In which the dust is disturbed
In the dead of night, on a gently rolling plain, two ponies rested at a crossroad under cloaks, packs, and a pale winter’s moon.
It had been a week since their selections—over a month since the message first arrived that demanded a representative from each tribe—and since that final decree the pair had been traveling together.
The taller of the set—a pegasus—flared her wings with irritation as she paced beside her partner. A light coating of road dust darkened her nearly-white coat, and fatigue pulled at her shoulders as well as the corners of her muzzle. She shook out her pink mane and glared at the smaller pony.
That smaller pony was a unicorn. She absentmindedly tapped a quill against her lips as she scanned the night sky, a second feather decorating the tangles that comprised her cornflower mane. Her coat was a dusky blue, and were it not for her magic, she would have been difficult to see under the waning moonlight.
“C’mon, Inky,” prodded the pegasus. “The sky will still be there once we get to the inn.”
The smaller mare frowned, her eyes darting from constellation to constellation. “It will, yes, but the stars seem… odd.” She dropped her gaze and gave her companion’s starburst cutie-mark a pointed glance. “For somepony who spends so much time in the sky during the day, Elly, you certainly seem to have no interest in it at night.”
“The sky?” Elly smiled in the dim light. “I love the sky. I know every cloud and current.” She drew herself up proudly and shook out her mane. “What you’re looking at is a bit beyond the sky. You can see it better from up there, sure, but you aren’t exactly any closer to touching it.”
Inky frowned in thought. She shifted her pack into a more comfortable position, then asked, “Didn’t Fulminus say he reached a star, once?”
“Fulminus?” She scoffed. “Ha! You believe anything out of that blowhard’s muzzle? He said he found a star. He even showed us his proof: a piece of twisted metal, maybe two hooves in width. It didn’t even glow.“
“He always seemed earnest to me,” Inky murmured. Still frowning, she pulled her hood up and started pacing forward.
“Oh, we’re done?” Elly blinked, holding a hoof to her chest in mock surprise. “We can finish the last league before sunrise?”
“Yes, yes,” Inky grumbled. “Let’s go.”
The room was small but tidy: white plaster walls and weathered oak beams met dense thatch above and worn planks below. A single window, facing south-east, allowed the sun to peek into the room, where it cast its light across a sleeping mare.
The mare slept deeply, unaware of the light that crept across her face, until her slumber was interrupted by an insistent hoof that poked her flank. “Psst. Inky. Hey. Ink-butt. Hey.”
Against her better judgement, Inky cracked open an eye. She immediately regretted it, recoiling with a low moan. A familiar, wild-haired silhouette bobbed into view, blocking the worst of the glare.
“Oh, ugh, Elly. Why are you waking me up at this hour?” The unicorn’s horn sparkled a moment before a pile of pillows stacked up in front of the window. “The sun’s barely up!” Inky rolled over to face the wall and pulled the sheets over her head.
Elly flopped over onto her own bed—the room was mostly taken up by the two mattresses—and grinned at the heap of linens. She leaned over and continued poking.
“Our counterpart is here, sleepy-flank. Besides,” she continued, taking on an air, “Commander Hurricane always said you should rise before the sun. It shows proper respect to the unicorns who have to wake to address the issue every day.”
“You don’t need to lecture me about decorum, Elly,” Inky grumbled, sitting up. She yawned loudly and pawed at an itch behind her ear, then ran her hoof through her tangled mane. “I used to help with those sessions before I moved on to research.”
“Yeah, yeah. Research.” Elly gripped Inky’s sheets in her teeth, then dragged them to the threadbare carpet near the door and sat on them. “Wike how youw eyewids”—she spat out the linens— “look during the day.”
“Okay, fine, yes. I’m up.” Inky turned and dangled her rear legs off the bed. “And it just so happens, Miss Bossyfeathers, that my research is astronomical in nature.” She rummaged on the tiny side-table for her brush and mirror.
Elly arched a brow, grinning from ear to ear. “You mean you wanted to sleep through the day,” she said, poking Inky’s moon-and-cloud cutie-mark, “and so you chose a course of study that let you do so.”
“And what if I did?” The brush and mirror danced about her mane as she attempted to tame it. “Didn’t—ack!—didn’t you choose a patrol route that brought you by my tower on a regular basis?”
Elly rolled her eyes and blew a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Fine. Fine. Just because I want to keep an eye on my little sister…”
Inky gave her a level look, set down the brush and mirror, and hopped off the bed. “Anyway, what do you mean by ‘counterpart’?”
“The earth pony champion, of course! He’s staying here too!”
Inky paused, levitating the pillows away from the window. “And how do you know what he looks like?”
“Well, I don’t. But the innkeeper told me all about him when I started my rounds this morning.”
The pillows fell onto the bed, and Inky opened the window for some air. “You’ve already been patrolling? This isn’t even your assignment!”
Elly shrugged. “Old habits. Besides, ponies are up at this hour, which means you can, y’know, talk to them, rather than the bats and owls.”
“Since all you’re doing is taunting me, now, why don’t you let me freshen up and I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast?”
“I’ve already eaten, she replied, “but I’ll let you get prepared for your day so you can enjoy the glorious sunlight.”
“There are times I truly do not like you, Elly.”
“Nonsense. You love me more every day. It’s because I am the embodiment of goodness.” Elly made a face that was closer to a gargoyle’s than a pony’s. “Blargh!”
“Alright! Out!” Inky’s horn glittered once more, and Elly stumbled forward as the rug on which she sat headed out the door.
“You’ll regret this, fiend!” She shook a raised hoof as the door closed in her face.
The common room was filled to bursting with a mismatched assortment of chairs, tables, benches, stools and cushions. Three stacked stone walls were largely bare, but a few hooks had been pounded into the joints at fairly regular intervals. Each hook held a tarnished lamp. Which lamp was lit appeared to be largely a matter of chance. Small circular windows allowed some light in along the wall facing the street, which was built of stacked timbers and featured an imposing iron-clad door.
The door was chained open at this hour. The chain ran over a well-worn post beside the bar where a round, balding pony wiped down the counter. A low ceiling, fashioned of the same heavy timbers as the wall, gave the establishment a claustrophobic feel, and the entire inn smelled faintly of beeswax and woodsmoke.
Opposite the bar, two sets of stairs—one to the cellar, and the other to the rooms above—ended at a landing surrounded by turned posts. It was down these stairs that Inky clomped, fully intending to give Elly an earful, decorum be dashed. Her fury was distracted, however, by a strange voice in conversation with her longtime companion.
She peered through the railings at Elly’s table, and the back of the new pony’s head. A quick glance to the left and right showed a room largely devoid of any other ponies.
“Figures,” Inky muttered.
The mystery pony had a golden brown coat. He sported a brilliant white mane and tail, each braided with colorful ribbons. From this angle, she couldn’t see his face, but she recognized the fixed smile on Elly’s as that of a pony who desperately wanted to talk to somepony else. Inky could just make out the conversation.
“So, really, we’ve known each other forever,” Elly said. “It’s just funny that we both got selected. Speaking of, how did you get the nod?” Elly patted absentmindedly at the mug before her.
“Um, well. I imagine your selection process was similar,” he explained. “First, the elders asked who wished to represent the tribe.”
“Uh-huh.” Elly nodded.
“And then, the willing competed to show who best represented our strengths,” he continued.
“So, like, races? Combat? Games of strategy?” Elly leaned forward ever so slightly.
“Oh. No. Stuff like farm yields, ability to tend to the wilds, or heal wounds, or build towns.”
“...Oh.” Her eyes drifted about the inn. At the same time, Inky stepped away from the landing and walked towards the chatty couple.
“So, I was elected best representative,” he continued. “I grew the most bountiful, nutritious hay and apples of any of the competitors—and made the best preserves. I think that’s why my cutie-mark is crossed sickles.” He shrugged. “I tend to harvest at just the right time.”
“...Ohhh,” Elly said again, before noticing the pony in the shadows. “Heeey, it’s Inky! Inky, come on over and chat with us.” She made a wide, welcoming gesture, then patted the seat next to her. “Aurum, this is Inky. Inky, Aurum.”
Inky smiled warmly, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. She approached the table and nodded a welcome. “Aurum, hello. Good morning.” Her voice dropped into a stage whisper. “My name’s actually Selene. Inky’s a name that Elly here prefers to call me.”
Aurum nodded slowly. He had bright yellow eyes, which gave him an almost lupine gaze. “Which do you prefer?”
“Oh. Well, if I have a choice,” she murmured, her ears drooping as she blushed. “Um, I guess Inky is fine.”
Elly pushed back from the table and lifted a hoof, hooting happily. “Victory!” she cried. A clatter from the bar joined the mutterings of the innkeeper as he picked back up a mug.
“Now, now, Helia,” Inky taunted. “Mind your manners.” As Aurum looked towards Elly, she stuck out her tongue by way of punctuation.
“Helia?” Aurum asked the pegasus.
“Her real name,” Inky supplied with a grin. “Don’t worry, you can keep calling her Elly. She hates Helia.” She sat next to her old friend, across from the new earth pony.
“I… think I see,” the stallion replied. “I was just telling Elly about my selection. How were you two chosen?”
“I think I caught the tail end of that,” Inky confided. “My own selection was rather competitive, delving into lore. Like…” she searched for an analogy, “...a tavern riddle game, but with more difficult puzzles. After that, we were presented with challenges for arcane skill in various situations, each designed to distract or threaten the unicorn involved.”
“Ooh, that challenge part sounds exciting,” Elly interjected.
“More like terrifying. At the end, I only had one other challenger.” She paused, and glanced about for the possibility of listening ponies. “Thistledown.”
Elly sat upright. “Clover’s little sister? One of Star Swirl’s students?”
Inky nodded.
Aurum watched her intently. “That’s amazing,” he said. “What was your final challenge?”
“A test of will. Using only what we knew, in the face of great adversity, we had to make snap decisions that altered the challenge as we went. It was, perhaps, the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Stop teasing, Inky,” Elly whined. “What was the challenge?”
“I’d… well, I’d rather not get into too much detail. Much of it happened in a different… perception. What truly made it hard, though, is that my kind are prone to careful analysis first, action second.”
Elly muttered something under her breath.
“Shush, you. I might have had a bit of an advantage there. Ever since Elly and I met, my instructor says I’ve developed a rash streak.” She winked at her old friend. “But quick decisions are meaningless unless they’re also the right ones. In the end, I was deemed able to make a decision when Thistledown could not, and won the right to represent the tribe.”
Aurum nodded. “Sounds like something my grandmother would say.”
“Well, thank you for a potentially exciting but ultimately useless story, Inky,” Elly deadpanned. “We were thrilled to not lea—Ow!” Elly’s eyes widened at the exact moment Inky put on an air of innocence.
Elly reached under the table and rubbed her leg, glowering at the unicorn. “I guess it’s my turn,” she said.
“Yes,” Inky grinned toothily. “Do regale us with your exploits.”
Elly opened her mouth to speak, and took a second glance at her suddenly feral friend. “I… uh.” She regained her composure, then said, “You’re weird, sis.”
Aurum looked askance. “You… you’re not related, are you?”
Inky smiled. “No, although little details like that aren’t enough to stop somepony like Elly. She decided that since I didn’t have a big sister, and she didn’t have a little one, that we would be sisters together. Most days, it’s not worth the time correcting her.”
Elly polished a hoof on her chest and examined it. “I have been known to treat ‘impossible’ as a suggestion, from time to time. More often than not, it works out for the best.”
Inky shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. She turned to their new companion. “Aurum, I’ve heard Elly’s selection tale a dozen times now. I’m going to get some breakfast.” She pushed back her chair and stood, then paused. “Er, can I get you anything?”
“Oh, no, Inky. I’ve eaten. Thank you, though.”
Inky nodded, and strode away to find the innkeeper. Before she had taken three steps, she heard Elly launch into the story.
“There I was, Aurum, with challengers on every side, clutching the banner between my teeth…”
Moments later, Inky found herself in a tidy alcove with a bowl of chestnuts and some brown bread. A thin beam of sunlight shone across the table from the window. She poked at the occasional dust mote as it passed by. Between bites, she realized that Elly’s story never changed, save to answer a new question.
“Huh,” she said aloud, staring out the tiny window in the alcove. “Not that I’d imagine her to lie, but almost everypony embellishes from time to time…”
“Pardon?” The innkeeper looked up from the nearby hearth he tended.
“Oh. Nothing, sir. Sorry to be a bother.”
The rest of her meal was finished in thoughtful silence.
She had to admit, the morning hours had some benefits. Inky drifted from shop to shop, lingering at the occasional stall selling strange new fruits or stranger new tomes. “On the Chasm of th-”, she read aloud, pausing to puzzle out the smudge. Was that a W? The shopkeep yawned behind a lifted hoof, keeping one eye on her as she browsed. “Opening the Gate of Hope, and, ooh, this one I know, The Care and Keeping of Owls.”
“Shopping for necessities, Inky?” Elly’s story must have gone well, as she and Aurum walked up together.
“Not like you’d know what these were, anyway,” replied Inky, her nose in the air but a smile on her lips.
“Oh?” Elly cleared her throat. “The art of war, then, is governed by five constant factors,” she recited, “to be taken into account in one's deliberations, when seeking to determine the conditions obtaining in the field. These are: The Rightness of Action, the Weather, the Terrain, the Strength of Command, and the Army's Training.”
Inky arched a brow. “I’m impressed. I had no idea that Commander Hurricane taught Qianlima’s Art of War.”
“There is much you do not know, Inky,” she replied, taking her turn to lift her muzzle. “There are many mysteries that abound.” Elly widened her eyes and wiggled a forehoof to accent the ‘mysteries’.
Inky couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s the Elly I know. C’mon, both of you. Let’s check our supply list and head out. If that map is up to date, we’ll have to pass some difficult terrain in the next few leagues, and I’d like to manage it before sundown.”
“That’s been bothering me,” said Aurum, finding an opportunity to get a word in edgewise. “Why do we have to travel so far just to meet with the Council? Don’t they normally maintain a presence near the Great Hall?”
“I asked about that during the selection,” Inky answered. “It seems there is a localized issue that requires an honor guard or representative from each tribe. ‘The best and brightest’, my instructor said. Maybe it’s some new tribe we’ve come into contact with, or a new resource that needs to be distributed. The missive was urgent, short, and lacking in detail. Usually that means they don’t want to muddle the issue.”
“Or it’s a mystery,” supplied Elly, grinning madly.
Aurum looked from mare to mare, bewildered. “I… think I’ll go make sure my preserves are okay.” He bowed a hasty exit and strode purposefully back to the inn.
The two mares watched him go.
“I think you scared him, Elly,” commented Inky.
“Nonsense. He’s just falling madly in love with you, is all.”
Inky’s jaw worked soundlessly as Elly strolled away giggling.
Rolling foothills stretched to the horizon behind them, broken by the occasional stand of pines or lonely oak. The road they had traveled seemed to see frequent use until it drew near to the mouth of the valley, where it turned to the south to eventually meet the sea, skirting the mountains that slowly, but steadily, rose before them.
A towering wall of brambles, perhaps a hundred paces high, filled the mouth of that valley, showing no concern for the path it obstructed.
Nearby, an old signpost atop stacked stones pointed helpfully, and illegibly, in all three directions. Beside the post, on the remnants of that ancient thoroughfare, three ponies waited.
“Well, that answers your question, Inky,” Elly said. She set down her pack and sighed.
“Oh?” Inky frowned, studying a worn parchment that hovered before her. She summoned a fresh quill from her pack, having forgotten the three that decorated the bun at the back of her head.
“Yeah,” Elly replied, gesturing at the valley with two extended hooves. “The map’s out of date.”
“Mm. Yes.”
“We saw a few other potential routes, right?” Aurum set his pack down beside Elly’s, then strode to Inky’s side to see what their options were.
“That’s what I’m looking at. The safest one means we would have to backtrack half a league and then navigate a swamp, which would slow us considerably. We’d have to camp at the edge, and then try to tackle the entire swamp in a day.”
“I must admit, I’m not a fan of water,” Aurum confided. “Water full of mud, bugs, and creatures, even less so.”
“The other route takes us on a narrow ledge over what eventually becomes a quarter-mile drop.”
“I… could consider the swamp.”
Elly cackled, only to be met by level stares from the two earthbound ponies.
“Well,” replied Inky, rolling up the map. “Both options will take us out of our way. So, I propose we go forward.”
“Wait,” Elly interjected. “You mean, into the knot of piercing, cutting, tearing thorns, barbs, and tripwires?” She stood and pointed at a dangling, dessicated carcass. “I think that rabbit could tell us about the results!”
“Nonetheless. They shouldn’t be here.” The map, the quill and its three siblings floated into Inky’s pack, which tidily closed its pockets before it, too, began floating.
“So… you’re just going to walk through them.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” she replied, a twinkle in her eye. The pack secured itself to her back, and she strolled casually towards the wall of thorns.
“Damn it all, Inky, stop talking in riddles.”
“The brambles should not be here. Indeed, this map is only ten years old. Without some sort of magic force, brambles cannot be here. Not like this.” She paused just outside the twisted wall. “So, this means one of two things. Either the brambles are enchanted…”
Inky lifted a foreleg, and pushed it into the impassable vines. The sound of snapping branches and tearing fur filled the air, and deep gashes dug through her dusky blue coat. Bits of fur snagged in the verdant barrier, and blood welled forth to spill among the thorns.
“No!” Aurum shouted. He started forward, but a white blur quickly outpaced him.
Elly launched herself at Inky, her wings lending extra speed along the ground. She tackled her friend, pulling her away from the brambles. The pair crashed to the ground, sending Inky’s pack skidding into a nearby stone. “Inky!” she cried, clutching at her forelimb. “Your leg! It’s…”
She held Inky’s perfectly whole foreleg between her hooves.
Inky, covered in dust and dirt, grinned from beneath her terrified companion. “Or the brambles...” She paused to cough. “...Aren’t there at all.”
Elly scrambled backwards. “What in Equestria…”
Inky rolled over and stood, focusing slightly as she dusted herself from mane to hoof. “An illusion,” she explained. “Rather expertly woven, I might add. It almost had me doubting myself.”
“You… you horrible creature,” Elly shouted, pawing the ground in frustration. “You couldn’t have just said something? You had to try to kill me?”
“I thought it was obvious,” Inky admitted, a slight blush rising in her cheeks. Her ears folded back as she chewed her lower lip. “I’m sorry. It just seemed so clear…” She glanced at Aurum, and then at Elly. “I won’t do it again.”
Aurum shook his head, sighed quietly, and picked up his pack. He wore a mysterious half-smile. “I suppose we should get going then.”
Elly sighed as well, but paced to Inky’s side, favoring her with a brief nuzzle. “I shouldn’t have yelled. Just… don’t worry me like that, okay?”
“I won’t,” Inky whispered. Before saying another word, she walked directly into the brambles. Her pack followed behind, bobbing haphazardly as it caught up. “Still...” she wondered aloud. Her voice echoed oddly through the illusion. “Who would go to such trouble to mask the route?”
“That mare,” Elly breathed. “One of these days,” she began, but could not finish. She pulled her own pack on and followed behind. Before long, she was laughing at the absurdity of it all.
On their third night in the valley, Inky sat atop a fallen log, staring into the narrow strip of sky between the slowly rising mountainsides.
At her back, a campfire had fallen to coals long ago, and Elly snored softly under a makeshift tent. The gentle rhythm provided a counterpoint to the valley’s crickets and frogs. The relative silence reigned until a crackle of dry grasses heralded another pony’s presence.
“You’ve been out here a while, Inky,” Aurum said. “I’ve double-checked all the supplies, and was about to head to bed. Why don’t you do the same?”
“I’m a night owl, Aurum. I probably couldn’t sleep right now if I wanted to. And I don’t. There’s too much going on.”
“What, in the sky?” He looked up to try and catch a glimpse.
“Yes. The constellations… well, not the major ones, at least not yet, but many of the minor ones? They seem to be changing.”
Aurum’s brow furrowed. “I only focus on a few, myself, for planting seasons. The Wagon, the Lovers, and the Coxswain.” He pointed at the last one, just above the southern ridge. “Are those major or minor ones?”
“Major, all three,” Inky replied. “But the smaller ones? Like the Broken Crown, or the Drake?” Each constellations name was paired with a gesture that Aurum could not follow. “Their stars are moving, or getting brighter or dimmer, and some have winked out.”
“Well, we don’t know much about the stars here in Equestria. Maybe they do that?”
“No, most of the same constellations were visible before the tribes moved here. Sure, some have changed names, and we have records of some stars flaring brightly, but this sort of change—especially over a few months’ time? It’s unprecedented.”
“Maybe the Council will know. I admit I’ve no knowledge of those things, but I’m happy to provide a sounding board. To me, though, it’s just another mystery. I’m content to let it lie and just get to the Council as quickly as possible.”
Inky chuckled, then turned to address her companion. “Speaking of your mysteries…”
“Mm?” He dropped his gaze to meet hers.
“Your ribbons. I never see you unbraid your mane, and yet your ribbons change almost daily. Today, you have three purple and a pink, from your left ear to your brow. Yesterday, you had red and orange.”
Aurum grinned. “It’s a little trick my sisters taught me. Hooves aren’t meant for real fine work—we leave that to you unicorns—but knowing how things fit together…”
He lifted the end of one of his braids, showing a tiny metal ball. “The weight pulls the braids down, keeping them tight. It also keeps them from flying about in a strong wind.”
He pushed the end of the braid up, and the rest of the woven hair began to part. “The braid is more like a spring. When you remove the weight, it opens up.”
Inky’s eyes brightened. “Then you just tie another ribbon to the end of the first?”
Aurum nodded. “And pull it through, yes. Quick, easy, and you can color-coordinate if you want to get fancy.”
Inky smiled, then looked back up at the stars. Aurum looked with her, searching for other stars he knew. A few silent moments passed, then she spoke again. “So, why do you do it?”
“Oh,” Aurum replied. He dropped his gaze and studied the mare. “Well, when I was little, I was kinda jealous of all the brightly colored manes out there. Pinks, greens, purples, blues… All the mares had vibrant colors, and all the stallions seemed to have drab shades. Being the only colt—and the youngest pony—surrounded by half a dozen sisters, each with a different color, well, some days my eyes were more green than yellow.”
Inky turned and smiled at him. “So, the colors…”
Aurum nodded. “Yeah, at first they were my way of changing my mane so I could feel special. My sisters helped. They thought it was adorable. After a while, it became habit, and not long after that, ponies started using it as my identity. ‘That pony with the ribbons in his hair’, and the like. It’s sorta part of me, now, although the jealousy has long since faded.”
Inky regarded her companion with an appraising gaze. “It’s very clever, Aurum, and to be honest I don’t know that a unicorn could have come up with it. You say unicorns are adept at fine work, and this is true, but more often than not we’re also stuck in our ways. You earth ponies seem to be the inventors of the tribes, on average.”
Aurum grinned and kicked at the earth beneath his hooves. “Shucks, Inky. You say that too loudly, and folks’ll start looking to us for more than food.”
Inky laughed, then stood from her log. “You’re right, though. The sky’s a mystery, and one I can’t solve here. Let’s get some shut-eye, and get to the Council as quickly as we can.” She dusted herself off and then headed towards the bedrolls.
Aurum fell in beside her. “Y’know, it seems that idea’s awfully familiar…”
Inky smirked, giving him a sidelong look. “Don’t you start. I get enough of that from Elly.”
“Goodnight, Inky. We’ll get our questions answered soon.” Aurum ducked under a tarpaulin, fished about for a blanket, and settled in for the night. Within moments, he seemed to be asleep.
Inky lingered by smoldering coals a moment longer and gave the sky a final search. As she did so, the entirety of The Three Hoofprints faded from view.
The familiar taste of fear rose in her throat, and she forced it down with a grimace. “I only hope there are still questions worth asking.”
All speech has been translated from Old Equestrian.
As of 04/13/23, some items have been changed due to the author's ignorance of cultural taboos.
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4415635
There are storytelling reasons, both in-story and externally, for the random jumps of focus. Certain things are revealed in historical glimpses, or behind closed doors, that would ruin mysteries or weigh down with exposition other tales.
As always, if something does need clarification, please ask here (without spoilers) or in-message (if spoilers are necessary).
4 story long Eggman/Robotnic arc? Why I haven't started reading this yet?! (goes to Order from Chaos )
The Stars are disappearing. There is only one possible explanation:
Davros and the Reality Bomb.
"Stand witness, Alicorns. Stand witness, ponies. Your strategies have failed, your weapons are useless, and- Oh. The End of the Universe has come."
So, two sisters named Helia and Selene. Hmn.
Okay, kind of but not exactly sisters.
I like this Aurum guy. Assuming I'm right about Elly and Inky, it concerns me that thousands of years later he isn't around. Assuming this flashback is about why alicorns cannot kill, it bodes fairly poorly for him.
>looks at the chapter length
Uh oh! Looks like you've got size creep!
Dang that's just plain awesome, love your charictor development skills and your theorys on pony culture too.
4425630
True, at a glance they seemed wholly unconnected or even "jumpy" (hence it felt a little "oceans 12" (but I loved the other 2) a movie where the past/present/future balance is in my mind a mess).
But when reading this one, and the one before I am seeing a theme developing (its Nightmare moon possible reappearance in side Worker, not a spoiler as this was visited at chapture 1!).
Thanks for the offer, I know about complex plots that are not what they seem (heck I am trying to wright myself and have developed careful and deceitful ones) and that generally a story's not finished till its finished (hence I hold back my major reviews till the end) But sometimes I knew I got off focus and miss the details that needed addressing when I fought they where so was making sure you not making any mistakes.
Noooo you can't just leave off there this is the best one D: