first, but eventually she sighed. “Lemme guess. Iron Bitch?”

Rarity rolled her eyes, but nodded.

“Figured you weren’t gonna forget,” Rainbow said and snuggled close. “I’m sorry. I made things hard on you. I’m not sure I was wrong about her or what I feel, but I’m sorry about that.”

“I forgive you. I didn’t help much. Fluttershy…”

“Is really, really not holding up well, but if we get into that you’ll never get back to your first question.”

Rarity nodded again. “Right. It isn’t her arrogant air--I love you, Rainbow, but you can be a bit arrogant yourself. It’s never stopped you from developing friendly rivalries. At worst antagonistic ones, but you seem to take her very existence as a personal affront.”

“She’s a soldier.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “What?”

Rainbow sighed. Again. “Ugh. This is gonna be so hard to explain. Can I trade sexual favors for not explaining it?”

“There’s your boldness. And no,” Rarity said, even though she was tempted. Slightly.

“It’s just so permanent. I mean, Cloudsdale has a military history, right? Every pegasus has trained with a militia. I trained with Cloudsdale’s and I trained with, uh, Ponyville’s. Okay, Ponyville’s super lame five pegasi militia that wasn’t actually recognized by any of the cloud cities and also kind of was super embarassing.”

“We had a militia?”

Rainbow groaned, and Rarity repressed a grin. “See? Exactly. Whatever. But, that’s not a permanent thing. Pegasi… we do what we have to do. We’ve always been warriors because sometimes there’s stuff to be up. You’d be surprised how much trouble you can get into in the sky,” she added, shrugging. “But it isn’t forever. You don’t stay that way. When the fight’s over, you go home and you get a pint and you go sleep in your own house. Or on the bar floor. Or something. The point is, when its not time to fight, you don’t fight.”

“You think that Opal is not like this, then, I gather.”

“Warrior and Soldier. A warrior wars and the rest of the time she’s something else. But a soldier is always a soldier. Always waiting. I’m all for being prepared. But, like, there’s waiting and then there’s anticipating. I’m probably being super unfair right now, but its just how I feel. She freaks me out a little. Do you know why I resigned from the Wonderbolts before they pulled me off of the reserve and into the active rotation?”

“I had always wondered. You were so distraught… I didn’t know how to ask.”

“I was miserable, Rares. But I had to. They were soldiers. I had forgotten they were, and I just wasn’t. I don’t want to fight.”

“You were rather eager for a scrap when we were younger,” Rarity said, hoping her tone was light enough.

It worked, a bit. Rainbow chuckled. “Yeah, I was, wasn’t I? But it’s different. Warriors… Okay, me. I can get into a scrap and buy you a cider afterwards. I don’t really want to kill ponies. I mean, if I have to… If they’re crazy raiders and it’s them or us, then I will. And I’ll feel kinda bad about it later when nopony’s watching. But I try to give even them a good kick that makes ‘em stay down without like, you know.”

“Killing them.”

“Yeah. Opal? I’m like, eighty percent sure she would straight up rip a pony’s entrails out their ass just to scare his buddies. Like, at least eighty percent. She’s the ultimate soldier. She’s a killing machine and she can’t even leave her stretcher. She’s the ultimate soldier. Killer. I know not every soldier is Opal. Like, I get it. I don’t hate the Guard. But I don’t like what she represents. It…” Rainbow seemed to struggle almost physically, as if trying to cough up the word instead of saying it.

“She scares me,” Rainbow admitted. “Killing ponies is forever. And she’s seen a lot of forever. I don’t even think she cares anymore. I don’t know. Maybe she does. But I just see the soldier swimming around in blood, and I don’t want to be that. I don’t want any of us to be that.”

Rarity just sighed.

JANNAH

When night falls on the CIty’s heart, it brings with it mist and rain.

Things crawl in the streets. Some of them are formless, wraiths more mist than anything else. Perhaps they were never there at all, but to the pony who watches they seem to be there. Some are more solid, like masses of flesh that move when they should not, covered in bloodshot eyes and mouths that work but produce nothing but a sort of pained wheeze. Ponies that seem normal until their necks open up into slathering maws lined with teeth. It goes on and on.

But in the ring of the citadel, you are safe. That is the rule. Make it, and you are safe. The monsters will not go near the tableland, not for all of the quick feasts they could have. Something, or somepony, keeps them at bay. They will not go there of their own volition.

But perhaps that could change.

The rain falls gently. Sentries watch the mist curling and writhing. Do they know? Do they feel the first pangs of suspicion? Maybe. The mists do not clear away with the rain as they usually do, but ponies of weak wills find Jannah to be overwhelming. What is one more oddity, one more inconsistency with the world as it should be? But it is very important. Nothing in Jannah is overlookable. The stones you walk on are important. Each one screams forever and anything can and will kill you given the chance. It wants to kill you. Badly.

The first hulking monstrosities, great amalgamations of flesh, begin to crawl out from the streets into the circular plaza before the walls. A startled cry runs down the wall, carried from sentry to sentry. A panicked Black Hoof fires, but there is no effect. The creatures--are they creatures?--do not falter at all. They wheeze and crawl on oblivious.

A few sentries on the other sections of wall are sent to help.

Only when they reach the walls do any of the hulks begin to falk. One, it’s whole front half a red mass of holes, falls and twitches in the mist. The panicking sentries call for more help as they focus their fire on another, sending it falling from the wall. But others replace it, making their slow and agonizing way, oozing up the flat stone.

One makes it over. A unicorn holds his rifle in a tight magical grip, a bayonet held high, and stabs it over and over into quivering flesh. It advances on him, seemingly unfazed. Suddenly, from one of the ever-working mouths, ropelike flesh shoots out and grabs him by the throat. He screams as it pulls him in. He stops screaming when it rips his head from his body with powerful, unnatural jaws.

But with enough firepower, they died. The guards on the gates facing away from the great upheaval abandon their posts. There was nothing to fight there, and they needed every rifle and every blade they could bring to bear.

As soon as the last one left, Twilight Sparkle lets out a shaky breath and allows herself to smile.

TWILIGHT

Twilight pushed Abdiel hard, and he responded by falling out of the balcony window, flowing over the railing and out into the darkness. She watched long enough to see his wings unfurl, and then she turned.

There was no need to tell anypony to move. They were already on their way, and Twilight followed. They stood in the temple, all of them waiting for Twilight to give them the last signal to make the run on open ground.

“Do I even want to know what in the sam hill is goin’ on?” Applejack asked, chewing madly on a long tool. Twilight let her eyes linger on it a moment. She really, really hoped Applejack was serious about her skills with that thing. Abdiel had one, yes--

Wasn’t that convenient? But a lockpick would be useless their Batpony companion could get the door open.

“No, you really don’t want to know,” Twilight said, and took a deep breath. She counted to five.

The gunshots were starting to dwindle in frequency. Either they were losing or they were winning. Twilight figured that both of those things were bad in their own ways.

Really could use something that will keep them occupied just another minute, she thought.

And that’s when the horrible static started. It was low, unoffensive and far away. But they all noticed it.

“Okay, now it’s time,” Twilight said. She didn’t need to say anything at all. They bolted out the doors. The static whine grew as they ran, and somehow it made her… it was terrifying, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even as Twilight ran through the mist she was only conscious of--

She was through the gate before she found herself again. The static was gone.

But Twilight had no time to recover. Inside the walls she found a forest of pillars holding up a strange sort of jagged roof. Lanterns hanging from pillars lit her way, but with horror she realized that she couldn’t see the door in the rock face.

Shadowy figures ran through the portico, calling to one another in a language Twilight didn’t recognize. She summoned up her magic, held it, and made a decision.

That decision was to charge. Applejack was at her left and Pinkie was at her right. She had lost track of Abdiel. When she stumbled over stairs in the dark, Tradewinds was behind her, keeping her face up.

Around them, cultists fled wildly. The infiltrating party was ignored. Twilight didn’t question--she didn’t have time.

They heard gunshots closer now. The sharp crack of rifle fire had never ceased, but whoever was firing was moving in on them. Twilight Sparkle made it to the rock and started to frantically illuminate the rugged cliff face. The door wasn’t here. She moved to the right, cursing. No door. No door.

“Twilight, what the hell am I lookin’ for?” hissed Applejack behind her.

“A door! Anything! It should be here! Stars, I got turned around in the dark.”

“Twilight, will have trouble with Black Hoof soon,” Tradewinds said flatly. Twilight heard her load her weapon. “Will be trying to keep them away. Please hurry.”

Twilight kept looking, her hooves running over the wall. “Pinkie, look going the other way from me, okay? Please hurry.”

“Got it.”

The world around her fell away. Her heart beat in her throat. This had seemed so much easier in her head. They were coming back, something had tipped them off, or whatever the hell Eon had done had stopped working or--

Twilight, be still. Wait.

Twilight froze.

Eon?

Rarity spontaneously existed in front of her and Twilight fell back, stifling a scream of surprise with a hoof. Rarity was haggard, scarred and dirty. Her mane was an unwashed mess and her coat had… oh, stars, there was blood there, dried but some of it fresh. Her eyes were wild and wide, and held a small knife and an older-looking scattergun.

She approached the wall ahead of Twilight and pressed her hoof to the rock. Twilight sprang up, shaking as she tried to wave at this vision, only for it to startle. Rarity stared at her.

Like she was seeing a ghost.

And then she was gone with a flash of white light. Twilight wasted no time. She felt the rock face where Rarity had stood.

“Girls! Girls, I found it! Applejack, I need you!” Twilight called, not caring anymore about stealth. She was losing it. Her breaths came short. She kept imagining a crack and then hot metal ripping through her--

Applejack was there, pushing her out of the way with a grunt. Twilight staggered. Rarity was there again, staring at her, mouth moving but not producing sound. She was gone. A small, gray unicorn struggling to lift something with her magic, something huge. Another flash. A pony she recognized from Ponyville in a black robe, what was her name? Twilight was shaking. She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t think. She was suddenly freezing. Where were the Black Hoof sentries? Were they here? Where were they?

Twilight! The veil… I pushed it too far open! I am trying to close it, please don’t try to use your magic!

Who? What? Her own voice addressing her was… it was too much. Twilight whimpered.

“Damn it! Twilight, I need light! Twi? Dammit, Pinkie, grab Twilight, somethin’s happenin’!”

“She’s shaking! I can’t… Twilight, please! Pretty please, stop shaking, you’re fighting me!”

Light. Someone needed light. She saw a pony calling hordes of insects, screaming as she commanded them. She saw an alicorn she did not recognize, gazing with sad eyes. She… somepony needed light. She used her magic and summoned that light.

But it wasn’t just light. It was blinding fire. Her horn seemed afire with it. Twilight felt like she was being burned from the inside out.

Stop! No more magic! The second vision of Rarity tore the veil too wide. No more magic, or you’ll push it further open! Please! I am sorry, I am so sorry! I didn’t know this would happen!

No more magic. She shut it off. The fire left her horn, but the shaking and the visions--she saw ponies in Jannah! Jannah alive!--those did not leave. Pinkie was trying to get her to be still. Applejack cursed and kicked the door.

“Try again! You can do it, AJ!” Pinkie said.

“Hurry! Please, if it is not too much trouble, would like to not be shot!” Tradewinds called. There was the first report of a rifle. “Chyort. Pizdets!” she yelled at the shooters in her own tongue, and they yelled back. “Will not believe me, but will not shoot for a moment. Take advantage!”

Twilight heard Tradewinds stalling, yelling at the Black Hoof in the darkness. They yelled back. She cursed, loudly, and then said something to them. Twilight saw a raider standing beside her, laughing, screaming. She put up her hoof, but the vision was gone before she could cry out.

“Jus’ gimme a minute!” Applejack bawled. “Stall ‘em! Where the hell is Abdiel?”

“Not knowing! This is very stupid! Why have we done this, yes? Am wanting to know!” She turned and yelled one last time. “Nyet, they are not believing me anymore. Not afraid of shooting own on accident either.” She whirled out from cover, aiming her battle saddle’s rifle downrange and firing at the shadowy Black Hoof who dove for cover. “Idi syvda! Schas po ebalu poluchish, suka, blyad!”

“Oh wow, Tradey can say all kinds of things!” Pinkie shouted over the roar of return fire. Tradewinds skipped back behind her pillar and laughed.

“Is good for the heart!” she called back. “Puts nice fluffy hairs on chest and makes wings beautiful, da?” She laughed again, and returned fire in a gap between volleys.

“Twi, can you help her?” Pinkie asked. Twilight shook her head vehemently.

“S-something’s wrong… Eon…”

“Okay,” Pinkie said, cutting her off. “Then let’s get you away from Tradey and out of the fire…” she began pulling Twilight, who squeezed her eyes shut. She felt nauseous, as if the world was swimming around her.

“I got it! Aw, sweet Celestia, I got it!” Applejack shouted. “C’mon! Pinkie, the hell--whatever, get Twi in here. Abdiel! Shoot, where is he?”

Twilight looked around. He was nowhere.

“Tradey! Tradey, c’mon!” Pinkie called. “We’re in! Come on!”

“I’ll see you all in hell later!” She shouted, flared her wings, and dove towards them. Pinkie shoved Applejack out of the way, pushed Twilight down, and ducked.

Tradewinds flew through a hail of bullets, and nothing touched her. She laughed in the face of death. She also flew through the door, hit her hoof on the doorway, floundered, and skid to a stop on her face. But, Twilight concluded dully, it was still pretty impressive.

Applejack pulled at the door, and Pinkie joined her. The two of them pulled it shut, and then they were all in darkness.

“Think they’ll start tryin’ to pick the lock?” Applejack asked.

“Well, they only checked the door once. I think they’re still looking outside.”

“Or looking for Abdiel,” Tradewinds added, glumly.

Twilight massaged her temples. The “veil”--whatever that meant!--had been shut. She could use her magic again, and so she did. Lighting up their surroundings took her only a moment.

The walls were much like the walls in her dream, the ones Eon had shown her. She looked at her friends. Applejack was covered in dust, she assumed from the floor and the door. Pinkie seemed somewhere between sullen and worried. Tradewinds was inspecting her saddle.

“What happened back there, Twi? You looked like you were… I don’t know.”

Yes you do. You just don’t want to say it. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to either. “It wasn’t,” she said. “Eon… Eon is the one who told me about the door.”

“You mean that crazy pony who says she lives here? The one sendin’ you dreams?”

“The very one,” Twilight said with a sigh. “She was manipulating the visions, you know, the ones the city makes us see?”

“Yeah. Don’t trust ‘em. See all sorts of freaky things.” She grimaced. “You know, I saw a pegasus with a funny accent talkin’ ‘bout bacon.”

There was a moment’s pause. It was Pinkie, staring at the ground, who laughed first, and the rest of them followed.

Twilight grinned and laid flat on her stomach. They were probably safe here. The tableland was huge, and there was no way they could be found so quickly. “Well, I saw Rarity. Rarity in Jannah, looking for… well, I don’t really know, honestly. But she found the door and picked the lock. When I got turned around, Eon showed me the vision again so I could find the door…”

“And it was too much, huh?” Pinkie finished. “Geeze, Twilight, gotta go easy on the brain games.”

“I’m trying,” Twilight said sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I could’ve given you light, or helped Tradewinds, or--”

“It ain’t your fault. You didn’t ask for your horn to go haywire,” Applejack said flatly. “I feel mighty frustrated… but it ain’t your fault. Right?” When Twilight nodded, she sighed and continued. “Eh. Magic.”

“Weeeiiirrrd,” Pinkie agreed.

“Are we going yet?” Tradewinds asked.

“In a minute,” Twilight said. “For now… I need to make sure my magic is fine. If you don’t mind, of course, girls.”

No one did. She levitated a few things from their bags, and then smiled. “Back in the game. No more visions seeing me.”

“One of them things saw you? Naw, really? Like, y’know, actually looked at you and saw you.”

“I think,” Twilight said. She coughed. “Ugh. Dusty. Rarity found the door again, but then when I was running over there she turned and looked right at me and she obviously saw something. I guess I don’t have any proof it was me. It could easily have been something in her own world. If visions are other worlds and not, like, just hallucinations. I hate these things. I can’t… study them,” she finished lamely.

Moving up through the holy catacombs proved easy in some ways and difficult in others.

Easy, in that there wasn’t just few cultists or soldiers to watch out for--there were none. Difficult in that the structure seemed almost random. Small hallways led to huge open forums, and grand corridors went… nowhere. They turned a corner and ended in a solid unfinished wall.

Abdiel had not been found. That gnawed at Twilight. Was he a little shifty? Yes. But he was their friend. Sort of? Leaving him was pretty awful. But where had he gone? Was he killed? Did he die first, or did they effectively kill him when they shut the door?

Don’t suppose you can help.

Eon didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t.

“Think he made it?” Twilight asked softly. Her voice echoed.

“Yeah,” Applejack said quickly. “I wager he made it, one way or ‘nother.”

“I sure hope so,” Pinkie added.

Tradewinds, who had taken to “scouting”--which mostly meant walking ahead of them and being really intense about it--looked back at her strangely. “If he is dead, we will avenge him,” she said simply, as if this summed everything worth knowing on the subject.

They continued on. Twilight pushed half open doors aside with her magic, lit dark hallways, set wards to quiet their progress. Tradewinds kept them from wasting too much time on dead ends by flitting ahead and then returning. Twilight was glad to see her flying. She wanted to ask about it. She wanted to talk to Applejack, or hear Pinkie tell a joke. She wouldn’t even mind Abdiel saying something, if he weren’t… missing.

Instead, she thought.

Eon?

There wasn’t an answer. Twilight showed no response outwardly, but inwardly… She wasn’t crazy. The door had been there. Okay, she wasn’t razy about Eon anyway. Neurotic little Twilight.

She couldn’t help but grimace at that. Her friends had just accepted this so… easily. Her being all but incapacitated twice. She must have looked like a madpony, but they didn’t seem to press. Were they just trying to be careful? Or is this normal? That’s right. Crazy, crazy Twilight, twitch-twitch. Don’t wanna upset the crazy one, she’ll get her crazy all over you.

Did others look at her and see that? Did they see her falling apart and just figure that it was the end result of a long and steady decline?

She couldn’t really look at her friends.

Twilight Sparkle.

Ah. You’re back. Twilight wasn’t terribly enthused about that. Not that she was unhappy. She just felt very tired all of a sudden.

Yes, I am. I must apologize again. I… I have not manipulated the veil like that in a very long time. Showing a pony something specific that would help them… I used to do that, long ago. I tried to help. They always…

They didn’t leave, did they? Or they stole things, treasure-hunted, whatever. Or they didn’t get it and thought they were crazy.

Yes. I was helping them ransack my home. It is still my home. I wish they would stop coming here. I would be lonely, but it would be…

Safer.

Better, I think, Eon corrected. Sometimes they remind me, and then I cannot help them anymore, because I am afraid.

What do they remind you of?

A silence. To be expected. Twilight closed her eyes, opened them, kept going. It’s okay. I’m not going to make you hurt yourself for my curiosity. That wouldn’t be what a friend did, right?

What she heard next was not her own voice. She stop dead in the middle of a wine cellar--how had they found this place?--and stared ahead.

It is kind of you to say so. You are closer now. I can use my own voice, but it will be… well, not as confusing. But still confusing. The others cannot hear me.

Why?

“Twi?”

“Nothing,” she said hurriedly. “Are we getting turned around? Sorry, I’m tired and a little in shock from all the gun… shooty… yeah.”

“I’m kind of at wit’s end too, sug,” Applejack admitted, smiling. “Naw, I think we’re finally on track. Ain’t been here yet.”

“It is a cellar, so I do not think it is going anywhere,” Tradewinds said.

“Well, it’s progress,” Applejack grumbled.

I am… It is difficult to speak to more than one mind, Eon said in a way that left Twilight rather unconvinced.

So you’re just shy. Great.

Celestia made you seem very different.

Now that brought her up short. Not litterally, she wasn’t going to give anypony even more reasons to doubt her stability. No. You don’t get to say that. Don’t talk about… Just… Ugh. Don’t. Please.

I do not understand.

Yeah, well. You wouldn’t, Twilight finished. Look, it’s just that what she would say about me is kinda, just a little bit of a sore subject. Then Twilight thought back to what she’d said. Er, thought. Wait. So you’ve talked to Celestia. Right, you said that before. So, she knows you?

Oh, of course! We know each other very well.

Funny, her teacher had never mentioned knowing a disembodied voice with a severe lack of social skills and a penchant for breaking reality. Maybe because she had a student with minor gifts in both of those things and the thought of two of them gave her headaches.

She does not speak of me to any, Eon admitted. I am a painful memory. It is alright. I am a painful memory for myself, too. She visited. There was not much to catch up on. But I enjoyed her company. Time has not loosened the old bonds of love and fellowship.

Yeah. I bet you did. There wasn’t any heat to that. Twilight meant it. She would have enjoyed a visit from Celestia herself. Even a short one.

Well, if I’m going to be talking to voices… D’Jalin. I know a little, but I need to know more. What is he doing here? Why? How long?

They had left the cellar behind already. Tradewinds returned from a quick flight, shaking her head. Applejack cursed all things ancient and, uh, architectural. Even in her distracted state Twilight was less than impressed. Curses really should be more specific.

I know less than you, I think. He is very frightening. He reminds me of… I do not know. I think it is something I partitioned away, like Him. A silence. His followers do… they do things I do not want to talk about. But I know you will ask me. I think that D’Jalin is a blood mage.

Yup, knew that. Late to the party.

I was not aware there was anything to celebrate. There are also prisoners. Or, well, there were prisoners. He has executed them, one by one.

She ground her teeth. Not surprising, but still. It was his modus operandi, wasn’t it? Crazy cult, bloodlust, random stabbing? She wasn’t intimidated as much as tired. Too much evil and the whole thing became so… so banal. Stupid. Wasteful. Why?

Do you know what is at the top of the tableland?

A complex of some sort. Gardens.

Yes. The Well of the Firmaments.

And he wants that, I’m assuming.

Yes. He does not understand it. He has tried… he has tried sacrificing to it. He threw a few ponies into the well, but they were earth ponies or unicorns with weak magic and it… it burned them out hollow. It was awful. The voice sounded so small, so weak. I could do nothing. It was the past played out over and over. I tried screaming at them to stop, but they thought… they thought it meant the opposite. They were so crazed, in such a frenzy…

I’m sorry. Twilight didn’t even ask how or what she had done. She couldn’t. She saw in her mind’s eye what had happened so vividly… she could feel the horror and the pain, and she wasn’t sure if it was her own or Eon’s.

It is I who am sorry. My home… They came to my home, to the last good place here and they turned it into a charnel house. This was the last place that my happiness dwelt. My poor beloved gardens. My quiet walks. It is I who am sorry. When they first came here, I sent them visions and warnings in dreams. I thought they might be refugees from the chaos of the outside, maybe from the East. I hoped they would heed my warnings and leave. But it only seemed to entice them. I brought them here.

Didn’t you realize? I mean, if you can, like, read minds… Or is it like that?

At first, I was ignorant. But by the time I knew… I did not want them to die, the voice replied plaintively. I could not just abandon ponies to Jannah. I did not grasp their wickedness. I thought that if I helped them, they would listen to me, and turn from whatever evil they had planned.

You probably could have abandoned these. They seem to be doing fine, Twilight groused, but her heart wasn’t in it. Would she have left even bad ponies to die in this place? She didn’t want to know. But it would have been very, very convenient.

Convenient was not a nice word. It taste terrible on the tongue. As it should, perhaps.

Why do you not travel with your friend? He… oh dear.

What?

Your friend. The batpony, the one from Sarnath. I believe he is in gravest danger. My ability to discern from here is limited, but he is in the lion’s den. He is among the bloodletters on the top floors. No… not again. Please, not another!

Twilight’s heart beat in her throat. She swallowed. “Crap.”

“You say somethin’?” Applejack looked back at her, her face an almost comical picture of frustration that Twilight didn’t have time or inclination to laugh at.

“Eon. She says they have Abdiel.”

Author's Note:

Anxiety is acting up bad. Already starting on the next chapter. Hope you like this one, and godspeed.

Comments

[lordofmyth]

oh dear.....

do you mean you have anxiety or theanxiety of their ally being in danger?

[Cynewulf]

6454309 wow that was quick.

I was referring to my own anxiety. I know what's happening with Abdiel, so I'm not anxious about him either way. I have a long-standing problem with anxiety.

[Esle Ynopemos]

6453556 Your tabletop group has good instincts, then.

[Cynewulf]

6454365 Don't be too sure! Risu was kind of a dick to him.

[lordofmyth]

6454318 can empathize. i have some issues with it. things just get overwhelming at times.

[Cynewulf]

6454692 not every love is fulfilled or happy.

Or, if you're Twilight, healthy.

[Carbon]

2.5 hours ... i made it.
So they have Abdiel? I guess Twi make a conversation with this Mad God zebra.

“Idi syvda! Schas po ebalu poluchish, suka, blyad!”

Иди сюда! Щас по ебалу получишь, сука блядь.
SO TYPICAL FOR RUSSIA

[RoboRed]

I hope Abdiel's going to be fine in the end, but those Black Hoof thugs are not happy right now.

“They hurt me,” Tradewinds replied. Twilight felt her heart skip a beat.

No. No, you don’t have to tell me. Please don’t let that be true. Not there. Not in Equestria. She wasn’t foolish. She knew it happened, even in Equestria, maybe even at home. She knew.

Oh...
Oh, that's sad.

We could focus on the whitecloaks. Their traitors, we know that now.

"they're"

When night falls on the CIty’s heart, it brings with it mist and rain.

You accidentally typed a capital "I" in there.

[Cynewulf]

6454947 I really agonized over whether she would elaborate or not. Decided she wouldn't. Better for my sanity

[ANearPerfectStudent]

6455047 Cyne, how are you writing this much... Like damn...

[Cynewulf]

6455409 madness. Vodka. Prayers and exhortations. Music. My cat made a pact with Cathulhu

[Some Jerk]

Good eyes, sniper.

Also your 1L is showing (contracts suuuuuuuucks).

[Cynewulf]

6455886 I wrote that in contracts actually

To be hoenst I wrote a lot of this in Contracts

[Some Jerk]

6455902 my wife only tolerated that class because of the professor.

If I remember her complaining, trust and estates was horrible. So look forward to that.

[Cynewulf]

6454817 I really wanted her to threaten to violate their mothers with a bayonet but it was too complicated and the whole--no one knows how foul mouthed Tradewinds is because they can't speak her language--thing was already satisfied

[Aatxe360]

...I was so sue you colored your mane artificially.”...

sure

6455902

honest

[redsquirrel456]

If Abdiel goes down like Axiom I'm gonna have a little sickness unto death myself here. -.-

[Cynewulf]

6459932 okay yeah that made me laugh

maybe he'll BE FINE

Or maybe, you know, he'll pop like a big blood balloon like Axiom the MeanieFace Philosopher GodKiller did

[Ita-Ita]

What a great chapter. After the sustained tensions of our Jannah party growing more and more stressed with one another, little moments like

Pinkie grinned. "Good."

Make me feel like grinning as well, and they don't give up any of the character of the mad city, either. And we get some hope for our team just before Abidel is thrown into peril. VERY ready for the next chapter, now.

Eon has all the makings of the best kind of deus ex machina--- inadvertently clumsy, risky to call upon, and needing to make up for an inability to predict their own powers. I like her already. And her turning the stress and horror of Jannah's porous Possibilities into something tactical is fascinating... and hinting at those possibilities looking back at Twilight is marvelous. That's a 10 Star moment in this fic. If you'd started the fic from this chapter, I'd be ready for fifty more, becausee I'm a sucker for well-realized parallel universe mechanics, and because that's cool, in every way a story element can be.

The Whitecloaks' isolating recruits from their friends is a perfect detail... the sort of thing that would make for a terrifying inversion of a Friendship Report.

There's ONE character I'm dying to meet in Jannah more than anyone else... more than Celestia (it's Sunset Shimmer) but I'm excited to see whatever this story does.

[Cynewulf]

6462110 Eon, and that part of Jannah, has been present since the very first TNIP concepts. I'm kind of excited/nervous to finally be writing it, because I've been planning to do so for like two years at this point.

aw maaan you have NO idea what I would have done if I had started this story later in the series. I don't even know. Actually that last part is more common than I'd like

[theFlimFlamMan]

Another good chapter.

Was nice to see twilight maybe get a little solace over the dock explosion. However, i feel like it will be short lived. After all, Tradewinds was wearing that uniform about 20 minutes before and she isn't a bad person. Some of those ponies were just there for food and a safe place to sleep. I guess in war no-one is fully innocent or fully guilty. If everything was black and white, life would be easy and there would be no such thing as a moral dilemma.

I was waiting for Tradewinds to tell Twilight to sack up. How do you say man your jackhammer in russian?

[Cynewulf]

6472305 I think Twilight knows deep down that most of them died. The idea that some survivors among the noncombatants got out is nice but... yeah. Rivers of blood. Twilight has the highest body count in Night. Oddly, you know who has the lowest? It's Rainbow Dash/Rarity. I tried throughout to have Rarity and Rainbow be the ones who took the fewest lives. Rainbow is all about a good fight, but... there's a difference between a fun scrap and beating someone's face in until they die. If you count only combatants as Fluttershy has a zero body count. Pinkie probably has a few accidental and a few intentional, as she's a melee fighter without AJ's strength. Twilight has hundreds and AJ has a few dozen.

[UncreativeName]

So I figure some of these visions are using fallout equestria for inspiration. But I can't place any others and I'm curious are there other stories that you're using for these visions.

[Cynewulf]

6473128 a few have been FOE, yes. Usually, I would let you figure me out but it occurs to me that that would require having been with me awhile.

I had a continuity of stories affectionately called the Songverse--because the titles were almost all from Song of Solomon, and because of the Song, which is also in Night. Night in a lot of ways lies close to that old vein. Many of the visions Twilight sees are various iterations of the story "Great Heart Will Not Be Denied". "Where the Sun is Silent" is also in there, and one of the shorts from "Where Mad Gods Dance". I think that may be it for my stuff, but I'm not sure.

Finally, there is also a callback to "It's a Dangerous Business" an early adventure ponyfic. Like first wave of ponyfic early

[wlam]

Battle of Unnumbered Tears

There's a fine line between homage and rip-off. I'm undecided yet on which one I want to think of this as.

[Cynewulf]

6476574 I admit you've confused me. I've been searching for anywhere where I might have used the phrase and found nothing. I mean, the title's been taken from it, but elsewise...

[Ice Star]

Holy cow.

Epic. Long. Oh my.

What a way to spend my day.

Is there a complete list of which stories are being shown here? I recognized bits of Where the Sun is Silent a while back, but some of the hallucinations are unfamiliar to me. Is there a list of which stories they are from or is it all random?